#custom entrance mats

[brandedmats]

[lyncotek]

Introduction

This article will discover How Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats Can Improve Safety. In industrial environments, retaining costs under control and visitor and worker safety paramount are crucial issues. Strategically setting outdoor entrance mats is one often-not-noted method that efficiently addresses both troubles. This mattress reduces the cost of maintenance and overhaul by preventing falls and spills by preserving the environment around indoors for longer

Understanding the Diversity of Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats

There are numerous types of business outdoor entrance mats, each made to fit unique situations and necessities. Options starting from absorbent mats that take in moisture to scraper mats that successfully dispose of debris from footwear are to be had to meet any need. Aesthetic choices, weather, and foot traffic quantity are only a few of the factors to recollect even as choosing the correct mat.

Enhanced Safety with Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats

The primary purpose of outside entrance mats is to improve safety by using reducing the threat of journeys, falls, and slips. This matting drastically decrease the hazard of mishaps by using imparting an extra traction-rich floor, particularly in damp or slick circumstances. They also keep footwear from being tracked interior and developing problems by collecting moisture and particles from shoes.

How Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats Reduce Maintenance Costs

Over time, you may store quite a little cash on protection by investing in great outdoor front mats. These mats protect indoor flooring surfaces from dust and moisture at the entrance, increasing their durability and decreasing the want for common cleaning. By doing this, exertion fees are decreased and the demand for expensive cleaning resources and gear is reduced as nicely.

Factors to Consider When Choosing Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats

When deciding on access mats for commercial locations, there are a few matters to not forget. These include elements together with placement and length to guarantee top-of-the-line insurance and efficacy, sturdiness to face up to sturdy foot visitors and awful weather, and customization selections to meet branding specifications.

Installation and Maintenance Tips

To maximize the use and durability of outside entrance mats, proper installation and maintenance are crucial. By using the counseled installation techniques, you could lessen the hazard of journeys and falls by ensuring the mats are firmly and flatly hooked up. Moreover, frequent upkeep and cleansing, such as vacuuming, shaking, and washing, contribute to their persevered efficacy.

Cost-Effectiveness and Return on Investment

Good entrance mats may be steeply-priced up the front, but in the long run, the benefits heaps outweigh the price. These mats provide corporations a robust go-back on funding because of the reality they minimize place and tear on interior surfaces, decrease the want for ground cleanings, and avoid injuries that could cause pricey legal responsibility claims.

Environmental Sustainability

Eco-friendly access mat solutions are developing in reputation as sustainability will become an extra considerable issue for companies. These mats, which might be lengthy-lasting and products of recycled substances, help business sustainability objectives in addition to making indoor space purifiers.

Future Trends in Entrance Mat Technology

It is anticipated that future developments in entrance mat generation will concentrate on improving effectiveness and overall performance. Mats with superior dirt and moisture retention and much less complex protection will quit result from material and design enhancements. Real-time mat overall performance monitoring and management also can be made possible via integration with clever building systems.

Conclusion

Commercial outdoor entrance mats play a crucial position in improving safety and decreasing preservation prices in business spaces. By preventing slips and falls, minimizing dirt and moisture access, and defensive indoor surfaces, those mats provide a cost-effective approach to commonplace facility management demanding situations.

FAQs

How do outdoor entrance mats improve safety?

Can entrance mats really reduce maintenance costs?

What types of materials are used in commercial entrance mats?

How often should outdoor entrance mats be cleaned?

Are there any regulations regarding entrance mats for commercial spaces?

[briancampbell0706]

The Benefits of Buying Wholesale Door Mats for Contractors ?

In the competitive world of contracting, efficiency and cost-effectiveness are key to maintaining a successful business. One way to achieve these goals is by purchasing Wholesale Door Mats. For contractors in the United States, buying mats in bulk offers a range of benefits, from cost savings to customisation options. This blog will explore the various advantages of investing in Wholesale Floor Mats and how they can enhance your contracting projects.

Cost Savings

One of the most significant benefits of purchasing Wholesale Mats is the cost savings. When you buy mats in bulk, you take advantage of wholesale prices, which are significantly lower than retail prices. This can result in substantial savings, particularly for large projects that require a considerable number of mats. By reducing the cost per unit, you can allocate your budget more effectively, potentially allowing for higher profit margins or the ability to invest in other areas of your business.

Customisation Options

Many suppliers offer the option to customise your Floor Mats when you purchase them wholesale. This means you can create Custom Floor Mats that meet the specific needs of your clients. Customisation can include adding logos, specific colours, or unique designs that align with your client’s branding. Logo Floor Mats, for instance, are an excellent way to enhance the professional appearance of an entrance while also providing a functional purpose.

Variety of Choices

Buying Wholesale Door Mats gives you access to a wide range of options. From Entrance Floor Mats to Safety Floor Mats, the variety available ensures that you can find the perfect mats for any project. Whether you need durable mats for high-traffic areas, slip-resistant mats for safety, or aesthetically pleasing mats for an upscale look, wholesale suppliers offer a broad selection to meet your requirements.

Quality Assurance

Wholesale suppliers often have stringent quality control measures in place to ensure that their products meet high standards. When you buy Floor Mats wholesale, you can be confident that you are getting a product that is built to last. This is particularly important for contractors who need reliable and durable mats for their projects. High-quality mats not only perform better but also have a longer lifespan, reducing the need for frequent replacements and additional expenses.

Consistent Supply

For contractors working on multiple projects or large-scale developments, having a consistent supply of Warehouse Mats is crucial. Purchasing mats wholesale ensures that you have a steady supply of mats available whenever you need them. This can prevent delays in your projects and ensure that you can meet your deadlines without any hiccups. A reliable wholesale supplier can become a valuable partner, providing you with the mats you need, when you need them.

Eco-Friendly Options

Many wholesale suppliers offer Eco-friendly Shop Floor Mats that are made from recycled materials or sustainable sources. For contractors focused on green building practices or meeting specific environmental standards, this is a significant advantage. Using Eco-friendly mats can help you achieve certifications or meet client requirements for sustainability, adding another layer of value to your services.

Enhanced Safety

Safety is a top priority in any construction or contracting project. Safety Floor Mats are designed to reduce the risk of slips, trips, and falls, which are common hazards in many work environments. By purchasing these mats wholesale, you can ensure that all areas of your project are adequately covered, enhancing the overall safety of the site. This not only protects workers and visitors but also reduces the likelihood of accidents and potential liability issues.

Branding Opportunities

Logo Floor Mats and other custom mats offer excellent branding opportunities. For commercial spaces, branded mats can create a professional and cohesive look that reinforces the client’s brand. For contractors, this can be an added value proposition to offer clients, setting you apart from competitors. A well-branded mat can leave a lasting impression on visitors and customers, contributing to the overall aesthetics and professionalism of a space.

Improved Aesthetics

First impressions matter, and the entrance to a building is the first thing people see. High-quality Entrance Floor Mats can significantly improve the aesthetics of a space. Whether you are working on a commercial building, office space, or residential property, the right mats can enhance the visual appeal of the entrance, creating a welcoming and professional environment. When purchased wholesale, you can ensure that every project benefits from this added touch of elegance.

Versatility

Wholesale Floor Mats come in various types and styles, making them suitable for different applications. From Warehouse Mats designed for heavy-duty use to decorative mats for residential entrances, the versatility of wholesale mats ensures that you can find the right product for any project. This flexibility allows contractors to cater to a wide range of client needs and preferences, enhancing their service offerings.

Bulk Ordering Convenience

Ordering mats in bulk simplifies the procurement process. Instead of placing multiple orders for individual mats, you can streamline your purchasing by ordering wholesale. This not only saves time but also reduces the administrative burden associated with tracking multiple shipments and invoices. A single bulk order can meet your needs for several projects, allowing you to focus more on your core activities rather than procurement logistics.

Better Client Satisfaction

Providing high-quality, customised mats can significantly improve client satisfaction. When clients see that you have taken the extra step to provide tailored solutions, such as Custom Floor Mats or branded mats, they are likely to be more impressed with your attention to detail and professionalism. Satisfied clients are more likely to refer you to others and provide repeat business, which is invaluable for the growth and success of your contracting business.

Conclusion

In conclusion, purchasing Wholesale Door Mats offers numerous benefits for contractors in the United States. From cost savings and customisation options to enhanced safety and improved aesthetics, wholesale mats provide a valuable solution for various contracting needs. By partnering with a reliable wholesale supplier, you can ensure a consistent supply of high-quality mats, meet client demands, and ultimately enhance the success of your projects. Investing in Wholesale Floor Mats is a smart and strategic move that can provide long-term benefits for your contracting business. For the best options and reliable service, visit US Mat Market to explore their extensive range of wholesale mats and find the perfect fit for your projects.

[doitforbangchan]

Playing Favorites - L.F

Pairing: Bakery owner!Felix x Shy!Reader

Requested: by @heeseungspookie literally forever ago thanks for waiting <3

Warnings: Fem/afab reader, very light smut, touching over the clothes, kissing, cursing, and fluff. so much fluff. Set in Felix POV

WC: 4.4k

Thank you to the requester for your patience on this, i really hope you enjoy it! not proofread :)

Masterlist

The bakery was slow this morning- more so than it had been all week- but it wasn’t a problem for Felix. One of his cashiers had called out this morning and as owner of the shop he had to take over front duties as well as baking in the back, and the slow day helped him keep up. ‘S.K.Z Bake-er-y’ was his pride and joy so he needed to work to keep it running smoothly. 

Even though it was more work for him Felix really didn’t mind having to man the front. It meant being able to see his favorite customer. As his watch showed it was 9:30am on the dot he heard the little bell above the door make a little jingle as it opened. 

‘Right on time.’ He thought to himself, not bothering to conceal his smile. Felix looked up from the coffee machine to see you coming through the entrance.

 Felix had met you about two years ago right after opening this bakery. He could remember the day you came in. 

It was winter and the snow was coming down heavily, covering everything in sight in a blanket of white. The bakery had only been open for about a week and was still unknown so there weren't any customers (nevermind the fact it was storming) and he was beginning to give up hope of having any customers that day- then the door jingled. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen entered his bakery. 

You were wrapped in a thick pink scarf that almost engulfed your whole upper body and there were small snowflakes stuck in your hair. He watched as you dusted yourself off and wiped your feet on the mat, then you looked up and made eye contact with him. Felix felt his face blush a deep red at having been caught staring and he quickly looked away and grabbed a coffee cup, then pretending to wipe it down as if it were dirty. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the little bell on the counter was rung. 

“Umm, hello.” You called out softly. He spun back around to face you, still too stunned by your beauty to say anything. You nervously looked in the cases at all the goods then back at him. “Do you, uh, have any croissants?” 

Felix shook out of his stupor, blinking rapidly for a second then giving you a shy grin. “Uh yeah. I’ve got plain butter, chocolate, vanilla creme and raspberry jam.” 

“Can I please get a raspberry one? And a hot chocolate please?” You took out your wallet and handed him a $10 bill. He tried to give you back your change but you shook your head. “No, you keep it.”

“Thank you. That is very kind of you.” He hid his blush by turning around again and quickly assembling your drink and pastry, adding a brownie to the tray as well. “Here you go, I hope you like it.” He smiled and set the goods down in front of you. 

“Oh I didn’t order the brownie..” You went to give it back to him but he put his hands up, not accepting it back. 

“It’s on the house.” He gave you a wink, internally cringing until he saw how your eyes lit up. 

There you were, wrapped up in that same oversized pink scarf and shaking the leaves off your clothes.Your eyes met his as you walked closer to the counter and you offered him a shy smile that made his heart flutter. 

“Good morning, Felix. How are you today?” You asked in a chipper voice. 

“Morning, sunshine. I’m doing pretty good, running the shop alone today. How about you? Want your usual?” and by ‘usual’ he meant a brownie and a hot chocolate. 

You nodded, “Yes please! And can you throw a maple donut please?” 

“Ooooo feeling adventurous today, huh?” He teased, placing both treats in a little paper bag and sticking a lid on your cocoa.

You playful flipped your hair over your shoulder with a giggle, “You know it.” You handed him cash and he once again only charged you for the drink and donut. “Felix, you can’t keep giving me freebies! You’re running a business!” 

“Sorry, it’s actually company policy that my favorite customer gets free brownies.” He shrugged, “If you have a complaint you’ll have to take it up with our corporate office.” 

“Felix.. Am I really your favorite customer?” 

‘Shit.’ He thought. He didn’t mean to slip up like that. 

“Uhh, I- I mean..” The boy stuttered, unsure of how to save himself. But luckily he didn’t need to. 

“Because you’re my favorite baker.” 

Felix looked at you and saw how timid you now appeared, hiding your face in your scarf after your revelation. 

“Your favorite baker.. I like how that sounds.” He grinned, his nose wrinkling as he began to giggle. He just thought you looked so adorable at the way you hid your face even further, his words clearly having an effect on you. “Please don’t hide from me! I didn’t mean to embarrass you, sunshine.” 

You slowly lifted your head out of your knitted garment, “M’ not embarrassed.” He gave you a look that said he didn’t believe you. “Ok fine I am a little bit, but I can’t help it. I don’t know how to flirt.” 

Now that had him taken aback. You were flirting with him? Since when did you do that? Usually he was the one who’s been flirting with you for two years. He realized he must have been standing there with his mouth gaping for too long because he saw the crestfallen look on your face. 

“Shit, I didn’t mean to make things weird. I’ll just go now.” You grabbed your goods and went to turn and leave but suddenly his hand shot out before he could even think about it. 

“Wait, Y/n don’t go!” He had leaped halfway across the counter to grab your forearm gently before you could walk away. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, you just took me off guard. I didn’t expect you to be.. Flirty with me.” 

“Really? I’ve been doing it with you for two whole years, Felix.” You shuffled on your feet, still letting him hold onto your arm. 

Felix felt speechless again, but at least this time he could feel the massive smile overtake his mouth instead of leaving it open like an idiot. The cognitive part of his brain told him that he had to say something.“That’s insane..” He began, “Because I’ve been flirting with you for just as long.”

He watched as you turned your head away so he couldn’t see the way your face heated up and the way you bit your lip. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Felix.” 

“No really!” The blonde protested loudly, then realized his shouting might freak you out more so he cleared his throat and lowered his tone, unintentionally using his deep voice, “ I mean, I would never lie to you. I’ve been into you since the second you walked into this place.” 

Felix unfortunately missed how his deep timber affected you, how your eyes widened and your fingers twitched, due to the door opening and the signature jingling of the bell signaling another customer. 

“Hi, welcome in! I will be right with you!” He called out to the new group that had entered, then quickly looked back to you, “If you don’t believe me then let me prove it to you. Here,” He grabbed a piece of receipt paper and scribbled down his number messily. “Is my number. I would love to take you on a date… I mean only if you want to.” 

You nodded your head and tentatively grabbed the slip of paper from his outstretched hand, “I do want too. I’ll uh, text you.” 

Felix could tell you were feeling nervous, especially now that there was a line of people behind you watching your interaction, “I look forward to it.” He smiled at you again, waving as you scooped up your items and exited the store. The man was feeling slightly dejected by the interaction until he saw you stop at the door and turn around to look at him again with a delicate grin on your face. 

----------------------------------

Honestly, Felix did not think there was a possibility in hell that you would actually text him- let alone that very evening. He thought he had blown his chance with you after practically throwing himself at you this morning (at least, that’s what his anxiety told him had happened) so when he was alerted that he had a message from an unknown number he couldn’t suppress the flutter of hope that swelled in his chest. 

Hi Felix its Y/n. I was wondering if you were free tonight? 

He immediately wrote you back, too excited to care about seeming desperate. 

hey! yes i am totally free! What did you have in mind? :)

He waited for a second then the three little dots that you were typing appeared. 

Well I was thinking maybe you would want to come over and watch a movie with me?  Plus i have a bottle of pink moscato thats been begging to be opened.

If you're up for it :) 

His cheeks were inflamed as he read your message. This time he could tell there was some flirtation in your words and it made his brain fuzzy. You wanted him to come over to your home and spend time with you.. There was no way he would ever pass up on that opportunity. 

Oh i’m up for it. I’m about to close up shop so I could be at yours in about half an hour?

Works for me 

Heres my address. I’ll see you soon :)

Felix hugged his phone to his chest dreamily then remembered he needed to finish cleaning up if he was going to make it to yours on time. He pocketed his phone and resumed the closing duties, now with a little more pep in his step. 

Knock 

Knock 

Knock 

The back of his hand wrapped on your door, the other was holding a large pink to-go box full of the unsold pasties of the day. He fidgeted with the hem of his jacket as he heard a soft ‘coming’ from further into your home. 

After a minute or so the door slowly opened to reveal you with a big grin on your face. His eyes swept over you momentarily, taking in your bare face and wet hair. He noted you must have just taken a shower. You were also dressed in an oversized light blue sweater and a pair of gray leggings. He had never seen you look so beautiful before. 

“Hi.” You said softly then moved to the side to allow him entry. “Come on in.” 

“Hello sunshine, I brought some donuts. There's a few maple ones in here too.” He entered your apartment and you took the box from him excitedly. 

“Thank you! Those are some of my favorites!” You closed the door and led him inside. 

Felix let his gaze wander around your home, taking in all the pictures on the walls of you and friends, and the many fluffy blankets that littered your couch. If your living room was this cozy he could only imagine what your bedroom looked like. 

“Sorry,” Your voice took him out of his thoughts, “I know it’s not much.” 

He shook his head, “No your place is great! Very cozy feeling.” 

You hummed, motioning for him to follow you. “You can set your coat down wherever.” You placed the box of goodies on your coffee table and plopped down on the couch, patting the spot next to you. The blonde boy shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair then softly took a seat down next to you. You grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. “What kind of movie do you want to watch?” 

“Hmmm, maybe a romcom?” He suggested. You nodded and scrolled through the romcom section on netflix. Eventually you guys decided on ‘She’s the Man’. 

Felix opened the box he brought and pulled out a chocolate donut, taking a small bite. You had already set out the bottle of wine and two glasses. You grabbed the bottle and motioned for him in question, to which he nodded in response. You poured two glasses then handed one to him. 

“I hope you like moscato. It’s kinda all I had.” You said sheepishly, sipping on your drink. 

Felix sipped the drink as well, his palette being flooded with fruity notes. “Mm, it’s sweet.” 

The both of you sat next to each other while the movie played on your screen, every so often making commentary about the characters and sharing a laugh. It was a film you had both already seen a million times so neither of you minded talking through it. 

 About halfway through he noticed you had moved ever so slightly closer to him and now your shoulders were touching. You were so close he could smell the scent of your shampoo, the rich honey flooding his senses and making his head spin. He didn’t know if he should get closer to you or move away so he ended up just sinking further into the cushions instead, but you seemed to take that as an invitation to curl up even closer to him.

Now being able to feel the heat radiating off of your body it made him flush even deeper, both his body and something else beginning to stiffen. 

‘Oh no, please not now!’ He mentally begged, clenching his fists and attempting to control his breathing, willing the growing hard on to go down. 

“and when I close my eyes, I see you for who you truly are, which is UUUG-LAY.” You quoted along with the tv, laughing loudly. Felix let out a strained chuckle, trying to appear calm, cool and collected. Personally, he thought he was doing a great job at remaining inconspicuous, but evidently by the way you leaned off of him and turned around to look at him with a crestfallen look on your face said otherwise. “Felix..is something the matter?” 

“W-what?” He stuttered then cleared his throat, “Uh, nope, nothing’s the matter.” 

‘Play it cool. Play it cool. Play it COOL’ 

“It’s just that,” You twiddled with your hair and looked away from him, “ You’re so stiff and you really don’t seem too interested. I’m worried that.. You’re starting to regret asking me out.” 

“No!” He burst out loudly, then slapped a quick hand over his mouth. He blinked quickly then dropped his hand, “I mean, of course I don’t regret asking you out! I’ve been dreaming of being like this with you since I met you!” 

“Then what is wrong? Is it the movie? Do you not like the wine?” You hesitated for a moment, “Am I.. Not attractive to you?”

Now it was him who looked at you wounded, as if your words had physically marred him. “You can’t be serious.” but the disheartened downcast of your eyes told him you were. Felix reached out and cupped your cheeks with both hands, tilting your head up to look at him. “Y/n, Sunshine, please look at me.” You slowly did as he asked and he could see the wetness that was welling up on your lash line. “You have absolutely no idea how attracted to you I am.”

“Felix..” You whispered. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I know that I’m not entirely the picture of sexiness right now in my pjs.” 

Felix knew now was the time to be completely honest with you- to lay it all on the line to make you believe him. 

“Sunshine, I would never lie to you. I think you are the most gorgeous, attractive and sensual woman I have ever seen; pjs and all.” He gulped before he continued. “I’m sorry I seemed so disinterested and stuffy, I was just so nervous to have the girl of my dreams cuddled up so close to me I didn’t know how else to react- my body didn’t know how to react.” 

The man bit on his lip as he watched the understanding begin to settle on your features, a small ‘o’ shape taking place on your mouth. Your eyes flickered from his down to the visible tent in his pants that you somehow missed before, then back up to his. “You, you mean your..” 

“Hard as a rock because you were laying on me, yep.” He just knew his face was a deep shade of pink by now. Felix thought for sure you would call him a creep and kick him out so he went to take his hands off your face but your own quickly grabbed his and brought them back to your face. 

“Don’t.. Please keep them touching me.” You whispered, locking eyes with him intensely. “I like it when you touch me.” 

“You do?” 

You nodded slowly, “Yes. I think about it all the time.” Felix felt his breath hitch ever so slightly when one of your hands made contact with his chest. “I think about your hands on me, about the warmth of them on my skin.” 

The blonde baker could not believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. Where had the mousey shy girl gone and who was this bold woman? He didn’t know but he wanted more. More of your touch and of your confessions.

“Where do you think about them touching you?” His voice had subconsciously gone huskier and he luckily did not miss the shiver that went through you. Your reaction made him grow more brave and he trailed one hand slowly down to rest on your shoulder. “Here?” 

You shook your head, “Lower.” 

“Here?” His fingers lowered again until the backs of his fingers gently ran over the curve of your clothed breast. 

A quiet whimper escaped your throat. “Lower.” 

“Hmm,” He hummed deeply, “I think I have an idea of where you want me, sunshine.” He teased, “But I think there’s somewhere else I need to touch you first.” The freckled boy slowly leaned in towards you, giving you time to move if this wasn’t what you wanted. You surprised him again when you closed the distance hastily and crashed your mouth onto his. 

Your hands fisted his shirt, pulling him ever so closer to you and deepening the kiss. He whined into your mouth then he ran the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip, teasingly asking for entrance, which you granted immediately. 

This was easily becoming the best day of his life, especially with the way the hand that you had previously placed on his chest was slowly sliding its way down his stomach until your fingers brushed over the bulge in his pants. His instincts told him to buck up into your touch but the more civil part of his brain wanted you to explore at your own pace, giving you total control of him. 

Felix groaned loudly when your hand cupped his hard on, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Fuck, sunshine, you’re gonna be the death of me if you keep that up.” He panted against your lips. 

“Need you to touch me too, Lix.” He almost bust in his pants at the needy way you said his nickname. 

The man finally let his hand wander to the place you needed him, slowly rubbing over the fabric and feeling the wetness begin to seep through. “Oh my god you’re so wet, I can feel you through your leggings.” 

You buried your face into the crook of his neck and Felix let out a little giggle at how adorable you were when you were embarrassed. “Don’t point it out.” He felt you pout against his skin and squeeze him again. 

He used his pointer finger and middle finger to rub delicate circles over your core, being able to find your clit with ease even through the fabric. Felix felt your hips instinctually buck up into his, seeking more friction that he granted you by pressing harder. Your fingers were stroking over his length at a hurried speed now as he began to leave open mouthed kisses on your own neck, sucking on your collar bone that was exposed by your neckline sliding down. 

As ashamed as he was to admit it Felix felt like he could burst in his pants at any moment. The harsh friction of his pants on his cock shouldn’t feel so good but it does. He thought maybe because it was you who was doing it to him that he felt so fucking good. 

Felix wanted to make you feel as good as he felt- better even- so he rubbed a little faster over your bundle,then dipping his finger in between your nether lips quickly then bringing it back up to your clit. It seemed his efforts proved fruitful because your body started to tremble and he could feel your breathing pick up significantly. 

“L-Lix, I think m’ gonna..” 

“Go ahead, Sunshine. Let go fo’ me.” He purred in your ear (or that's what he intended to do but it came out more like a desperate whine). 

At his command he felt your body shake and you crashed your lips back against yours, his mouth swallowing your moans. Even through your leggings Felix could feel the way your core spasmed as you came. 

Felix greedily drank all of your sweet sounds, loving how noisy you got for him despite being muffled. In fact he loved it a little too much, because before he knew it he was rocking his crotch into you as you stroked him, falling apart under your skilled hand. His voice got high pitched and his whole body was alight with trembles. 

“Nnnngghhh, holy shiiiit” He cried against your lips, the warmth of his cum coating the inside of his pants and sticking to his skin. 

Felix pulled away from you after you had both stopped shaking from your respective orgasms. Your eyes were wild and teary with lust and he was sure he looked exactly the same way. Felix barely got even a second to catch his breath before you were on him, locking your arms around his shoulders and giving him another kiss. Though he was pleasantly surprised at the gentleness of your lips this time- he didn’t know if he would be able to take another round so soon and needed a reprieve. 

After a few seconds you pulled away from him slowly, your eyes closed and the most content look on your face. “That.. was really nice.” 

“Mhmm.” Felix lightly nuzzled his nose into your cheek, leaving a small kiss there in his wake. “It was perfect.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, seemingly getting shy again. 

“Yeah,” another kiss before he leaned back, looking into your eyes now. “My favorite, actually.” 

The sound of your giggle was the cutest sound in the world to him, there was no sweeter sound than when you laughed and he really wanted to hear it again. With quick fingers he dug them gently into your sides which prompted an immediate response; you squealed with laughter and let go of his neck, trying to pry his fingers off. “Felix! Don’t- no tickling!” But even as you protested you had that dazzling smile on your face. The one that made him fall for you in the first place. 

“I love you.” 

He didn't mean to say it- to spill the beans so suddenly on you- especially not on your first date, but his lips just let it slip. He was extremely anxious as he saw the shock on your face and you stopped laughing. 

Felix started to backtrack, “I mean, your laugh. I love your laugh, it’s so contagious.” He nervously chuckled looking away from you. 

‘Fuck, I can’t believe I screwed it all up in a second.’ 

“No, that’s not what you meant.” You quietly protested, then you surprised him again by cupping his cheek and leaning your forehead on his. “I.. Felix I love you too.” 

Even through his shock a wide smile began to overtake his mouth and suddenly he was flooded with excitement and new found vigor. Felix was inclined to believe you, as he never knew you as someone to tell a lie. 

You continued before he could, “I know it’s sudden and we haven’t spent a lot of real time together, but you have always been the sweetest man I had ever met. And you're so passionate. You care. And I think that seeing you chase your dreams and be so determined to make it work.. I couldn’t help but fall for you.” 

“Oh Sunshine. I’ve been in love with you since I laid eyes on you, since the first moment you walked into my bakery two years ago.” 

You both still had your foreheads together and with slow movements he leaned ever so slightly and laid a tentative kiss to your lips. You reciprocated instantly and went to climb further into his lap. 

As much as he loved kissing you and feeling you on him, the second that you rested your weight over his crotch he was reminded of the sticky mess he had made in his underwear only minutes prior, the cum cooling and making it extremely uncomfortable as it stuck to his skin in the worst way. 

“Sunshine,” He mumbled against your lips, “I uh, got a little problem.” 

“Hmm?” You hummed, trying to kiss him again. You pouted at him when his hands gently pried you off of him, but then you saw the cringe left on his brow. “What’s wrong?” 

“Well,” ‘Fuck this was embarresing.’ “I kinda blew my load into my pants.. And it’s starting to stick to my skin.” 

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ shape as you registered his words, then you burst into a fit of giggles that made Felix both want to swoon and also bury himself into a hole forever. 

“Lixie m’ sorry, I didn’t even think about how uncomfortable you must be.” You climbed off of him and stood up. “The bathroom is this way, I’ll grab you some sweats to wear if you want?” 

He nodded, “Yes please Sunshine.” 

“You can even shower if you want.. And if you do want I may even join you.” You offered him a wink. 

His brows raised at how bold you were becoming, pleasantly surprised once again. Before he went into the bathroom he pulled you back into him from behind, leaving a wet smooch directly on your cheek. “Thank you. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Lix.” You swatted him with a laugh, “Now go clean up. We have a movie to finish.” 

©doitforbangchan 2024

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Permanent tags: @athforskz and @jehhskz

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up the tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been on their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback, and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

[imagine-darksiders]

A little respite...

A short Death/Reader oneshot about birthday presents, mugs, and how a Horseman without a heart isn't necessarily heartless. Enjoy! <3 xxx

---

Birthdays, Death supposes, carry far greater significance when one only has a finite number of years in one’s lifespan.

If there’s anything he’s grateful for, it’s that modern humans seem to have tailored their annual celebrations to smaller, intimate gatherings, which, in his opinion, are far more tasteful than the ostentatious and plethoric affairs those pharaohs used to throw. If the Horseman thought he’d have to wade through a veritable ocean of humans just to get to your front door…. Well. He certainly wouldn’t have been best pleased, to say the least.

Nestled within the cup of his palm and safely hidden from prying eyes is a small, unassuming parcel. It doesn’t look like much, deliberately so. The tiny thing is wrapped in some old parchment he had to pilfer from Azrael’s study. It was the first and only thing he could think of after he belatedly recalled how humans like to peel away a layer of paper before they can lay eyes on whatever has been pre-emptively hidden within it.

You became quite prickly once after he pointed out the aimlessness of the custom.

‘Some traditions,’ he begrudgingly yielded after several hours of trying to see past your cold-shoulder, ‘are better left undisputed.’

Trudging along the newly rebuilt street in the direction of your home, Death makes every conceivable effort to avoid the stares and shocked gasps from the few humans who are still milling about in the golden light of the evening.

Even after the Resurrection and the frequent comings and goings of the Horsemen, angels, makers and even the occasional demon, Humanity still hasn’t grown accustomed to seeing the Grim Reaper skulking about on their planet.

In the corner of an eye, he sees a man haul a small girl into his arms and scurry to the opposite side of the street, and it takes everything in the Horseman not to sigh.

It isn’t long before he finds himself turning onto the short, gravel path leading up to your front door. His footfalls make no sound on the loose stones, and the parcel is starting to carry weight in his palm now.

Coming to a halt on the step, his eyes drift down to the faded mat by his boots that reads ‘Welcome.’

The Horseman scoffs, as he does every time he sees it. Sometimes you’re too hospitable for your own good.

Giving his shaggy head of hair a bemused shake, he reaches for the doorknob, only to pause.

Another custom best left undisputed… Humans don’t like it if you enter their home unannounced.

Curling his hand into a fist, he instead gives the wood three, solid raps with his knuckles before letting his arm drop back to his side, briefly giving a thought to what it must seem like for an onlooker to witness the ancient Nephilim ceding to human habits.

With a grunt, he leans back on his haunches to wait, idly counting the cracks that have formed in the plaster surrounding your doorframe, each one betraying the frequency of visits made by his younger sister, Fury. It’s a wonder the entrance is still intact with how often she barges in and out, scuffing the paint and chipping off wooden flakes with her armoured shoulders.

Sometimes she forgets that while she might have the slightest build of the Horseman, she’s still unconventionally large from the average human’s point of view. Regardless, you haven’t said a word to her about the marks, as far as Death is aware, and somehow, he doubts you ever will.

His ears prick towards the sound of shoes trotting hurriedly across linoleum, approaching your front door.

“Coming! Coming!” your voice calls out, instantly shaking loose that little fragment of unease that sits between Death’s ribs every time he comes to your home and waits outside the door. There’s a private part of him, a part he’ll never reveal, that dreads the day he knocks without receiving an answer.

The handle rattles, a lock slides out of place, and once again, he hears you speaking from the other side of the wood.

“You guys are early!” you laugh, “I haven’t changed yet, but I’m-“

Your sentence trails off into silence as the door is tugged open and you poke your head into the light outside, brows scrunching together as your eyes fall upon a pale, cadaverous chest.

Blinking, you dart a look up, only to gasp at the sight of an all too familiar bone-mask tilting down towards you, inclined in acknowledgement.

“Death?” you gape, your expression falling open in shock.

Another oddity of humans, he finds. Even when you can clearly see what’s right in front of your nose, you still feel the need to ask for clarification, as though you can never fully trust what your eyes are seeing.

“In the flesh,” he says, gesturing up and down at his emaciated waist and sinewy chest, “I’m pleased you still recognise me, given our months apart.”

And it has been months. Six and three days, to be exact. Not that he’s counting.

It happens the moment he drops his arm back to his side. Like the sun rising over the peak of a dark mountain, your face bursts open with bright, glimmering warmth.

The corners of your mouth retreat from each other, spreading your lips into a grin so wide that your cheeks round out and squeeze your eyes halfway shut with unbridled delight as a laugh gushes out of you, bouncy and awestricken.

“Death!” Without warning, you bound across the threshold and - showing no hint of a reservation - throw your arms around the Horseman’s lean torso, burying your face into the concave dip below his chest, “Oh my god! I didn’t think I’d be seeing you today!”

And because he still hasn’t grown used to your displays of affection, Death forgets the etiquette and freezes in place, arms hovering rigidly above your own and his chin tucked into his neck, as though he’s mildly alarmed at your sudden proximity.

And because you know he isn’t used to affection, you don’t hold him hostage for long.

Pulling away only seconds later, you sweep a hand through your hair, clutching loosely at the strands as you take a step back and give the Horseman a quick once-over, beaming all the while.

“I can’t believe you actually made it! This is the best birthday ever!”

Well, if that isn’t the most flattering thing he’s heard all year.

“Oh! Would you like to come in?” you ramble on, stepping aside and sweeping your hand into the hallway behind you, “I’ve got people arriving for a party, but not for, like, another hour. So, you can stick around or…”

“Ah, regrettably, I can’t linger for long,” he interrupts, holding up a palm to quiet you. He truly can’t stay. And not just because he’s disinclined to ‘party.’

He’s heard whisperings of a demon uprising stirring in a city across the sea. He and War have made plans to travel there under the cover of darkness to investigate, and he’s already behind schedule. He notices that you make a considerable effort not to let your expression droop, though he can tell by the pinch of your lips that you’re disappointed.

He… hopes he can make it up to you with the tiny package hidden safely within his palm.

Clearing his throat, Death flexes his fingers, wrestling with doubts for a moment before he gives himself a mental kick and forces his hand out from behind his back, thrusting the parcel under your nose.

“Here,” he grunts as he gives it a gentle shake, willing you to take the damn thing rather than continue to blink down at it in surprise, “I understand gifts are customary on one’s… birthday, hm?”

… For a long time, you don’t say a word. You merely look at the Horseman’s palm as though he’s holding a live grenade, your eyes round and wide and uncertain. In fact, you remain silent for so long, that for once, Death is the one who feels compelled to explain himself.

“I… wrapped it,” he ventures, frowning behind his mask at the parcel, “… Although, I suppose it isn’t very good, is it.” Now that he's presented it to you, he's only just noticing how shoddy and rushed the job must look. In fact, he realises he must have stolen parchment that Azrael was in the middle of writing on, judging by the ink smudges that are only half hidden beneath the thin twine he used to bundle the whole thing together.

Mind racing, he scans your expression for tells, anything that’ll clue him in as to whether he’s made a mistake in bringing you something at all…

Perhaps… he was misinformed. It might be a grave insult to give a human something on their day of birth. Damn that half-wit brother of his, Strife. If he’s fed Death another lie to make him look foolish in front of you, why, he’ll-

A soft touch alights upon his palm.

Death’s gaze snaps down to see your tiny fingers curling tentatively over the parchment, and it takes a lot of concentration to keep his appendages from twitching as you slide the parcel out of his palm, brushing your thumb over his in the process.

“You… got me a present?” you ask gently, staring down at it before flicking your eyes up to peer at the Horseman from beneath your lashes.

Slowly, he retrieves his arm, giving it a shrug and sniffing, “It’s nothing particularly special.”

But you’re already pulling at the twine's lacklustre knot, delicately peeling away crinkled parchment to reveal the gift inside.

When you finally unfold all of the paper, a soft sound of wonder escapes your parted lips, and your face is illuminated in a soft, green glow.

It’s a flask. A tiny flask no larger than your thumb, cut from thick, crystalline glass and stoppered at the top with a chunk of cork. The flask itself has had a silver chain welded to the neck that glints in the sunlight as you bring it closer to your face to peer inside. Clinking around behind the glass, you spot a piece of shard, green as a summer field, glowing prettily like a captured firefly, small and dainty but luminous enough to cast its light through its crystal prison.

“I’m sure Muria could have made you something prettier,” the Horseman mumbles, “I’m no maker. But, I always did have a knack for crafting these talismans… You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to convince Fury to carry one…

“…Death…” you breathe.

“Yours is modified, of course," he ploughs ahead, clearing his throat, "Now, it won’t keep you safe indefinitely.” There's a pause, and you think you hear him mutter ‘yet’ under his breath before he continues, “But it will serve as a shield, of sorts. If you’re ever injured-“ Reaching out, he taps his nail against the glass. “- This will bear the worst of the damage. So long as you wear it, your skin will be harder to break. Your bones will only splinter where they might have shattered. You will be, in a word, protected.”

You can’t reply for a moment, your throat is too clogged with things you don’t know how to say.

You know this talisman. You know it because you’ve seen the one Fury keeps tucked beneath the high neck of her cuirass. She insists that Strife and War carry them too, though the brothers have yet to relinquish that secret to you just yet.

Nephilim’s Respite. It’s a protective trinket made by the eldest Horseman to safeguard his brothers and sister on their travels.

Death made them for his siblings. His family.

And now, here you are, holding the self same talisman in your hand.

You try to maintain your composure. You really do try. But when you blink, you’re slightly dismayed to find your vision blurring and a warm dampness tickling your lower eyelashes.

“Ah,” Death utters, drawing his head back to regard your gathering tears, “You’re crying. That… wasn’t my intention.”

A watery laugh tumbles out of your mouth, and you raise your unoccupied hand to sweep a wrist across your eyelids. “It’s oka-“ you start to sniff, though the Horseman jumps in before you can finish the thought.

“If the gift isn’t to your liking,” he concedes, reaching out to take the talisman back, “I can always-“

“-No!” Clutching the gift defensively to your chest, you throw Death a scandalised look, tears trickling lazily towards your chin, “It’s perfect, it’s just – it’s so much, Death! My god, I got you a mug for Christmas!"

And a fine mug it is, he reflects. Bone china, a yellow warning label with 'Warning, prone to sarcasm' scrawled across its surface in thick, black lettering.

It's one of his most preciously guarded items. He almost fed War's remaining arm to Harvester when the younger Horseman knocked it off his table.

But... you're fretting, and his reminiscing of the the humorous crockery will have to wait.

"You... accept the gift, then?" he asks, halfway convinced your eyes are misted over because he'd committed a faux-pas he isn't aware of.

There are times when Death wonders if you must think him quite dense. Such as now, for example. Short of throwing your hands above your head, you positively erupt in exasperation as you exclaim, "Wh-! Of course I do! This is the kindest thing anyone's done for me in my life!"

"Kinder than saving said life?" he quips, "Repeatedly?"

You only shoot him a wide, watery grin in response. Tossing the parchment over your shoulder, you hurry to slip the silver chain around your neck, clutching the flask delicately in a palm and thumbing the glass with fond, gentle strokes.

"I'm never taking this off," you murmur around a beaming smile.

Grunting, the Horseman folds his arms across his chest and replies, "See that you don't. With how attractive you are to trouble and disaster, this is the most efficient way to ensure you are kept relatively safe when I... when one of us isn't around to keep an eye on you." Pausing, he quirks a thoughtful brow behind his mask and adds, "Well... I suppose I could always enlist Nathaniel to play human-sitter..."

Your bright, incredulous peal of laughter cuts him off, but before he can lament on how much different he is now for allowing himself to be interrupted by a human and feel no malice, you suddenly plant a hand on his chest, spreading warmth from the tips of your fingers straight through to the hollow cavity that used to house his heart.

Death's mask tips down, his golden eyes calm, but curious as they fold into yours, old and new, sharing a moment of vulnerability on the steps of your home.

"Thank you, Death," you tell him sincerely, but oh so softly, "I mean it. Thank you."

And then, as if the thanks alone isn't quite enough to break a chip off his unassailable walls, you rise onto the toes of your shoes, reaching a hand up to hook a finger beneath the chin of his mask and drawing his head down inch by inch. Death, taken wildly aback by the boldness of laying your hands on the Executioner's mask, forgets himself, and follows the tug of your will until-

A layer of solid bone may separate you from the Horseman's skin, yet he'd still swear he feels the tender press of a warm, guileless mouth against his own, just for a moment, then you withdraw almost as soon as you leaned in, releasing his chin and letting your arms flop back to your sides.

"Well," you say, voice a little pitched like you've caught yourself by surprise, "Again, um... Thank you..."

Slowly, Death draws back to his full height, resisting the sudden urge to press his fingertips to the space near the bottom of his mask.

"Don't suppose you've got time to come in for a cup of tea?" you blurt.

And if the Reaper's thin, pale lips twitch up at their corners unbidden... Well... There's a reason he decided to keep his mask, after all.

[girlkisser13]

hebe cabin headcanons

children of hebe

• the younger they are, the easier they are to trace. this is due to their mother being the goddess of youth.

• they are very forgiving, compassionate, and understanding individuals. they have this aura of kindness that often makes them the best people to talk to about personal problems.

• they’re the innocent one in the friend group.

• they have celestial bronze legos that they scatter in front of barefoot monsters.

• baby faces. all of them.

• they all have naturally clear skin.

• they find "anti-aging" skin creams so amusing. they all the real way to stay youthful forever, and it’s a lot less pleasant than slapping lotion onto your face.

• they 100% run a skincare business with the aphrodite cabin.

• none of them are american.

• they all speak different languages but they’re all able to understand each other.

• it’s the same way babies can seemingly talk and understand each other. even if there are differences, they still seem to share a deep innate language with each other.

• they’re the embodiment of a healed inner child.

• you know those people in the hospitality industry who are, like, scary good at their job?

• like the hotel concierge, or maître d’hotel, or wedding planner who runs the tightest ship you’ve ever seen, and can provide services for their customers that don’t even seem possible?

• those are the children of hebe.

• they’d also make really good servers, bartenders, and plastic surgeons.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is adorned with a variety of fresh flowers, growing in beds around the cabin or hanging in baskets. they also feature hebe shrubs (named after their mother).

• the architecture incorporates playful and youthful design elements, such as carvings of children and decorations of butterflies, and birds.

• small fountains of water surround the cabin, adding a sense of freshness and continuous renewal. the sound of trickling water could create a calming and rejuvenating atmosphere. there is a big one right in front of the entrance that represents the fountain of youth.

• a statue of their mother, hebe, stands near the entrance, she’s holding a chalice as she did in mythology, symbolizing her role as the cupbearer to the gods.

• a wide, welcoming porch with comfortable seating invite campers to relax and enjoy the youthful energy that the cabin exudes. the porch is decorated with cozy cushions and potted plants.

cabin interior

• lots of pastels, stained glass, curtains, but still a very comfortable and welcoming area. they also have a huge vending machine in the cabin.

• the cabin is constantly filled with the scent of blossoms and fresh grass, giving it a perpetually fresh and lively feel.

• since hebe is associated with youth and beauty, there are elegant vanity tables with ornate mirrors. these mirrors have a subtle magical quality, enhancing the viewer’s best features.

• the furniture is cozy and inviting, with plush couches and bean bags. the beds are adorned with soft, fluffy blankets and pillows, making it a perfect place for relaxation and rest.

• there's a dedicated space for physical fitness and wellness activities. this includes yoga mats, light weights, and an assortment of health and beauty products.

• they have a collection of vintage items and keepsakes from different eras. they include old-fashioned toys, games, and memorabilia that evoke nostalgia.

• they have a small fountain in the center of their cabin. the water has minor rejuvenating properties, offering a sense of refreshment and renewal to anyone who drinks from it.

cabin traditions

• every morning, they start their day with a refreshing drink of ambrosia-infused water. i headcanon that the infused water acts as caffeine for them.

• once a week, they host a game night featuring classic childhood games, like tag, hopscotch, and hide-and-seek.

• each member of the cabin dedicates one day each month to perform acts of kindness and service around the camp, helping to spread positive energy and support among fellow campers.

• they have a jar inside of their cabin where they can drop notes about happy moments or achievements. at the end of the summer, they read through the notes to reflect on their growth and experiences.

• regular arts and crafts sessions where they make bracelets, charms, and other small items symbolizing youth and vitality, often gifting these to other campers as tokens of friendship.

divider by @v6que

[slamminslamminmcgill]

joel getting off of a carpenter job all sweaty and smelling like lumber and probably a little beer and uhhhhhhhhh stealing his sweaty shirts and huffing them when he goes to shower. what who said that 🧍‍♂️

rl quick shoutout to my dilf friend who hosts the orgy he smells rly good and i huffed his pits last night so this one’s your fault babes mwah

anatomical terms: cunt, dick

Is this how drug dogs feel?

When some idiot’s trying to sneak weed through customs, is this how excited they get when they catch a whiff?

Well, probably not this excited, and either way, it’s not the smell that hypes them up, but the promise of a treat afterwards.

You, on the other hand, were attracted to the smell itself, or at least the idea of it. Specifically, Joel’s scent as soon as he walked into the apartment, face flushed, brow dotted with sweat, wet patches pooling under his armpits, sawdust sprinkling him from head to toe, ripped jeans with paint splatters on them. He looked gorgeous, so masculine and powerful. Jesus was a carpenter too, wasn’t he? Yeah, that tracks. No wonder he had twelve dudes following him all the time. Joel’s smell was as conspicuous as lighting a blunt in the airport, something that’d surely attract the dogs.

He wiped his Timberland boots on the mat, then knelt down to untie them. You watched, entranced, as he kicked them off and unbuckled his tool belt. You wanted nothing more than to rush him and face-plant into his armpits, but you figured you should show at least some restraint.

“I’m’onna take a shower,” Joel said matter-of-factly, dropping his tool belt on the counter. “Scream if ya need me.”

Shit, if that’s all it took, you’d scream for him to suffocate you in his pits and let you huff that glorious Man Smell™️ until you pass out, but that wasn’t what he meant. He meant “Unless you’re being murdered, don’t bother me for the next 20 minutes”.

No matter. You could easily keep yourself busy in that time.

Once the shower was on, you cloaked your footsteps under the sound of running water. Slowly, ever so slowly, you tiptoed to the bathroom and cracked the door open. Joel wouldn’t have been able to see you through the shower curtain, anyway, but you didn’t want him catching on. You slid your arm through the gap and blindly felt around for the first piece of clothing you could grab. At the first touch of cotton, you hooked your fingers into it, yanked it through the door, and inspected your prize: his t-shirt. Jackpot.

Having snagged your precious treasure, you shut the bathroom door and practically skipped off to your room. You flopped onto your bed, held the balled-up shirt to your face, and took a big whiff. Sweat, lumber, testosterone, and what you guessed to be either Modelo or Corona. Whatever it was, it was just one ingredient, one splash in this hedonistic cocktail that made it all the more intoxicating. Your cunt was already crying for attention, so you slipped your fingers in your underwear to soothe it. Rubbing along your own slit, spreading the wetness around, pinching your dick and stroking it, you tended to your needs as best you could, the musky shirt muffling your moans. You’d gotten so invested, so focused on your task, that you forgot to listen for the shower turning off. You only realized your mistake when it came barging through your bedroom door.

“Hey, have you seen my-?” Joel started, and then stopped mid-question when you answered it for him. Yes. Yes, you had seen his shirt. And now he had seen it, balled up in your desperate fist, while your other hand rubbed your even more desperate cunt.

No fucking shot of explaining your way out of this one. He knew immediately.

Joel snorted at the pathetic sight before him, “Oh my god, that’s… What is wrong with you, kid?”

You laid frozen on the bed as he approached, surely taking his sweet time to let your embarrassment fester. Once he was within range, he snatched the shirt out of your hand, and said,

“Don’t go stealin’ my shit, boy. Next time you want somethin’ from me, use your words and just fuckin’ ask.”

[brandedmats]

[weministertomonsters]

Deathsinger - M monster x F reader

The scent of spices and food is heavy in the air. Henna-stained hands flash as servants from various households buy from the stalls, arguing with sellers over prices. Small tents house coffee mats, where men and women drink strong cups and play cards, pinning and unpinning jewelry from their hair as they win or lose.

Other tents hold fortune tellers or shamans with pouches of dried snake skin and oils that will make a person fall in love with you. Troughs full of embers sizzle as the juice from meat and corn drips on them. Teenagers loiter and small children play tag and pilfer food until their mothers find them and drag them home.

This is Vasskeva, the desert market.

Your tent is set up under a fig tree a little out of the way, purposefully harder to find. That's what makes it unique and what keeps customers coming back. That, and your dancing, and the seductive arch of your eyebrow, and the way you engage with your audience. They love it, men and women alike.

The boisterous people that come crowding into your tent tonight look a lot like bandits, but tonight is Vasskeva, and peace is the one rule everyone upholds on this night. They come with pockets full of jewelry they have either won or stolen from the card tents, high on the buzz of coffee, fried cheese, and wine.

You dip your head in a courteous bow.

"How may I entertain you today?" You ask.

They cheer, and a few calloused fingers stuff gold rings and bracelets into your bedazzled bra, sneaking touches of your skin. You smile, red lips glistening in the candlelight.

"Dance, dance!" A bandit says in a thick accent. "Say, where's the Oskov we found? Oskov are music people, no?"

A man is pushed forward. He has no shoes on which is a risky move in the desert. His robes are plain, not his native clothes then. The Oskov are famous for the brightly colored fabric that even the commoners wear. Except for his feet, the rest of him is covered, even his hands. The shawl swathed around his head is deep black and you can only guess from the tilt of his head that he is watching you. The only other thing you can make out is the glint of a metal band around his neck.

"Have you instruments, deola?" One of the men asks, his thumb caressing your ankle.

You smile and pull your foot away before he ends up tripping you. It has happened before, your very presence entrancing someone to the point that when they touch you, they don't let go.

"I have a drum. Can you play?"

The Oskov nods once and you unearth the drum from beneath your mountain of dancing ribbons and tambourine and shakers, holding it out to him.

The metal band around his neck glistens with repressing magic and you idly wonder how he got caught. His gloved hands touch yours for a moment as he takes the small drum from you and sits cross-legged on the floor. He pulls off the gloves and lays them on his knee. His hands are dark grey with veins close under the surface that resemble tree roots. His long fingers are dangerously elegant, the black-tipped nails trimmed down to harmless crescents.

You pick out a soft orange dancing shawl with metal beads that make a shimmering sound and wait for his signal. The drums start slow and rhythmic. You've always liked the deep sound of this particular drum, a pitch that drags the movement out of your very being until you feel like the drum is directing your movements.

The bandits clap along appreciatively. They are well-behaved and respectful, which is more than you can say for some noble people who have visited your tent.

You begin to learn the beat the Oskov is playing out for you, anticipating the highs and the drops. You spin and shimmy, letting your shawl dance through the air, whispers of the fabric slipping sensually over hands and grinning faces. The drum speeds up, and as you dance, a fine sheen of sweat covers your skin. When the song finally ends, you're breathless, and not from exertion. You feel alive, your vision sharp and your veins flowing hot with blood. It transforms your body. Anyone would be a fool not to recognize how turned on you are.

The bandits look pleased like they've accomplished something. Gold coins and jewelry are offered to you, but you refuse. You manage to catch your breath and you push your heavy braids over your shoulder and announce,

"I want him as payment."

The bandits turn to look at their captive, and for a few moments, there is silence. Just as you think they will refuse, their leader booms out a laugh. Their leader turns out to be a tiny, toothless old woman, not the muscular man you had presumed.

"You certainly have an eye for nice things, eh, little deola?" She lisps. "You have danced well. Hmmm..."

She taps her gnarled fingers on her cane.

"I will bargain with you, yes? We will give you not only the Oskov but half the gold if you put on another show for us."

"Very well. What dance do you want?" You ask.

"A dance of life, shall we say. With him in it." The leader smacks her lips in satisfaction.

She probably thinks you won't bite. But you're determined to have him, so you give your head a little toss and nod. The bandits cheer. The Oskov is sitting very still. He offers no resistance when someone snatches the drum away and begins to play a disjointed, banging tune. You hold your hand out to him with an apologetic smile. Sleeping with him hadn't been your initial plan, but you have no choice now.

He has the right to refuse, but he takes your hand and stands, intentionally looming over you. You're not afraid. You lean into him, and whisper against his covered ear,

"Do this for me, and I will help you remove the band around your neck."

~ • ~ • ~ • ~

It's been a long time since I enjoyed writing something this much! It turned out exactly how I wanted it. I have a part 2 in mind as well, in case anyone is interested! The music at the beginning is exactly what I listened to while writing this.

The dancing I envisioned for the story is bellydancing, which I happen to be learning myself, as a fun way to exercise. I kept wanting to take a break to dance myself. 😂

[artsofrajasthanindia]

Handmade Indian Cotton kilim rug weaved on Indian looms stamped with natural vegetable-dyes using hand-made wooden blocks achieving the perfection of block printing art of Jaipur. This is best suitable for your home office entrance, bedroom, living room, kids room, dinning room, kitchen and outdoor patio, terrace, beach and garden.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

For more of this chapter, please click the AO3 link below!

From the Seed of a Sunflower

AU Types- Fantasy AU/Flower Language

Word Prompt- Sunshine

Dialogue Prompt- “who are you?”

Summary:  Bilbo intends to go on his year-long journey as is custom of his Took family, and being six inches tall is not about to deter him. He soon finds himself in a big world, containing small people...just like him.

Bilbo finally looked up, and for a strange moment, he thought it was the ravens circling above that were speaking. Now, he had never heard an animal speak before, but to be fair, the only opportunity he’d had was with the neighbor’s tomcat, Smeagol, who was an odd creature in general. However, before he could contemplate more on the idea of talking ravens, he was able to catch the shiny glint of metal on the back of one of the circling birds. His breath caught in his throat. Was…was that a tiny knight? Someone…his size? He thought he was the only one.

“It’s making a run for it! Better bring it down, quick.”

It was at that moment he became aware of the Raven Riders quarry. A squirrel carrying a passenger of its own. Only there was something wrong with them. The squirrel was…diseased looking, matted fur, and overly sharp teeth. The rider was even more appalling. Too pale of skin with bone jutting out in odd places. It was enough to make Bilbo shiver in fear even from where he was standing. He became entranced watching the battle now that he realized that’s what it was.

One of the Raven Riders would fire an arrow onto the squirrel creature that would either be deflected by the monster or dig into its fur making it cry out. However, it didn’t seem like it was going down easy. In fact, it only seemed more agitated, something he could tell was making the Raven Riders nervous as their back and forth banter carried on above. It was like watching some sort of bizarre play which is why Bilbo never once considered the idea that he might be in danger.

[greyworld10]

The darkened apothecary looked menacing from outside, like a shop that will give you a child's beating heart for the right price from somewhere in the backroom if you accent your consonants just right and look meaningfully at the shopkeeper. It was not the place anyone who had even heard of Hero should be, but here Hero was, walking into an unsafe shop that gave them the creeps, like papery spiders skimming down their spine. They tried to peer in through the windows, but couldn't see anything except vague shadows. The shop was probably too dark, and the entrance smelled mildly of mildew so they wondered if it was closed, but the sign declared it open and the absence of cobwebs supported the fact. Hero stepping on the wet mat which released water like a sponge (disgusting) and went inside before they could back out.

The blinding light assaulted their eyes as the smell of lavendar and smoke that burning wood gives off wanted to their nose. Hero blinked several times as the sterile white walls of the apothecary reflected the light from the bulbs. It was more clean and looked and felt more honourable than the shop of the King's own alchemist.

"Coming. Just a second!", said a young man as he slid behind the counter. "What do you need ?"

The Hero was still too dazed to respond as if they were nonplussed, so they asked-

"Are you the owner of this shop?", with a vague gesture.

"Yes, built it myself and uhh... Would you be requiring supplies for travels ? ", he asked as he eyed Hero's garb.

"Your uh.. shop looks umm... quite... different from the outside. "

"Oh yes, you see I wanted to keep the general aesthetic of creepiness but it is really not sanitary you know, had a case of medical equipment crawling with maggots in these parts before... The customer was very angry, well his family was, because he died from them, ate him from the inside. And would that be all ?", he finished with a bright grin.

"Er.. yes ? I mean how much ?"

Looks could be quite deceiving, it seems.

[fizzlicious]

Black Coffee - Tim Wright x Reader Chapter 1

I originally posted this on Quotev but I decided to make a tumblr :))

This story takes place after Marble Hornets ends. Brian/Hoodie is dead, Alex is dead, Jay is dead. So none of these guys will be active characters.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tick, tick, tick.. You tapped your blue ink pen anxiously against the bar counter you were currently leaning over. The clock on the wall behind you teased you with every second it clicked. It was 10:15 at night, and there was only forty five minutes left until you could close up the dingy diner you unfortunately worked at. It had been horrifically slow the entire night. It wasn't surprising, it had been pouring rain for hours, drenching everything for miles. If it was up to you, you'd close this hellhole down that exact minute and race home. With a sigh, you straightened your back and stretched your arms up to the sky. You had completed all your side work; broke down the salad unit, cut lemons, swept and mopped the floors, cleaned the soda machine, made sure every table was maliciously wiped down, and that each place mat was straight in line with its silverware. What else was there for you to do?

The sudden sound of the entrance's bell made you jump. Your head swiveled towards the door, and you stifled a sigh as a customer walked in. It was a brunette man dressed in a thick beige jacket, jeans, and black sneakers. Everything from his messy chestnut brown hair down to his shoes was soaked, leaving the water to drip onto your freshly mopped floors with every step he took. Internally, you were cussing this man out, but externally you flashed him your best customer service smile and uttered a welcome. He nodded in response and took the first stool at the bar. Praying he wouldn't stay late, you snatched a menu and laid it in front of him. Without even taking a look at it, he pushed it back almost absently, staring blankly with bold, brown eyes back at you.

"I'll just take a black coffee." His tone was deep flat, devoid of any emotion. Are you fucking kidding me? Now you had to boil a fresh pot that you'd have to dump out and clean. Biting your tongue, you smiled faintly and stepped back.

"Sure thing. I'll have it right out,' You responded swiftly, turning on your heel to walk to the servers station. As the coffee began to pour, the diner's owner, Barty, stepped out of the kitchen, stopping beside you. Barty had lived in your small town his entire life. In the diner's hay day, it was a small sub shop his father started. Over the course of decades, it grew significantly into the town's largest diner. He had long passed, leaving Barty to run the only thing his father ever cared about. Your boss was in his 40's now, undoubtedly balding but he hid it under his obnoxious collection of ball caps. Most of the employees couldn't stand him, some had been driven to quit because of his personality. He was arrogant, quick to offend, and incredibly sarcastic and dry. He was the stereotypical douchebag in a small town that smoked like a train, cussed in every sentence, and didn't take shit from anyone. He had the emotional intelligence of a rock and did not give a fuck about anything but business. Despite all of the employer red flags, you didn't mind him. Sure, he was an asshole, but he didn't hover over you or micromanage. His rules were slack, he stayed out of your way, and he didn't believe in "the customers always right" mindset that plagues the customer service industry. On weekday nights like these, it was just the two of you and he tended to keep to himself anyways. You worked in the front, he worked in the back.

"Who the fuck orders coffee at 10:00 PM on a Tuesday?" Barty grumbled to you. You snorted in response, pulling three creamers out of the fridge and placing the cold packets on a saucer.

"Assholes, that's who," you muttered back. Barty clicked his tongue and hobbled back to the kitchen. Realistically, you knew that the guy could work night shift. You shouldn't shame him for his choice. With the coffee in hand, you returned it to the bar and placed it in front of the man.

"Can I get you anything else right now?" You questioned softly but kindly.

"It's just you tonight?" His question was abrupt and took you aback. You weren't sure what piqued his interest, but you noticed he was finally making firm eye contact with you. You took in his facial features, studying him for a quick second trying to discern his intentions. He had thick, dark eyebrows that laid expressionless and a pair of sideburns to accent the sides of his face. Even his eyes, a dark expresso brown with tinges of a warmer brown swirling around the pupils, gave no hints as to what he was insinuating. You couldn't read him at all.

"Uh, yeah. Just me," you retorted with a raise of your eyebrows. He hummed in response, sliding the saucer of creamers away from him and bringing the cup of black coffee close. Feeling awkward, you slowly dragged the saucer plate back to you and walked off, leaving him with his coffee. That was fucking weird.

While he drank his hot beverage, you stayed to the other side of the restaurant. The man made you feel a bit unsettled and you wanted to try your best to avoid any other odd small talk. You passed the time by absentmindedly scrolling through your phone. You didn't have anyone to text, nor was there wasn't anything interesting to read, but it kept your mind from crawling into insanity. Anytime you would look over, the man was just staring blankly at the wall as he slowly sipped his coffee. He seemed numb and cold, completely turned off to the world. Seeing so many people come and go made you wonder about the lives of others, especially those that would dine alone or truckers who were traveling the roads. Your life seemed pretty bleak in comparison, stuck rooted in a small forested town with not much thought for the future. Everyone your age was quick to marry and start a family or had gone off to college, desperate to escape the small town trap. All you looked forward to was your next day off. The majority of your friends from high school had made their escape and with time, you all drifted apart.

Snapping back to reality, you checked on your odd customer and refilled his cup once. You even offered a to-go cup to not waste the remainder of the pot, to which he politely declined. No other words were exchanged and seeing that he had his fill, you decided to turn off the coffee heater and clean the pot. When you returned from rinsing out the pot, the man was gone. He had left seven dollars on the counter, pushed delicately under the mug as if wind would sweep it away. Considering a cup of coffee was $2.50, you were grateful for the generous tip and felt a little guilty for feeling so stingy about making coffee. Regardless, the diner was empty once more. It was now 10:50 PM, and you only had ten minutes until you were free. Clocking out never felt so gratifying before.

Sticking with your routine, you stepped out of the diner through the back with Barty and waited for him to lock up before heading to your respective vehicles. The rain still pounded down, hitting the asphalt with such a force the noise drowned out anything else. You groaned inwardly, wishing you had invested in an umbrella. Or a jacket, considering how freezing and windy it was. It was easily in the low 50s, leaving you to fend off the frigid temperatures in a thin long sleeve shirt.

"Alright [Y/N], I'll see ya tomorrow. Don't speed in this shitty weather," Barty bid his goodbye. You gave him a little smile. You did drive pretty fast.

"Shit, that's the only way I get home in under ten minutes. Have a good night, Barty!" You called out before making your rapid dash to your car. You only ran for fifteen seconds max, but you were already pretty soaked by the time you launched yourself into the drivers seat of your beater from the early 2000s. Shivering, you blasted the heat and prayed it would kick in fast.

And for the record, you didn't go past five miles over the speed limit.

to the next chapter

[tamilselvamppts]

Office Cleaning Services - How to Efficiently Include Tasks

Introduction:

A productive and healthy work atmosphere is crucial in the busy world of business, and this requires keeping the office clean and organized. Office cleaning services are essential for making sure that the workspace is both visually beautiful and healthy for employees. This thorough guide will show you how to effectively include tasks into office cleaning services so that your workspace looks great and stands out from the competition.

Understanding the Unique Needs of Each Office Space

It's important to understand that every office space is different before getting into the specific duties related to office cleaning. The number of employees, the type of business, and the size of the office are few examples of factors that may affect how much cleaning is needed. A comprehensive and efficient cleaning service is ensured by customizing your cleaning strategy to the unique requirements of the workplace.

Creating a Customized Cleaning Checklist

Creating a personalized cleaning checklist is a crucial component of effective office cleaning services. Every part of the office, including common areas, workstations, restrooms, and food areas, should be included in this checklist. You may organize your cleaning jobs according to importance and frequency to make sure each and every space is covered.

Daily Cleaning Services:

1. Replace the liners in waste receptacles and empty them. As needed, wash.

2. Vacuum every mat and carpet.

3. Scrub every hard floor.

4. Dust all of the furniture's horizontal surfaces, including tables, chairs, and workstations.

5. Use a disinfectant to damply clean any horizontal surfaces.

6. Use a disinfecting mop on any hard floors.

7. Clear the front entrance and the nearby vicinity of cobwebs.

8. Eliminate traces and fingerprints from the area surrounding door frames and light switches.

9. Spotless outside and interior automated glass doors

10. Clean every inside window.

11. Shine up the bright work on doors and cabinets and polish all brass.

12. Identify spotty painted surfaces and walls.

Prioritizing High-Traffic Areas

There is a variety of foot traffic in different locations of the office. For effective office cleaning, high-traffic areas must be identified and prioritized.

Meeting spaces

Common areas

Entrances frequently

These areas are need more frequent maintenance to maintain a professional atmosphere and make a good first impression.

Implementing Eco-Friendly Cleaning Practices

The importance of sustainability and environmental stewardship in the modern society cannot be overstated. Climate change, pollution, and waste are serious issues that need to be addressed right away. We spend a lot of our time at work, therefore it's important to consider the surroundings while making decisions on a regular basis. This is especially important for office employees and supervisors who have the ability to make significant changes, as well as commercial cleaners and cleaning businesses.

Although effective, the commercial cleaning industry has long relied on techniques and chemicals that are not eco-friendly. Still, as awareness grows, there is a growing desire for more sustainable, greener solutions. In the office and commercial cleaning sectors, this site aims to provide a wealth of information to anyone looking to transition to greener cleaning techniques.

Investing in Professional Training for Cleaning Staff

The success of any office cleaning service hinges on the competence of its cleaning staff. Invest in ongoing training programs to ensure that your team is well-versed in the latest cleaning techniques, products, and safety protocols. A highly skilled and knowledgeable cleaning crew will deliver superior results, enhancing the reputation of your cleaning services.

Conclusion

Efficiently including tasks in office cleaning services is a multifaceted endeavor that requires a tailored approach, attention to detail, and a commitment to excellence. By understanding the unique needs of each office space, creating customized cleaning checklists, prioritizing high-traffic areas, and embracing eco-friendly and technology-driven practices, your office cleaning services can surpass the competition. Remember, the key to success lies in flexibility, client satisfaction, and continuous improvement to stay at the forefront of this dynamic industry.

Contact Careplus Cleaning Solutions today to delve into the ways our tailored cleaning solutions can elevate your business's overall productivity and success.

Uncover more efficient methods to maintain cleanliness and boost efficiency with Careplus. Reach out for a personalized discussion crafted to meet your specific needs

[depressedhatakekakashi]

No Romance For Me Today

@kakagaievents

Prompt: Mythology

Words: 3719

Wednesday, six o’five pm.

Gai stared at the clock that hung over the shelf full of romance books, watching as the seconds ticked by. It was only five minutes, but he found it difficult not to worry.

Every wednesday at six pm sharp the bookshops door would swing in and Hatake Kakashi would walk in looking like the most beautiful person Gai had ever seen.

It didn’t matter if the man looked like he was about to collapse from sleep deprevation, or if he had his nose buried in the last book he bought trying desperatly to finish it before he continued on to find himself a new book for the week.

No matter what, Kakashi always looked like a gift from the gods to Gai. Perhaps he didn’t believe in whatever gods had carefully crafted Kakashi into the being of utter cool perfection that he was, but that didn’t matter.

Some devine being had to have had a hand in making Kakashi the exact way he was, abd they had to have had Gai in mind while they were working. There was no other explanation for why he ticked every box in Gai’s long list of ‘datable traits’. 

Every wendsday Gai was greeted with that beautiful face and that charming attitude, and no matter how poorly his day had gone before it would always cheer him up.

Except, today Kakashi was late.

Six minutes late according to the clock, which was still ticking away unbothered the absence of that handsome, cool man that Gai always looked forward to seeing.

The one whom his heart skipped for. Who could always make him smile, no matter what he was talking about. Gai would happily listen to the other man blabber about the latest romance novel he read, or the importance of a well balanced diet for all of the dogs he claimed to have. 

“If only he’d show up,” he sighed, eyes glued on the clock as the big hand shifted forward, now pointing at the seven. “Where could he be?”

At that moment, as if the universe was listening to his complaints and decided to take pity on him, the shop door swung open and struck the little bell that hung over it. Gai’s head whipped up, wincing when a muscle in the back of his neck was tugged a little too hard. 

That was a pain he’d be feeling for the next two days, but it was worth it because he was rewarded with the sweetest sight.

Hatake Kakashi stood there at the door in all of his messy haired glory, a picture so beautiful that Gai wouldn't dare drag his eyes away even if he could. 

There was only one problem. Rather than greeting Gai with a cheerful smile that was only visible in the way his eyes curved downwards and the subtle tilt of his head, Kakashi gave him a defeated look.

A look that wove tales of a long, difficult night that no words could ever hope to explain.

“Please, don’t ask,” Kakashi sighed, putting a stop to all of the questions stirring in Gai’s mind. “I do not have the energy to explain it all.”

With that conversation shoved to the side, Kakashi focused on rubbing his shoes against the mat that greeted customers upon their entrance with the words ‘A Spouse is for Life, but a book is forever’. 

Redirecting his attention, Gai snatched the book he’d set off to the side for just this moment and proudly held it up beside his face. “I have something that will put a smile right back on your face,” he promised. “It’s brand new. I just got it in last night and the reviews are pretty impressive . Look,” turning the book around, he jabbed a finger against the back. Right under the name of Kakashi’s favourite author. “Jiraiya even reviewed it and he says it’s quite impressive.” 

Kakashi’s eyes locked onto the book, but instead of the unrestrained excitement that Gai had been hoping to see sparkling in Kakashi’s eyes, he was greeted instead with a look of utter hopelessness.

“Thank you, Gai, but I think i’ll stay away from the romance section for today.” words that Gai thought he would never hear in his lifetime were now being spoken directly towards him and the only thing he could do was stand there staring at Kakashi as though he’d grown a second head. His mind raced to think up a reason for the sudden change in Kakashi’s attitude today, sifting through all of the pausable answers and dismissing them as he went along.

Was he having a bad dream? No, a small pinch of the skin on the back of his hand ruled out that answer. 

Could Kakashi be sick? Although he looked worse for wear there was nothing that Gai could see that would indicate he had a fever that would cause him to refuse his favorite genre of books.

“Gai,” Trotting through the little store, Kakashi stopped directly in front of the till and stared at Gai with a tired expression. “I’m sorry, I’ll take the book. I just-” he reached out to claim the book from Gai’s hands, but before he could Gai moved it back. Just out of reach of those slender fingers that Gai had watched flip through the pages of countless books. 

“No no,” he insisted, placing the book back beside his till and beginning to think. “If you’re not in the mood for romance that’s fine. The book can wait until next week, or the week after that.”

Or whenever you feel well enough to return to being that romance loving dork that I fell in love with.

Banishing that thought from his mind, Gai focused instead of thinking of a different book that Kakashi might enjoy reading. Something that would get his mind off of romance, or perhaps provide him with that little bit of romance he thrived off of while not having it as the main theme. 

A book that was sure to brighten his day. 

“Ah!” An idea struck him suddenly. “I have the perfect one.” making his way around the till, he stepped out and ushed Kakashi to follow him. “They’re actually pretty special. Usually I get my stock on tuesdays.”

“Mhmm,” Kakashi nodded, following Gai through the tiny shop towards the back end where a bookshelf labeled ‘History’ sat. “That’s why I come on Wednesdays.”

“Well, I got this one in just today,” he continued, scanning the bookshelf for that brilliant navy blue cover that had caught his eyes when he first opened the book that morning. It’s supposed to be really good. The writer, Sage, apparently has a talent for weaving tales and they’ve decided to use that talent for mythology.”

It only took a second to locate the book. With beautiful cursive writing on the spine and a bolt of lighting at the bottom it was a hard book to miss.Gai had almost purchased one for himself, but he’d thought better of it. There was little time for him to read between school, work and his daily workouts. Kakashi, though. He was someone who would get through the five hundred page book with ease.

 “And what’s so special about it?” Kakashi asked, eyeing the enormous book with an uneasy expression.

“Well…” thinking it over, Gai found himself with no real explanation. There was nothing about the book that matched Kakashi’s usual reading habits, and he’d never seen the other man carry anything bigger than two hundred pages. He wasn’t sure why this book had come to mind over everything else in the little store, but it seemed perfect. As if it had somehow been made specifically for Kakashi. 

“Nevermind,” waving away his question, Kakashi held out a hand. “It’s better than suffocating myself with more stupid romance.”

Hearing those words, Gai took a step back and moved the book away from Kakashi’s grasp, just as he had done with the first book except this time it was a movement he had made without any real thought.

There was no reason for him to keep the book from Kakashi, but there was something gnawing on his mind. A question that he needed an answer to before he gave up such a precious object.

“Why?”

Kakashi stared at him with a blank expression. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Why what?’

There were a hundred ways Gai could think of to ask his question. Fifty of them would be to personal and likely end with Kakashi rolling his eyes and giving a half answer, and the other fifty were too vague. Either way, Gai was sure Kakashi would find a way to squirm his way out of answering and he’d end up giving him the book without knowing what was on his mind.

Still, Gai felt that he had to ask. Even if he didn’t get a straight answer his question could let Kakashi know that he wasn’t alone. That he didn’t need to keep his thoughts all to himself, locked away from the rest of the world.

“Why are you so adverse to romance today?” the words struck hard. Gai could tell because Kakashi immediately averted his eyes and his shoulder’s slumped in a posture that he could only describe as defeat.

Whatever had happened, it was bad. Really bad.

“I just…” biting his lower lip, Kakashi eyed the book in Gai’s hand for a moment. “I really don’t want to explain, Gai.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it at all,” he insisted. “I’ve just had a really bad week.”

Week.

Gai had expected to hear that Kakashi had experienced a bad day, and he was prepared to offer any solutions that he could to perk his friend up, but a bad week was different. That was a whole lot of terrible that Gai wasn’t sure he was equipped to help fight against.

Still, he had to try. If only because he wanted to see Kakashi smile again.

“What kind of a bad week?” he pushed, laying the book down in his hands and cracking it open so that Kakashi could see the beautiful art that decorated the inside. With the main character of the book, the god of storms, standing in the middle of a field of flowers surrounded by his eight beautiful dog’s. Each of the dog’s looked regular, one even resembling the small pug that Kakashi sometimes brought into the store with him, but there was one special trait that stood out in the picture. The lightning that seemed to surround them, extending outwards from their bodies as if it was coming from them. 

The move worked. Kakashi’s eyes immediately brightened up when he saw the art. His fingers hovered by his leg, twitching slightly. As if Kakashi was holding himself back from snatching the book right out of Gai’s hands.

After a moment of silence, Kakashi sighed. “I …went on a few dates.”

Gai tried his best not to let the hurt show in his eyes. He knew he didn’t have any sort of claim to Kakashi, but it still stung hearing that someone else had managed to gather up the courage to ask him out. Something that Gai, a man known for his outgoing personality and unbending determination, had found impossible to manage.

“A date,” he repeated, mulling over the word. “But that’s good, isn’t it? Going out on a date means that you got to go to dinner. You got to talk about your favorite book.”

There was no one in the world who could resist Kakashi’s charm when he was gushing about the latest novel he’d read. At least, Gai knew for certain that he couldn’t. Everytime Kakashi started on one of his passionate discussions about the books he read Gai found himself getting wrapped up in them. As if Kakashi was tugging him along, introducing him to each character and warning him of all of the danger that they would face on their journey’s.

He’d tried reading a few of the book’s Kakashi had told him about, but they never turned out to be as good as Kakashi said they were. That, or he simply preferred hearing them from Kakashi more.

‘Surely anyone who has the opportunity to listen to him for five minutes would fall in love with him.’ he thought. ‘I can’t be the only one’

Kakashi’s expression told a different story, though. These weren’t dates that ended with first kisses and hopes for a second, more spectacular date.

No, what Gai found himself staring at was an expression of hopelessness. A look that one would only have if they’d found themselves facing a brick wall after journeying for hours to locate a beautiful garden.

“I just…I’m not really someone who should be dating,” Kakashi whispered, speaking words that Gai knew he could never agree with. “No matter what I do I seem to disappoint everyone I go out with, and I’ve gone out a lot.”

Gai turned his eyes towards the open book in his hands. He hadn’t read the stories written across those beautiful gold edge pages, but he’d heard a few of them in the mythology class he took last year. Stories of the god of storms, awkward and often misunderstood by mortals and gods alike. 

When he’d first met Kakashi he’d found himself thinking about those stories. About how much the god of storms reminding him of his passionate, if sometimes awkward, friend. 

“Perhaps you just haven’t found the right person.” he whispered, surprised by the words that slipped past his mouth. 

“The right person?” Kakashi grumbled. “Is there even such a person? All anyone seems to want from me is some mysterious, aloof cool guy that they can prop up on a pedestal and show to other’s. They want a trophy and they’re always disappointed when they realize that i’m not that shiny trophy that they made me out to be in their mind.”

A trophy. Gai couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

A trophy was something to be kept on display, shown to everyone who passed by. An object that one could hold out to others and say ‘look what I accomplished. Can you do this?’. 

There was a whole display of trophies in Gai’s tiny apartment. Race trophies, soccer trophies, wrestling trophies. Gai was immensely proud of each one of them, but they didn’t compare to Kakashi.

Trophies didn’t gush about books while smiling as bright as the stars that decorated the night sky. They didn’t laugh when Gai challenged them to a silly competition, or blush when he offered to buy coffee the next time they visited him. 

Trophies were nice, but they were nothing compared to Hatake Kakashi. Why anyone would want a trophy when they could have something so much better was beyond him.

Shutting the book, he held it out towards Kakashi. A small offering that he could only hope helped mend some of the pain in Kakashi’s heart. 

“You’re not a trophy,” he assured him, smiling when Kakashi’s eyes widened. “You’re so much more than that, Kakashi. Anyone who can’t see that isn’t worthy of your attention or your dedication.”

For a second it looked as thought Kakashi was about to start crying. There was a tear that seemed to linger in the edge of his eye, but before it could fall Kakashi lifted a hand and gently wiped it away.

“Is there?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically weak. “And if there is, why can’t I find them? Why can’t I have the same story as Emiko-san, or Hashirama-san?” Both names came from different books, but Gai recognized them none the less. Emiko was the main character of ‘Tidal waves’, the first book that Gai had saved specifically for Kakashi’s wednesday visit and proudly presented to him as soon as he walked through the doors. Hashirama was the name of the main character from Jiraiya’s first book, and the one Kakashi always seemed to compare to every other character he met in his books. “What if-”

Knowing where the conversation was about to go, Gai stepped forward and pressed a finger intoer the centre of Kakashi’s chest. Not hard enough to force him backwards, but enough to get him out of his head and back into reality. 

“None of that,” he insisted. “That person is out there, Kakashi. They’re waiting for you, they just…they might not know how to broach the subject with you.” Kakashi laughed at that. Not the sweet joyful laugh that Gai had come to adore, but a bitter angry laugh that sent chills down his spine.

“And who would be stupid enough to want me?” he asked. “So many people have shown interest. They’ve always been the one’s to ask me out and I’ve always said yes because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? You give people a chance because they might be the one.”

“You’re getting lost in your stories again,” laying his hand out against Kakashi’s chest, he sighed. “Not everything has to be like the books. Sometimes you’re allowed to turn people down.”

Kakashi huffed. “It would be nice if my other friends thought the same way as you do,” he grumbled. “Still, at some point there should have been someone who at least liked speaking with me, right? Not everyone should look so damn offended when i open my mouth.”

“Not everyone is offended when you open your mouth.

“You know what I mean,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “You, Obito, Kurenai, Asuma, Yamato. All of you seem to be fine with me talking your ear off, but none of you want to date me so it’s different.”

Gai bit his tongue. He wanted to tell Kakashi how wrong he was. To assure him that he would happily date him, if only he had the opportunity. This was Kakashi’s moment to vent, though, and Gai was certain he’d only make things worse if he suddenly started confessing all of his pent up feelings to him. 

“I just…I don’t want to read another story where the hero gets everything they want,” he sighed, lowering his gaze to the floor. “I can’t handle seeing someone else get everything they could ever want, while I can’t even get someone who wants to spend more than five minutes speaking with me.”

A hero that doesn’t get everything they want.

Gai’s focus returned to the book he was holding. Through all of his mythology classes he’d always found himself thinking one thing over and over again.

The god of storms always gets the unhappy ending.

Even with a mortal lover and an immortal lover, it always seemed like the hero of these stories always got the short end of the stick. Someone would die, or there would be a goodbye at the end of the story.

It always seemed to him as though nothing ever worked out, even though the focus of the story was a god. Someone who everyone could understand getting exactly what he wanted. 

“Here,” he gave in and held the book out to Kakashi. “If that’s what you want, then I think this will be the perfect book for you.”

Levelling his eyes on the book, Kakashi took a deep breath. “You’re sure?”

“Well, I haven’t read it myself,” he shrugged. “But I know a bit about the subject and while there is romance in some of the fables I can confidently say that it never ends the same way that your romance novels do.”

Lifting his hands, Kakashi took hold of the book and slowly extracted it from Gai’s grasp without any struggle. “It is beautiful,” he whispered as his eyes traced over the golden letters that formed the title. “And it’ll take a while to get through.”

“A week, or maybe two if you take it slow,” Gai snickered at his own terrible joke. He knew Kakashi was a fast reader, but with university and every other responsibility that came with life there was no way he’d finish the book before his next visit to the little bookshop. “But there’s no rush. Either way I’ll have another book for you next week.”

He’d keep the one he’d already saved for Kakashi, just in case he decided to return to the genre he loved so much. If not, he was sure to find something else. There was a whole bookshop to look through, and a whole slew of topics he knew Kakashi would enjoy. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he grinned. “And, Kakashi,” familiar black eyes stared at him, waiting for him to say whatever would come out of his mouth next. “There is someone out there for you.”

The sound Kakashi made was somewhere between a huff and a snort. Unattractive if it had come from anyone else, but easily one of the most beautiful sounds Gai had ever heard, if only because it was Kakashi who made it. “Can you point them towards me if you see them?” 

Thinking about it, he smiled. “I think I can manage to do that, yes.”

It would take a lot of work, and a whole lot of confidence that he seemed to lack when it came to opening his heart to Kakashi, but Gai was a determined man. If there was something he needed to do, he would do it. He just needed time to figure out how to do it, and time for Kakashi to heal from the hurt that was plaguing his heart today.  

“Until then,” he turned back towards the front of the store and began walking, a smile stretching across his face when he heard Kakashi falling into step behind him. “I have doughnuts and tea from the shop down the street, and a lot of work to do. Think you’re up to keeping me company?”

Behind him, Kakashi laughed for the first time that evening. A small, endearing laugh that awoke a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies inside of Gai’s stomach. They bounced around, fluttering and twisting around until Gai could no longer hold back his own laughter.

“Gai,” Kakashi caught up to him with one giant step and gently bumped their shoulders together. “I’m always happy to keep you company. Especially when you feed me.”