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beansprean · 4 months ago

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My entry for What We Create In The Shadows vol 4! @wwcitszine

It was a privilege to be able to contribute to this zine among such creative, talented, and fun artist and writers! The mods truly did an incredible job and the zine is BEAUTIFUL! Highly recommend getting a physical copy if you can. :)

You can still get WWCITS until July 28th! All proceeds to to PFLAG!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Detailed drawing of a city street at night; Nandor, Laszlo, Nadja, and Colin Robinson are in the foreground, running for their lives towards the viewer. Chasing them (having caught up to them, really) is vampire Guillermo flying through the air on bat wings, silhouetted by the glowing full moon behind him. He is grinning maniacally with his clawed hands curled upward in triumph, eyes glowing a burning orange as he poses mid-flight, chest puffed out with his newfound power. Nandor is in the front, arms pumping, eyes wide with fear as he looks straight ahead. At his elbow is Laszlo, looking over his shoulder in alarm, one hand clamped around Nadja's wrist to drag her on behind him. Nadja's other hand is holding up her skirts and cradling Nadja doll potato-sack style in her elbow as she rushes along. She looks upward with a snarl, distracted, as Guillermo looms above her. Lagging behind is Colin Robinson, huffing and puffing as he tries to keep up.

The city street behind them is full of easter eggs. A kiosk on the left behind Laszlo is covered in flyers: fundraiser to cover medical bills for Toby, a recruitment poster for the Mosquito Club, an add for reanimations for $350 cash, a Go Flip Yourself ad, a comptroller campaign poster for Sean covered up by one for Colin covered up by one for Evie, a newspaper article about Morrigan Manor, a Wicked poster, a flyer for the familiar mixer, a missing poster for Jenna, a Found poster for Guillermo's bicycle, a handwritten ad that says "Djinn to good home, call Gyermo" with a photo of the djinn lamp, and several stickers including one that says 'werewolves not swearwolves, a Palestinian flag, and the s5 moon promo shot. Sitting atop the kiosk is a frog with curly brown hair - la Guillerana, and above it on the brick wall is a black poster featuring a hooded figure with round glowing eyes that says "The Night Market: if you know, you know." The roof of the building has a clothesline stretched across it where the Cloak of Duplication is hanging. The next building has glass doors and windows across the first floor with soft ambient lighting coming from within. A foldable chalkboard outside says 'closed for privat pardy'. The name of the restaurant is printed above the door: 'love at first bite'. The second floor is a grid of square windows with the blinds drawn, a single ad for Rapula Realty in an upper window. A single anonymous finger parts the blinds on a lower window to peek out. The third floor has three windows and fairy lights draped across the front. A purple flag that says 'human wellness inquire within' hangs from the first window, and the second has one foggy pane with the word 'help' written on it backwards. Black Peter the goat is on the roof, front hooves planted on the ledge to look out at the running vampires in the street. The following building has a grid of windows and a temporary vinyl sign stretched across it that says 'Urgent Care'. More buildings stretch out behind to the horizon.

On the right, there is a small newspaper vending machine with the headlines 'Flying Man Spotted' and 'Strange meteor lands in New Brighton'. The adjacent building has four stories, the only entrance a set of stairs going straight down. Neon pink lights pour from the doorway and lowermost windows. Above the doorway with an arrow pointing down is a neon sign for Nadja's. Below it, a poster exclaiming 'Baby Colin Live!' One of the middle windows has a sign that says 'Nadja and Laszlo Human Music Group performing Thursday nights'. Hanging from the roof precariously by both hands and looking towards the ground in terror is Patton Oswalt. One of the Baron's mutant children is sitting happily on the ledge nearby. A tree is on the roof and has some kind of net hanging from it. The next building is corporate and mostly windows, the bottommost portion open and flanked by yellow poles, a yellow and black divider blocking the entrance. An awning above it says 'Jesk Parking'. Inside, there is what looks to be a pile of rats. Two bats fly past. A vinyl sign stretched over the building front is an ad showing a man hugging a pillow that says "Get the Guy Pillow! Buy 100 get 1 free! Guys only!" The roof turns suddenly to greco-roman architecture, a row of stone columns lining the edge. Sitting at the very top are the two gargoyles having a riveting conversation. The next building is 3 stories and has a trans flag hanging from one corner and a progress flat from the other. The first floor has an alcove with a door flanked by two windows, one featuring shelves with jars of white liquid, the other a palmistry poster that reads 'free palm reading with every ejaculation'. The store name above reads 'Satchel Serafina' More text on the second floor reads 'Home of Memo's Man Milk, gathered lovingly by hand.' Beyond this building is a small grassy area behind a fence with a dead old tree and some graffiti that says 'Simon the Devious' with a crown. There is a nearby sewer drain under the sidewalk where a hand is reaching out. More buildings stretch out behind to the horizon. /end ID

#wwdits #wwcits #shadowsart #guillermo de la cruz #vampire guillermo #nandor the relentless #laszlo cravensworth #nadja of antipaxos #colin robinson #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #wwdits s5 #my art #fanart #image described

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ode-to-melpomene · 8 days ago

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The Hand That Feeds

Part 2 of 'Stray' Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader Synopsis: Confrontation rarely goes as planned. Word Count: 2791 Warnings: Stalking, minor gore/injuries, allusions to death, Jason doesn't know how to process his feelings without being mean.

Jason had tried to rationalize why he kept coming back. Really, he had tried. He had to make sure you weren’t hiding something. He didn’t trust the packages you handed out. He was just making sure you got home safe.

But what could you possibly be hiding when you appeared to lay your soul bare on Gotham’s filthy streets? What didn’t he trust about the packages when he had seen their contents with his own eyes? Why did he need to make sure you made it home safe at all?

None of it explained how comfortable he had become on the balcony across from your apartment.

Jason glowered under his helmet as snow fell in thick clumps, whipped about by the harsh breeze. You left your window open sometimes when the wind had died down. Tonight was not one of those nights. He stuck to the shadows, scrunching his shoulders, and crouched on the balcony–you would have to look out of your window and up to see him. That fact did not provide him with any sense of relief.

The lights were off in your apartment save for what he assumed was a lamp out of his view. He could hardly make out the furniture he seemed to know so well from a distance; the second hand couch you had shoved against a wall and the foldable table that was constantly covered in a slathering of random items. One of the three chairs you owned was dragged beneath one of the three large windows that allowed him to view into your apartment. To the right of the three large windows was the fire escape and the small window beside it. The thin curtains were drawn on that window.

In the two weeks Jason had been observing you he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. You didn’t seem to spend much time at your apartment, using it primarily for sleeping or preparing your deliveries. He could tell from your clothing that you worked some middle management, decent paying job like most Gothamites in this neighborhood. He knew when you left for work, when you got home, what kind of music you liked.

He knew your name. Of course he did, that had been the first thing he had hunted for after lurking outside your apartment the first time. Lurker. Jason had never described himself as that before. It seemed to be a lot of what he did now.

The curtains by the fire escape window drew back and Jason tensed as he always did. He watched with narrowed eyes as you slid the window open, placed something on the ledge, and closed the window again. It had become a ritual by now–you, leaving gifts for him every few days, and him, never accepting them. He never strayed too close to the items you left out, and they were always gone by his next visit.

Jason curled his fingers, the tips of his new gloves pressing into his knee pads. He worked his jaw, grinding his teeth together. The one dim light in the apartment went out, and his bated breath went with it.

He stood with a ragged sigh. So that was it, the end of his nightly routine. The sun would rise in a few hours and he needed to be tucked back into his safehouse before then-

What was that smell?

Jason jerked his helmeted head towards the fire escape. A tray sat outside the window, too big to rest on the ledge, and steam wafted upward as heat met wintery chill. Even through his modulated helmet he could smell the sweet, sugary aroma that stifled his rampant thoughts.

Caramel. It smelled like caramel.

Jason hesitated, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. He knew getting closer was a bad idea he likely wouldn’t be able to come back from. If he moved that mental boundary even an inch forward- give an inch, take a mile. That was all Jason Todd knew how to do anymore, afterall.

Snow crunched under his heavy work boots. The fire escape rattled subtly, the sound muffled by the wind. His mind screamed to stop, turn around, leave, and don’t come back. All of that came to a screeching halt when he saw brownies topped with a caramel drizzle in a glass pan. When was the last time Jason had warm brownies, or anything sweet for that matter? Not since-

Jason shook his head as if the act alone would clear the thoughts that tumbled through his head. Since dragging himself from the Pit, his diet consisted of scraps and canned food. Nothing like this bitter thing that stunk of home and burned itself into his memory.

One couldn’t hurt.

Right?

Jason was becoming too predictable. Shadowing you on your route home, lurking outside your apartment most nights, pursuing you through the tangled mess of streets in Crime Alley. It was all a recipe for disaster when someone finally caught onto the pattern. Jason couldn’t afford patterns, not when it put him in danger. And maybe put you in danger, too… not that he needed to be bothered by that. You weren’t some street urchin who needed his protection.

Yet, still, he hid in your shadow like a sheep dog trailing a lamb.

He sat on a different perch this time, making the fire escape platform that belonged to the apartment above yours his new home. He sat in a crouch, occasionally shifting to stretch his hips and work sore muscles. His elbows were planted on his knees, his eyes cast downward through the grating. The platform below was illuminated by the lights inside your apartment, that familiar golden glow bathing the rusted red metal.

Jason’s stomach lurched when the window slid open, softly clicking into place at the apex. Your hands extended slowly, clasped tightly around a plate wrapped in plastic.

“Stop,” Jason spoke up, breaking the silence.

The plate crashed onto the metal platform. He expected your hands to disappear back inside in fright and slam the window shut behind you. He expected that window to never open again.

Instead, you surged forward with your hands firmly planted on the snowy ledge. In the blink of an eye your entire torso was outside the window, your neck craning to catch a glimpse of him above you in the darkness. Jason’s heart thundered in his chest as your eyes finally met his helmet.

“Stop what?” you asked, and he thought his heart might stop at the sound of your voice.

“Stop that,” he growled with a tip of his helmeted head towards the fallen plate. He leaned forward and planted one gloved palm on the grated platform, glaring daggers at you. “I don’t need your help.”

You shuffled about so that you could sit on the ledge, paying no attention to the thin dusting of snow that no doubt wetted the pajama pants you wore. Jason squinted in the darkness at your shirt, the image of some musical group emblazoned on the front. Was that your favorite-?

That wasn’t important.

You gripped the ledge on either side of your thighs and leaned back as far as you could, holding yourself at an angle so you could stare up at him. He wished you would glare, sneer, pout- hell, if you laughed in his face it would be better than the doe-eyed stare you fixed him with.

“I just thought you might be hungry.”

His thoughts came to a screeching halt. This was Red Hood you were talking to–the new, violent vigilante who used decapitation as a means of sending a message. Jason who, quite frankly, fed himself not because he felt he deserved it but because he needed fuel to continue fighting. And here you were, gazing up at him with a blank expression as if talking to a man in kevlar and armor was the most normal thing in the world.

“I don’t need you to feed me,” he hissed between his teeth.

“Then why do you keep coming back?”

His eyes scoured yours beneath his helmet, memorizing their color, their shape, their emotion. He expected this would be the last time he would see your eyes, after all.

There had to be some reason you were doing this–people don’t just do good things. There had to be a motive. Maybe it was some sort of short-term fame you desired, being the person to finally get a close-up look at the savage animal that roamed Crime Alley at night without first having its fangs sink into you. Maybe this was some cheap attempt at an exciting seduction, one that would leave him angrier than he already was.

Or maybe you were just plain stupid.

Jason thought back to your apartment. Empty and cold and barely lived in, and, given the eagerness with which you presented yourself to him, perhaps you were the same. Lonely and stupid.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he snapped, teeth bared.

You glared. A nasty, pensive, bitter expression that sent a pleasant chill down his spine. Why did you look so sweet like this?

“Fuck you,” you snapped with equal measure. You gripped the bottom of the open window, slipped back inside, and slammed the plastic frame behind you. The glass rattled mockingly at Jason, who jolted at your sudden departure.

Oh.

Maybe he thought you looked sweet because that hateful glare was how Jason expected people to look at him. Hate, he could handle–maybe even revel in it, at this point. It was certainly easier than being loved and inevitably letting someone down.

So why did he feel like, despite your nasty glare, he had let you down?

Jason crouched there for a while after you left, long after the lights had gone out. When he finally stood, his joints ached from the long night and his chest felt heavy with unwanted emotions. His hands gripped the railing of your upstairs neighbor’s fire escape, then he swung himself over the edge.

His boots landed loudly on the metal grate of your fire escape. He stood there for a long moment, glaring at the dark window with its curtains tightly drawn. It was cold and uninviting–not that he deserved anything more. His gaze fell on the forgotten plastic-wrapped plate on the ground, then flicked back to the window.

Jason hated how much he thought about you.

His safe house apartment was, somehow, more barebones than yours. Jason lived stolen paycheck to stolen paycheck–he couldn't exactly get a job when he was legally dead. So, he spent his days preparing for his nighttime excursions, preparing to remold the Gotham criminal underworld.

Or washing dishes, as he was doing now.

Your dishes. That’s the only reason he was thinking of you, of course. Otherwise, the week he had spent far from your apartment meant nothing to him. He had left the glass baking tray and dinner plate sitting on his counter for too long, and, well…

He honestly wasn’t sure why he was washing it. He had no intention of returning the items, not when he was trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Well, except for two days ago when he had followed you through Crime Alley.

Jason just needed something to occupy his mind after his patrol. He scrubbed at the glass harder, as if the grating of the sponge could absolve him of his own sins. Blood on his hands, again. They deserved it. They always did.

Would you say the same?

Jason growled and dropped the dish in the sink, his soapy hands clasping the edge in an iron-tight grip. His knuckles turned white under the pressure, the bones sore and skin torn from endless nights of fighting. Why did his mind have to circle back to you again? Always back to you, what you were doing, if you would approve of what he was doing, what you were thinking or feeling.

It was the damn dishes. Yes, it had to be the fact that he was washing your things that made him think of you. Otherwise, he didn’t care what you thought, or did, or anything.

You were too damn sweet for his taste anyway.

Maybe if he returned the dishes and finally purged you from his life he wouldn’t think about you again. One last trip to your apartment–he wouldn’t even have to see you, he could just leave the items on your fire escape and be done with it. Knowing you, you were asleep by now and would be until mid-morning. He could leave it outside your window and if it was buried in snow before you realized it was there that wouldn’t bother him.

Jason hadn’t realized he had geared back up until he was standing beside his window. He blinked once, twice, staring down at the helmet in his hands. His heart thumped wildly in his chest.

He scoffed. He had forgotten the dishes in his haste.

Carrying the dishes during his traversal across the city wasn’t any easier the second time. He kept the plate and the glass pan tucked under one arm, carefully judging his leaps before launching himself between buildings and scaling walls. This would have been easier with his old equipment-

No. No, that door opened to a world of trouble he didn’t need. He would make do with what he had, and he would do a better job of cleaning up Crime Alley than anyone else ever could. Technology wasn’t important.

The tension in his shoulders eased when he landed on that familiar balcony across from your apartment. It was about four in the morning, and he was certain you would be asleep–the lights were out, the curtains drawn, and that was the only indication he needed to prove himself right. Jason stared for a moment longer, taking in the comforting silhouette of your apartment. He had memorized all the details weeks ago, to the best of his ability at this distance.

His heart drummed in his chest as he swung across the wide alley between the buildings. He landed hard on your fire escape and staggered to regain his footing, unbalanced with one arm immobilized by the damn dishes. His free hand hit the wall beside the small window to hold himself upright. Jason squeezed his other arm tighter against his side, pressing the dishes against his armored chest in an attempt not to drop the fragile items.

The window slid open.

Jason’s heart jumped into his throat as he tipped his helmet down to see you staring up at him, neck craning with your head out the window. Your eyes were wide, lips parted, brows scrunched together in confusion. His cheeks burned, a sharp shiver rolling down his spine.

He straightened and skittered away from the window. Your bewildered expression followed him, tracing up and down his armored figure with intrigue. This was the closest you had ever been to the mysterious vigilante–could anyone blame you for staring?

Then your hungry gaze dropped to the dishes tucked under his arm. Jason swallowed dryly as he watched the corner of your mouth cock up in a subtle grin. The familiar color of your eyes met his, and his chest ached.

This was a horrible idea.

“I waited,” you broke the silence. You shifted until your shoulders were out the window, your hands planted on the windowsill to hold you upright. You tipped your head, nodding in the direction of the building across the street. “I saw you there one of those last nights. I thought… I thought maybe you might come back. I looked for you there.”

Any retort died in his throat the moment you spoke. Part of him wanted to drop the dishes and run. Part of him wanted to scream at you, tear into you until you were nothing but little pieces. That was all he was good for anymore, ripping people apart. It wouldn’t be hard either.

You aren’t worth my time.

I don’t want to owe you.

You’re making a mistake.

Those were all things he wanted to or should say.

“I didn’t think you would want me to come back,” he answered truthfully.

You beamed. His breath caught raggedly in his throat and his thoughts came to a screeching halt. When was the last time someone had looked at him like that?

“Do you want to come inside?” you offered. You offered the very thing he had been craving for three weeks. A chance to step into your sweet domesticity, to satisfy his curiosity, to experience something warm and comforting. You cocked your head to the side, fixing him with that doe-eyed stare.

No, he knew he should say.

“Yes.”

Masterlist ✴ 'Stray' Series ✴ Next Part

Tag list: @taylorgriffin

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader

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toruro · 1 year ago

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svt as home furniture

seungcheol is very door. i don't even think this counts as home furniture but he is a Door.

jeonghan is like those weird egg chair swing thingies. do u guys know what i'm talking about? like an indoor swing? a hanging chair? looks like an egg?

joshua is a chest of drawers

jun is a Chair

saw someone say soonyoung is a bean bag and umm yeah

wonwoo is a light brown coffee table

jihoon is a foldable couch-bed

i feel like seokmin is a bedside lamp with a yellow lightbulb

mingyu is like a twin sized bed

minghao is very office desk to me

seungkwan is a circular breakfast table with a lazy susan in the middle

vernon is an orange chaise lounge chair

dino is an very upsettingly stained rug

#svt #seventeen #seungcheol #jeonghan #svt joshua #svt jun #hoshi #wonwoo #woozi #dokyeom #mingyu #minhgao #seungkwan #vernon chwe #lee chan #📃 lists

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marlynnofmany · 2 years ago

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Kittens in Space

The first rule of keeping cats aboard a spaceship is don’t lose the cats on the spaceship. I know this. I know it better than the rest of the crew! I’m the Earthling here, the animal expert with actual veterinarian training, and I’m the one who brought them onboard. I told the captain with confidence that I could keep track of them.

Well, guess what I just did.

The problem was immediately obvious when I woke up. Every morning for the last few days had started with cutesy kitten pounces and thumps as they batted toys about the room. Sometimes I’d get a tail in my face; other times I’d hear a crash as they discovered how to reach another yet high shelf. Not once had I woken to silence.

Today I did. And as soon as I realized it, I sat up with a jerk to scan the room, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

Catnip mice and foam balls were everywhere. My shoes were still on the coat hooks; they hadn’t managed to knock them down yet. Nothing was swatted off the shelves. And no kittens lay on the floor dead after eating alien food, so at least there was that. But where were they?

I moved my feet toward the floor, disturbing a lump that meowed sleepily. Tapestry the mom cat was curled up on my bed; I hadn’t seen her. And now that I wasn’t jostling the blankets anymore, she curled back up for some hard-earned rest.

But no kittens. I stroked her tabby fur and looked for smaller balls of fluff, but found none. She didn’t seem worried. Hopefully that was a good sign. I stood and hurried to the bathroom.

My quarters were small, basically just the two rooms, since I spent most of my time with the rest of the crew. There really shouldn’t have been any good hiding spots that I hadn’t already blocked off. The bed didn’t even have space underneath it; that’s where my clothes drawers were. And I’d made sure the little fluffbrains couldn’t open those on their own, much less close them again.

They weren’t in the bathroom. Not in the closed-lid toilet, or the space-age shower stall, or the cabinet of supplies. Not in the trash can (again). They hadn’t gotten closed up in the foldable sink; I always left it sticking out of the wall. Where were they?

They couldn’t have gotten out into the hallway. No. Just not possible. I would have heard if someone inexplicably opened the door to my quarters without knocking, not that anyone would. Especially while I was asleep.

I told myself that there was no way they could be wandering the ship and getting stuck in the engine room. Mimi would notice animals hiding among his engine parts. Heck, the entire ship was bound to have someone around, ready to spot the furry little troublemakers, no matter how stealthy they were. I was pretty sure they resembled food on at least one homeworld. My crewmates weren’t the sort to hurt them, though; everyone knew full well that I had them here. The kittens wouldn’t be mistaken for pests.

Hopefully.

I really don’t want to announce to everyone that I’ve lost them, I thought, leaving the bathroom. They’ve got to be in here somewhere. What am I missing?

I surveyed the toy-covered room, trying for the umpteenth time to see catproofing opportunities that I hadn’t addressed.

Bed, bookshelf, other shelves. Bedside table with the lamp bolted down. Desk and chair. The litterbox was in the bathroom, with the food and water dishes along the wall beside me. There were no curtains to climb, and hardly any decorations, just the digital window with its chunky gold frame — someone’s secondhand idea of class — and the fake plants on the shelves. The bite marks on those weren’t new.

But the positioning was.

I stepped closer, staring and second-guessing, and yes they were definitely pushed out of place. And now that I thought about it, the digital frame was slightly crooked too. That spectacular alien sunset with the planetary rings in the background was out of alignment with the corner of the room.

Like someone stepped on it. Now where would they—

I froze in place, feeling stupid. Ah. Right.

Ever look at something so often that you stop noticing it? I may have mentioned that this was a spaceship. Metal walls, plasticky floors, no real windows.

A ceiling covered in twisty pipes.

I hadn’t considered catproofing the ceiling; it was too high to reach (ha), and surely not the kind of place that kittens would hide.

But as I stepped onto the bed and brought my face up close to the lowest curve, I realized that the faint engine sounds I’d long gotten used to sounded an awful lot like purring.

There they were. All five of the fuzzy little bastards were snuggled into a happy pile among the pipes without a care in the world. They meeped sleepily when I stuck a hand in.

“I can’t believe you,” I murmured. They ignored me.

The air was warm but not hot, and the pipes were vibrating faintly. While Captain Sunlight had assured me that there was no radiation to worry about, I figured it couldn’t hurt to double-check. Sleeping on top of the things could easily be a different prospect from sleeping in a bed below.

“All right, down for now,” I told them, scooping up the kittens despite their protests and setting them on the bed. “Be good little fluffbrains and sleep here while I — no? No, of course not.” They were already tumbling to the floor with strident mews for food. Tapestry stretched and jumped down as well.

I sighed and got out the cat food. If I was quick about it, I could get out the door before they tried to follow me. That net I’d tried to rig up as a baby gate hadn’t stopped them crawling under.

“Good kitties,” I said, tugging my shoes on as they ate. “You behave yourselves. I’m just going to make sure your favorite new hiding place isn’t going to give you extra eyeballs or something. Maybe I’ll set up a new shelf there so you don’t fall on my face during the night.”

I slipped out the door just as the first kitten finished eating — appropriately enough, it was the gray shorthair who Mimi had insisted I name after him. There weren’t any green cats in the litter, so gray was close enough.

“Meeeeee,” declared Mimi-the-kitten as the door closed.

“Yup,” I agreed.

Once I was sure the latch wasn’t about to pop loose, I took long strides toward the engine room. My heartbeat was totally calm and normal; why do you ask?

~~~

The ongoing backstory of the main character from this book. More to come!

#my writing #the Token Human #humans are weird #cats #kittens #life with cats #haso #hfy #eiad

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crazymushroomvee · 10 months ago

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Always, Forever.

Partially inspired by this song: (though not really)

Tags: fem!reader, comfort, soft Makarov, one-shot, short.

Here you go, Anon!

Russian words translation:

мой ангел - my angle

Вова - Vova [Makarov's nickname]

Да - yes

Спасибо - thank you

You woke up to the sound of a crash. A soft mumble of annoyance could be heard. You groaned softly, feeling a headache take over your senses.

Her eyes shut. Listening to the soft steps approaching the room. A creak interrupted her thoughts.

"Мой ангел..? Are you awake?" He called out as he walked in the room. Refusing to turn on the main light, he turned on the lamp.

She nodded her head and let out a gentle hum in response. She loved loved hearing her husbands voice.

"Вова..." She he softly called out to him. He set something down beside her on the nightstand. Kneeling, he took her hand and squeezed it three times. Their signal for 'I love you'.

"I'm here.. You and me always, forever."

Her eyes fluttered open to look at her husband. Her soft eyes always brought warmth to his heart. His cold demeanour always fades around her. She would always be the only one to hear his laughter.. his true laughter. See his true smiles.

She whined softly as her headache throbbed.

"Oh.. you poor thing.. Do you need more painkillers?" He said as he set the back of his hand against her forehead, checking if she still had a fever.

"Да.. p-please?" She said, sitting herself up slightly.

He softly chuckled at her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're adorable when you beg.." he remarked softly. Reaching into one of the drawers of the nightstand, he got out a small box of pills. A basic all use painkiller.

He handed her one of the pills, taking a glass of water he had brought in and handing it to her. He stroked her hair.

She popped the little pill into her mouth, taking a sip of water to wash it down.

"Спасибо.." She said, seeming to get a little more energised, but not much.

"I made you some soup if you're hungry?" His green and blue eyes looked at her comfortingly.

Her eyes lit up. He almost never cooked, but when he did.. oh boy, was it a treat.

"Yes, please!" She expressed excitedly, with a warm smile. He ruffled her hair. He bent down and got out the foldable table he used for meals in bed. He set it up and placed the soup on it. Chicken noodle soup.. arguably one of the best kinds of soup.

She let out a giddy laugh. She was a bit drowsy and a little bit 'out of it,' so it made sense for her to get very excited over soup.

As she ate it, he watched her with a gentle grin. It almost tasted like heaven. The more she ate, the more she forgot about her pain.

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

The soup, now long gone she had a lazy smile on her face. Everything was cleaned and put away. He sat beside her on the armchair. Reading the newspaper.

As she felt herself succumb to the sweet sucker of sleep, she whispered:

"I love you, Вова.."

"I love you too, мой ангел." He kissed her forehead. He tucked her in and made sure she was comfortable before he made his way out of the room. Softly shutting the door behind him. A satisfied smile on his face.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Okay! I hope that was good enough anon, I'm so sorry it took almost a week to complete I'm just the worst procrastinator. I hope you like it.

Lots of love,

-Vee <3

#Spotify #vladimir makarov #call of duty #cod makarov #cod mw2 #fanfic #makarov x fem!reader

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godteri-takk · 1 month ago

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Cringetober day 11 📖 5+1 things fic!

I don't write much, but decided to write an objectum fic about my oc Coral and some of his partners: various plushies, her plush boyfriend Boy!, an elevator, a lamp post, her computer and a chain necklace.

Coral uses she/he pronouns, I mix them togheter but have tried to not make it confusing. Objects are percieved as sentient by Coral but do not literally talk or move in ways that they irl can not.

words: 2615

5 times Coral and her beloved objects had a nice time + 1 where a connection gets broken and lost

Coral got ripped uncomfortably out of her dream by the alarm. As always, she felt angry for having been waken, but knew she had 10 more minutes in bed. She smiled as she deactivated the alarm and snuggled her plushies extra close.

Her plushies … oh, how she adored them! 10 minutes with them every morning, 10 minutes of heaven. As always, Boy! was closest to her, and she gave him a good-morning kiss. Cinnamoroll, Keroppi, Dragon, Daisy and Stitches were close by, she took her time to hug them gently and nuzzle them softly with her face, giving them little kisses. She felt relaxed, and happy, and she knew and felt that her plushies loved her so incredibly much, just as much as she loved them.

“I love you.. I love you all so incredibly much,” she whispered softly to them, petting Cinnamoroll along his ears, rubbing Daisy on her shiny button nose, pressing her face to Dragons tummy, holding Keroppi tight in her hand, kissing Boy! on his cheeks and chest, nuzzling and squishing her plushies in turn. Through the cuddles, she felt love and adore radiate thru their plush bodies, “I love you too!” they said to her, not with voices, but with their souls.

Her precious 10 minutes ran out way too fast, as always. To keep her company thru her morning routine, Coral brought Boy! and Keroppi with her out of bed. The others, she tucked in lovingly and gave each of them a kiss on the forehead.

“See you all again after work!”

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

Coral stepped off his bike and strode towards the tall building in which he currently worked. He smiled to himself, butterflies in his tummy and a spring in his step as he entered and walked towards the elevator.

The elevator … with its gleaming metal doors and luxurious interior, tiled floor, broad mirrors, sleek railing, a foldable bench and tall row of buttons. How he adored those buttons! Black with golden letters, glittering like precious gems, firm to press and always with a satisfying click! He pressed the button and waited with his hand over the two-button panel, impatient for his work crush to arrive. He hoped dearly to get his beloved elevator to himself today.

It arrived and opened its doors with a gleeful ding! Coral stepped into it, it was empty. The doors closed and Coral stood there for a moment, admiring his beautiful lover. This corner of the building was not too busy, so he made no hurry to press the button for the next uppest floor. He walked around in a slow circle, dragging his hand along the wall, clacking his claws against the mirror, eyes fixated on the walls, the roof, the lamp, the bench. And there, the button panel. He drew his breath shakingly and felt his face heat up. Tenderly, she let his fingers glide over the buttons, not too hard to press them in accidentally, but firm enough. They felt smooth, the golden letters sticking out slightly, adding the perfect amount of texture. Coral sighed happily.

“Did you miss me..? Do you get lonely in the weekends, without me?” He chuckled softly and stroked upwards to the button for his floor, pressing it. She could not help but smile widely, wagging his tail and gasping in glee as the elevator hummed and started its journey upwards. The butterlies in his belly fluttered wildly, Coral held the railing tightly, stroking it with his thumb. He giggled and spoke to it, genuinely and with love:

“You are so beautiful! I love the way you carry me, how you always come for me and welcome me with open doors. I imagine your body soaring through the building, your speed and power is so … attractive.” Coral blushed at this, reaching out to pet the metal doors. He felt love, love for his elevator and the elevators love for him. Yes, he really could feel how much it loved and adored him as they enjoyed this ride together. It felt so good to be there, time felt stretched out despite the ride being less than a minute.

“Next time I work late and I’m sure to have time alone together with you … I have something to ask you, something important…” He wanted to ask it if it wanted to date him. Make it official and all that. His heart pounded wildly as she thought of this, and he was just about to ask for a kiss when she felt it stop to a halt … one stop before his floor. Dang it!

A coworker entered.

“Good morning, Coral! -Erm, are you all right? You look a bit shaken up,” they remarked curiously.

“Ah-“ Coral caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He blushed quite visibly and he heard his breath was deeper than normal, his pupuls ever so dilated and his tail wagging low by the floor.

“I, I’m allright, just, had to run on the way here, still need to catch my breath,” they lied.

“Oh, well I hope you can calm your nerves before the meeting, haha!” The elevator stopped with its adorable ding! They continued to chatter as they walked to their workplaces, but their coworker noticed not the special, loving look Coral gave his crush over his shoulder as they left.

---------

Coral slumped towards her bike. She had worked late, but not late enough for her planned elevator date. The meeting had indeed been stressful, everyone talking over each other’s voices had given her a light headache. And the elevator had been unusually full on their descend, forcing them both to act as just … well, not friends, per say, but just another person in just another elevator. As she mounted her bike and sped down the street, she had one stop before her home to look forward to.

The warm, orange-ish lights from the lamp posts along the street reflected beautifully in the puddles by the sidewalk. Fallen leaves glittered in the light. At this time of year, it was already dark when Coral finished work. It was quiet in this part of the neighborhood, a kilometer long stretch of road with only a few buildings in sight. And there she was! Her favorite outdoor girlfriend, the lamp post!

And not just any lamp post, no, this one was special to Coral. Like the others, she was of metal, she had the same shape, the same height, and shined only a little weaker than the others. But she was special. Coral stepped off her bike and approached her, cooing her name in a soft voice.

“Noelle, my darling!” Coral caressed her lightly, restting her hand just above a cluster of stickers that some high scoolers must have put there to promote their school clubs. The metal was cold and strong as always. The orange light made Coral emotional, it shone as if Noelles soul was in there.

“How have you been? Anything new around this street? What dogs have walked by since Friday?” She leaned her forehead agains the cool metal, arms around the pole. Her headache eased up and she chuckled softly, continuing to talk to Noelle about her day, the elevator and the coworker, about what had happened so far in her book, about a tasty new recipe Kation had cooked for them. Noelle listened, absorbed the words and reflected back a sense of attention, wakefulness, and happiness.

“I’m glad you’re doing well lately, Noelle. I think of you often,” she said, rubbing the pole up and down, feeling along the familiar lines, bulks, rests of stickers and posters, and smooth smooth metal. She blushed and wiped the surface just across Corals own face with disinfectant wipes, before kissing Noelle lovingly. She hugged her girlfriend tightly and felt love and happiness blossom between them, her heart sang, and she hugged her tighter, sighing as she kissed her again and again, warming the metal a bit before kissing more passionately, with tongue. Coral hated how in winter Noelle became too cold to kiss, but it was yet only autumn. She mumbled her lovers’ name happily, feeling her metal body up and down while they made out on the street. If anybody drove or walked by, Coral was far too absorbed to notice. The light shone and flickered, as if Noelle felt as flustered and happy as Coral, and Coral was sure she did.

Eventually they broke apart, there were indeed a few people on the street, but they must have hurried past them, minding their own business for once. Good, Coral hated to be disturbed. It’s not like she harmed anyone. She caressed Noelle for a bit longer, talking about a few more things that she had waited to tell her, before waving goodbye. Seeing her lamp post girlfriend on her way home was one of the best parts of the day.

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Home once again after a long day, Coral returned to her plushies, as promised. They lay together in her bed, tucked in and cozy just as he had left them.

“Hello again my darlings, have you all been well? You look like you’ve had a restful, comfortable day,” he said, picking them up and hugging them tight, kissing them. As she got to Boy!, she felt the need to spend some alone-time just with him. Of all her plushies, only Dragon, Cinnamoroll and Boy! were her partners, the others were beloved objects too, but shared not quite the same bond with her. She changed into more comfortable clothes and picked her boyfriend up from the bed, going to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

While they cooked together, they talked and listened to music. Tally Hall and Gary Numan, which were some of Corals favorites, and little purr man, which was Boy!s favorite. They danced while they stirred the pasta and roasted the vegetables, Coral’s tail wagging in wide swings. Cooking together made Coral happy.

She set the table, and they ate together. Boy! did not eat, obviously, but she set out a plate, glass and a fork for him still. She pat him on the head.

“You look so handsome today,” Coral smiled to him.

“Wow, this pasta turned out really well! Good idea to add mushrooms to it, squash does not exactly have a strong flavour, haha!”

They dined in silence for a while. Coral looked into his black button-eyes, and oh how she loved him! She reached across the table to hold his paw, she rubbed it between her fingers.

“What would you like to do after dinner? I’ve been wanting to watch The Labyrinth lately, you remember the one with all the puppets and the ballroom and David Bowie as Jared the goblin king?”

Boy! seemed to agree, and soon they were huddled together on the couch, the movie flickering on the screen. Coral squealed in joy every time Bowie, or Jared, appeared in his fabulous outfits, and hugged Boy! extra tight in the emotional moments. Yet she couldn’t help but feel tired, she hadn’t taken a good enough rest after getting home. As the movie ended, Boy! and Coral lied down together on the couch to cuddle, and Coral fell asleep with her darling boyfriend in a light embrace.

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

When he woke, Coral groggily reached for her laptop, Rey. It was late, but too early to go to bed, especially considering the nap he just had. Setting Boy! in her lap just in front of Rey, she opened Rey up and pressed their on-button. She smiled as the little light went on, as if greeting her, and the screen soon came to life. She petted the screen and dragged her hands lightly over the keyboard before entering the password. She kissed the top of the screen, and the computer seemed flustered, whirring quietly. Coral looked through her emails, scrolled a bit on Tumblr and cheked her calendar and lists.

“Wanna listen to some music, Rey? I’ll let you choose.” Coral hit the random-button on her music program, and Spiral of Ants started playing.

“Ah, good choice! Just the right mood!”

Coral wrote some work emails and cleaned out her files. Spending time with Rey was both productive and a bonding experience. When she worked, she often forgot that Rey was there, getting absorbed, detached from her body and Rey. But now the work was light enough to really appreachite the feeling of the keyboard against her fingers, the warmth from their body to his thighs, the glow of the screen, the satisfying clicks of the keys. Lemon Demon continued to play, and Coral hummed, feeling that she and her computer girlfriend were singing together. Coral had always felt a deep connection to her computers, and with Rey, it was extra special.

Coral kissed the top of the screen and mumbled them some sweet nothings before getting ready to bed, soon huddled up in his sea of loving plushies.

Sevral days later, it was cleaning day in Coral’s home. He changed the sheets, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, vacuumed and mopped. As she lifted the couchins from the couch to vacuum under them, one of her glittering chains peered up at her.

“Oh! Oh no … how long have you been lying here??? ..At least 2 weeks, that was last time I vacuumed under here…” Coral turned off the vacuum and reached for the chain, she saw now it was one of her plastic chain necklaces.

“Baby, I’m so sorry-“ As Coral picked it up, she flinched, and almost dropped it.

It felt … really hostile. Cold, not physically, but in a distant, dismissive way. Coral sat on the floor and cradled it carefully in his hand, poking at it carefully.

“Hey… I, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to, I, you … you’re so tiny, I didn’t realize you were here. Are you … mad at me, are you sad?” Shivers went down her spine, and she felt a strong urge to drop the chain to the floor, as if it burned her with the coldness, as if it wanted to get away from her so badly. Heart pounding, close to tearing up, she clutched it instead.

“I still care about you, I didn’t mean to forget you!” But he had not noticed that it was gone, and Coral was sure it knew that. She didn’t want to put it on, to have it around her neck as if nothing happened.

“I’ll give you some space, yeah?” Negative emotions stirred.

“No? What do you want?” Drop it, drop it, leave it!!

Coral swallowed, he felt horrible. How could he neglect it? They had been together for a year at least, and though it never was her favorite, not even officially her romantic partner, he really liked it, and it was painful to lose that connection. Instead of absorbing her love and sending it back to her, it radiated hurt and resentment.

The chain lay now at the counter by the entrance. Coral told himself it would get better with time, but deep down he knew it was over for them. She’d had to find someone she trusted that she could give it to. Never again would he feel the smooth plastic to her skin, finger the chain in her hands absentmindedly, feel that it was happy to be hers. And it was her fault, he knew that.

She finished cleaning the house, and went to her other chains for comfort, especially her partner Stellar. It was sad to lose a connection, but at least she still had her other beloved objects. She clutched the chains tight and kissed them, hoping he’d never loose them.

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mortiz888-blog · 1 year ago

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Inflatable Solar Light LED Solar Powered Foldable Light Outdoor Garden Yard Emergency Solar Road Lamp

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#emergency #foldable #garden #inflatable #lamp #led #light #outdoor #powered #road #solar #videos #yard

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the-fiction-witch · 7 months ago

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The Agency P2

Media - The Queens Gambit Character - Benny Watts Couple - Benny X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 1428

I took my suitcases in hand and approached the stoop of the Brooklynn townhouse, Benny shut the door of the beetle and came up behind me,

"Down here." he said as he headed down the stairwell to a lower apartment,

"oh..." I was taken back but I followed a little sheepish,

I walked down after him being careful on the dark stairs, before he headed down a second set so I continued to follow even if the place seemed dirty and smelt like odd socks. He unlocked a tall metal door and headed inside so I quickly went inside.

"... oh." simply fell from my mouth as I saw the place,

It was a basement, the door behind me, a wall to my left with a few backlight switches and a hook where he hung up his jacket and hat, a railing to my right, a shelf of books just down the stairs, A door beside the shelf open that lead to a water closet, the apartment had maybe three lights hung overhead, one over the small kitchen that had perhaps four cabinets and an old battered fridge, a small lamp over the stovetop, one over the table where a vase with some white roses sat, and one above a small living space with no sofa just a pile of pillows on the floor, an old ratted rug, a small foldable coffee table covered in magazines, another two bookshelves filled with books, a round leather ottoman and a matching leather chair, a lamp beside it as well as a lighter stand beside a well-used record player. The furthest wall had a small desk with a stool by a wall of clippings and pictures, the back wall was just plane brick with a few trophies on a ledge, I was shocked to see the shower and bath sitting in the corner beside the fridge with a sink and mirror between the shower and the chair, An interior window and frosted glass door lead to the bedroom where the bed was made up.

I slowly walked down and did my best not to react as my face would give me away, Benny headed through fixing his hair and tidying the coffee table a little pushing the magazines into a pile.

My eyes for a moment caught the glimmer of the knife still on his belt, and one single thought ran through my mind.

'Oh god... He's gonna kill me. He has a knife. this is the basement of a serial killer. I am gonna be freaking skinned and made into soup!'

"It's not much but... it's home," He said,

"Mhm," I nodded,

"What do you think?" he asked,

I thought for a moment before squeezing on the handle of my suitcase and forcing out some words, "It... is... cosy."

he chuckled, "Yeah, that's uhhh one way to put it," he nodded, "Here let me," He took the cases from my hands and tossed them on the bed, "Did you fancy a coffee?"

"Ohh uhh yes please," I nodded,

"Alright, take a seat and make yourself cosy," he smiled indicating to the rest of the apartment,

I nodded so he headed to the kitchen, I gulped but slowly headed deeper into the apartment, I smoothed my dress under me as I took a seat on the leather chair, having to put my feet to the side as the chair was so low. I looked around a little and caught my eyes on the box of records beside the player, so I flicked through them a little seeing the sort of music he had. "You mind I put some music on?"

"Oh no go ahead, you take cream or sugar in your coffee?"

"Both, in decent helpings please."

"Hu, I'm a black coffee myself." he said, "I should have creamer in here..." he opened his fridge and I saw it was pretty empty with only some milk, some creamer, some cheese and a very battered pad of butter. "Ahh I do, and it... is in date that's surprising,"

I did chuckled a little until I found an album I liked so I took it from the dust cover and the cardboard sleeve sat it on the player and dropped the needle down to soon enough hear Waterloo Sunset by the Kinks playing from it,

"Ooohh good choice," he chuckled as he brought me over my coffee in a paper takeaway cup,

"Thank you," I nodded taking a tender sip,

"You're welcome," He smiled sitting his on the table, he brought the Otterman over and took a seat on it.

For a while we each just sat sipping our coffee, luckily the music filled the quiet air. Until he broke it,

"So?"

"So..."

"I suppose we both have... a lot of questions,"

"I'm sure we do," I nodded, "One each?"

"One each," he nodded, "So, why did you sign up for the agency?"

"Loaded the first question," I blushed a little, "Uhh well... I uhh I had been unsuccessful for many, many years and frankly, I just got tired of trial and error, just sort of wanted to have an understanding of intentions." I explained, "Plus my parents... not so subtly pushed me,"

He chuckled, "Yeah, I get that. kinda the same reason I did. No dating, not messing around just straight to the point," He nodded, "You're turn,"

"Uhh well... why is there a window into your bedroom?"

He laughed, "I don't actually know, I promise I'm not a weirdo." He says,

"You do seem relatively... normal,"

"Normal? My god I'm hurt." he joked,

"Sorry," I laughed,

"It's alright, I'm sure normal is a compliment to most people,"

"I meant it as one," I nodded, "You're turn,"

"Ughh well... this is my kinda, first run with the agency, have you been with them long?"

"A couple of years, a couple of false starts but uhh..." I coughed as I didn't want to finish the sentence,

"I won't ask," he nodded, "That's your business,"

"Why do you carry the knife?"

"Ohh... this is for protection," he rested his hand on his hip,

"From?"

"From whatever. Better to be safe than sorry." He smiled, "What do you do?"

"Ohh professional homemaker as of the moment,"

"makes sense," he nodded, "your turn,"

"what do you do?"

"Ohh," He smiled and picked up a magazine from the table and handed it over to me it was a magazine called 'Chess Review' and his photo was on the cover, "I play chess, professionally. Currently, US champion aiming for grandmaster and world champion down the road, Also wrote a chess book so that helps with the finances."

"They mentioned you were big into chess," I chuckled setting the magazine down,

"Yeah, I figured they would," he chuckled,

"I tried to dress accordingly," I looked down at myself,

"Well you look very beautiful," He smiled as he moved a little closer and rested his hand on my own, I blushed as our eyes met, "Sorry I-" he went to move back but I took his hand again and he smiled,

"You're turn," I smiled,

"I know is early, we uhh haven't really known each other that long and this is a pretty BIG decision but can I ask... if you like me? At least the initial introduction of me?"

I blushed but he was right we hadn't known each other very long, but we only had a week to make up our minds if we wanted to call this all off or if we wanted to go through with it so really we both knew our intentions, and we knew the clock was ticking on this decision, "I admit, I do like you benny, you seem very nice, and handsome and I'd really like to spend more time with you,"

He smiled, "Yeah I feel the same way too, I think this could maybe work out between us?"

"I think its possible,"

"Well... I'm happy to take a gamble Y/n," He chuckled, "Oh- shit-" He got up ran a hand through his hair, "I completely forgot," He muttered as he went to the table, he picked up the small vase with the white roses and brought it over, "I uhh I got these for you,"

"Awww thank you," I smiled happily taking the vase and giving the roses a smell, they smell so sweet and fresh, "You didn't have to do that Benny,"

"Well I wanted to get you something, and I thought it might make the place seem a bit more... cosy for you for this week,"

"Well thank you very much Benny that's very kind of you," I smiled giving his cheek a kiss,

"You're welcome Y/n," he blushed a little, "I did book us somewhere tonight... for dinner? if you wanted too?"

"I'd like that,"

#tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster smut #benny x reader #benny smut #benny fanfic #benny #benny watts #benny imagine #the queen's gambit

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roseshewrites · 1 month ago

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A Golden Piece Of You (Slowburn Radio Apple)

Chapter 5: A Casual Crush

Gumbo is a cat, (sort of?) and cats like being in boxes. There weren't PetSmart type stores everywhere in hell, but Lucifer perused a few.

Self-cleaning? Maybe.

Foldable? Portable? A gilded, velvet lined combination cat potty and scratcher with a bunk bed? No. Too fancy.

There was also one that flushed, but Lucifer passed that one down too, despite marveling a little at its ingenuity; the sight of it actually had him chuckling. He nearly bought one just for display because it was actually kinda cute, but eventually just admired it and left the store.

Lucifer finally snatched up the cheapest plastic box he could find at a nearby grocery, paid ten dollars for it, and marched back to the hotel, determined to get his latest forced proximity with radio jerk out of the way.

On his way to Alastor's room, he passed by the fated cat who stared him down with a wide grin just as unnerving as its owner's.

"You're gonna use this," he held up the box, "And you're gonna like it. No more pissing on peoples boots. Got it? Kapeesh?"

It purred at him deeply, eyes glinting, the beginnings of a demonic growl sputtering in its weird throat.

"Don't take that tone with me."

It hissed softly.

He looked up and down the empty hallway, abjectly relieved nobody was having a peep at the king of hell verbally sparring with a demon cat.

Steeling his nerves, he knocked on Alastor's door, gritting his teeth.

Get it over with, Lucifer. Just hand over the box and leave. Don't let him get under your skin. Don't let him start a fight.

Don't let him..

The door swung open, letting out with it the sight of the radio demon in his pink shirt and suspenders slightly askew, his hair bobbed into a small ponytail, accompanied with the faint warble of old jazz tunes behind him, and something that smelled like cologne.

Alastor was in such a relaxed state it seemed almost intimate just observing him.

His cheeks heated up.

Oh, holy Mother.

"I got your box," he said dumbly. "Sorry to intrude."

"My box," Alastor repeated, leaning on his doorway, seeming amused, "And no. By all means. I wouldn't turn down a visit from our very own esteemed King! It would be bad manners! Do come in."

He turned, adjusting his suspenders with a neat snap.

Gumbo went first, trilling loudly past Lucifer's boots and dashed off to the Louisiana bayou section of the room where it promptly began scratching the shit out of a tree.

Lucifer hadn't meant to come into the radio demon's room, nor spend more than about five seconds getting the intention out of the way before skedaddling to his own apple-shaped tower on the opposite end of the hotel.

But now that he was here, it was a bit of a culture clash. Like walking into a portal from the modern era to a velvet and red plush speakeasy lit with low lamps and cascading with unfamiliar scents that were still rather homey. Lavender soap, a hint of cologne, the languid smell of freshly washed hair.

Alastor had obviously just moments ago gotten dressed after a shower.

Not that Lucifer was paying much attention to that.

Not at all.

"Cat got your tongue?" Alastor was watching him in his own unreadable catlike way.

"Course not! Anyway, here," he held out the litter box a little bit uselessly.

"And you didn't think my Gumbo had his own restroom? How both thoughtful, and thoughtless."

"You're welcome. I like the tunes."

He was determined not to let that snippy comment upset him.

"Ah, I always knew the devil liked jazz!"

Lucifer grinned, suddenly more at ease.

"It has its charms. I used to visit up there just for the speakeasies, drink in the night life. People watch."

"Did you ever grow bored with it?"

Alastor set the cheap litterbox into a nearby open closet where Lucifer spied Gumbo's personal restroom.

"Never. I could only ever stay for a small amount of time, you know; I'm technically not supposed to be able to see good in humanity and my curse pulled me back to hell pretty fast the more fun I had, so I had to learn how to appreciate the art and music without getting too happy about it."

He was babbling; letting loose with old as fuck personal stuff. What was wrong with him?

"You found a loophole."

He'd never admitted that to anyone, outside of his wife and child.

"I was determined to."

"It must have been..." A flash of recognition lit Alastor's eyes, "It had to have been difficult, to not be able to fully appreciate what life on earth had to offer."

Somehow or another, Lucifer knew Alastor understood that feeling all too well.

"It was. It is. I, uhh, I better go though. Stuff to do-"

He was still babbling, his mind uninhibited to keep on trucking with this vulnerability streak, keep appreciating the radio demon's scent and posture, and that bit of skin revealed at the open throat of his slightly unbuttoned shirt-

Alastor sat in one plush armchair, crossing one leg over the other. "Well, I won't keep you," he purred, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to Lucifer with his mere presence. "See you tomorrow at the group exercise, Applesauce."

"Will you stop calling me that? G'bye," Lucifer said irritably, turning to leave.

He exited, shutting the door behind him, hearing Alastor's faint radio chuckles following him out and harmonizing musically with the jazz tunes.

Lucifer swore.

He did not need this.

Running a cold shower over his incredibly warm body, he just about beat up the tiles in the bathroom, making incomplete embarrassed noises; of all things- a fucking crush on the radio demon. It had to be a fluke. It had to be, were not his heated skin giving off that faint, perfumey pheremone that signaled the arrival of an attempted bond.

He breathed slowly, reeling it in, getting his thoughts in order as the freezing shower cooled his feverish skin.

Alastor had smelled so good.

Lucifer shuddered, trying not to allow a faint fantasy to bubble into his mind about what that revealed skin at Alastor's throat might taste like if he were to lick or nibble at it; salty, maybe, or-

"NOPE. Uh-uh. We're not doing this one."

He quickly washed off, took care of his period flow and leapt into bed fully naked, groaning. The fact that the sight of Alastor's casually dressed body had been enough to cause his core to actually throb a little bit with neediness killing his ability to sleep, for the time being.

"Fuck," he shoved his face into a pillow.

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