#boogie down now

[memzhay]

Time to Boogie Down Now, Y'all!✨🩷✨🩷✨

[link-sans-specs]

This music is so bad.

GMMore2457

Which Body Part is Cracking?

[mothmansboyfriend]

Someone having a bad attitude/rude articulation is not the same as someone being personally mean/harmful/offensive to you.

If you can walk away from a discussion confident that neither of you said anything worth wishing you could take back then congratulations: you’ve had the real life equivalent of a negative friendliness action in the Sims and there are NO permanent negative bodily consequences! Get back on the horse, your next social interaction with someone else could easily be far better.

My hands get tense and painful when I feel socially rejected, I can fully understand it sucks bad to receive attitude you feel undeserving of especially when you perceive yourself as working hard for unconscious social praise. But just like two autistics with different stimulation needs can’t both be happy in the exact same environment “made for autistics”, not everyone can have a pleasant reaction in a social convention “meant to be pleasant” because people can’t control their physical symptoms of frustration any more than I can control that my mind goes blank and I stutter or go silent when I’m genuinely (and irrationally) scared about answering simple questions.

As humans we are all owed common decency. Common decency is not semi-conditional kindness. It’s just respect for the unknown of a person. Offering basic comforts/requirements as you feel is natural, non-threatening environment for your personal life, acknowledging you exist when you arrive and wishing you well when you depart. That is common decency. Smiling, speaking in a specific tone, and forcing your body language to work for the comfort of a group rather than flow naturally as you react to stimuli, that is kindness. It’s nice to receive kind actions from strangers, but no one is owed these things. Even if you paid for a burger or got lost in the supermarket for two hours.

[sturnsdarling]

“Take it”

You and Chris have had sex a thousand times, but this time, after a dirty comment you thought nothing of, Chris’ secret obsession comes to light

vibe check: pure smut, chris with a size kink, a tiny thing about it hurting in a good way, dirty talk, bigdick!chris, chris with a praise kink?, pet names, praise, creampie, reader cums from pen alone (the hayley's comet of sexual occurrences)

1k words

A/N: I saw this and i knew what i had to do…BIG DICK CHRIS🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

love and cigs, merc

You and Chris were lost in ecstasy, one leg draped over his shoulder as the other hung round his waist. His head was rested against your knee, his perfect teeth grazing the bone as he thrust in and out of your sopping pussy, your walls milking him with every movement.

Your moans filled the room as his tip poked at your g-spot, pressing that perfect button over and over again. He groaned at the sight of your fucked out face, your mouth hung open as guttural sounds left your lips, cries of Chris' name rolling off your tongue as he nipped at the skin of your knee, lost in the feeling of your tight pussy around him.

"you feel so fucking good, baby" he groaned, his hand gripping at the flesh of your thigh as it rested on his hip.

You could only moan in response, reeling in the way his cock stretched out your walls, the sting being nothing compared to the bliss you felt as he relentlessly fucked you.

"so fucking pretty, taking me like this, so so pretty" Chris continued, rambling.

"mphm, Chris, you're so big" You moaned, thinking nothing of it as you spoke, his size being the only thing in your mind in that moment.

Chris' eyes snapped open, locking in on yours instantly as he continued to fuck you, something about your words making his brain tingle.

"whatcha say, ma?" he said, slightly breathless.

"you're so-" you cut yourself off with a moan, "y'so big, Chris"

Chris near enough growled, biting down on your knee before looking down to the bulge forming in your stomach as he pounded into you. He knew he was big, and he loved how well you always took him, but you'd never told him now big he was, and he never knew that was something he wanted to hear.

"say it again f'me" He slowed his pace, but increased his temperament, his hips slapping against yours with a sting as he thrust in and out of you, slow and hard.

You couldn't help but moan at the change in tempo, head craning back into the pillow, your mouth slung wide open.

Chris hand came to your jaw, pulling your head back to look at him with your cheeks gently squished between his fingers.

"tell me again, baby" He cooed, his tone stern but words soft.

"you-" you stuttered, "you're so big, Chris, stretching me out so fucking good" your brows were knit together, trying to get out every word coherently.

Chris groaned, fucking into your tight pussy impossibly hard, watching your begging eyes as he did. your words had set something off in him, and he was past the point of no return.

"you like it when I stretch you out like this? huh, princess? you love taking my big cock?" Chris questioned, eyes trained on yours.

"mhm" you moaned, biting down on your lip, "I love it, Chris"

Chris lowered his gaze to the bulge in your stomach once more, watching as his tip took fleshy shape in your skin. He couldn't help but moan, obsessed with how well you took him.

"y'take it so well, ma, y'take my cock like a lil champion, huh?" He muttered, looking back to you and brushing his thumb over your wet, plump lips.

You parted your lips, letting him slip his thumb into your mouth as he pressed it against your warm tongue. You wrapped your lips around his digit, sucking it with a moan as he pulled out of you almost completely, only to thrust back in with a brutal slap of his skin against yours.

He tugged at the flesh of your thigh, pulling your other leg over his shoulder and pressing your knees to your chest, his thumb leaving your mouth with a pop.

The new position gave him the perfect opportunity to hit you even deeper than before, his dick pressing into your cervix with a blissful ache.

"fuck, Chris, it hurts so good" you mumbled, tears pricking at your eyes at the ache of your contorted body, and Chris' weight pressed against you almost completely.

"be a good girl, and take it" Chris spat, setting a rapid pace into your perfect pussy.

He was relentless, pressing your legs tight against your chest as he laid almost all his weight down on top of you. His length thrust in and out of you, the sound of your juices mixed with the slap of his skin against yours acting as a backing track to both of your moans.

"give it to me, give it to me, give it to me" you moaned over and over again, unable to form a thought other than that simple request. Something about the dirty talk, mixed with the feeling of Chris' weight on you and his big dick stretching you out made that familiar knot tighten in your stomach, your whole body tingling as every hair on your skin stood on edge.

Chris was a moaning, whimpering mess, the sound of your begging making him feel lightheaded as he pounded into you. Your slick walls were clenching around him like a vice, and he knew he was done for.

"cum with me, princess, cum all over my big cock like a good girl" Chris said though gritted teeth, his tone somehow still soft and caring despite his pace.

As if on command, his words sent you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you released sticky juices all over his length, the squelching sound of him fucking you through your toe curling orgasm making him reel.

He was seconds behind, filling you up with his cum, fucking it into you as he stuttered above you, pressing his weight further down onto the backs of your legs as he gripped and tugged at any skin of yours he could reach.

Your breathless moans filled the room as he stilled inside you, letting his cum soak into your walls and his length, unable to bring himself to pull out. His hand came to your hair as he rested his head against your leg, trying to catch his breath with fluttery eyes. You leaned into his touch, humming at his soft caress.

"so" you said, giggling slightly, "you like it when I tell you how big you are, huh?" you cheesed as he opened his eyes.

Chris chuckled and shook his head, pushing strands of sweaty hair out your face, "don't start" he grinned.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

[ohnonotthehorrors]

Can I... talk about the theory that winners help craft the next game?

Because, and I really can not say this enough, it puts So Much into perspective.

Everything starts out Normal. Three lives, simple, cut and dry, there hasn't been a winner yet. No one to help craft the game. (And there's something to be said about how simple it really was. Not even a real expectation of the world becoming pvp or combative. No idea of the war to come)

Then Grian wins. The green killer, the man who vowed his first life to the one whose life he took. The next game the boogie man is born. A mechanic that allows and, in fact, demands, a green kill. People can trade lives back and forth, currency and debt wrapped up in one. (can we still be friends? Said the red partner. A life time later and reds are hostile, alone. Maybe it's an answer: No. Not anymore)

Scott wins this time. He refuses to play the game. He will not kill his team, he will love and he will do so fiercely and with all of himself. The next game people are attached through to their very souls. Every bit of damage to one soul is done to its twin. There is no boogeyman. (There is no way for a widow to be left without their love)

Pearl wins and she wins a blood bath. Spent the game draped in red, only wolves for company. Sitting in her tower, shivering in ice, maybe she wanted it to end. To see where it would. Limited life rewards you for killing, limited life has a clock tick tick ticking down, you always no how long you have. A curse yes, but a blessing too.

Now It's Martyn's turn.

And what a turn it is.

Keep your secrets, says the disloyal man, keep them well. Everything hurts, everything Matters, says the man fracturing with every loss. (What if we could love each other without hurting? Says The Hand, who never wanted to be coated in blood)

More importantly, Martyn has always seen the watchers below the surface. Now, they're right here in front of him. Something that could almost... be rebelled against, no? Something that someone else could finally point to and say: hey, hey isn't that familiar?

[fingertipsmp3]

I think the worst part of falling down today was that it was such a weirdly enjoyable shift up to that point

[sanguineterrain]

Hello sanne! I have a request, if it inspires you: what about reader who's been hurt and has amnesia when they wake up. And Jason is there and reader gets all flustered because pretty boy alert!! Pretty boy is speaking gently to them!! And in actuality Jason and reader are together. I hope that made sense 😭 love your writing so so much!!

this is such a sweet request!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw medical setting, reader is on pain meds and has been in an accident, major major fluff, established relationship.

****

The first thing you notice is that your mouth tastes... not good.

You try to swallow and clear out the taste. All that happens is a useless smack of your tongue. Your throat is too dry for any swallowing to happen.

"...been out for about twelve hours. Yeah, I've been here the whole time."

You're pretty sure that you know that voice. You're drawing a blank on that voice's name, but you swear you know the voice.

"They're awake. Yeah, bye."

It's deep and warm and soft and yes. You definitely know the voice.

Okay. Opening your eyes.

You do so with substantial effort. Your vision is bleary. All you can make out are blobs of gray. You've got a lot of eye boogies in your eyes. You can feel them.

But you're not really sure about where your hands are at this moment in time, so the eye boogies will have to camp out for a little longer.

"Hey." The bed shifts. That warm voice gets closer. "Hey, hey. Y'thirsty?"

A straw taps your lips. You clumsily take it and drink until it gurgles and there's no more water.

"Yeah, I'll bet you're thirsty. Want more?"

You shake your head. A cool, rough hand pets your forehead. Oh, that's nice. That's very nice. The bedside manner in this hospital is impeccable. A little forward, but you don't mind. The voice and his hand are both very polite.

Time to try to actually see some shit. You hone in on your vision, putting every iota of brainpower into processing what your eyes are telling your brain.

A figure. A man. Huzzah!

Oh. Oh, wow. A very beautiful man. A big, hulking, beautiful man.

He's young, boyishly handsome. His eyes are bright. A scar is etched from the top of his right temple to his lip. There's a white streak in his dark hair. Is that a trend now? You can't remember.

"Where 'm I?" you ask.

"You're in the Batcave. How much do you remember, honey?" the gorgeous, beautiful, dreamboat nurse asks.

Well, you remember being in a car, and then being ejected from that car, and then hot, blinding pain, and then... waking up.

"Car accident?" you manage.

Pretty Nurse nods. Is he a nurse? He looks more like a biker, with his leather jacket and empty holsters. He looks like he could pin you down with one arm and—

Whoa. Chill.

"Yeah, kinda. There was an explosion. You hit your head pretty hard." He strokes the back of your head, frowning. "How do you feel?"

You feel like your head has an anvil tied to it. But it's okay, because look at this biker-nurse! Wowza!

He takes your hand (you have hands! Huzzah!) and strokes your knuckles with his thumb, which is fine, actually, because he has really nice eyes. You want to tell him.

"You h've nice eyes," you say.

Pretty Nurse blinks, looking startled. His cheeks go a little pink. "Oh. Um, thanks, baby. Y'sweet."

Baby? Do you really have that much rizz as a medical patient? You can't imagine how irresistible you must be when you haven't been in an explosion.

But then everything shatters when you look down and see a silver band on his hand. What the shit! He's married? Or engaged, at least. Son of a biscuit.

And he's flirting with you? What a pig!

You snatch your hand back, suddenly sour. Pretty Nurse raises his eyebrows.

"What's a'matter?"

"You have a ring," you say, voice dripping in contempt.

"I—" He looks down. "Uh, well, yeah. I do."

Devastating. "If you're taken, you shouldn't be flirting with me, jerk."

He squints. "Wh—oh. Oh. Huh."

Pretty Biker Nurse looks like you've just said something funny. You don't see what's so funny about infidelity. May God strike him down!

He smiles coyly. "D'you know who I am, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you say, glowering. "Y'just a no-good philanderer who should be ashamed of hi'self. Don't care how handsome you are; I won't enter your web of lies!"

He laughs, bright and sweet. Damn him! You need a different nurse. This one is the epitome of temptation.

"Oh, baby. Oh, you're too cute. Can I take your hand?"

"Not if you're gonna flirt more," you say, lifting your chin. "Dirtbag."

"Your moral code is incredible, honey. Good to know I'll never have anything to worry about, though I never doubted you. Can I show you something, though?"

He lifts your hand and on your finger is a gold band. More delicately shaped than his ring, but similar.

"Oh my God," you say, panic growing. "I'm cheating on my husband."

He laughs louder this time. "Your fiancé, actually. Wedding isn't till August. And no, honeylove. You're not cheatin', 'cause I'm right here."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. Your hackles raise for a moment until... wait...

"You're my fiancé?" you ask, eyes huge.

He smiles shyly. "In the flesh. Y'remember my name?"

You feel like it's a J name. "J..."

"Jason," he says gently. "Yeah, wow. They got you on some pretty strong meds, huh? Leslie said you should start to remember more stuff in a day."

Jason. Pretty Biker Nurse Jason. Holy moly. He's engaged to you? About to marry you?

"You are so pretty," you blurt.

That makes Jason more shy. He smiles like he's done something he's not supposed to do. "Not as pretty as you, honey pie."

"No, you're... I mean, wow. Sorry I called you a jerk. How did I get with you? That's crazy. You're fine as hell."

Jason snorts, wide shoulders shaking. His cheeks are red. "Jesus, you're shameless."

Well, yeah. You're still not sure this isn't a dream. You have to let your fiancé know exactly what you think about him.

You prepare to tell him something smooth and romantic. Something about how kissable he looks.

"Y'look like a sexy biker."

Hm. Not exactly what you had in mind. Your brain feels like a blue raspberry slushie.

Jason grins. "Oh, yeah? That why you been starin' at me? Didn't know you had a thing for bikers. You're terrified of going on my motorcycle."

How does he know that? It's true; you like bikers from afar but you're not about to get on a death machine, thanks.

"You can rev my engine," you say, head slumping against the pillow.

"Oh my God," Jason says, clearly delighted. "Don't think I've ever seen this reaction to pain meds."

"Can't believe we're engaged," you say again. "How'd we even meet?"

"Well, I'm a vigilante of sorts, and the first time we met was after I saved you from a mugging. And then we kinda just... kept running into each other. You bought me coffee without realizing who I was. And we, uh, fell in love. As people do."

"You proposed to me in Spain," you say suddenly, the memory rushing back. "You... you wanted to prove you wouldn't put work above us."

Jason nods, lacing your and his fingers together. "Yeah, that's right. Three weeks in Spain." He pulls out his phone and shows you the lockscreen. It's of you two. Jason has sunglasses on. You're smiling. You can't remember ever smiling like that before.

Tears suddenly spring to your eyes, emotion smacking into you like an eighteen-wheeler. Jason leans in, concerned.

"Baby? Hey, what's wrong? Something hurts?" he asks, inspecting your head.

Your mouth quivers. "You... you love me so much."

Jason stops, tilting his head. "I... uh, yeah. 'Course I do. You're the person I love the most in the world."

That makes you cry, tears running down your cheeks. Jason's eyes widen in alarm.

"Sweetheart? What's—hey, it's okay. Why're y'crying, huh?"

He brushes your tears away with his thumbs, cradling your face. You sniffle.

"I'm s-sorry I called you a dirtbag," you blubber. "Y'not a dirtbag. You love me so much."

"Oh-ho, oh, honey. Baby, you've been unconscious for twelve hours. You're under heavy medication. I know you didn't recognize me, it's okay. Trust me, I've been called far worse," Jason says tenderly.

Dear God, you're a beast. What kind of person doesn't recognize their own fiancé?! You cry harder.

"I should've remembered you! I'm a bad fiancé," you wail.

"Aw, sweetheart. No, no, it's okay. C'mere."

Jason scoots you over slightly and pulls you into his arms. You cry into his shoulder, slobbering all over his sexy biker jacket. He rubs circles on your back.

"You're really cute and nice and I'm glad y'marrying me," you say, muffled in his shoulder.

Jason hums, the sound vibrating through you. "I'm really happy to be marrying you, sweetheart. You rock my world."

You sniff. "Really?"

"Mmhm." Jason kisses the side of your neck. "How 'bout you sleep a little more, hm? I bet you're exhausted."

Now that he mentions it, you do feel pretty worn-out. Especially after crying. And almost getting blown up.

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Absolutely, honey. I swear."

Jason eases you onto your back. Your eyes are beginning to feel heavy.

"Sleep, beautiful. I'm right here."

[ckret2]

Chapter 67 of human Bill Cipher gradually becoming less and less the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers!

They definitely won't get their lives endangered during the sleepover at all!! And if you believe that's not a lie, I've got a skyscraper in the second dimension to sell you.

####

A camera set up beneath the attic bedroom window recorded the dark room. In her pajamas, Mabel stood in the middle of the attic, boogying nervously to silent music.

A light shining from beneath the bedroom door turned off. Mabel stopped boogying, crept to the door, and leaned her ear against the crack.

She ran back to the camera and picked it up. "Okay," she whispered, "Dipper and Grunkle Ford are out on their mission, Stan and Abuelita are asleep, Soos finally knocked off building for the night, and Bill's in his new room. Welcome to... Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers!"

She held up a flattened cereal box she'd written the title on. The title was almost invisible in the dark, but it was framed by stars painted on with glow-in-the-dark nail polish.

"Step one: getting your friends in the house." She turned the camera around. She swerved over to Waddles's bed as she crossed the room, whispering, "Hey, wanna come to the sleepover?"

Waddles snorted gently in his sleep.

"Aww, that's okay. Next time." She rubbed his belly, then crept toward the attic door.

She tiptoed in her socks down the newly-built hallway and past the curtain hiding Bill's new room, padded down the stairs, opened the back door, and hissed, "Pssst! Coast is clear!"

Out from the tree line ran Candy, wearing a camo-print blanket like a cloak, and Grenda, dressed in black and with her arms and face painted in brown and green. Grenda waved ecstatically at the camera as she passed.

With Mabel in the back, they quietly crept upstairs, quietly snuck past Bill's room, quietly closed the bedroom door, and quietly squealed with excitement. "First summer sleepover at the shack," Candy said, flopping on her back on Mabel's bed and spreading out her blanket cloak. She sat up, noticed a cardboard cradle next to Mabel's bed, and picked up the porcelain doll inside. "Oooh! Who's this handsome gentleman?"

"That's Bartholomew! I told you about him. Barty, these are my friends Candy and Grenda."

The doll did nothing.

"You can say hi, Barty! I trust them!"

The doll continued to do nothing.

"He's shy," Mabel said. "He's totally haunted by a little Victorian boy, though, really."

Candy nodded. "I believe you."

"This is cool!" Grenda said. She was trying to scrub the camo paint off her arms and face with her hands. "I've never gone to a secret sleepover before. Next time we should sneak into my place!"

"Okay, so," Mabel said. "I promised you I'd introduce you to the secret guy that's been staying here as soon as it was okay to. And it's okay to! As long as nobody else finds out I introduced you."

Grenda nodded. Candy said, "This sounds reasonable."

"Anyway his name's Goldie, he's been staying at the shack this summer, he's really fun, he's kiiind of a bad guy but in a cool way"—(Candy appreciatively said, "Oooh.")—"aaand he's asleep right now." A dramatic pause. "But not for long."

Candy and Grenda grinned evilly.

####

"Secret sleepover step two," Mabel whispered. "Introducing your friends to your other friend!" The camera's dark screen was illuminated by a slit of light as Grenda pulled open the curtain to Bill's room. The dim starlight pouring into the room was barely enough to illuminate the white lightning and yellow circle of symbols on the hanging zodiac blanket as the girls pushed past it to creep into the room.

Bill lay sleeping on the chaise extension of the orange sofa, catty-corner to the doorway, curled up on his side with his back to the door. Beneath his curls, the eye stitched on the back of his hood peered out at the room, shifting up and down with his steady sleeping breaths. The girls crept up behind him, biting their lips to keep from giggling. Candy and Grenda flanked Mabel, arms raised in preparation to attack, as Mabel held up her fingers... 3... 2... 1...

Bill rolled over with a devilish grin and lunged at them. "HEY, KIDS!"

The girls screamed. They bolted for the hall with Bill's laughter following them.

####

"You should've seen the looks on your faces," Bill gloated. He was sitting on the floor, legs crossed lotus style, in a semicircle with the three girls around the camera Mabel had set on the sofa. They'd set one flashlight next to the camera pointing out and another on the floor pointing at the ceiling.

"You got us good," Candy admitted.

Grenda leaned across the semicircle. "Hi! I'm Grenda. This is Candy."

"I've heard a lot about you two." Bill sat back, giving Grenda a somewhat less than warm smile. "Call me Goldie."

Grenda gasped. "Hey! Candy, look at his eyes!"

"What?" Bill's gaze darted between the girls' faces. His eyes caught the faint light and flashed like a cat's.

"They did it again!"

"Whoa!" Candy got up on her knees and leaned toward Bill. He leaned away.

Panic crossed Mabel's face. "Uhh, I can explain—"

"We knew it," Candy said. "We were sure you couldn't let us meet Goldie because he was a werewolf catboy!"

"I dunno," Grenda said. "They look more like frog eyes. They're kinda bulgy, too."

Bill stared at Grenda. A broad smile broke out across his face. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about them!"

Grenda asked, "Do your eyes suck into your face when you swallow like a frog's do?"

"I dunno, swallowing makes me blink. You tell me." Bill deliberately swallowed.

"Ugh, they do! Gross," Grenda said approvingly.

"Why do you have frog eyes? Are you a werefrog?" Candy asked. "Or did a mad scientist mutate you?"

Bill said, "You know the story about the frog prince? My great-grandfather."

"He is not."

"He could be!"

"Anyway," Mabel said, "Goldie's not any kind of not-human person or anything, that'd be crazy. He's just a big secret because he's committed war crimes, that's all!"

Grenda and Candy considered that.

"That's cool." Candy slowly pulled out a makeup bag. "Do you like makeovers?"

Bill eyed her appraisingly. "How good are you?"

####

The camera sat tilted off to the side, catching Grenda, Bill, and a bit of Mabel's hair. Bill and Grenda sat just out of the flashlights' range while Mabel and Candy off-screen debated how best to shape Mabel's lips. Grenda held a purple tube of foundation in one of the flashlights' beams; the tube had a logo that looked like a lilac triangle with a single eye and thick purple lips. She uncapped a black eyeliner pen, drew a big X over the triangle's eye and gave it a curly mustache, and added a cramped word bubble over it that said "UGLY LOSR." Grenda chuckled.

Past her, Bill's eyes flashed in the dark as they narrowed.

"Finished!" Mabel announced. She turned the camera to face the whole quartet again. "Secret sleepover step three: normal sleepover activities! Starting with... makeovers! Remember, you're beautiful just the way you are; but a real artist can look at a human body and see a canvas. And canvases are for paint!"

She pointed the flashlight at her own face. "I call this look... the Showstopper." She had eyeshadow, blush, and lipstick—in three different shades of pink—liberally caked on with a crunchy layer of multicolored glitter and with plastic gems bedazzling her brow and temples. It looked bad.

Mabel pointed the flashlight at Grenda. "This one's... Beach Babe."

Grenda said, "Like a mermaid!" She had blush painted to look like scales, clumpy blue mascara and blue eyeshadow shaped like waves, and lipstick that looked like a fish. It looked bad.

Mabel pointed at Candy. "And this is the Glam Rock Revival!" Candy had a shimmery blue star painted over one eye and half her face, and a smaller matching star on her opposite cheek. It looked unexpectedly good.

"And Goldie..." Mabel pointed the flashlight at his face. "He kinda just... let us experiment with some designs Candy found in a makeup book."

One of his eyes had a neon rainbow eyebrow and eyelashes and tiny glittery butterfly stickers. The other eye had golden eyelashes and bright blue and black flames that would look at home spray painted on an old school hot rod. It looked bad.

"I look awesome," Bill said.

"And check out our mani-pedis!" Grenda grabbed the camera and pointed it down at their hands and feet. Mabel had messy watermelon nails, Grenda had decent French tips, Candy's actually matched her makeup, and Bill—who, unlike the girls, wasn't so much showing off his nails as he was just sitting there while Grenda waved the camera around—had a different set on each hand and foot.

Mabel said, "Goldie let us each experiment on one set of nails."

Grenda pointed at Bill's right hand, "I did that one!" He had five extremely long glue-on nails, which in turn each had two more glue-on nails on top, each trimmed to a sharp point. All fifteen nails had garish pre-printed designs—stripes, polka dots, and three types of animal print. None matched.

Bill cheerily said, "I could stab clean through a grown man's throat with these."

Mabel leaned closer. "Goldie, why's your other hand so boring!" His left hand had all black nails.

Bill said, "Turn off the flashlights."

Mabel turned them off. Five glow-in-the-dark eyes peered up from Bill's nails. The girls ooohed appreciatively.

"Now what?" Candy asked. "We can't do our other usual sleepover activities. Rom-coms, karaoke, and saucy book readings are too loud for a secret sleepover."

"Aww," Bill groaned, "I was looking forward to karaoke."

"Candy's right." Mabel turned a flashlight back on. "We'll have to get creative. What's a good traditional sleepover activity that isn't too loud?"

They sat around for a moment in silent thought.

Bill turned the other flashlight on under his grinning face. "You girls ever summon a demon before?"

The girls smiled excitedly.

####

The camera trained on Grenda and Candy as they leaned over the lizard tank in the Mystery Shack's museum, staring at the "baby dragon" display. "Awww," Grenda cooed. "Look at them! They're so cute." She stood on her toes and crossed her arms on the edge of the tank. "How do their fake wings stay on?"

"Alien superglue. It'll last until their next shed," Bill said from behind the camera.

"They're very brown," Candy said, disappointed. "I guess it's good camouflage." She held up part of her camo blanket cloak to compare.

Grenda said, "I think they're either western fence lizards or sagebrush lizards. Do you know where Mr. Ramirez caught them?"

"In the forests around town," Bill said.

"Western fence lizards," Grenda said. "If they're boys, they'll have blue bellies!"

"Oooh." Candy crouched down eye-level with the lizards trying to see their bellies.

Grenda tentatively reached a hand into the tank to pick up one of the baby dragons; it skittered under a rock for safety.

Bill said, "You know your lizards, Grendo."

"Heh. Grend-O."

Candy said, "Grenda is the reptile and amphibian expert."

"I have a book on them! And a pet iguana!" Grenda announced. "Hey, Gold-O! What's your favorite lizard?"

Bill was silent a few seconds. "Leeet's go with chameleons. They've got cute eyes."

"Chameleons are my favorite too," Candy said. "I like how they change color. Their eyes are freaky, though."

Grenda said, "I like chameleon eyes! They're crazy! I think it'd be cool to look two different directions at the same time."

Bill lowered the camera slightly. "What, you mean like this?"

Grenda and Candy gaped at him in shock. Candy squealed in discomfort and shielded her eyes. "That looks painful."

Grenda laughed. "Cool," she said. "Hey, you like frogs too, right? What's your favorite frog!"

"Golden poison dart frogs." Bill answered without hesitation. "The brighter, the better."

"I love poison dart frogs," Grenda said. "On my death bed, I wanna lick one to find out what it tastes like!"

"Bitter sushi, until your mouth goes numb," Bill said. "But if you're gonna get drugged by a frog, make it a psychedelic toad. They're more fun."

"Ohhh. Thanks. Now I wanna taste sushi!" One of the baby dragons crept up a rock; Grenda tried, unsuccessfully, to catch it again.

Bill walked closer to the tank to film the lizards. After a moment, he asked, "What're your favorite frogs?"

"Oooh, that's hard." Grenda put her hand to her chin, thinking.

Candy said, "I think... the little green ones with the guts you can see through."

"Glass frogs," Bill provided.

"Either red-eyed tree frogs or strawberry poison dart frogs," Grenda said. "Maybe the tree frogs. Dart frogs have boring eyes."

"One of their only flaws." Bill paused. "What do you think about axolotls?"

"Mr. Pines lets me feed his sometimes," Grenda said. "They're kind of overrated, though. Frogs are better!"

"Hm." The hm sounded approving. Bill reached into the tank, effortlessly scooped his fingers beneath the wings and around the belly of a lizard, and lifted him up. Candy and Grenda gasped. "One male in the tank." He turned the lizard's blue belly toward the camera too. It wiggled in distress.

"Got it!"

Bill swung the camera around to look at Mabel, who'd just triumphantly come through the curtain from the gift shop. She was holding a box of rainbow chalk over her head. "The chalk Soos uses for sales and stuff!"

"Perfect," Bill said. "Manage to find a religious text?"

"No, buuut I found a copy of a DMV manual at the cash register." Mabel held up her find. "Will that work?"

"Hm." Bill considered it. "I've never seen someone try it before, but traffic law is just as imaginary as any other divine commands! Just try really hard to have faith in the rules of road safety and maybe it'll work. Never know unless we try it out!"

"Good enough for me!" Mabel said. "What did we need a religious text for, again?"

"Oh, once the demon's here, it's the only thing that'll be capable of banishing it, that's all," Bill said. "So! Where are we drawing this summoning circle?"

They found a clear space in the museum on the floor near the treasure chest display. Bill handed the camera momentarily to Mabel while he drew a four-inch version of the summoning circle for the girls to copy. "It needs to be white and blood red. Do we have any blood red chalk?" He rummaged through the box of chalk. "Hmm. Okay, either one of us can let a lot of blood, or we can try it out with pink chalk. What'll it be?"

Grenda and Candy looked to Mabel, considering the question seriously. Finally, Mabel said, "Pink chalk sounds like it'll be faster."

"I guess," Bill said, disappointed. He finished his example circle and stood. "Okay, there you go! Usually you're not even supposed to draw the circle unless you've fasted for twelve hours, but there's three of you and you haven't eaten in at least four hours, sooo it's probably fine."

Grenda raised a hand. "I had a soda. Is that bad?"

"Naaah, a soda's more bubbles than liquid, I bet it barely even counts."

Bill took over camera duties again as Mabel and Candy each took a stick of white chalk to draw half the circle. They started at different sizes. They had to do a weird wiggly slope in order to make the two halves meet. Candy asked, "Is that good?"

"Hmmm..." Bill considered the lopsided blob. "It's good enough!"

While Mabel and Candy puzzled over Bill's tiny pink protective sigils and tried to figure out how to draw them bigger, Grenda leaned over to Bill and whispered, "Hey! Are you really related to the frog prince?"

"No," Bill said. (Grenda's face fell.) "I was cursed by a witch. I can see through walls and in the dark, but in exchange I have frog eyes."

Grenda's face lit up again. "Stupid! Frog eyes just make you look even cooler!"

"That dumb witch had no idea what a real curse is. I got nothing but benefits," Bill said. "All right, you asked me one, let me ask you one."

Grenda looked at Bill with trepidation. "O-okay?"

"What's with the face you were drawing on that triangle?"

Grenda seemed relieved by the question. "Oh! We're not really supposed to talk about it much? But there was this triangle jerk that tried to take over the world last year. So we're supposed to cover up pictures that look like him. I dunno, it's a whole thing."

"Okay," Bill said irritably, "fine. How come you make him look stupid, though?"

"Because he was a big monster that hurt my friends and wrecked the town," Grenda said hotly. "He almost killed Mabel!"

Bill was silent a moment. "Sure," he said tersely. "If that's what it looked like, I can see how that would leave a bad impression."

"Hey, Goldie," Mabel said loudly. "I think we're done! Does this look right?"

"Let's see..." Bill inspected the circle, circling the perimeter with the camera. It looked bad. "Looks good enough," Bill said.  "All right! Everyone in position around the circle—Grenda, you're on the circle."

"Oops." She slid her foot back, smearing the chalk line and one of the protective sigils. "Uhh... I think I broke the ring?"

"It's fine, it's small! And you can still tell what the symbol is. Mostly," Bill said. "Okay, everyone remember the chant I taught you? Three, two..."

The camera's audio only recorded a long squeal of distortion instead of words as the girls started chanting. Bill backed up to get a better shot of the whole circle. The girls' eyes began glowing white; the flashlights flickered; and a fiery cloud of smoke filled the ring, billowing from floor to ceiling. The girls stumbled back, shielding their faces from the smoke.

"Hey, hey," Bill said. "Get back in there! If you stop the chant before it's complete, you'll—!"

With a boom, the smoke exploded outward, filling the room and completely obscuring the camera's view.

When it cleared up, the ring appeared to be empty.

Bill aimed the camera down and zoomed in. In the center of the ring was a tiny imp. It looked like a skinny coral-red hairless mouse with a spade-tipped tail and little bat wings.

"—you'll only get a small one," Bill finished.

They crouched down and stared at it. "It's cute," Candy said. Mabel said, "I'm naming her Cinnamon."

It blinked big wet black eyes at them. And then it scampered out of the gap in the chalk line.

The girls shrieked. The imp chased Candy around the treasure chest. Grenda tried to climb onto a display pedestal with a taxidermy jackalope, screaming, "Get it! Get it!"

"Candy! Run this way!" Mabel got on her knees, Oregon state driving manual held high over her head. As Candy ran past, Mabel shouted, "I do believe in the speed limit!" and swung the manual down like she was swatting a bug.

The manual smacked the imp. With a puff of smoke, it poofed out of the mortal plane and back to where it came from.

"Nice banishment, star girl," Bill said. "Hey, not bad for your first summoning, kids. You'll be bargaining with demon royalty in no time."

The girls heaved a sigh of relief. "That went pretty smoothly, I think," Candy said.

"Yeah!" Grenda climbed down from the pedestal. "There weren't any weird life-threatening twists or anything!"

"That doesn't happen a lot," Mabel said.

The camera suddenly lowered, pointing at the floor at an angle. "Hey, Mabel. Where'd you get this camera, anyway?" The camera's view turned back and forth. "It doesn't look like the one you usually record your guides with."

"Oh, yeah," Mabel said. "Dipper's using our normal camera, so I'm borrowing one I found in a box in the attic loft."

Bill said, "The cardboard box covered in fifteen strips of duct tape?"

"Uh-huh."

"So, the cursed camera?"

A pause. "The what?"

The camera's view became a blur as it whizzed across the room, only focusing again when the camera was ten feet in the air and staring down at the group of four. The camera's neck strap had wrapped tight around one of Bill's wrists, wrenching his arm into the air. Candy and Grenda automatically clung to his sides, the one adult in the room; he had his free arm raised up to avoid touching Candy.

"Well! This isn't ideal." The camera had a clipped, artificial-sounding voice—but a familiar one. "I'd been hoping you'd split up so I could steal your souls one by one!"

Mabel said, "Why do you sound like Grunkle Ford! Did you steal his soul?!"

"Stanford's voice is just the only one it's ever recorded before tonight," Bill said. "If it had stolen his soul, you'd know."

"How?"

"Because he'd be dead."

"Oh."

"So much for the element of surprise." The camera's sigh was laced with the crackle of VHS static. "But as long as my secret is out... time to hunt!"

"Huh! How about that," Bill said. "Kids? Run."

Grenda and Candy turned and bolted deeper into the museum.

Bill turned to stare at them in bewilderment. "Not that way—!"

Mabel threw herself on Bill's arm, trying to jerk down the camera and pull off the strap. "Let go of my friend, you—!"

The screen blurred as the camera butted the side of Mabel's head, knocking her to the ground. Panic flashed across Bill's face. "Mabel!"

The camera took advantage of his distraction to snap its strap around both his wrists, bind them together, and yank Bill closer. "At least I get to take out the biggest threat first," the camera hissed. "Smile for the camera, sweetheart."

Bill shot the camera a glare—and then seemingly got caught there, unable to tear his eyes away from the lens, as the camera slowly zoomed in...

And nothing happened.

"It's not working," the camera said. "Your soul should be sucked out by now. Why isn't it working?"

Bill shook himself out of the trance and laughed darkly. "Because a force too powerful for your little electronic mind to comprehend glued my soul in this body so tightly, even I can't pull it out!" He leaned closer until one wide bloodshot eye filled the screen. "Go ahead, give it your best shot! Maybe you'll help tug it loose!"

The camera paused. "Are... are you alright?"

Bill jerked back, scowling. "Oh, just shut— Mabel! Flashlight!"

"Flashlight!"

Bill tilted his head aside just in time for a flashlight to sail over his shoulder and crash into the camera. It shrieked inhumanly. It crash-landed at a tilt, a crack in its lens, the shot unfocused. Bill's blurry form looked down at the camera, holding the flashlight—and then he turned and ran for the curtain into the gift shop. The camera slowly rose back up.

Mabel shouted, "Bi—Goldie! Come back!"

"Keep it distracted!"

"You don't even need a flashlight, you coward!"

The camera's blurry view focused. The crack in its lens repaired itself. It stared at the curtain where Bill had disappeared, snarled, "Not worth it," and rounded on the museum.

And then it began stalking its prey.

The camera followed heavy thudding to find Grenda trying to knock down the main entrance's locked door. "Come on!" Grenda grunted. "This! Doesn't! Meet! Fire codes!" As she glimpsed the camera's approach, she gasped, flipped a rug over it, and bolted. 

It zoomed past Sascrotch, peered behind it, and caught Mabel and Candy clinging onto its back fur. They screamed, dropped down, and ran two different directions. The camera glanced between them indecisively and snarled in frustration when they both turned corners before it could choose a target.

It passed a six pack-o'-lope, a mummy, and a triclops skull; heard a papery rustle; and did a double-take at the displays. Grenda, wrapped in a bunch of receipt paper from the gift shop, ran away from the former "mummy" display.

It swooped under a taxidermy turtle with wings to find Candy hiding beneath the turtle's shell; Candy flipped the shell over the camera before she ran the other way.

It chased Mabel around a barrel of monkey heads, ending in a stalemate on opposite sides of the barrel with each of them twitching left and right trying to figure out which way to run; until it remembered it could just float over the top of the barrel. Mabel backed up and blew a handful of chalk dust in the camera's lens. By the time it wiped its lens clean on a dried monkey pelt, Mabel was gone.

It circled around the invisible man to see whether its cloak hid any children behind its back, made a noise of disgust when it didn't find any, and turned to leave. "Wait a minute. That man isn't invisible!"

Candy—her face beneath the "invisible man's" suspended glasses and bowler hat—sighed harshly and threw down her camo blanket, revealing she was sitting on Grenda's shoulders. "This camouflage doesn't do anything!" They tumbled to the ground and ran different directions.

This time, the camera didn't make the mistake of hesitating before choosing a target. It flew after Grenda.

Grenda stopped in a dead end with a gasp. "Uh-oh." She turned to see how close the camera was behind her, flinched, and tried to dodge around it. It jerked to the side, backing Grenda into a corner.

"Back off, you big, ugly—!" She punched the camera square in the lens, her fist filling the shot. The crunched lens had repaired itself before Grenda stopped shaking her smarting hand. She gasped and covered her eyes. "Please don't take my soul! I'm using it!"

"Not for long!" The camera's strap whipped around Grenda's wrists, yanking her hands down. "It's time for your close up!"

Grenda tried to turn her face away—but the camera caught her gaze, and she turned toward it, eyes wide, hypnotized. The shot zoomed in. A swirling green mist began spiraling out of Grenda's eyes.

Until another set of eyes cut in between, yellow and slitted and furious and framed by mismatched eyeshadow. "Miss me?"

"You," the camera snarled.

Grenda cheered, "Gold-O! You came back!"

"Hey, Grend-O." Bill glanced back over his shoulder. "Sorry for the wait—takes a while for glow-in-the-dark nail polish to charge and dry."

"Get out of my way!" The camera tried to butt the side of Bill's head.

He caught it in his left hand without looking, his arm extending off the edge of the screen like he was taking a selfie. "I don't think so." He raised his right hand—several of the ludicrous nail extensions had already broken off—with palm facing out. There was a symbol painted on his palm, glowing whitish green; but whatever symbol he'd painted on his palm couldn't be fully seen because the moment it was in full view of the camera's lens, it became so bright it almost completely washed out the rest of the frame.

The image skipped and the audio recorded a shriek of static before the camera managed to wrench itself free of Bill's grip and rush back.

Bill caught it by its strap, twisting it about his left wrist to keep it secure. "Now let's get this straight," he snarled, teeth bared at the camera. "Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—" his voice dropped demonically low, "—you'll have to get through me." He dragged the camera closer. 

He clamped his right hand over the camera's lens, trapping it with the glowing symbol on his palm; the static screamed, stuttered; and then the film overheated and melted.

####

The camera switched back on. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers!" Mabel's left eyeshadow and blush was smeared across her face. "Weee're back! Goldie taped a symbol to the camera that keeps it stunned, so we're safe! Woo-woo! Now, back to sleepover step, uh... seven or something: greeting the sunrise with your friends who didn't get any sleep!"

She turned the camera toward Candy and Grenda, who were sitting with her on the saggy sofa on the back porch. They were blinking dazedly toward the glowing horizon.

"And now you've completed a successful sleepover! Great job, everybody!"

"You kids can stay up if you want," Bill said. (Mabel aimed the camera down; Bill was lying on his stomach on the porch, cheek resting on his crossed arms, eyes shut.) "I'm already asleep."

"Boo," Candy said. "Sleepover quitters are lame."

"Yeah," Mabel agreed. "But he saved our lives, I think he earned it if he wants."

"Do you wanna sleep on the couch?" Grenda asked. "There's still some room! We could squish together!"

"Nah, s'more comfortable down here," Bill mumbled. "My back's killing me."

Grenda laughed. "Old."

"I got assaulted by a camera!"

"Hold on, I have an idea!" She got off the couch and knelt next to Bill. "I saw this at the mall once." She dug an elbow into his back. "Is this helping?"

Bill grunted. "More to the left," he said. "It might be helping a little bit..."

Grenda pressed her other elbow into his back, putting her upper body weight on it. "How 'bout now?"

"Not quite..."

Candy climbed on the arm of the sofa and crouched there. "Let me try!" Grenda leaned back. Like a wrestler, Candy jumped in the air and dropped, sharp elbow first, onto Bill's back.

Bill's eyes flew open and he let out a strangled shriek of pain. It petered out. "Oh, hey—that actually got it. Thanks, kids." He sighed in relief and immediately fell back asleep.

Grenda pumped a fist. "Yes!"

"He really was tired," Candy said.

"So, what'd I say, girls?" Mabel asked. "I told you Goldie was cool, right?"

"Okay, you were right," Candy said. "He is a very patient makeup mannequin."

"And he taught us how to summon demons and saved our lives," Grenda said. "And the first thing didn't even cause the second thing! Which is weird!"

Eyes still shut, Bill mumbled, "You flatter me."

"Hey!" Grenda picked up a sofa cushion. "You're supposed to be a-SLEEP!" She swung it down on his head. He only laughed.

"Yes!" Mabel cheered. "And the moral of the story is the friend of my friend is my friend's friend! Or—wait—no. The friend of my friend is my friend too?"

From under the cushion, Bill said, "The friend of my friend is my rival for her attention."

"No!" Mabel turned the camera to herself. "Anyway, that's Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Tune in next time for... I dunno, maybe alpacas or something. We'll see!"

She set the camera in her lap, episode completed.

####

(Would you look at that, positive character growth. Hope you enjoyed, and looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!)

[greedyhoneyz]

Judgement Day

.ೃ࿔* pairing: armando aretas x reader .ೃ࿔* synopsis: the aretas name carried weight in miami. it was a name which symbolised power and carried a notion of fear. to mess with an aretas, was a call to an early death. .ೃ࿔* wc: 3k words. .ೃ࿔* cw: angst. assault. violence. blood. harrassment. threats. .ೃ࿔* authors note: another fanfic for a piece of media i have yet to watch. this is long but i hope it doesn't come off juvenile.

The hot Miami heat bared the warmth of a deep-emotion smile at dawn but as night fell, it raged into an inferno, chaotic and wild. It charred and blistered the abode floor, once chilled by seasonal rains and engulfed the city with a tragic blaze.

Even in the heatwave, Miami bustled with life, men and women toiled across the dancefloor, their bodies weary and scorched beneath yards of thin fabric. They jived and boogied to the setlist with as much passion as their drunken states could emote and drank to their hearts' content. At the end of the night, they busted through the doors into the artificial glow of street lamps, staggering, failing to hail an Uber or move on to the next attraction. In the charcoal night, Miami Beach weaved together crowds of partygoers and workers alike, as the early morning sunshine threatened to peek through the sky.

(name) hissed and hollered her way out of the nightclub as her heels clicked onto the pavement.

She had worn them for the sake of fashion. The open-toed stilettos were to die for; they matched perfectly with her mini dress and petite shoulder bag. But now as she waddled, her feet were paying the price. The four-inch stilettos were not meant for walking, the leather straps dug into her skin and the arch pinned tiny knives into her feet. Each step she took sent a shockwave of pain through her feet.

Adjusting her stride, (name) attempted to distribute her weight more evenly into the shoe. It made little difference but she would make it work– the night was young and she had a couple more hours in her.

Straightening her shoulders, (name) fixed her bag and quickened her pace, walking in conjunction with her friend.

“Where are we going?” She had spoken out between anxious breaths, inwardly wincing at the pressure dented into her toes.

“Um…..” Kayla stared into her phone. “Nightingale, Candace said she’ll meet us there.”

“How far is it?”

“Just a couple blocks down. We’ve been there before, remember?”

“I do,” (name) huffed. “It's just– my feet are killing me. I don’t know how much longer I can take this Kayla. I’m tired.”

Kayla stopped, causing (name) to falter in haste as she slowly turned. She faced her friend, boring her eyes into hers, her lips forming into a hard line. She gripped her friend’s arm, holstering her close and darted her pointer finger to her.

“You,” She began slowly, her voice was low at first but grew louder and more boisterous as she glared into (name). “Are not going anyway, do you understand? Today is our night, our night to go out, get drunk and do something stupid, okay? No shoe and no bitch is ruining our night, comprende?”

“Sí. Sí. I understand.” (name) replied shortly, hiding a smile between her teeth.

“Good.” Kayla nodded, tucking her arm around (name’s).

The pair beelined across the strip, accustoming themselves amongst the crowds of partygoers pulling and pushing their way across South Beach. They found Candace waiting by the entrance, looking radiant in a yellow, mini-dress, her wind-tousled hair fell over her shoulders.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, giving them each a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

The bouncer let them in without hesitation, ushering the trio past the long, ascending line trickling across the street, and they made their way towards the bar. The music blared and pulsated from wall to wall and the stage lights flared and spun above them.

“So….where’s this boyfriend of yours at?” Candace asked inquisitively, sipping on her margarita. She wriggled her eyebrows playfully and passed a simple glance at (name’s) phone as she placed it on the bar, a picture of her boyfriend printed on her lock screen.

“Somewhere,” (name) shrugged. “He wasn’t home when I left for Kayla’s place.”

“So you snuck out?” Kayla jeered, propping her chin atop her hand. “You never told me that.”

(name) shook her head. “Nah, it's nothing like that–”

“Wait— this means you can stay out!” Candace bellowed happily.

“Of course I can–”

“No more talking, let’s dance!”

Candace shot up from her seat, slamming her drink on the bar counter, and reigned her hands around Kayla and (name). She wrung them out from their seats with the strength of a colossal giant and tugged the two towards the dancefloor, declaring the two move to the rhythm of the song.

It took a while – a couple of short seconds before Kayla and (name) joined Candace in dance. The three danced in conjunction with each other, keeping close to their circle with a light bounce from side to side and trigger fingers.

As the night wore on, the air grew thicker and (name) and her friends were tipsier. The club music had grown louder and more intense as the DJ turned to play Sexyy Red and the crowd had begun to surge forward in retort to the sharp change in tempo and pitch. The crowd was like a tide, rolling in and out, its rhythm intermittent to the beat.

No more did the throbbing of her feet cloud (name’s) mind; the blend of a rhubarb fizz and vitality was a deterrent. With her closest friends surrounding her, (name) felt at ease, her smile so wide and bright, that she feared it would become permanent.

She rocked her hips, her hands travelling across her thighs and slowly craned forward. She held onto her legs, shaking her thighs as motion rippled across her calves and ascended towards her ass. (name) shook her bottom with a smize, moving her cheeks with such fluid, curvaceous motions it left nothing to disguise that the skirt of her dress began to hike. Undaunted, she continued to move, placing a careful hand between her cheeks as the other tugged her dress down.

So young and so free, (name) craned herself upwards and placed her hands against her chest. She bopped from side to side, twirling her hips gingerly and scored her hands across her breasts and middle. She looked heavenward at the ceiling, the club roof clouded by bright, neon lights and flashes, she squeezed her eyes shut in retort. She dropped her head and opened her eyes, bouncing on the balls of her feet before letting out a raring shrill.

The night flew by in a blur of music, laughter and good company. And by 2 am, the club slowed and the crowd began to disperse. Exhausted but exhilarated, they left the club and amidst themselves between the sea of bodies flooding out from the club.

Letting out a refreshed sigh, (name) turned to her friends. Her hair was dampened, her hot-rod curls once full of life and shine, had dropped, now frizzy and weightless. The fabric of her dress had clung to her sticky skin and her bag was hung at the edge of her shoulder.

“I’m so lit right now,” she moaned, closing her eyes. She wobbled on her two feet, swaying from side to side, pressing her weight onto one shoe and when she threatened to stumble to the side, hauling her weight onto the other.

“Me too,” Kayla replied, stumbling over Candace. She clung onto the woman, grasping onto her dress and pressed herself against the wall.

“I….I think–” Candace couldn't help but giggle to herself, dropping her head.

(name) smacked her lips, her eyes slowly peeling open and peered at the two women. She swallowed deeply, curling her lips in practice before she spoke. “You girls….wanna head off to Oasis?”

“Yeah.”

Both Kayla and Candace hummed in agreement and staggered to height. They adjusted themselves, sheepishly picking at each other, one fixing the other’s hair and the other fixing her dress as (name) collected her belongings into her bag.

“Aye!” A voice began. It was deep and hoarse, breathy as his mouth approached a few more words. “Aye miss!”

Though inebriated, (name) couldn’t mask her quickening discomfort as his heavy footsteps rattled behind her.

She tensed, hiking her shoulders and carefully turned. She wore a tight smile on her face, a mask of politeness.

“Yes?”

The man was tall, handsome, and smelt good. And yet, he failed to strike (name). As she stood before him, swaying from left to right, he grinned, bewitched by her charming features and supple figure.

He smiled at her, his eyes never leaving hers. “I just wanted to tell you that you looked good.”

(name) shook her head and waved her hand, feigning appreciation. “Thank you.”

“You know, I was watching you, inside, dancin’ and shit,” He laughed, tossing his head back. “You can shake that ass pretty good.”

“Thank you–”

“And I– lemme get your number.” His words were quick and sharp; his intent was clear.

“Oh,” she tittered, throwing a glance at her friends. “Well…I’m sorry but I’ve got a boyfriend–”

“You’ve got a boyfriend….” He repeated sullenly. He laughed heartily as if (name) had said the funniest thing ever and shook his head.

“Listen,” He began, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I promise you I ain’t no weirdo. No bear here.”

Kayla was prompt in grabbing (name’s) hand, making no effort to hide her disgust. She moved from behind her, Candace following in tow, and attempted to pull the girl along. “C’mon (name) let's go.”

Like a colossal giant, both the man and his voice grew towers tall. He gripped (name’s) arm and jerked her back. “Aye, I wasn’t done talkin’!”

(name) yelped, stumbling over her feet and sharply jeered her head at the man. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Just give me your number.” He demanded, digging his nails into her skin.

(name) profusely shook her head, quickly sobering up and attempted to pull away. “Let go!”

No more did the nice guy act continue, the man once cheerful and hopeful, sneered at (name), puffing out her chest and flaring his nostrils. He was quick to insult her, hurling a hail of curses aimed at her figure as he fiercely yanked her backwards, swinging her frame towards him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cursed at the top of his lungs, splatters of spit flailing out from his mouth. “You bitches are always too full of yourselves! Wanna act all uppity when a man wants to talk to you!”

“Then fucking let me go! The fuck!” By then, amidst the chaos, a crowd had gathered. Like a mob of meerkats, they gawked, gasped and videoed in disbelief at the rage pelting from the colossal of a man. They watched, uttering words of discomfort and dismay as (name) attempted to rear herself away from the man, thrusting herself against Kayla as she pulled her forward.

“I didn't even want to holler at your ugly ass anyways!” He roared, his voice loud and menacing.

“Oh my fucking god! Let me go! I don’t want to fucking talk to your stupid ass!” (name) shrieked back. Her eyebrows furrowed together and her lips pulled into an irritated scowl.

“Nah you fucking listen to me, bitch!” His voice erupted out from the vessels of his throat like a disgorging volcano, propelling a warcry in the wake of a lava-filled avalanche, in the form of a fist.

In a few short seconds, the colossal revolved free his arm, balling his into a fist and drew it back. He reigned his fists forward, fuelled with fury and humiliation, and swung at (name), striking her in the jaw.

She staggered to her floor with a loud yelp, the contents of her purse pooling across the floor. Both Kayla and Candace circled (name) in protest, pulling into their embrace as the colossal hovered above, jeering.

Candace gasped, her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she held (name’s) face between her palms. “(name)!” She cried, fretting her fingers across her face. “Are you okay?”

Sore but unharmed, (name) could manage a nod, nursing a hand to her swelling jaw. “I’m…I’m okay.”

Candace shot her head up and leered up at the colossal begrudgingly, shrieking. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Rapidly, she climbed onto her feet, jumping between the colossal and her friend’s dazed figure, and glowering, waving her pointer finger and screeching like a banshee. “Do you like putting your hands on fucking defenceless women?! Huh! Do you think that’s okay?!”

“Aye, shut the fuck up! That bitch got what she fucking deserved—”

The neigh of engines and the screeching of hot tyres hailed across the strip, and the sound had bequeathed a play of silence across the beach.

The once vivacious party strip, nestled with drunk partygoers and deafening music, had quickly shimmered into silence. And all that sounded was the row of heavy footsteps mounting from the street onto the sidewalk. The footsteps marched into the crowd, dispersing the tide and began to section off each corner one by one as the clatter of a single pair of boots trotted forward.

Armando stared at (name), his face firm, and carefully crouched to his knees. It was a while before he spoke, his voice deep and guttural, his eyes boring into hers. “Are you okay?” Slowly, he brought his hands to her face and brushed his thumb against her jaw, the surface of her wound spreading purple with yellow blotches, and when she cowered back his expression darkened.

(name) could only utter a wary whisper, her eyes darting between him and the colossal behind him. “…yes.”

Inhaling deeply, Armando rose to height, hauling his girlfriend up to her feet. He held her hand in his, offering a forgiving glance and turned.

He clambered away from (name), his shoulders taunt and chin heavenward. Armando was angry– enraged. He did a good job of hiding it, but (name) knew the signs.

He wired his neck, rearing it from side to side and heaved slowly, his chest rising and falling. Every muscle on his face tightened, his eyes narrowed, and his chin jutted outward.

He approached the colossal, his arms pinned behind his back and gave him a once-over, sizing him up.

He blinked, parting his lips slowly, and then blinked again. “Do we have a problem?”

The colossal shook his head and feigned a hearty laugh, his pupils flared and mouth twisted. “Nah man, we’re cool–”

“Let me ask you again,” Armando snarled slowly, gritting his teeth together. “Do we have a problem?”

“Listen, man, I can assure you there’s no problem here–”

Armando sucked at the air like it had suddenly become thick and shut his eyes. He’d become deaf to his galling words, his rapid chatter professing a tale of ignorance and regard, a rapid back-tracking to his previously tough stance. And by then, his anger was irreversible.

He lunged at him; pummelling, hitting. Each hit landed with a sickening thud, the blow between skin and fist astounding. The man had swung back, wailing his fists in the air, but succumbed to the force of Armando’s blows. His movements were swift and silent, spectral. The pivot of his feet from place to place was incorporeal. He was impenetrable evading each wild blow before he swung again.

Armando flitted around the man, his movements a blur of speed and precision and winded his knee upwards. It prodded into his middle, driving into his chest, and sent him stumbling backwards, off-balance. His tumble left an opening, a gap between his face and Armando’s revolving leg.

He took the opening, rearing his leg upwards and swung it forward, striking. A rapid combination of punches and kicks followed, each came and landed with more precision and power till the colossal succumbed to near-coming death. He crumbled to the ground, in a grotesque mess of blood. His eyes were swollen over and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws. He was now as revolting as he should be, finally, the outside reflected the spoiled man within.

Armando stood victorious over the bloody mess that was his adversary and sneered at him with such venom and disdain. He crouched down, his knuckles wounded with welts and stained with blood, not of his own, and grabbed his shirt, his grip like a vice.

He pulled him towards him, his face taut with rage and displeasure, and glowered over him. Under his grip, the man hung like cattle, his limbs astray as blood sputtered from out his mouth.

Armando rubbed his lips, swivelling on the balls of his feet, and gnashed his teeth together, chiding grimly. “You see..” he shook his head, his nostrils flared. “If it wasn’t for her…”

He turned to (name), lugging the man along and pointed. He leaned into his ear, his voice began small as a whisper and bubbled into a rue of senile and ghastly distaste. “…I’d kill you….”

“Consider this a warning–” Armando released his grip, the man flailing back onto the ground, and stood back on his feet. “You fuck with her, you fuck with me.”

He scowled, whipping his hands and leered at the crowd before him. In a stop-start fashion, one by one, the crowd fizzled out in groups of threes, fours, and fives. Song and chatter fizzled back across the strip in small bites and vivid hues flashed across the beach.

Armando turned to (name), his face closed up and extended his arm. He reached for her, placing her hand in his palm and grasped it tenderly. He held her hand to her face and wrapped her wound beneath her hand. He looked at her as her gaze trembled, her shoulders shivering and tugged her towards him. He held her in his arms, his tight embrace swelled around her middle and carefully coaxed (name) away.

Despite the return of vibrance and euphoria flooding across the party strip, an unsettling mist hung over. A monochrome of silver glanced over the black night. There was an uncharacteristically grim line etched across the faces of those among the dispersing crowd, a sense of sadness, remorse, dismay and dread.

Armando Aretas was not to be toyed with— and neither was she.

[persphonesorchid]

Minisode: Yoongi

Notes: Bros I miss Yoongi so much rn 😭

Warnings: implied smut and nudity

Minisodes Masterlist

"You want a kiss or something?" Yoongi peeks an eye open, the soft traces of your warm fingers against his bottom lip and chin pulled him from his dozing. Sunlight filters in from the window, muted in white as the sun fights through a shimmery cloud. You're inches away, skin bare in the soft light, the sheet draped over you hides the rest of you from view and Yoongi eyes the mark that aligns with his teeth.

You're quiet as you simply stare, and years ago, Yoongi would get shy, tuck his tongue into his cheek and look away because he couldn't help it. Now, he stares back, trying to read the furrow in your brow and the light in your eyes because he can't help that either. They don't really match up and he's trying to make sense of it. Your fingers shift their focus, tracing along the angle of his jaw, up to his hair, shorter now than many months ago when you would playfully tug. You'd cried when he came home with it short.

"What's wrong?" Yoongi asks softly, catching your hand with his, he gives your fingers a little squeeze. You smile and shake your head, and Yoongi shuffles closer, pulling you to him. His arm would go numb in a bit, but that barely matters as you curl into him. You tuck your face against his neck, just slightly under his chin, and slightly confused and mostly concerned, Yoongi rubs circles against your back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He feels you shake your head, "Okay. That's okay."

For a moment, it's quiet and he thinks you've fallen asleep, but your voice barely disturbs the silence. "Missed you."

"I've been here." Yoongi's hand settles on the back of your neck, pulling back just slightly, but you press closer to him so he gives up. He lets you settle as you please, your breath ghosting along his collar brings a phantom memory of your mouth just then. He trails his fingers at your hairline, just at your nape, and presses a kiss to your hair.

"I know."

Something that feels an awful lot like guilt settles in his chest and stings his eyes for a second, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You finally pull back and he takes the chance, looking down at you. Your eyes are misty but you're smiling, something that blossoms and blooms into the grin he's fond of. "Can I have that kiss now?"

Yoongi chuckles, "I dunno. You have eye boogies and you drool in your sleep, you know." You smack his side and he wheezes, "Slobbered all over my arm this morning."

He keeps going just to hear you whine and complain, but your smile grows and you laugh this time, moving away from him and wrapping yourself in the sheets and he follows with not-so-sorry sorry's. He pulls you back, even though the sheets deny him once more, digs his cold hands trough it to find your warm skin.

"I'm not gonna kiss you if you don't turn around."

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Little Kreature (The Boys Drabble)

Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader (only indicator for gender is the phrase 'atta girl') / requests are open

Summary: The mission goes well and Butcher's found a surprise for you.

Fic type: fluff (gore mentions).

The Boys: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Oi, love," you hear Butcher call from the other end of the hall. "Come take a look at this, eh?"

You roll your eyes but do as you're told, wandering down the hallway, streaking your fingers along the walls and trailing them through the blood that was splattered up and down and all the way across the eggshell-white walls. Well, they were eggshell. Hmm. You think you like red better.

You reach Butcher, giving him the side-eye when he gives your ass a slap and an accompanying "atta girl."

"What, Butcher?"

He nods his head towards the opened door, and what you see when you look inside has your jaw dropping open in shock.

"Don't you say I do 'nuffin for y'ah," he groused, checking down the hallway to make sure no more guards were coming up the stairs.

It's almost startling, seeing the spotless room when you've just waded through the guts of about twelve people splattered across every surface you could lay your eyes on. Yeah, you were the one who gutted them all, but still. What could you say? It was a gift.

But right there, sitting on the edge of the bed, was a puppy. A little speck of a thing, all soft-eared and floppy-skinned. He was precious, and the way Butcher was looking at you- you knew he'd already decided you could keep the thing.

"Oh, aren't you a precious little baby," you cooed, wiping the blood off your hands and onto your jeans before you reached out for the puppy to sniff your hand. His little head flopped to the side and you just about melted right then and there.

"Oh, Billy, look at him," you pouted, turning around and showing your boyfriend-cross-boss-cross-situationship the baby in your arms.

"Yeah, yeah, cute little cunt, ain't 'e?"

When you stood there content to coo at the thing for another however long, Butcher grunted, fingers shifting around the trigger on his handgun. He wanted to leave now that you'd taken out the Vought exec and her guards. Clearly, she was a fan of dogs. It almost made you feel a little guilty. Almost.

"Right love," Butcher said, deciding you'd both dicked around long enough. "Let's get this show on the road, eh? We don't want to be here when they send more supes to figure out what's happened. Grab y'er pup and let's boogie."

"Sir yes, sir," you replied with a flirtatious wink before making your way back through the blood-soaked home and out the door where MM and the others were waiting for you, guards and mission all but forgotten.

Now you only needed to pick a name for your little friend.

"How about Kreature?" You asked the pup as Frenchie opened the van door and ushered you inside, Butcher hot on your heels.

"Whatever you want, love," came Butcher's voice, assuming you'd been speaking to him.

Kreature it was, then.

[disco-archetypes]

YOU - "So, you wanna *party*?"

ACELE - "What?" She looks up at you, confused.

YOU - (Say it again louder, she might not have heard you over the wind.) "DO YOU WANT TO PARTY?!"

ACELE - "Yeah, I heard you, but what do you *mean* by 'party'?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes, what *do* you mean?" The lieutenant sounds serious.

YOU - "I mean: we get drinks -- and we also get drugs."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yeah, man..." The lieutenant suddenly appears to your right with his collar popped *insanely* high.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Got any dope? We need some dope bad." He scratches his nose, then his armpit through the jacket. "I got the *Boogie Street* shakes."

DRAMA - He's really shaking and everything!

YOU - Let the lieutenant do his thing.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Tryin'a score some *dope*, man. Tryin'a score some smack -- you got any?" He hops from one foot to the other.

ACELE - "What's *smack*?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "The *D*, man, gotta hit that D!"

ACELE - "What's... 'the D'?"

YOU - "Kim, she seems legitimately confused. Tell her what this *D* is."

KIM KITSURAGI - "*Diamorphine*, girl. Quit clownin'. We need a hook-up for that D..." He breathes in through his teeth.

ACELE - "Diamorphine? But that hasn't been around for years -- five or more, like, seven years maybe? Everybody just does *hunch* now."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Really? What's that?"

ACELE - "Hunch is like ten times stronger than diamorphine and *waaay* more lethal. I think the name is... B-hydroxy-something."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Okay." The lieutenant stops hopping. "That's... that's real bad. Someone should definitely look into that..."

KIM KITSURAGI - He rolls his collar down to normal human level and pulls out his familiar notebook. "We're from the police, by the way."

ACELE - "Oh, of course." She doesn't look surprised.

[fraugwinska]

Hello, wait are your requests open? 😅

If yes - i have an idea? :)

Per Charlie's decision everyone goes out for a night out in the town. You stay at the hotel as you weren't feeling well. Thinking the hotel is empty you carelssly leave your room and head to the bar and lounge area. To your surprise it's already occupied - Alastor is drinking whisky and listening to jazz on his old radio. He is already tipsy as he starts slowly dancing with himself. You don't want to interrupt but before you can go back he calls to you and asks if you want to join him. I just really need some tipsy and more relaxed Alastor thay slowly openes up to the reader. Bonus scene: you two fall asleep on the couch and wake up to the whole group staring at you two with the wildests reactions lol

This was such a cute prompt - Thank you for suggesting this, dear Anon! It's a little shorter, but I really like it - hope you do too! :>

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

More than words

Thirsty. You are thirsty.

That's the first thought you had when you woke up from your nap. Hell really had eternal suffering, with migraines being just as annoying and painful in hell as they were on earth. You had woken up with pain behind your eyes, and you knew in that exact moment you had to tell Charlie you wouldn't be able to go out tonight, because knowing yourself it would last the whole day and leave you exhausted by the evening.

You peeled yourself out of bed, realizing with relief that the pain and the dull pressure were gone almost completely. One or two glasses of water and a strong espresso, and maybe you were even able to get a good night's sleep. So you threw a cozy, fuzzy cardigan over you and headed to the kitchen. You had expected creepy silence, since it didn't happen often that everyone went out all at once, so you were surprised to hear the faint sounds of pianos, trumpets and drums when you were halfway down the staircase. Maybe Charlie or Husk had left the radio on? Without real reason to you tiptoed the last steps down, peeking around the corner of the corridor leading to the bar. What you saw made you both speech- and breathless.

Alastor, with a glass of whiskey in hand, humming along to Boogie Man by Sid Phillips, eyes closed and dancing just for himself – tipsy, slightly uncoordinated swing steps that might've looked impressive if he wasn't... drunk? At least a bit buzzed, that was for sure.

You watched him in fascination, tapping and twirling, while you contemplated what to do. The only way to the kitchen was through the foyer, which meant you had to pass the bar, ergo Alastor. But you weren't sure how much he would appreciate you catching him in this... state. Yes, you were on good terms, you would even go as far to say you were friends, but that stage of relationship was far too fresh to risk changing it by angering him. You decided that your bathroom sink had to provide the much needed water and fuck the espresso, you turned around to sneak back to your room.

„Oh, I didn't know there was an audience for my show!“

Fuck.

You glanced over your shoulder – Alastor looked you straight in the eye, swaying a bit, grin loose and eyes a little clouded. He sounded more amused than angry, something you didn't expect, but were fucking grateful for.

„Sorry, Al... I didn't think you were home, I just wanted to get some water and head back to my room.“ „Ah,“ Alastor took a sip of his drink, golden brown liquid leaking from the corners of his mouth down to his chin. With careless fingers he wipes it away. „So eager to leave little ol' me hanging...“ He pouted. Alastor, the radio demon pouted. You asked yourself if you might have migraine-incited hallucinations.

„Alastor, are you... okay?“, you ask, carefully turning to him.

„Fantastic dear, just fantastic.“, he muttered, eyeing his now empty glass, „Although drinking in company would certainly be more pleasurable than drinking alone.“

He walked back behind the bar, steps still a little wobbly, and poured himself another, giving you an opportunity. It was the deers crude way of handing you the choice - You could leave now, if you wanted.

Instead, you wrapped the cardigan tighter around yourself, suddenly very aware of your lack of decorum, and with a few steps, you were in front of him, sliding onto one of the stools. Alastor tilted his head at you as you leaned on the counter, both elbows on the slightly sticky surface and face in your hands, sighing.

„Alright tapper, as long as you don't bring my headache back, pour it away.“

----------------------------***----------------------------

„... and wouldn't you believe it, the next time this idiot saw me he just ripped off his whole arm and threw it at me!“

Alastor laughed, loudly and boastfully, slapping his thighs. You joined in with your own laughter, more like a cackle, tongue and restraint loosened by his choice of drink for you – mint julep, apparently one of the only cocktails he knew how to mix, being a favourite from his time in the 1920's. The fresh and cooling drink went easily down your tongue, and both of you had been chatting away for the last hour, mostly Alastor telling you funny anecdotes and you laughing at his stories till your mouth went dry.

While you drank slowly, Alastor rushed every drink down his throat like a parched man. With wonder you watched him, amazed by how much he could take, word unslurred and speech still crisp and transatlantic. The only indicator of his drunkenness: his choice of words became more and more crass. It made you giggle uncontrollably whenever he used profanities that were so unlike him. 

“Can you blame him? That poor man probably didn’t want you to rip it off again - might just do it himself and save the trouble!” “I didn’t even get to the best part, darling - He owned a fucking second hand shop! Ha Ha HA!” He bellowed with laughter,looking more like a mischievous school-boy than a terrifying overlord and you slapped his arm. “Alastor, stop, you’re making this up!” “Absolutely not, it’s the irony that makes the story even more comical.”

You shook your head, stirring the mint leaves in your glass.He was much more easy-going than normal, his cheeks tinted in a pretty shade of red. The biggest difference was his everlasting smile. Tight and wide normally, it had become a loose, content one, playful without the malice it usually carried. He looked even more handsome that way.

“A penny for your thought, cherie.”, he chuckled, arms crossed on the countertop and leaning in closely. The proximity brought the smell of bourbon, warm wood and nutmeg with hints of vetiver. The stronger version of his natural scent. Tasty. The thought shuddered through your mind and you swallowed it quickly with the rest of your own drink. “I just thought about a Chaplin quote that came to mind.” He leaned on his hand, blinking in curiosity, half-lidded eyes telling you to continue - you and him had a thing for his movies, you've watched City Lights together multiple times. “A man's true character comes out when he's drunk.” You mirrored his gesture with a smile of your own, bringing your face even closer to his, which seemed to startle him. “And I gotta say it’s a shame you’re not drunk more often.”

Alastor pulled back, grasping for the whiskey bottle as he avoided your gaze. You were confused - had you offended him? You sat yourself upright, ready to apologize, when he cut you off.

“Better not to reveal this kind of secret to just everyone, my dear. It’s only the ghost of a man long gone, anyways.” He sighed at the bottle in his hands, realizing it was empty. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “Please, you may tell that yourself but I’m not a medium. That man isn’t gone. He's only hiding, deep down in there.”

Foolishly your brain didn’t remind you that Alastor didn’t like to be touched. You reached out, putting your hand flat at his chest, right where his heart would be. As for Alastor, his alcohol-dazed mind couldn’t catch up with what you were doing fast enough. Your palm pressed down, receiving the soothing, soft warmth he always radiated through your sensitive skin, like an old radio that had been left on for too long. His eyes widened, you felt him inhale sharply, yet it took another few seconds for him to react, flinching back.

His barstool wobbled, swinging dangerously, and like in slow-motion he fell backwards, only letting out a small, ulfiltered “Shit!” before he disappeared behind the bar. You jumped up, stuttering “Sorry, sorry, oh fuck, I’m so sorry!” while you hurried behind the bar to help him up. He was sprawled out on the floor, almost like a starfish, his chest shaking and an arm thrown over his face. “Alastor, I’m so sorry, are you hurt? Did you hit your head? Fuck, I’m so….”, you stopped abruptly when he burst out laughing. He wheezed, shaking with laughter, and you fell to your knees beside him, relieved and at the same time unnerved. He sat up, still holding his chest with one hand and patting your head with the other.

“Moments like these remind me why I like you so much, darling. Such a blue-eyed, air-headed doe you are.” You met his gaze, ready to banter, but the sad tint in his expression made you decide against that. Instead you shuffled nearer to him, slowly sitting up on your knees, to give him the option to push you away. He didn’t, only watching you closely. You wrapped your arms around his head, pulling him close, his cheek resting on your chest, tight enough he had to hear your heartbeat.

You held him like this until you felt his hands on your back, returning the embrace. HIs breath was warm and heavy on your skin. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was holding back tears. Maybe he was. You just stayed like this, holding him in your arms. Words were unnecessary, unwanted even. Him and you weren’t close enough yet to bring everything he should share into words. But you would be there, whenever that moment came, and for now, this was the right way to express what couldn’t be said. Much more even.

When he pulled away, he did it gently, a soft and thankful smile on his lips. “I think the bar has run dry, my dear.” He stood up, offering you his hand to help you up. You took it, and he left your hand in his as you stood face to face. “How about a warm nightcap to end our day?” ----------------------------***----------------------------

“... You are seeing this too, right? I’m not trippin’?!” “Shhhh! Don’t wake them up.” Charlie hissed at Angel, her eyes round like saucers, staring over the backrest, as did the others. “How can this creep still smile even when he’s sleeping?!”, Vaggie whispered loudly. Angel gave her a sly smile. “You’d smile too if a hot girl slept in your lap like that.” Husk groaned, pulling a paw over his face. “It’s too late and I’m too sober for this shit.” “SSSSSSSHHHHHH! Leave them alone, go! Go to bed, quietly, all of you!”, Charlie shushed them again, shooing them away from the sofa.

She quickly ran to the nearest cabinet, pulling out a thick blanket which she carefully draped over your and Alastors body. She took a few heartbeats to internalize what she everyone saw when they came home.

You looked like a couple. Of course Charlie knew you weren’t. Alastor - half-laying, half-sitting asleep on the sofa - had his arm around you, his head resting on the top of your head. You were serenely slumbering while nuzzled against his chest, legs pulled up and looking like you were mended to his side. You, too, were smiling. On the cofffee table in front of the sofa were two cups of what looked and smelled like hot milk with honey, the porcelain still faintly warm to the touch and the liquid barely touched. She suppressed the squeal she wanted to squeal.

After she was done, she quietly took a few steps back, scanning that you were both still fast asleep, then she took Vaggie’s hand and together they headed to their own room. Charlie knew you weren’t a couple. But she also knew that was only a matter of when you would become one, not if.

[hcsiqs]

Please I’m dying for some Morgan fluff of any sorts ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

| now that you know me so well

• pairing: morgan cheli x teammate!reader

• summary: morgan realizes she has a crush on you and doesn’t know how to go about it without freaking out

• warnings: kinda soft angst to fluff??? im not sure

yes yes i love morgan

The whole team had gotten tickets to go see A Boogie in concert, so that’s how Morgan found herself in your passenger seat. You could tell something was off with her as she fiddled with the glasses that she had resting on her head. She kept taking them off her head and then would put them back on, pulling her phone out to look at herself every couple of seconds.

To you, it almost seemed like she was nervous. You weren’t sure about what, but she definitely wasn’t acting her normal bubbly self.

As soon as Morgan arrived in Connecticut the two of you hit it off immediately. You were a sophomore at UConn compared to her being a freshman, so when you had heard about her possibly committing last year, you watched all her high school highlights that you could find and immediately loved how she played the game.

The fact that she’s amazing at getting rebounds was the first thing you noticed watching her play. It honestly got you so excited for her to be playing with UConn because well, the team isn’t the best at getting rebounds. And then when she got here and was one of the sweetest most out going people you ever, you were even more excited for the year ahead.

You spent most of your time around her, just helping her out around campus here and there when she needed it, like finding the gym or cafeteria. And over those small interactions you two grew close. Which meant you had learned how she acts when she’s nervous or somethings bothering her.

“Everything good?” You asked, taking your attention away from the road for a quick second to look at the girl beside you. You took removed your right hand from the steering wheel and placed it on her leg, hoping it would calm down whatever nerves she was feeling.

But that action only seemed to up her nerves, “Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m good,” she nodded her head quickly up and down before retracting her leg from your hand as she crossed it over her other leg. You then moved your hand away from her, it finding the back of your neck as you rubbed it awkwardly.

“Ok,” you respond before placing your hand back on the wheel.

The rest of the drive was pretty silent besides A Boogie playing from the car. Then as soon as you parked she immediately got out of the car and found her way over to Aubrey. You didn’t miss the way the 6’1 grad student looked at you before going back to her conversation with Morgan.

You then found yourself getting nervous. Trying to think of ways you could’ve possibly fucked up and made Morgan not like you anymore.

As the team entered the venue, you turned your cap backwards so that the rim wouldn’t be in your face all night. And then several people headed to the concessions to get drinks, one of those people being Morgan, so obviously you followed.

But Morgan seemed to be in a non-stop conversation with Aubrey until it was her turn to order her drink. You noticed how Morgan was avoiding eye contact as she went on her phone, but then it was her time to order. You immediately stepped up beside her, making her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I got it,” you nudged your head to the server as you placed your hand on the small of her back that was exposed due to the crop top she was sporting. “Whatcha want?”

“Um Dr. Pepper,” she gave an awkward smile.

“Two Dr. Peppers please,” you smiled at the server, your hand still resting on her back. You then handed them your card before receiving the two drinks. Before you got the chance to hand Morgan hers, she was fishing for her wallet in her pants to try and pay you back. “Chill Mo, it’s just a drink,” you laughed, guiding the two of you to your seats with the rest of the team.

The concert was fun, with Paige getting recognized every five seconds and as well just being together with everyone on the team. But once the concert came to a close and due to Paige’s popularity, the team found themselves shooting basketballs with A Boogie in some random parking lot. You decided that this would be a good time to talk to Morgan and ask if you had done something because if it went badly, no one would be paying attention.

“Can I talk to you?” You bent down to whisper in Morgan’s ear, your fingertips lingering on her back. From how close you two were, you could hear her take in a deep breath before nodding her head yes. You then took her to a quieter area, away from everyone yelling. You let out a deep breath before shoving your hands in your oversized jeans, “Did I do something? I-I just feel like I did. And if I did something to make you uncomfortable I’m really sorry,” you began rambling, your eyes searching Morgan’s for any indication of what you had done.

“No, no,” she immediately shut you down. “You didn’t do anything,” she reassured you. She brought her hands up to her hair parting the back of it before laying it down against her chest. “I—um,” she started to talk but it was evident how nervous she was.

“Oh,” you nodded, still trying to figure out why she had been acting so weird around you lately. “Are you sure? I just feel like you’ve been acting different towards me lately.”

Morgan sucked her teeth and then started biting the inside of her cheeks, too scared to say what she was thinking. The truth was that she had gained a crush on you and suddenly didn’t know how to act around you and she most definitely thought she was doing better at covering it up.

She opened her mouth before closing it right back, trying to find the words. You just let the silence fall between you as you could see the wheels turning in her head.

“Um, so, I think I like you, an-and it freaks me out because now I don’t know what to do or say or anything. And I know you probably don’t like me like that so yeah,” she spoke quickly, the embarrassment taking over her cheeks in a red flush.

You couldn’t help but smile at her. The way she was so nervous to tell, but you could also feel your heart smiling at her confession.

“Just forget I said anything,” her eyes were trained on her feet as she tried walking back to the group, but you stopped her with your arm and pulled her back in front of you.

“I like you too,” you smiled, your hand coming up to her face and cupping her jaw. “Like a lot,” you laughed before bringing her into a sweet and short kiss.

“Really?” her brown eyes sparkled as looked into yours, her cheeks now pink from the soft kiss.

“Mhm,” you nodded with a big stupid smile on your lips. Your lips met hers again, but now her hands came to your head pulling you in deeper, also causing your hat to fall off from her hands pulling on it. You both let out a laugh as it hit the floor, and once you pulled back you picked the hat up and placed it on the freshman’s head. “You look cute.”

“Not cuter than you,” she replied, her hands coming up to the hat on her head.

allie’s corner

i love me some cheli cheli

[luveline]

May I request a roan & eddie & r's first outing after the wedding and roan is so happy she tells everyone "this is my mom"?

dad!eddie x (step)mom!reader —breakfast on the family moon

The sun is high in the sky that afternoon, and every breeze smells of salt and fresh flowers. Eddie turns his head one way and sees a field of lush green grass, turns it the other and finds himself looking out over the white stone monolith of the family hotel where you’re staying. 

Roan climbs up onto the solid wooden table next to empty plates smeared with syrup and melted chocolate, vying for a last strawberry as big as her hand. “You want that one, bub?” he asks. 

“Can I have it?” 

He bites off the stem. He’s not sure if that’s disgusting, but you’ve married him now, no take-backsies, and you aren’t here to see anyhow. He spits the green into a napkin and offers the fruit to his waiting daughter. “Okay?” 

“Thank you,” she says, catching it in her teeth. “All the fruits are so yummy here.” 

“Don’t talk with your mouthful, baby,” Eddie says. 

She shrugs, pulling her knees up. They’re red from crawling along the wooden table but unscathed, stark against the pale fabric of her dress’ skirt. 

“Look,” he says, pointing at the waiter standing near the restaurant's big patio doors, “the waiter’s gonna see you climbing all over the table and getting your spit on me.” 

Roan turns to look. Her behaviour remains unchanged. “Where’s mommy?” 

Eddie drags her backwards off of the wood and into his lap. He kisses her cheek, her forehead, hoping to imbue the intensity of what he’s feeling on to her —he’s never been this content in his life. He’s married you, and marriage is a piece of paper and all his heroes would laugh in his face but would they? Because what’s better than finding your person, and loving them, and getting to be loved back? “She’s getting another plate for you and your good appetite.” 

Roan’s been just as thrilled since the wedding. She cried a little on the plane from the changing pressure, but before and after that she’s been a vestibule of joy. She turns into his kissing to cuddle him by the neck, her arms around him and her hair tickling his throat. “Mommy said we can try surfing today.” 

“I know! Do you think you’re ready to surf? We got you that wetsuit, all we need is a boogie board.” 

“A what?” 

“It’s like a surfboard, but not so big,” he explains, stroking her curls back from her face absentminded, eyes scanning inside of the hotel restaurant for a hint of your pale dress. 

“I want a real surfboard.” 

“Mm, no, babe. You can’t carry a surfboard. It’s okay though, we’re gonna be on boogie boards too.” 

She leans back. “Can we have more breakfast?” 

“Let’s see what Y/N brings back.” 

You’re summoned by his name drop, edging toward the patio doors as you chat to one of the waiters. You’re laughing politely, attempting to point to your two Munson’s but struggling with the plates you carry, one in each hand, while drinks pressed between your arm and chest threaten to spill. The waiter takes one of your plates. 

“Aw, sugar, thank you,” you say, “it’s just there. I’m sorry.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” the waiter says with an easy customer service smile. 

You and the waiter approach and put down the plates and cups. “Hi, baby,” you say, visibly perplexed at Roan’s huge smile. 

“This is my mom,” Roan tells the waiter. 

“And she’s just as beautiful as you are, hun. You are a lucky guy,” he directs his last comment at Eddie. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Eddie says. 

“We just got married,” you say proudly. 

“But how old are you?” the waiter asks Roan. 

She holds up five fingers, and then a sixth. 

“You were slow,” the waiter says to Eddie. 

“It’s not his fault, we’ve been engaged almost a year,” you say, “and we didn’t know one another until not even three years ago, so–”

Roan doesn’t care about the waiter’s confusion. She reaches for you where she’s sitting in Eddie’s lap, almost tipping onto the floor as she stretches as far as her arms can go. She whines until you take notice. 

“Hi,” you say, cutting yourself off to pick her up. “What, babe?” 

“I love you,” she says. 

You and Eddie laugh. The waiter makes a sound of understanding. “She looks like dad because you are the stepmom,” he says. 

“Just mom,” you say, giving her a little kiss. “She really does look like her dad though, huh? Except he’s not covered in chocolate.” 

“We can arrange that.” 

You laugh against Roan’s cheek, “I love you,” you say, just for her, “I got you a bowlful of strawberries, your skin is gonna turn pink ‘cos you’ve eaten so many. Love you.” 

Roan closes her eyes. She’s been smothered in love for a week straight and there’s no signs of it ever stopping. “I love you too. Let’s have melon.” 

“I got some.” 

Eddie nudges you back into your seat. “Alright, quick, we need to eat and sleep it off for an hour before we go surfing. Chop chop.”

“He’s so bossy,” Roan says.

“I know, baby. Don’t listen to him.” 

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Two: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, menstruation, sexual content, pervy behavior [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you so much it hurts and he’s really fucking weird about it, but it’s okay since it’s love 💕 He’s a massive Perv [diary entries from Ani] MDNI 18+

Date:

June 13th

Anakin woke up in a wonderful mood this morning. Today was going to be a good day, a really really good day. It was Thursday and you were going to book club at the library, which mean you would be going out for coffee after and then you’d go visit your sister before your shift at the diner. That would give him an ample amount of time to install the necessary security equipment for your apartment.

He’d already set up the wireless connection and app that goes along with the cameras the moment the package was delivered. He’d had plenty of time to do that yesterday while you were in class. He was so relieved that he’d be able to check in whenever he needed to, just a click or two and he’d be able to see and hear the goings on in your apartment.

These little microcams were an absolute lifesaver in his opinion, not only were they the perfect size, they also had an extremely long battery life *and* the resolution was surprisingly good. It was definitely worth the extra cash to get a clear picture of your pretty face.

He practically skipped down the street to your apartment, typing the code into the keypad when he arrived. He made sure to wipe his feet on the rug at the entrance, he’d hate to track dirt into your neat little living space. He trekked up the stairs to your floor and couldn’t help the massive grin on his face as he unlocked your apartment door.

Boogie greeted him happily now, he’d made sure to feed her little treats every time he visited just to get on her good side. He’d actually become quiet fond of the little gal, he could see why you liked cats now.

They were soft and cute just like you. He wouldn’t be surprised if you purred too, and if you didn’t… well he could fix that.

He locked the door behind him and got to work. He was thankful you were short enough to need a step stool because that was really coming in handy. It made it so much easier to place the first camera in the trim above your front door. He made sure it had a good angle of your kitchenette and living room.

The next was installed in the opposite corner on top of the bookshelf that held the hoard of books you promised yourself that you’d read but hadn’t gotten around to yet. You were just a girl after all, stuff like that didn’t keep your attention very well. He thought his reading voice would hold your attention much better than your own inner voice.

Anakin smiled as he thought about which book he’d read to you first… you had quite the collection, but he had plenty of time to figure it out before the time came.

Now he had a great view of the couch and the hall leading to your bedroom and bathroom. He checked the first two cameras via the app and was pleasantly surprised to see just how perfect the resolution was. He knew it was good, but seeing it in your home like this? He’d feel right there with you every time he checked the live feed.

Your bedroom. The one place he still hadn’t allowed himself to enter, this was your private space and it felt wrong to invade that privacy. It was one thing to peek in occasionally but an entirely different thing to actually go inside.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, the scent of you hitting him in the face had him weak in the knees. Anakin’s hands shook as he trailed his fingertips across the soft cotton sheets on your bed, you’d left it unmade.

He was already here… he might as well just try it out right?

No. No he can’t do that. If he lays down he’ll never get back up. His thoughts would eat him alive until he gave in and left a mess in your bed. Just a pillow then.

Oh… oh now he’s in trouble. Not only did he squeeze the pillow tightly and bury his face into its squishy middle to sniff every lingering bit of the smell of your shampoo… he did something very, very bad.

But it’s done now and he can’t take it back. Oh well, you won’t mind.

‘Back to work Anakin.’ He reminded himself and begrudgingly did exactly that.

He placed the third camera on the ceiling fan above your bed. Taking great care that the lens was completely covered.

He’s not that kind of guy.

He didn’t need to see what you did in bed… just hear it. You snored and Anakin just wanted to make sure you, ya know didn’t stop breathing or whatever in your sleep.

No other reason.

He took one glance over at the bathroom across the hall and really, really thought hard. He didn’t buy the fourth camera for your bathroom. He really didn’t.

He’s not that kind of guy.

He wouldn’t do that to you, but it was alright for him to think about it. Wasn’t it? Yeah. Yeah it’s okay to think about it.

With his handiwork finished he returned the step stool to it’s place under the kitchen sink and took a look around the place. It was homey, very cozy, very you.

You were alittle messy sometimes but that’s okay, so was he. Maybe he should clean up alittle. He smiled, proud of himself for thinking of it, and got to work. Just a quick run through of the kitchen and living room.

He couldn’t do *all* of your dishes, but he could certainly wash some silver ware and a cup or two to lessen the burden on you. So while he carefully washed and dried your favorite coffee mug, Anakin found himself sucking the spoon you’d used for your ice cream last night.

That’s good enough right? He’d licked it clean… you were going to use it again for ice cream tonight. He knew you would. Last month you ate ice cream for dinner the entire week of your period and you were doing the same this month. So he placed that spoon on top of the rest.

He vacuumed the kitchen and living room, your cat shed a lot and honestly Anakin should probably come vacuum for you more often because you’re not nearly as thorough as he is. He moved the couch and found at least two weeks worth of dust bunnies back there.

He knew it was difficult for you to juggle work, school and your personal life. You shouldn’t have to work, you should be able to stay home and lounge about after you’d cleaned house. He’d make sure you could do exactly that when the time was right.

Speaking of the time, he checked his watch and sighed. He should probably get going if he wanted to walk you to work.

On his way out he hurriedly placed the last camera in the stair well leading to the building’s entrance, that way he could familiarize himself with your neighbors and of course keep up to date with the door codes.

Diary Entry: June 14th

Those cameras I got for you are my new favorite thing.

It’s alittle unhealthy the way I check them as often as I do, but like they say, love makes people do crazy things.

I just can’t help it.

You’re so cute, I love the way you sing even if it’s really… not so great sometimes. But hey, not everyone is cut out for those high pitched vocals like that guy the one with the hair Kellin Quinn from that one song you really, really desperately want to hit the high note on. You’re amazing baby, but maybe don’t ever sing that one in public. Keep it at home just for me okay? Not everyone can appreciate your beautiful voice like I can.

You talk to your cat like she’s a person. Not even in a baby talk voice either, no, it’s more like she’s a girl from one of your college classes. You come home and tell her us your daily drama… it’s adorable.

I do however have a bone to pick with whoever Travis is. Travis can kick rocks. I can’t believe he did that to Amanda, and on her birthday? Unbelievable.

I think my favorite part of this new dynamic of ours is dinner time though. I even went to the corner store and got some cookie dough ice cream to eat with you. I felt like we were really there together, especially because I’m almost certain you used the spoon that I cleaned for you.

I’m so glad you have good taste in reality Tv as well. None of that Bachelor shit. No you like the juicy stuff. My kinda girl aren’t ya?

That Love is Blind show is truly one of the best reality shows I’ve watched in a while. But I had more fun listening to you laugh and shit talk those people. You’re fucking funny, it’s so cute.

Oh and guess what? I had a call with your super today! I’m next in line on the wait list for an apartment in your building baby. Hell yeah! It’s honestly really convenient, not only will I be right there whenever you need me, it’s closer to work so I can get home to you even quicker.

Diary Entry: June 18th

I’ve been alittle hesitant to tell you this sweetheart. I just feel real bad about it and I’m not great at sharing my feelings all the time. But I think it’s time I told you.

I just love you so much and I want to be with you all the time. Loving you from a distance is tolerable for now… but is it sustainable? No.

You’re a kind and understanding girl, sweet and caring, so I’m sure you’ll understand when I say that I *just couldn’t stop myself*. Your bed was so soft and the smell of you was so strong that I felt like I could drown in it. I hugged and kissed your pillow like my life depended on it but god… I found one strand of your pretty hair and that was just too much for me.

I’m sorry even though I don’t think you really mind all that much. Or if you do you’ve not said anything about it. It’s just… the fabric was so soft and you’re so pretty and I couldn’t help but think about what life would be like if I could come home to you in bed. Laying there with your pretty little eyes closed.

You’d look just like an angel. Peaceful and full of life, pink cheeks and smooth skin, warm and glowing.

So you can’t really blame me. You understand right? Really it’s your fault for being so damn perfect. But that’s really kind of an oxymoron isn’t it? You’re perfect so it can’t be your fault, but here we are.

Whoever is to be blamed, it doesn’t matter. What matters is: I’m sorry for tearing a hole in your favorite pillow.

Really and truly I’m sorry. I’ll fix it next time I stop by I promise. I just needed… something more you know? My hand just wasn’t good enough, too messy and wasteful. I needed to know that you’d be able to enjoy it too.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking but you’ve slept alittle better these last few days haven’t you?

On second thought maybe I shouldn’t close up that hole. If me fucking your pillow and stuffing my cum into the fluffy filling helps you sleep better, well I’d be happy to oblige.

I’m not that kind of guy, I just made a mistake. But, I think you’ll thank me for it in the long run.

Your subconscious just lets you relax alittle more with me around doesn’t it? Even if it is just alittle bit of cum. You need a piece of me with you to feel safe and you don’t even realize it. My poor girl, I’ll make sure you sleep well for the rest of your life.

Eventually I’ll stuff you with my cum every night. Getting fucked to sleep sounds pretty good doesn’t it princess?

Diary Entry: June 24th

I hate to see you disappointed. Oh it just kills me inside angel.

I can’t even chide you for forgetting your debit card because it’s my fault for not making sure you put it back in your backpack after ordering those new shoes. I’m sorry sweetheart.

Don’t worry though. I’ve added a few extra bucks to your wallet, being a dollar short for coffee won’t ever be a problem again.

Realistically that barista was just doing her job and I know that, but the fact that anyone could possibly deny you something that you want is insane to me.

You’ll never have to go without your large vanilla iced coffee on laundry day ever again.

Especially after I saw how grumpy you get.

That little scowl on your face when your favorite washer/dryer were already being used. I would’ve marched over there and dumped out that old ladies wet clothes in the floor for you if you’d only asked.

But if I had then I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy watching you act like a brat out in public. I’ve never seen someone stare daggers through an elderly person like that before, you’re lucky she didn’t have a heart condition because damn that look could’ve killed her.

I’ll help you get that attitude under control soon enough princess. All you need is a good ass whoopin’ and a fat cock to tame you.

Note: Persil, those little blue shakies

PART THREE

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