#heating lamp flash dryer

[oyatemolly]

heating lamp 400w 800w 1200w

heating lamp 500w

Heating Lamp 500w 240V for Blowing Machine

Heating Lamp 660mm 1000w with SK15 Base

heating lamp 800w

heating lamp bulb

heating lamp drying

heating lamp electric infrared heat lamp

heating lamp flash dryer

heating lamp food

heating lamp food infrared paint curing lamp

Heating Lamp for  Ink Drying

heating lamp for advertising compa

[henry-09]

540mm 1650w fast medium wave halogen IR heat lamps for MHM flash dryer

[soniaqin]

1200w Flash cures lamp haolgen quartz tube infrared heating lamp for screen printing machine dryer

[stnexus]

sip by sip…!

nanami kento x black!fem!reader

minors dni, 18+, nsfw

summary: drunk nanami is something else in bed, or maybe someone else.

cw: established relationship (married), minors dni, nsfw, smut, explicit language, nanami is drunk(previous consent), dom!nanami, sub!reader, oral (male + fem receiving), nanami and his filthy rambling, slight hints of dumbification, hints of ass eating, face fucking, fingering, light bondage, hints of spanking, bit of manhandling for reader, pet names (no use of y/n)

names used(?): doll, baby, good girl, slut, little slut

wc. 3.8k+

note: i took matters into my own hands. when i say i blacked out writing this. when i initially wrote it i was like okay let me hit the hay and go to sleep. woke up the next morning shocked at my own writing. hope you all enjoy! tags, reblogs and comments are always welcomed here!

the flat-screen television put in ample work lighting the almost completely dark living room. the array of colors as the scenes flashed across the screen, changing just how much light flowed through the darkness. light bouncing off any surface it could find as some thriller movie played; the volume turned a bit low, but the quietness of the area made up for it. the only other light source was a tall floor lamp, with warm lighting brightening up the room just a bit from its spot behind a dark brown armchair. the light turned the off-white-colored walls a bit yellow under its illumination.

the sound of sloshing liquid in a cup could be heard as nanami had been content sitting in the armchair. his body relaxed as he maneuvered himself into manspreading and he had been like that for a few hours. his patterned tie was loose around his neck, allowing him to unbutton the first three buttons of his blue shirt. he had left his dress shoes at the front door.

this was a normal occurrence for nanami, his days were usually filled with work he had to tend to at the office, so he would find solace in your shared quiet home at night. the stress of his job being washed down with a few glasses of rum and coke. though today had been particularly stressful, leaving him with more than a few glasses of alcohol in his possession.

as you sauntered through the living room for the third time that evening, nanami watched your movements as you passed in front of the television. watching as you entered the laundry room — view clear from his seat. he adjusts himself as he watches you bend forward to grab something from the front load dryer, sitting whatever it is on top of the dryer. a flurry of towels that you had washed and decided to fold later. his hand grasped at his crotch for just a moment as he adjusted his stiffening cock against his thigh as you bent down again to make sure you hadn’t missed anything. your braids moved with every move you made, accenting your pretty brown skin.

christ, he felt like a predator stalking its prey.

“kento…!” your voice called out as he took another swig from his nth cup of the brown liquor and soda mixture.

“yes, doll?” he asked as his hand, which once adjusted himself, glided to his belt. the cool brown leather contrasts with his warmed skin. 

“do you have anything you need to wash tonight? i can just put them in the washer with the next load.”

it was like your words went in one ear and out the other. the way nanami had resorted to watching how your shirt clung to your bra-less form from behind — and how your shorts seemed to ride up a bit with every moment �� was predatory.

“nanami.” your voice was quick and laced with a bit of confusion, as you still had yet to turn around. your hands are busy folding the towels before you.

“no, baby. but i need a little help. why don’t you come here for a second, huh?” his voice sounded deeper than usual. his words a bit slower as your motions slowed. you had already known he was drinking; when he had gotten home, he laid a kiss on your forehead as he grabbed his needs from the kitchen. but as he called out for you, a surge of heat seemed to run through your veins. 

turning towards him, you were met with almost the silhouette of him. it was dark, and the way he sat in the shadows of the living room was downright domineering. you watched as he moved to take yet another sip of the alcohol of his choice, drinking it down smoothly.

crossing your arms, which would prove to be an aid to him noticing your lack of bra even more, you began your short walk towards him. a few of the special-walnut stained wood floors creaking as you walked over them. nanami’s face becomes clearer with each step towards him.

he seemed as stoic as he usually is, but you knew that it was a facade. with the way his cheeks seemed to don a bit of a pink blush from his drinking, his usual uniformed blonde hair was a bit messy as he had begun to be heated by the alcohol. no doubt, his fingers had run through his hair a few times.

“what’s wrong, ken?” you questioned, out of sheer curiosity, that maybe there was something he needed help with. silly you, silly you.

“just needed a kiss, s’all.” nanami’s words slurred a bit towards the end as his brown eyes dropped to your glossed lips. not missing as you smacked them together in feigned annoyance. a small forced-off smile threatened to tug at the edges of your pretty lips.

“you made me walk all the way in here, thinking you needed help, for a kiss.” you chided with a joking tone. but the joke was done once nanami’s set his glass on a table next to the armchair. hands reached out to pull you closer by the hem of your pink shorts. his posture correcting as he directs you to stand between his legs.

“you goin’ to give me what i want?” nanami questioned you as he tilted his head towards you a bit. a pleased smirk gently graced his lips as he watched you comply, bending towards him. your lips press into his as he allows his hands to glide over the back of your thighs, grabbing just below your butt. rum and coke were evident as his tongue slipped into your mouth. a taste that you would usually grimace at, but when he was added to the mixture it was bearable.

“there, you happy now?” you spoke softly as you both pulled away — a short gasp left your mouth as he grabbed at you right where his hands were placed under your butt, pulling you over to straddle him.

“i am now,” nanami confirmed as he plucked the glass from the table, taking another sip from it. his brown eyes caught a glimpse of your face as you grimaced in reaction. 

“i don’t see how you drink that,” you confessed. “the taste just makes me want to gag my brains out.”

it was like your words were an open invitation to imagination-land. a thought of your lips wrapped around his cock flashed through his brain as all he did was hum in response to your words. the thought of you gagging as you attempted to take him fully, your tongue resting against the base of his cock. 

“you know, sweetheart, there is something else that could make me happy…” nanami confessed in his drunken stupor. a simple tilt of your head, directing him to go on, “why don’t you be a good girl and show me how you can use that pretty mouth?”

the words that were brought to the forefront of his brain spilled out with no barrier. that’s how you were sure the alcohol had been a direct influence. nanami never spoke with such intensity; he was usually a sweet and almost bashful lover. a certain level of roughness broke out of his grasp whenever he was intoxicated — a roughness that always had your stomach tightening. his question pushed an almost airy laugh from your lips.

removing yourself from his lap, you sank down to your knees in front of him. watching as he sat his glass down on the table next to the armchair once again. your hands glided softly over his tan-colored slacks, his thighs wide under the palm of your hands. with your fingers reaching the brown leather belt that secured his pants, you begin to fumble with the buckle. your acrylic-adorned hands not helping you one bit. 

“help me,” you whined a bit, only to watch him reach for his belt with one hand. undoing the buckle in record time, then unbuttoning and pushing the zipper to his pants down fully. the cloth of his black briefs visible as he pushed his pants right below his bulge. “thank you, baby,” you almost purred.

you laid a gentle kiss on his clothed cock, your hands still planted on his thighs as he let out a grunt.

“don’t play around,” nanami spoke sternly, his eyes holding a subtle hint of meanness. with an innocent laugh, you pulled the waistband of his briefs back, allowing his length to spring free — hitting against one of your cheeks in the process. grabbing at his cock as you pressed a kiss onto the leaky tip. with a huff, nanami’s hand wrapped around your wrist, making you let go of him as he wrapped his fist around his length instead, taking joy in the little look of shock you held as he tapped his leaky tip against your lips. dribbles of precum glossing your lips.

“stick that tongue out,” he demanded, to which you happily listened. allowing him a view of the pretty pink muscle, to which he tapped his cock along just as he had done to your lips. pausing before raising his hips slightly to push his length into your mouth. your lips wrapped around him like a reflex — a hum leaving as you breathe out through your nostrils. 

“shit— shit, such a good girl.” nanami groaned as you pushed yourself further, your nose brushing against his happy trail. pulling off his tie, he formed a makeshift ponytail holder for you as he tied it gently around your braids. taking note of your freshly done hair, he had no idea where to place his hands — remembering you had once stated it hurt to have new braids tugged on. his hand grabbed at his bunched up shirt for just a moment until you reached up towards him, directing him to rest his palms on the sides of your head. allowing him to move you however he liked.

“mouth’s so fuckin’ good, could cum down your throat. ‘s that what you want? want me to pump that throat full?” a sound of approval emitted from you as his cock dragged back and forth between your lips. surely your simple pool of heat in your lower stomach had converted into a wet spot in the panties tucked below your shorts.

nanami almost felt bad for a second; he was essentially face fucking his pretty wife. your voice would surely take a bit of a toll. but all qualms seemed to wash away as you moaned around him, your fingers digging into his clothed thighs as his hips picked up pace as his end neared.

it wasn’t long before nanami pushed your head down completely, and your nose pressed up against him once again as your eyes met his own. watery eyes trained on him, with your lashes clumping together a bit. the most mouth-watering moans falling from his lips as your spit collected at his base, the tip of his cock pressed down your throat and allowed ropes of his cum to fill you.

“take it. take it all, doll.” he almost whimpered as his hips stilled momentarily. traces of cum escaping from your lips. drawing his hips back, nanami began to stiffen again at the state of your pretty face. he slipped his cock out from between your lips, letting you take in a deep inhale as your lungs searched for the air that you had been unable to provide them. nanami took notice of your lips being even more plump. they were covered in your spit and his cum.

with no hesitation, he bent down towards you, pressing his lips into yours as a sort of show of appreciation. his tongue pushing into your mouth as he tasted himself on you. helping you stand to your feet, he stood as he fixed his clothing lazily, leaving them undone. guiding you to the bedroom as he walked you through the house.

pushing you onto the king-sized mattress, his hand slid under your shirt. grasping and pinching at your perked nipples. his tongue sloppy against your own as you begin to moan into his mouth.

“kento…” you gasped as he pulled his lips away from yours. “please touch me.”

“don’t rush me,” he gritted, unlike the compliance he had gotten from you. helping you pull your shirt off, he pushed off his shirt completely too. a white undershirt he wore under his blue shirt being removed in the process too. ushering you further up the bed, nanami watched as your tits bounced, leaning forward to take heated sucks at your pert nipples. then maneuvering himself, laying on his stomach between your thighs. brushing his fingertips against the smooth brown skin of your inner thighs. stopping at just the hem of your shorts.

placing a kiss over the thin material, he reached up to pull both your shorts and panties away from you simultaneously. throwing them somewhere in the room.

“pretty pussy’s fucking soaked,” nanami said as he brushed a knuckle through your wetness. then split your folds apart with his thumbs.

“ken, stop staring,” you whined in your embarrassed state as you clenched around nothing. with no arguments, you could feel his tongue run through your folds, staring from your leaky little hole to your clit. the way he had you spread allowed him to reach everything as he drew a light whimper from your lips. sitting up on your forearms, one of your hands jutted out to grab at his blond tufts. fingers weaved through the strands as he began lapping at you. your soaked cunt drooling over him as he pulled his thumbs away, grabbing at the back of your knees to push them towards your chest. pushing you back flat on your back in the process.

with his eyes closed as if he were blissed out, his tongue glided back and forth through the puffy lips of your cunt. grunting at how you taste.

“so fucking good, ‘could eat this pussy forever. wake up thinking about having this cunt in my face. all day— fuck, all day.” his words were much more expressive, much more filthy. it was rare that his words were used to describe his thoughts during intimate hours. they were usually used up on just relaying praises and asking about you the way you felt.

letting one of his arms work as a sort of spreader bar behind your knees, he freed up one of his hands. slowly pushing two of his thick fingers into you. take his last long sloppy lick at your cunt, his lips wrapped around your clit as his fingers moved at a quickened pace.

“kento, f—fuck,” you cursed out for the first time tonight. feeling his fingertips hit at that spongy spot within your inner walls.

“watch your mouth,” kento demanded as his actions continued. but it was like his words were ignored when you swore again, feeling his thumb rubbing against your clit. landing one last lick through your folds, he pulled his fingers out, taking in the sight of your cream coating them as he reached towards you. letting your legs go, nanami rested his thick fingers against your lips, your own cum smearing against them. 

“taste yourself, doll.” his voice deepened as he spoke, peering up as your mouth tugged open. allowing him to push his fingers against your tongue so you could lap at his fingers. “just like that, i love when my good girl listens.”

“why’d you stop?” your words rang through the air as a pout played at the edges of your lips. nanami only granted you a look as he pushed himself off the bed. grabbing you by your ankles to pull you towards the end of the mattress, the comforter below you getting dragged in the process. standing tall, nanami tugged his belt from the loops of his pants.

“turn around, hands behind your back, ass up.” he ordered as the metal parts of the belt buckle clinked together in his hands. dropping his pants and briefs towards the floor as he stepped out of them. doing as you were told, you clasped your fingers together behind your back — head placed on the bedding and your dark brown nipples perked up even more. your ass on full display as you moved into an arch.

hearing nanami move behind you, you let out a gasp as you felt the cool leather of his brown belt begin to wrap around your wrists, securing your hands behind your back. sinking to his knees behind you, his tongue pushed between the puffy lips of your cunt once more as he seeked out your clit, spreading you with his thumbs once more as he took harsh sucks at the vulnerable little bundle of nerves. listening as your whimpering reverberates around the bedroom as he withdraws one of his hands only to push two fingers inside you again.

his fist wrapped around his cock as a mantra of his name fell from your lips. like you were singing to him and only him. variations of ken, kento, or unfinished calls of his name circling the air. his fist moved up and down around his length as drips of precum formed at his tip, his nose sometimes brushing through your wetness as he basked in your scent.

“so fucking wet, ‘leaving a wet spot on the sheets. so damn messy.” he grunted, watching as a pretty string of arousal and his spit clung to you and dripped downward onto the bed. nanami felt animalistic as his finger pushed in knuckles deep and played at your inner walls. feeling you stretch around his fingers made his usual steady mind race. he pulled back from lapping at you, planting a kiss on one of your asscheeks as he pushed them apart with his after removing his fist from his cock. his tongue jutting out to lick at your asshole. tongue prodding at the tight ring of muscles as his filthy actions sent you spiraling. 

“kento, c—can i cum?” you stuttered out, moans becoming muffled as the bedding around you seemed to cup the lower half of your face. moving his hand to tug the sheets down and out of your way, nanami almost cooed at the way your mouth hung open.

“of course you can, doll. you don’t have to ask.” that was like an invitation to clench around his fingers, your moans surrounding you both as nanami moved his hand from your ass, simultaneously stroking himself as he pleased you. tongue in your ass, fingers pounding into you. “come on, give me what i want.”

the heat that surged through your body as you reached your peak was devastating. a dragged-out whine of his name marking the beginning of what could easily be your demise. pulling his fingers from you, nanami switched which hand tugged at himself, smearing your cum around his cock as he used his other hand to land a smack on your ass.

standing as you caught your breath, he pumped himself a few more times. he took in your current image. your back arched, a slight sheen of sweat decorating your skin, your cunt and ass glistening with your own cum and his saliva. his tie still pulling your hair into one ponytail, though it began to slip down due to movement. he spoke slowly and low. 

“could cum just from looking at you like this.”

“no, i want you, kento,” you almost fussed in a rushed out huff. 

“i know you do, baby. i’ll give you what you want.” he confirmed this as he tapped his tip against your entrance, pushing into your cunt. he almost fell apart as he felt you pulling him in. his drunkenness became obvious to him, as he felt a bit dizzy. your ass bouncing off his pelvis as he set a bruising pace. 

“i shouldn’t be fucking you like this.” he tried to ration with himself as he felt you tighten around him. your moans are messy and sweet. his drunken mind egging him on to pound into you. “you’re such a good girl. fuck, fuck— and i’m fucking you like a slut. i’m so sorry, doll.”

“ ‘s okay kento, ‘s okay…feels so good…” your voice sounded broken. your sounds become hoarse and whiny. looping his arm under your restrained arms, nanami pulled you back to his chest — the only thing stopping him from pulling you closer being your hands. his free hand wraps around your waist, pressing into your stomach. making matters much worse for you.

you had cum when he first pushed into you, and lost track of how many times he had you creaming around him. your orgasms had hurdled into a blurred mess. you weren’t sure you had ever stopped cumming, and you for sure knew he didn’t mind it. not with the way you were damn near milking him.

“you like being fucked like a little slut?” he almost choked out, his mouth pressed next to your ear. his voice made you delirious, so delirious that you almost felt like the drunk one. “i mean, shit, you're soaking me, doll. maybe i should take you like this more. hm?” 

“yeah…yeah…” you agreed, nodding your head dumbly. nanami was sure he was fucking you silly as he planted a kiss on the side of your face. letting you fall back to your original position, you felt your stomach tighten even more as you slurred out a confession, “ken, ‘m gonna cum againnn—”

his name started to sound like a plea on your tongue. the way you began to chant it as your walls clenched down around him was beyond beautiful to him. your words morphed into a silent fucked out scream as your mouth hung open. feeling you attempt to pull his cum from him in the process of your crash, he tried to ignore it. fucking you through your final orgasm. pulling out just in time, he stroked his cock once more. allowing his seed to spill over your ass — a bit dripping lower to cover your cunt. 

“there you go, baby. you did so good for me.” nanami praised you as he tugged at the belt around your wrists, letting your hands fall free as he dropped the belt onto the bed. then he worked to remove the tie from your braids. a drunken hiccup fell from his lips as he moved you further onto the bed, trying to make you comfortable before getting into bed with you.

“kento, we have to shower,” you said tiredly, still a little dazed from your numerous orgasms.

“we will, but i need you to calm down first.” he spoke as he laid your head on his bare chest. knowing you were mentally floating at the current moment. “stay with me right here for a bit. then we’ll do whatever you want.”

[robustcornhusk]

partner and i are both enthusiastic and lazy about home automation; we use home assistant.

'actually doing shit' can be annoyingly expensive, but very nice when i pull it off. 'reminding me about shit' is generally very cheap, and still helpful.

actually doing shit:

the shades in my bedroom open up a few inches when i'm supposed to get up in the morning

the overhead fan turns off, too, so that i stop burrowing under the covers

when i walk into the kitchen, overhead lights turn on; if i start doing things with the coffee or sink, the counter lights turn on. the overhead lights turn off when it's bright, and all the lights turn off shortly after i leave the room.

the front door locks once the screen door is shut

music and lights all turn off when i leave home. the music restarts when i get back; the lights only come back on if it's dim.

when i open the windows, the hvac gets disabled so that i don't try to heat/cool the entire neighborhood.

a white noise machine turns on whenever my partner takes a call from their home office.

all the lights other than the bedroom turn off when we go to bed at night

all lights gradually dim & change to a warmer color in the evening

back porch lights turn on when the back door is open & it's after sunset

reminding/notifying me about shit

when i opened the front door for my run, the lights flashed to let me know I'd forgotten to get out the bagels

when the kettle turned on this morning, i got a notification on my phone telling me 1) i needed to take iron today and 2) my partner needed to leave for their train at X:YZ.

if i'm playing games and making tea at night, i always forget about the kettle; now i get a reminder on both my phone & the projector

when it's after 5pm and my partner's phone disconnects from their office's wifi for five minutes, i'll get told that it's probably a good time to start cooking dinner.

i get notifications when either of the cat's litterbox has been used 3 times, and the counter resets when i clean the boxes.

i have an old tablet i use solely for watching anime while running on a treadmill, and i kept letting the battery run out; now its battery alerts get sent to my other devices.

not only do the washer and dryer send me notifications, but the clothes drying rack does too, when it's been set up for 6+ hours. (no heat for the running clothes; too much elastic)

i get notifications if someone presses the doorbell when i'm out

water leak sensors.

there's also a lot of data recording that's just happening constantly, like the co2 levels, temperature/humidity, how bright it is, etc.

i was going to say "i should get notified if the aqi is bad and the windows are open" but before i finished typing the sentence, i went ahead and implemented it.

more unorganized thoughts

almost everything is local; i think the fucking washer & dryer are the only ones that require The Cloud. many of the 'smart' devices aren't; for example, we have a totally normal doorbell that's been wired up in a particular way, and our kettle is just a normal electric kettle on a smart plug.

there's a lot of zigbee and a few zwave items; most of the wifi stuff is either 1) there's no other option or 2) esphome devices, which are cheap and flexible. even the wifi devices are local-only, except for the washer/dryer.

some automations are harder to set up, from a design perspective. i'm still stuck on trying to figure out how to detect if i'm out on a run, because i'd like my bedroom blinds to go down when i get back.

being able to remote-control the lights &c is nice. we have a lot of Fashionable Lamps that have super inconvenient switches, so homeass was instantly more convenient even before any automations came into play. the a/v system we have is complicated, but playing games (=turning on the game system, receiver, & projector, turning down the lights in multiple rooms, pausing the music) is just one button. basically it takes "complicated setup" and squishes it back to "convenient setup".

re local voice control, my understanding is that a lot of people are using willow and wyoming lately, but i haven't looked into them in any detail yet; i think there's quite a bit of setup involved.

is there any real use for smart home stuff (apart from disabled people, i can see there's obviously a load of accessibility options stuff like controlling your lights from your phone etc). if you're basically able-bodied, is there any actual useful stuff that smart home technology gets you. because it all seems a bit shit imo. but many of my beloved mutuals and followers are Nerds so someone's got to have an Opinion about this right

[obriengf]

35 with mitch

send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (4/10)

CAUGHT : for one muse to walk in on the other singing / dancing.

Surreal was nothing but understated when it came to knowing that your apartment once again housed two instead of one. Since the moment Mitch Rapp walked through the front door, the ceiling lamps grew a little brighter, the air a little warmer, and your heart a little bigger. It was a story told too many times before - a man sent away to right the wrongs of others, leaving his sweetheart to await his return. Time moved slowly, a reminder that your time without the man you love was breaching indefinite. The phone calls became shorter and and you swore that it only prolonged your need for those overdue kisses and whispers of sweet nothings. Once the six week marker flashed midnight on your alarm clock, your heart wretched, and your tears returned. You just missed him.

But luck had a knack for worming it’s way into moments of utter hopelessness - and fortunately, it always ended the same way... with him returning home to your arms.

It didn’t feel real to see his built frame take up space in the kitchen, nor did it feel real to hear the clanging of dishes being washed in the sink that weren’t from your own two hands - the most mundane activity, drenched in complete domesticity, was enough to get your heart soaring. You quietly lent against the arched door frame, arms crossed lazily over your thumping chest as you watched Mitch with all the adoration you could muster. Eyes focused on the way his shirt sat too snug over his shoulders - knowing Mitch, he put it in the dryer with no sense of how to work one, or maybe his frame just grew that little more taut since he’d been gone. Regardless, you couldn’t tear your gaze away and you didn’t want to ever again if it meant that Mitch Rapp never left your side.

You travelled down the expanse of his back, eyeing the way his muscles moved with such fluidity beneath the black fabric, before your focus was caught rather quickly by the shake and gyrate of his hips. It made you giggle under your breath, not wanting to alert of your presence just yet as you admired the side of Mitch Rapp that hardly anybody got to see - one filled with carelessness, joy and rhythm. 

You could see how they moved faster with the growing hum of his voice, a tune licking at his tongue as it slowly began to echo throughout the space. It was a tune you knew well - Mitch always listened to it, sang it, even built the limited skill set when away from the field to learn the basic chords on the guitar. It was a song that made you smile, and made him revell in the memories of his mother. Her soothing tone would lull him to sleep as a child, and he inherited it so beautifully when the words were sung into your hair and his arms secured tightly around your body.

He had switched out his dish cloth for a towel as hands dried your dinner plates with gentle movements, his voice growing louder as melody drifted toward you, “You say it best...hmm hmm hmm... when you say nothin’ at all.” 

You were lost. Entranced. Every small detail about this man is what made you adore him more and more with each passing second you spent with him. But it also made you miss his presence near tenfold when he was gone. A bittersweet concoction when you find yourself utterly and completely in love with another person.

It wasn’t meant to be so startling as you quietly stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, your cheek pressed firmly against his back. Mitch only tensed for a mere half second from the additional body heat you provided, but it dissipated quickly, one of his hands reaching down to rub tenderly at your enclasped pair over his lower stomach. Your nose nuzzled into him, a humm eliciting now from within your throat.

“You have a lovely voice when you sing.” You said, Mitch’s arms erupting in goosebumps due to the dancing of your warm breath through the cotton of his shirt.

He grinned, heat crawling up to his cheeks as the man quickly became chuffed. Mitch spoke with slight humour, “Yeah? What about when I don’t sing?”

“Still my favourite sound, ties first place with your morning voice. Super sexy.” 

He definitely was glowing now; his nose burning with the pinch of a warm blush, ears not too far behind. You built his confidence back up after it was burnt horrifically to the ground - you showed love, and care, praise, compliments. Mitch Rapp had never felt so goddamn loved in his life, and it took him a while to accept that he deserved it. But you made him see that he did.

Mitch chuckled, his tongue darting out to lap at the slight dryness of his lips, “You’re super sexy.”

With a turn of your head, your smile pressed against his back before puckered lips kissed between his shoulder blades, “Only for you. All yours.”

[plentyghosts]

Title: Blackout

Summary: When he opens the book, the spine cracks faintly. He smiles. He reads out loud, it’s easier to get through when the words roll off his tongue instead of bouncing about in his head. “Dorothy lived in the great Kansas prairies-” thunder rolls loudly outside. The lights flicker. Then, the room is cast into darkness.

Notes: just something short and sweet! I decided to post it directly here rather than ao3

Mr. Benedict’s house is old and creaky, a breeze blows through imperceptible gaps and the heating is broken, which makes the third floor warm at all times. It’s warm now, as SQ curls up in his bed. He props a book up in his lap, it had been a birthday gift from his uncle. The Wizard of Oz. The cover depicted a young girl standing at the edge of a road of yellow brick, a little dog stands beside her. On the other side of the road is a Lion, a Scarecrow, and a Tinman with an axe resting on his shoulder. SQ turns the knob on the bedside lamp and casts the room in a soft, orange glow. It’s late out, a storm blows outside. There’s no rain, oddly enough. A dry thunderstorm, that’s what Sticky had said. Every now and then thunder rolls through and startles him. He’s trying to ignore it. He opens the book. The print, mercifully, is a decent size. And the font is ‘dyslexia friendly’ as his uncle had put it. That had been a recent, and mildly unsurprising discovery. It’s an old, well-loved book, presumably his uncle had either owned it previously or bought it second hand. His father would have bought a newer book, something untouched by the outside world. He likes this more. It feels personal. Loving. Love is imbued in every little thing about his uncle, and everything he does for his family. When he opens the book, the spine cracks faintly. He smiles. He reads out loud, it’s easier to get through when the words roll off his tongue instead of bouncing about in his head.

“Dorothy lived in the great Kansas prairies-” thunder rolls loudly outside. The lights flicker. Then, the room is cast into darkness. SQ’s blood rushes to his ears, a whimper rises and dies in his throat. He blinks hard, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness. He can hear the sound of other kids yelling out in the darkness for the adults and Sticky yelping two doors down. SQ squints, moonlight is pouring into the room now, his eyes are adjusting. He closes the book and sets it aside, then he kicks his legs over the side of the bed and slides down to the floor. His toes dig into the carpet, the fabric is soft and textured in a way that doesn’t make his teeth hurt like other carpet does. He pads out of the room into the hall. It’s just as dark in here as it is in his room. A beam of light comes down the hall and flashes into his eyes. He groans and holds his arm up to shield himself.

“Whoops, sorry,” Kate says, then directs the flashlight down. The light illuminates the hallway in a ghostly way. Kate’s face is lit from below, creating sharp shadows along the soft edges of her face. She’s smiling, seemingly undisturbed by the sudden darkness. She darts forward and grabs his hand, excited about something. She’s always excited about something. “Hey, come check this out.” she leads him down the dark hallway, flashlight beam directing them forward to the end of the hall, down the stairs, and finally to the backdoor. Outside in the backyard, it seems everyone is gathered. The adults and kids are all gathered outside around the firepit that sits near the back porch. Kate leads him outside and down the steps. Then, she climbs into the tree and hauls him up after her. The bark hurts his feet a bit, but he bears it because Kate seems rather excited. They both settle on a sturdy branch. She points over the fence. It takes SQ a moment to realize what she was pointing at. Then, he realizes the skyline of Stonetown is an entirely dark. There isn’t a single streetlight on or window illuminated by a yellow glow. It’s a blackout. SQ’s eyes widen slightly.

“Woah…” He can see Kate grinning in the corner of his eye. She’s kicking her legs and bouncing slightly. SQ crosses his legs and looks out over the skyline. He can hear car horns honking in the distance.

“This is much nicer than the last blackout I was in.”

“The last blackout?”

“Yeah, not long before the prison. We lost Constance and had to go looking for her.”

SQ’s stomach turns slightly. Right, they had been looking for Constance, hoping to find her before his father’s men did. Kate hummed and started climbing down from the tree. “C’mon,” she said “Milligan’s gonna get a fire started, we’re gonna make s’mores!”

“S’mores?”

“Yeah, haven’t you ever had one?” SQ shakes his head and Kate’s mouth drops open. She looks shocked, as though he’d just committed some grievous wrong. “Well we gotta fix that! Come on, come on!” She grabs his hand and starts hauling him down from the tree. He goes gladly. The grass under his feet is cool and already becoming wet with dew. Mid to late September is his favourite time of year. Cold in the morning, hot in the afternoon, and dropping temperatures again in the evening. He shivers slightly against the breeze. He’s still shivering when he sits in front of the now burning fire. He feels a soft fabric against his shoulder and looks away from the light of the fire as Milligan sits beside him. Milligan's jacket is draped around his shoulders. 

He says nothing, just smiles. SQ smiles back. The jacket is warm around him, like a blanket fresh from the dryer. He slips his arms through the sleeves. It’s way too big on him. It makes him feels small, but not small in the shameful way his father made him feel. It feels more like everything had been contained in one small space, including himself. It feels safe. He likes it.

“Kate told me you’ve never had a s’more.” Milligan says, looking over at him. He has a good-natured smile on his face, “she sounded horrified at the thought.”

“It seems there’s a lot of stuff I haven’t experienced that she has.” SQ says, it comes out in a half mumble. He hears Milligan let out a laugh that’s more of an exhale of breath and a hum of amusement. SQ turns to get a good look at him. He’s still in a coat, which means that he had purposefully brought one out for SQ. Milligan is sitting on one of the little logs-turned-chairs next to him, resting his arms on his legs, hands laced together.

“Well,” he says after a moment “you can hardly hold that against yourself, Kate travelled around quite a bit and experienced a lot during her years in the circus.” He supposes that’s fair. But it’s not like this something new and exciting to the others. It’s just a s’more. Something most children are familiar with and have had on several occasions. He can’t help a small pang of loss. Loss for what, he isn’t sure. Perhaps for the child he could have been had he not grown up on the island. It hit him, sometimes, that he would never get those years back. His father had stolen from him what could have been a wonderful childhood, and no matter how he wished he to do so, he could not go back in time and fix things. He was stuck in this time, there was no way to go back. Time’s arrow stops for no one. The best he could hope for was to find solace in the family and friends he had in the present. He pulls the jacket tighter around himself, trying to fight off those thoughts before they have the chance to overwhelm him. He takes a deep breath and exhales.

“I guess so,” he says at last. He watches the fire. It flickers, breaks apart and comes together again. It crackles softly, embers rise into the air and fall down into the grass, making him mildly anxious. He’s heard the embers are part of the charm of a summer fire. He doesn’t quite see it, but the fire is nice and warm. Something is held out in front of him, drawing his attention away from the fire. After a moment he realizes it’s a long, metal stick with two prongs at one end, and a rubber handle on the other. He turns to look at who’s holding it out and sees Kate, giving him her usual excited grin.

“Wanna watch me set a marshmallow on fire?” she asks. He can’t possibly say no. He nods and she grabs the bag of marshmallows sitting beside her. She pierces two of the marshmallows onto the prongs at the end of the metal stick, then she holds them over the fire. At first, he doesn’t see it. But then there’s a small, subtle change amongst the flames surrounding the marshmallows, and when Kate pulls them away, they’re on fire. She holds it much too close for comfort. She lets the marshmallows burn for a moment before she takes a deep breath and blows them out. SQ blinks as she looks back to him, grinning. “Pretty cool, huh?” He nods, for lack of anything else to say.

She turns away from him and he can see her putting something together, though he isn’t sure what it is. He gets his answer a moment later when she turns back, and holds something out to him. A marshmallow and a small piece of chocolate are squished between two graham crackers. He tilts his head at it. “It’s a s’more,” she says “try it! It’s good!” He takes it, trying to avoid marshmallow dripping onto his shirt, and takes a bite. When he bites into it the marshmallow spills out and onto his fingers, making them sticky. But he finds he doesn’t care. Because Kate was right, it’s good. Really good. His eyes widen slightly, he smiles at her. “Right?” She says, somehow understanding what he’s trying to convey without any words. He decides he likes s’mores.

[idabbleincrazy]

Warming Up

Rating: E

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 3306

Warnings: Sharing a Bed, Sharing Body Heat, Bedsharing, all the trope-y cliched goodness, Smut, Fluff, borders on crack in some parts, Awkward Sam Winchester, Awkward Boners, Morning Wood, Morning Sex, motel sex, multiple orgasm, Multiple Sex Positions, Dirty Talk

Summary: Sam and Reader get stuck sharing a bed in a freezing motel room. let the cliches begin!

A/N: Originally posted March, 2019.

~~~~~

“Sam look, it’s late, I’m tired and in desperate need of a shower after that hunt. I don’t care that there’s only one room left. I’ll sleep in a chair if I have to. Please, just pay the man.” You turned and walked back over to Sam’s car to get your duffle out of the trunk as he went back into the motel lobby to settle up with the clerk.

You had meant what you said. You didn’t care if you had to sleep on the floor at this point. All you cared about was that the shower worked so you could wash the layer of grime and blood out of your hair and changing into clean clothes. After that, you didn’t care if the boogeyman kicked the door down, you were getting at least five straight hours of sleep. You grabbed your bag and Sam’s, and closed the trunk before heading towards the lobby. Sam came out the door just as you reached the sidewalk and took his duffle bag from you, leading the way to the room.

God, this place had to be one of the most rundown motels you’d stayed at to date. It took three tries for Sam to get the key to unlock the door. When the two of you finally entered the room, you immediately began to shiver. It was freezing. You tossed your bag on the coffee table in the center of the room and sought out the central air controls.

“Uh, yeah. The desk clerk said the thermostat is stuck and the repair man won’t be able to fix tonight.” Sam set his duffle by one of the rickety chairs and began looking through it.

“Great”, you groaned sarcastically. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower. We can figure out the bed situation when I get out.”

You grabbed the ratty pair of sweats that you slept in and an oversized shirt along with your toiletries and headed to the tiny bathroom. The small room didn’t look much worse then what you’d come to expect from years of hunting. Toilet bowl a bit rusty, shower handles a little stiff with age, the usual. At least the water was hot and the towels were clean. You spent a few extra minutes soaking under the running water, letting it relax your muscles. You made sure to leave Sam just enough hot water; he hadn’t gotten nearly as splattered in vamp guts as you had.

You dried yourself off and slipped into your change of clothes before wrapping your hair up in a dry towel. You regretted not packing your blow-dryer, at least then you’d have something to battle the freezing room. You quickly washed the blood out of your jeans and flannel shirt, draping them over the empty space on the towel rack before heading back out, teeth gritted in anticipation of the onslaught of cold air.

“Fuck, it’s cold.” You walked over to your duffle and rummaged through it, looking for anything thick and long-sleeved to slip on over your shirt. “How do want to decide who gets the bed? Roshambo or flip a coin?”

“Look, it’s freezing in here, and there’s no extra blanket. The clerk’s probably closed up the front desk; why don’t we just share the bed? It’s big enough for the both of us without it needing to be awkward.”

“Fine.” You sighed, too tired and too cold to press the issue. You gave up on looking for additional layers to wear and crawled under the sheets as Sam went to take his turn cleaning up.

You were still shivering under the covers by the time Sam came out of the bathroom. He was wearing only his boxers and a thin undershirt. You felt a shudder go through you that had nothing to do with the cold. You shook your head slightly to clear it; you’d seen him like this before, why was it affecting you now? He turned off the room’s main light quickly crawled under the sheets and you huddled into your side of the bed, trying to stifle your shivering.

“Good night, S-Sam”, you stuttered out before reaching to turn out the bedside lamp. You sank further down and tucked the sheets around you as best you could.

“Night, y/n.”

You felt the bed shake slightly as he shifted around. It felt like forever before you were finally able to drift off. It didn’t last long. After what felt like only minutes, though probably closer to two hours, you woke up in a cold sweat, Sam gently shaking your shoulder.

“Y/n, it’s okay. You were just having a nightmare. You’re okay.”

“Sorry, Sam. Should’ve figured I’d have one tonight of all nights. Didn’t mean to wake you.” You shifted onto your back, looking over at the hunter, his worried face lit by the moonlight filtering in through the window blinds.

“It’s fine, y/n. I doubt there’s a hunter out there who doesn’t have a nightmare at least once a week.” Sam kept his hand on your shoulder, his fingers squeezing sympathetically. “Look, it’s still really fucking cold in here, even under the sheets. You wanna just…huddle together for at least a little bit of extra warmth? Might help you sleep better too.”

You hesitated, taking in the small blush in Sam’s cheeks. On the one hand, this would blur that very strict line you’d always toed with the younger Winchester; sure you flirted with Dean all the time, but that was just that, flirting. Neither of you considered the other as anything more than close friends. But with Sam, you tried to keep everything strictly business. You knew that given the chance, you’d fall for the tall brunette and never get back up. On the other hand, it really was too cold to get any real rest. A few hours in his arms wouldn’t send you tripping over that line, would it? Of course not, you reasoned with yourself.

“Sure, Sam. Thanks.”

Sam slid up closer to you as you turned back onto your side and tucked up into his chest. His body heat made an immediate difference and you felt yourself relax into him as his arm wrapped around you carefully. You heard him let out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Much better. Sweet dreams, y/n/n.”

“You too, Sam.” You drifted off surrounded by his warmth and the solidness of his body and slept through the night this time.

~~~

You woke up the next morning, unsure of what exactly had pulled you from your slumber. You shifted slightly, not wanting to wake up the hunter sleeping behind you. When you tried to pull out of his embrace, Sam’s grip tightened around your torso automatically. Still sleeping, he pulled you closer against him, a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan spilling from his lips. The next second, you stilled. Pressed up against him as you were, you could feel his hardened length pressing against the small of your back.

You swallowed down a moan of your own as he bucked against you. You let out a soft gasp as he moaned again, your name a plea ringing in your ears. You bit your lips as the urge to grind back against him washed over you.

“Sam”, you whispered softly. “Sam, wake up.”

“Mm…y/n….fu…oh, shit. Y/n/n, I’m sorry!” Sam jolted out of his dream and scrambled to pull away from you. “Really, y/n, I’m so sorry. Fuck, so much for not making this awkward. Please…”

“Sam, it’s okay, really. Morning wood happens, don’t sweat it. If it makes this less awkward…I’ve dreamt of you before too.” You turned to face him, your cheeks flushing as you gauged his reaction.

Sam’s eyes darkened slightly as he stared back at you. His eyes flashed down to your lips and back up, his own plush lips parted as his chest heaved. You swore you saw a glimmer of what you could only describe as hope in his eyes. He slowly leaned toward you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip and his eyebrow quirked up in a silent question. You nodded and let your eyes flutter closed as he closed the space between you, his lips pressing softly to yours.

The kiss was more tender than you had ever imagined it would be. Slow at first, then building up to something more passionate and unrestrained. Sam’s tongue flicked out across your bottom lip, a silent request for permission. You parted your lips and he swallowed your moan as he deepened the kiss. Your hands wound themselves around his neck pulling him closer to you, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Fuck, y/n, wanted to do that for so long.” Sam pulled back, panting. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure. Trust me Sam, never been more sure of anything.”

Sam sat up and took his shirt off before swooping back down to capture your lips. Your hands explored the planes of his torso, sliding over his muscles around to his back as your legs parted around him. He settled between them and teased you with a shallow thrust of his hips, his erection pressing against your clothed crux.

“Too many clothes, Sam”, you muttered against his lips.

Sam broke the kiss to let you pull off your shirt and bra, his hands trailing down your sides to the waistband of your sweats. He looked up at you as his thumb dipped beneath the fabric, skimming along the lace of your panties.

“How long till check out?”

“Long enough to care of what your dream caused, at least”, you replied, a smirk pulling at your lips.

Sam scoffed a laugh and scooted back enough to remove the rest of your clothes, maneuvering his tall body to ease off his boxers. He stared down at your bare form, a soft smile on his face.

“God, you’re just as beautiful as I imagined, y/n. Uh, um..condom?”

“I’m on the pill. Wanna feel you, Sam.”

Before he leaned back over you, you’d gotten a quick glance at him in his full glory. You worried for a second if he’d even fit, but you trusted him not to hurt you. You spread your legs a bit further as he hovered over you, arching into his touch as his hand ran over your body. His other hand settled on the pillow beside your head, supporting his weight to keep from crushing you. You let out a moan as he cupped your breast, his head dipping down to catch your nipple between his lips.

“Sam, oh fuck.”

He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations traveling straight to your core. His hand continued down your body, one long finger dipping into your center. You bucked into his hand and whimpered as he gave a few testing pumps.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already, y/n.”

“Need you, Sam, so fucking bad.” You push eagerly against him, rolling your hips in search of more friction.

“Shit, baby girl, me too.”

Sam added a second finger and thrust a few more times before pulling them out. He moved back over you, swooping in for another deep kiss as he lined himself up, his hard cock teasing at your folds. He swallowed down your moan as you pushed against him.

“Now, Sam, please.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you.” He eased himself into you, giving you time to adjust around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so tight, y/n. Ah, shit, you feel good.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped further into your core, your heels pushing at his hips and urging him deeper. Sam nipped his way along your jaw, up to your ear, his teeth grazing at your earlobe in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands flew up to tangle in his hair and you keened out as he gave a small testing thrust.

“Shit, Sammy, yes. Need you to move, Sam. Fuck me.”

“You sure you’re ready, baby girl? Don’t want to hurt you. Ah, fuck!”

You thrust your hips up at the same time as you dug in again with your heels, sheathing his thick cock further within you. “Fuck. Me.”

Your demand seemed to flip a switch within the hunter; Sam pulled back enough to look down at you, his eyes lust-blown, a wolfish smirk playing at his lips.

“Fuck, you are eager, aren’t you, y/n? Want me to pound this tight cunt hard, huh? Make you scream my name as you come on my cock, that what you want baby? Tell me, y/n, tell me what you want.”

“Oh, shit. Yes. Make me come, Sam. Fuck, make me come so hard and loud, they hear it in the lobby.”

Sam thrusts into you quick and deep, one hand gripping tight at your hip. You moaned loudly as he pumped into you, your hand roamed over his broad back, nails scraping, gripping as you let your head fall back. He took advantage of the exposed expanse of skin, his lips pressing hot kisses at your pulse point, teeth nipping at the curve of your neck.

“Fuck, baby girl, you feel so good around me. Shit, should’ve done this so long ago. Ah, y/n, fuck you’re so beautiful like this.”

“Mm, Sam, fuck. Baby, don’t stop. Shit, make me come Sammy.”

You soon let out a surprised whimper as he pulled out. He quickly maneuvered the two of you so that he was laid out beneath you, his hands gripping you tightly as you hovered over his aching cock. You wasted no time in sinking down on it, drawing out a groan from the hunter as you took him completely. You ground down on him before lifting up, your walls clenching around him, and you began to ride him in earnest.

“Oh, fuck, y/n. Such a good girl, baby, taking my cock like this. Fuck, here I thought I’d have to be careful with you.” Sam reached up and pinched your nipple, his hips thrusting up into you. “Damn, you’re just fucking perfect.”

“Sam, fuck. Like that, baby, just like that.”

Sam ran his hand behind your neck and guided you down to him, snagging your bottom lip between his teeth, his tongue soothing over the sting he left behind. The new angle allowed him to hit that sweet spot inside you with each thrust; you moaned against his lips as you pushed back.

“Sam, I’m close, baby. So fucking close. Fuck me, Sam. Make me come, need to come, Sam, please.”

“Fuck, I could listen to you talk like this forever. Shit, y/n. You gonna come for me, baby girl? Gonna let me see you fall apart around me, full of my cock?”

“Yes. Please, Sam.”

Sam’s hand reached between your bodies and slipped down to where you were joined, seeking out your clit. You bucked into his touch as he began rubbing small circles, swiveling your hips down on him. You pulled back up to your knees, Sam following, his free hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. He bit at the crux where your neck met shoulder, thrusting into you at a rapid pace.

“Fuck, that’s it. C’mon y/n. Come for me, come for me baby. Let me hear you sing. Fuck, sweetheart, gonna come so hard. Shit, so tight baby, come on, let me feel that sweet cunt choke my cock, beautiful. Wring me dry.”

“Sam, oh fuck, Sammy. Yes. Fuck, yes! Gonna come, baby. Gonna…fuck, gonna come. Come with me Sam, please. Need to feel you fill me up, need…”

You gripped at his shoulders, his hair, whatever you could grab hold of as you felt the coil within you snap. You screamed out his name as your walls clamped down on him, pulling him over the edge with you. You rocked against him as you felt rope after rope of warm cum filling your womb. Sam continued thrusting into you even as he came, drawing out your orgasm as he rode out his own.

“That’s it, y/n. That’s it, let this whole place know who’s fucking you. Shit, baby. I’m never letting you go now. Should’ve made you mine ages ago.”

“Sam. Oh, fuck, Sam, shit…! I, fuck, I love you, Sam.” The words slipped out before you could think to bite them back, but at that moment you couldn’t care less. You meant it, you loved him, more than you had ever admitted to yourself.

Sam let out a growl and quicker than you could register, pulled out, flipped you over onto your hands and knees, and entered you once again in one swift stroke, his cock hard once again. As your mind tried to catch up with your body, he began thrusting into you, his tall body curved over you. He angled your head back to nip at your jaw, biting his way along it up to your ear.

“Shit, I love you too, y/n. Oh fuck, do I love you. Loved you since the day I saw you.”

He kissed his way down your neck and along your shoulder, his hand working along your body, making it way back down to your clit. His thumb pressed against it, rubbing slow circles as his thrusts slowed and deepened. You cried out when he found that spot again, your hips pushing back to meet him every time.

“Oh, fuck, Sam. ‘M close, Sam. So good, shit…Sam!”

“Come for me, y/n. Come for me. So beautiful, let me see you fall apart again.”

You let out a breathless cry as your second orgasm washed over, your body trembling beneath him as you rode it out. A few more strokes and he spilled into you once more, a roar ripping from his chest as he pumped into you. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep from collapsing against you.

“Oh, shit, y/n. That…that was, fuck.”

“Yeah. It was.” You let out a small chuckle and cast a quick glance at the clock radio on the bedside table. “Oh shit. We’ve only got about fifteen minutes till check out.”

Sam huffed a laugh and pulled out slowly, groaning as he fell back against the bed. You laid out beside him, your arm snaking across his torso as he pulled you close. He ran his hand soothingly along your back and leaned up to kiss you; where as before his kisses had been full of fire, all want and need, this time you felt a deeper passion pouring from him as he explored you. You broke the kiss, breathless and grinning like a dope.

“Well, that certainly warmed me up. Seriously though, we need to get cleaned up and outta here. ‘Sides, sooner we get back to the bunker, the sooner we can do this again.”

Sam heaved a dramatic sigh and placed a quick peck to your forehead. “Fine, if we must. Share the shower?”

“Only if you promise to behave. I don’t think I can handle another round and still be able to walk normal.”

“Promise. But soon as we get home, we’re heading straight to one of our rooms and making up for lost time. Still need to see what you look like when you’re coming on my tongue.”

You moaned at the thought and shook your head to keep from jumping him as you climbed out of the bed and made your way to the bathroom, the smirking brunette following close behind.

“You’ll be the death of me yet, Sam Winchester. At least I’ll die happy.”

[joon-ipersgirl]

O4 - “the cynical contract”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader (f)

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients. 

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total. 

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing

a/n: part four is here! this is a lot shorter than i thought it was going to be for some reason. more interactions with the boys and some important conversations. not much else to say except enjoy this part, thank you vi for reading all of my shit, and look out for the next part in 2 weeks! thank youu. 

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

The beaming Saturday sun burns down on the top of your head as you stand outside of Spiral. It looks almost the same in the day time as it does in the night time, except there’s no line stretching around the corner. Its unlit sign still stands tall as if it’s a lighthouse guiding ships home - if ships were overly stressed people looking for a way to drink their problems away. No one is out on the street as most of the businesses on this particular street operate during the night. You don’t linger and push open the heavy, newly-covered leather door and descend the stairs.

Though it’s high noon outside, the staircase is just as dark as if you’d come in on a Saturday night. The ever-familiar heat is pleasant as you loosen the scarf from your neck. It seems as though Suga is renovating the place. Circular mirrors line the wall and you catch a glimpse of your damp curls in their reflection. You probably should have used a blow dryer. Another heavy door greets you and you heave it open.

“Hey! Watch the new chairs Tae!” Honcho yells as he carries a small table over.

“Yeah, yeah. They’ll be fine!” Tae, the DJ, calls back. His bubblegum pink hair flops as he drops the chairs to the ground.

It seems you’re right. Though much of the layout is still the same, Spiral is taking on a whole new look. The booths have been covered in new leather, black marble tables have replaced the glass ones, and the black tiles are so clear that you can easily see your reflection. The dance floor and bar look very much the same except for some new shelving that you guess were damaged during last month’s commotion. Overall, the design is pretty much the same with a few new touches added here and there.

“If it isn’t our favorite little sharpshooter,” Honcho calls out to you from across the room. You flash him a fake smile.

“Yes. If I do remember correctly, my shooting saved your life so,” you trail off.

“It also cost you a lot of money too. Are you here to repay your debt?” he counters, his grin never leaving his face.

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Both men raise their eyebrows. “If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, it seems as though you still have some work to finish,” you say with a chuckle before making your way to the spiral staircase by the bar.

“Is she always like this?” you hear Tae ask.

“As far as I’ve seen, yes,” Honcho replies.

You grin as you continue up the stairs. The second level has also gone under some renovation as you realize it’s much larger than you’d noticed before. More booths have been added as well as another small dance floor. As you poke your head around the familiar leather door of Suga’s office at the end of the walkway, you realize that it too has been changed into some sort of upper-class VIP room with its own miniature bar. You enter and run your fingers along the smooth bar top surface, the bottles of alcohol lined up neatly on top of it. The books previously housed in the bookshelf have been removed and replaced with various displays of empty bottles of alcohol. An upscale, artistic graveyard if you will.

“Do you like what you see?” You spin around and knock over one of the cute little spiral lamp fixtures on the side table with your open coat. Shit. Min laughs as he leans against the door frame, his smile as bright as ever. “I think that’ll be added to your total,” he chuckles.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” you groan, throwing your head back in annoyance.

“Is that how you always sound when you’re flustered?” He grins as he takes another step into the room. You can feel the blood rise in your cheeks as you try to respond.

“Cat got your tongue, Y/N?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I came to see Suga, but I guess this isn’t his office anymore,” you tell him in a huff. Min shakes his head with a smile.

“Mhmm, never really was,” he hums. “We’re redecorating for a new opening. Do you like it?”

He’s in front of you now, the space between you much smaller than it’s ever been and you’re acutely aware of the soft waft of his cologne. Min is unbelievably attractive in a way that was almost ethereal. His silver hair is just as polished and his eyes sparkle even more in the natural sunlight from the large bay windows. The same silver rings adorn his hands as before and you bite your lip hard to not comment on how wonderful his arms look crossed against his chest in his pristine white T-shirt. Squaring your shoulders, you set your jaw stubbornly. You will not fall victim to his airy charms.

“It’s alright,” you lie and shrug your shoulders. “You should probably get rid of the graveyard though,” you say while pointing to the bookcase. Min laughs again.

“It’s a work in progress, Y/N. You’ll come to see my artistic vision eventually,” he says with a smile so alluring, you feel your breath catch in your chest.

“Ah, so you work here now? I was wondering why you were always hanging around,” you comment, trying to stay calm.

“So you’ve noticed me? How sweet,” he murmurs. His fingers brush against your cheek gently and you swallow deeply. “Come on, Kitten. I’ll bring you to Suga.”

He runs his fingers down your arm before slipping his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together. The whole ordeal felt quite intimate and your ears heat up as you follow him out of the room. Instead of walking down the usual walkway, Min makes a left out the door and down a tiny hallway you hadn’t noticed before. He pushes open a smaller leather door, tells you to watch your step, and pulls you up the dark narrow stairs. Was Spiral truly this big?

Min pushes another door open before you’re on what you assume was the third level. Though you know you’d gone further upstairs, it’s just as dark as the lower levels. The hallway is much shorter here and fewer rooms are available. You count a total of three doors as Min drags you towards the one at the furthest end of the hall.

“Are we accepting the Gonzalez’ contract or should we send them a new invoice?”

“Hmm, let me read over it again. There was something I didn’t really like about -” Moon and Suga’s conversation stops abruptly as Min pokes his head around the door, his body shielding you from view.

“Is everything okay?” you hear Moon ask.

“Wonderful actually. Seems like we’ve got a guest to see Suga,” Min replies as he pushes the door open further to reveal you. You smile and send a small wave towards them.

This office is quite similar to its counterpart downstairs; the same large floor to ceiling windows are present along with the large mahogany desk. Instead of only being on one side of the room, two full length bookshelves line the walls. A small wooden coffee table sits in the middle of the room with four leather chairs positioned around it, a bottle of whiskey in the centre accompanied by matching glasses. Though this space seems to be new, it feels significantly more lived in than the one downstairs.

“We did have a meeting, didn’t we Kid?” Suga asks. He sets the iPad down on the desk in front of Moon who’s sitting behind it, his feet propped up as though he’s at home.

“Yes, we did,” you tell him while nodding.

“Seems like Min has grown on you, huh Y/N?” Moon gestures to your hands with a grin. You yank your hand from Min’s grip and step away from him as you stare at Moon with a scowl. Min chuckles beside you seemingly unfazed by your actions.

“Seems like you’re still ever the dickhead, huh Moon?” You plop down in a leather chair and mimic his position, your heavy Doc Martens propped up on the stout wooden table. You stare at each other. Moon’s grin widens as he drops his feet and leans across the desk.

“All for you sweetheart,” he replies. You flash him a fake smile before turning to Suga.

“So, are you going to kick him out of your office so we can talk business or what?” you ask. Min and Moon’s laughter rings out in the room. “I hadn’t realized I had said something funny,” you say with a frown.

“Kid, you can’t just waltz in -”

“-  It’s fine, Suga. You did say she had a meeting with you. Business right?” Moon stands up from behind the desk and picks up the iPad. “I’ll drop by your office later about that invoice,” he continues. Suga grunts in acknowledgement before sitting down in the recently vacated chair.

Moon glances at you as he continues towards the door.You can’t help but notice the way the muscles in his thighs flex under his dark wash jeans as he walks. You also try to ignore how broad his chest looks under his white t-shirt and flannel. Glancing up at his face, his eyes meeting yours before he grins down at you again. How have you never noticed his dimples before?

“See you later, Y/N ,” he says while brushing his hand against your shoulder. You tense and he chuckles as he calls for Min to follow him.

“Bye, Kitten,” Min whispers in your ear before kissing your cheek gently. You inhale sharply and hope it wasn't noticeable. “See you later boss!” he calls to Suga before the door closes softly behind them. Gods knew how you were going to survive working with these men.

“Do you let all of your employees sit in your chair?” you ask Suga as you recall Min sitting in it the first time you’d been here.

“Do you have to question absolutely everything you see or hear?” he asks, frustrated. He runs his hands through his hair as he rests his elbows on the desk.

“As a matter of fact, I do. It’s all part of the job,” you tell him with a shrug.

“What’d you come to talk about, Kid? I have a lot of work to get done today,” he says ignoring your question.

“You know you should really dye your hair a different color if you're not going to exude the kind of cheerful happiness that is mint,” you tell him matter-of-factly. You shrug off your coat and drape it across your legs.

“Y/N,” he glares at you. “What do you want?” So much for some friendly banter.

“Okay. I know I have to pay you back for the lights - you’re welcome for saving your life by the way - and so I’ve come up with a proposition,” you explain. Suga raises an eyebrow. “Nothing like that! I was thinking I could work at the club,” you continue.

“Why do you always think someone wants to fuck you, Kid?” Suga chuckles. You stand up abruptly and almost knock the chair over.

“I did not say that!”

“Mhm, but it was implied by your abrupt response. Sit down.” you sit in a small huff. “About your proposition though. That could work. With the remodeling, we’re looking to expand our staff. I won’t make you interview. I’ll have to do some calculations based on what you owe and the number of hours you’re available to work, but it should be fine,” he continues while jotting some notes down on a sheet of paper.

“That’s it?” you ask. This is much easier than you thought it’d be. Suga glances back up at you.

“Yeah. Was there something else you wanted to add?”

“Uh, no. I guess not. Sounds good,” you tell him while standing and grabbing your things. He nods.

“Do me a favor and write your contact info down and then I’ll walk you out. We still have a lot to get done here. ”

You cross the space and take the pen from Suga’s hand, your fingers brushing each other's. As you scribble your name and phone number down, you notice the other stack of papers on the desk. Though you’re trying your best to mind your business - and you know you should  since not minding it is the reason you’re currently here - you let your eyes scan over the upside down documents.

It seems to be some sort of form or contract that has numerous details spelled out on the page. You can make out a date in late Spring, a location that’s somewhere on the nicer side of downtown, and the name Jonas on the paper along with some amount of money before it’s covered up by Suga’s arm as he stares at you, his eyes narrowed. You smile at him as innocently as you can before you hand the pen back and straighten up.

“All done!” you tell him cheerily. He nods and jerks his head towards the door, an indication that you should make your way over. You glance back down at the papers before turning on your heel and sweeping your jacket and scarf into your arms.

Suga closes the door behind you and guides you down the dark narrow hallway with his hand on your lower back. You descend the first set of stairs and you glance over the balcony on the second level to see Min and Tae fooling around in between unopened boxes on the dance floor as Honcho and Moon watch on, laughing at their antics. The sound of your boots against the grate floor draws their eyes upwards and you feel a little self conscious under their gazes. Why is it that your confidence always slips around them when you need it the most?

“Did our little sharpshooter pay up, Suga?” Honcho calls as he leans against the bar and stares you down.

“No, but we’ve managed to come to an agreement,” he answers as you reach the bottom of the stairs.

“An agreement? She doesn’t really seem like your -”

“Not that type of agreement, dumbass,” you cut Tae off. You yank on your coat, annoyed. And Suga thinks you’re crazy for thinking that people wanted to fuck you?

“Ah, does this one include all of us?” Moon asks and the rest of the guys chuckle. You shoot him the finger and turn back to Suga.

“Now do you see why I had to clarify my proposition earlier?” you exclaim softly. He nods his head with a smile.

“Knock it off guys. You’re making Kitten flustered,” Min says teasingly. You throw your hands up in the air in defeat.

“I give up, my gods! You guys are insufferable. Gods don’t let the hours be too long. I’m not sure how long I can last before I commit my first murder if I have to be around them for hours on end!” you yell in frustration.

“Might be a little too late for that one Kid,” Suga mutters behind you and Moon laughs. You turn to face him again.

“What?”

“Nothing. Look, I’ll text you with all the details about when to come in some time next week -”

“Wait, come in?” Honcho asks. “As in, work here?” he clarifies, his ears almost as red as his dyed hair. You grin feeling the atmosphere shift into your favor. You flip hair over your shoulders and start heading to the door. It seems as if it’s your cue to go.

“You can’t be serious, Suga,” Tae groans and pushes his hands through his hair. The sight of his discomfort puts a little pep in your step as you stop right in front of the door before turning to face them.

“See you boys later! Glad we could work out an agreement!” you laugh as you watch Tae and Honcho’s faces fall at your terrible attempt at a joke before you head out the door and up the main stairs to the outside world.

Though it feels like every time they look at you, you’d melt under their gaze, it feels good to have the upper hand sometimes. You hope you can keep it as there were more than a few events you had questions about and, unbeknownst to those lovely men downstairs, they’re going to help you answer them.

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

© joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[modestlyabsurd]

Divine (Loki x Reader)

Trying to ingress a home quietly is much harder than it seems. Especially when your feet might as well be sacks of rocks and your hands would rather not cooperate.

The sound of heavy approaching footsteps and keys jingling roused Loki from the trance of his story. His eyes light up, locking on the door waiting for it to open. A smile overtakes him. Your return is always a comfort.

The door opens. "Hey," you whisper as you pull your keys from the lock and close it securely. "I told you not to wait for me."

"I know, but..." he trails off, watching you kick off your shoes - not very neatly - at the door. He was particularly fond of you in this form; wild strands of hair framing your face, your cheeks flushed with exertion and your eyes drooping adorably.

"But what?" you saunter over to him. "You can't help but await the exciting event of my coming in and falling asleep?" Your sarcasm is weak. It's impossible to stay annoyed with Loki. The genuine happiness he exhumes when you arrive home from work is heartwarming at the least. And as much as you hate to admit it to him, arriving home to your shared apartment, your first home together with Loki every night is one of the most amazing parts of your life.

He's as cute as he can be, all curled up in his night clothes on the little loveseat you bought second-hand, a book in his hands, the amber lamp light casting regal shadows upon his face. The modestly sized TV plays softly in the background. His hair is loose and freshly washed. You sink into the loveseat next to him, soaking up every bit of it; the closeness, the smell of him.

"A hard shift?" his nose nudges your head.

"Yeah, it was." You sigh. Loki always looked forward to this. "There must've been some event happening that I didn't know about, because people were just coming in left and right in these big groups ordering drinks and shit. And it seemed like I got every single one of them; either that or everyone else was just conveniently unavailable to help. I didn't even get to take a break until last minute, which didn't even really count because we closed right afterward. Ridiculous."

You blew a piece of hair out of your face. Loki finds it incredibly sexy when you do that. The after-work rant!

He folds the book together and places it on the side table before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. He gives you a long, full kiss on the temple of your head, and on your clothes he can smell both the raw scent of you, and the food you'd served all evening.

"Why do you continue to do it every night? Since it's so ... draining."

"I'll show you why," you shift on your legs to reach into your back pocket, subsequently leaning most of your weight into his shoulder. When you sit back down, a fat wad of green money appears in your hands, and you proudly spread the bills out like playing cards. "Two hundred and thirty-five dollars, baby."

Part of Loki is certainly impressed, as normally you jokingly declare "I'm making two hundred tonight!" before you leave for work. Seldom does it actually happen.

So, of course he gives you a high five.

"Are you proud of me?"

"Unspeakably proud, my love. Well done indeed."

Your cheeks become heated as they stretch from your huge smile.

"But you always make me proud. Even if you only make your salary."

"Goodness gracious, don't jinx me!"

You go to stand up, ignoring the dull ache in your back, and make way to the shower. The bun in your hair is nearly nonexistent at this point, which makes it much easier to untangle the hair tie from it.

After giving your hair a much-needed shake, you notice in the kitchen an empty sink. Complete with spotless countertops and the piney scent of cleaner.

"Who cleaned the kitchen?"

"I did."

"Sure you did," you blew off, and received nothing but an awaiting silence. "Wait, you actually cleaned?"

"I'm afraid so." He's so happy with himself.

"You've never cleaned anything!"

"Hey!"

"What? I'm not wrong. And what about your dinner?"

"Taken care of."

"Shut up."

"You know, a small bit of praise wouldn't be terrible."

Doing the dishes and wiping everything down was something you've always been used to doing for yourself, and never minded doing for Loki either. You just didn't expect those kinds of things from him - he always shows he cares in other ways - hence your surprise.

An eyebrow goes up as you rack your brain on the way to the bedroom. Gotta be a reason, you thought.

"No 'thank you'? Not even 'looks nice?'"

"What're you trying to get?" You lower your chin at him, and he turns pink immediately.

"Well, I wasn't exactly making a conscious attempt to get anything, but if you're offering -"

"I'm not."

Loki grits his teeth and whispers "damn" before flashing you a wink. He knows exactly which buttons to push to make you blush.

"You really didn't have to do that," your voice carries through the hallway as you enter the bathroom. Loki stays back, having learned after being yelled at so many times to not look as you undress for a shower. He doesn't understand it, why you're so shy when you're so beautiful. How even though he's bedded you, thoroughly bedded you, he still isn't allowed to look.

But alas he complies, since you seem exceptionally tired tonight.

"It truly wasn't any trouble, darling. I may have even enjoyed it. Just a bit. A small bit. A very tiny bit. Microscopic, borderline invisible - "

"Alright, alright, I get it!"

Loki laughs, gathering your work clothes from the floor. After tossing them in the laundry basket, he puts two clean towels in the dryer before making his way to prepare the bedroom. The gray sheets are still rustled from the morning, so he straightens and smoothes them out, fluffs the pillows. Lights a couple of your favorite candles.

He can hear you humming to yourself over the sound of showering water. Steamy air wafts in from the bathroom, bringing with it the smell of your shampoo. He breathes in. He wonders how in the Norns he got so lucky. He wants to peek in the shower, to hear your adorable shriek ... but he refrains.

"Loki!" you shriek from the shower.

Not quite what he had in mind.

In a couple steps he's in the bathroom. "What's wrong?"

"I got shampoo in my eye."

"Darling, I thought it was an emergency."

"It is an emergency!" Before you finish, a pale hand reaches through the shower curtain with a cloth. "Thank you."

Swish!

The curtain yanks back.

"Loki no! Get out!"

"My, my. What a wonderful sight."

"Loki I swear to God - give me the rag! It burns!" Oh how cute you are; wet skinb suds in your hair. Turned away giving a perfect view of your backside. Nursing your eye with one hand and scrambling to cover whatever you can with the other - which isn't very much.

The bathroom walls reverberate the deep, lovely laughs from the trickster.

When he's decided you've suffered enough, he pries the hand from your eye and places the cloth in it. "You're blushing, love."

"It's probably blood pouring from my eye, you dickhead!" Blindly, you grab for the curtain. Your stinging eyes can't tell that Loki is holding it out of your reach.

"Can you see?"

You huff. "Yes."

"Then look at me."

"No! Get out of here, you perv!" Even as angry, disrespected, frustrated, tired, and in pain as you are, no matter how hard you try you can't hide your smile. It used to be embarrassing, but now it's rather flattering - that he just has to steal a look at you every once in a while. That he thinks you're so attractive.

He makes you feel attractive, too.

"Fine," he sighs before dropping the curtain, casting a dim shadow in the shower.

The cloth helped the burning so you could finish rinsing the shampoo out of your hair. "Y'know, you could've just asked to join me. That would've been less pervy," you call out.

"It isn't my fault that you're so tempting. You're practically a walking tease."

"I literally burned my eye with shampoo, how is that teasing?!"

"Being gone for so long and then beckoning me into the bath, while you're showering, all for an eye injury."

"Oh, well please forgive me for accidentally getting acid in my eye while in a very vulnerable position. My bad, all on me."

This banter is nothing new. In fact, it's one of your favorite parts about Loki; being able to go back and forth with sarcasm, wits, and arguments of points, knowing that all is in fun.

Even if he is a dickhead.

The bathroom door creaks as it shuts, but before it latches Loki adds, "Oh, by the way?"

"Hm?"

"You are absolutely divine." Which is why I'll always look, even when you ask me not to.

~

"Mmm, whatcha doing?" Your sleepy voice calls.

Waking up in the middle of the night for no reason is unsettling enough. Then add not finding your other half sleeping peacefully next to you.

Loki is in the living room, curled up on the little loveseat with papers splayed all around him. Your worried voice has pulled him out of a concentration, making him spring up and approach you.

"Oh dear, are you alright? Have you had a nightmare?"

"If I did, I don't remember it," you yawned.

His hair is tied away from his face in a loose bun, the one you showed him how to do, and unlike you, he is wide awake.

"Why aren't you in bed? What's all those papers for?"

His head drops sadly, and he gently holds your elbows as they hang tiredly at your sides. "I didn't want you to know right away."

Your suspense and awareness is increasing by the second. "Know what?"

"I, ehm, I was eh," Loki sighs. He hates stumbling over words. "I was filling out employment applications."

"What?" you whisper, confused. "Why?"

He looks slightly over your shoulder, choosing the best words he can. "Because, I don't feel it's fair that the burden of financial security falls solely to you, when we are a team. You work so hard serving others every single night, just to have funds to provide everything for the two of us. You worked until eleven o'clock tonight and you've still got to work more tomorrow. I-I-I would just like, to, to perhaps share that burden. So that it doesn't fall on your shoulders alone."

By the time he's finished, he looks like he could cry. But he doesn't. He retains a composed, sure-of-himself appearance.

You're the one who cries like an idiot.

"Loki..." you drawl and your voice cracks, half from laughter and half from stifling tears of overwhelming gratitude. "Loki, you don't have to do that. I truly don't mind what I do."

"Yes, but we can both agree that you deserve a break. I know I don't have to. I want to. I live here as well; I consume food, I use electricity, I use the water. I'd like to make a contribution, I don't expect you to allow me to freeload."

His feelings have brought an unconscious smile to your lips. Loki always shows he cares in many different ways - his words are one of them - so much so that the financial aspect of your home together didn't make a difference to you. Sure, some months are more stressful than others, but going through it all with Loki by your side made it more than worth it.

You don't know what to say.

"Loki, you really don't have to do that, I - ouch - " your neck pops, "I don't mind at all working for us."

"Your body seems to disagree," he winks.

"Shut up. Hey, that massage really helped," your cheeks warm up.

It's a beautiful thing when he speaks his feelings honestly, unfiltered, straight from his heart. How could you turn that down?

While you let everything he's told you sink in, he grasps your head in both hands and interrupts the process with a sweet, mind-numbing kiss to your lips. Leaving you breathless and dizzy.

It's been over a year of living together, and his kisses still give you butterflies.

You sigh, still only inches from him, "You really don't have to."

"I know. I want to, my love."

Something pops into your mind. "But what about your ID? Your information? What do you plan on doing about that?" you begin to worry.

Loki bares his teeth and sucks air through them. "That's what I was a bit stumped about."

A thought-filled silence falls between you.

"I mean, you could apply for S.H.I.E.L.D."

He stiffens immediately. "Darling, I was thinking more along the lines of a florist or something."

"Think about it!" Oh dear. He knows that look. When your eyes get bright and your voice gets high, and you take his hands into your warm ones. "You could help with intelligence! Especially outer intelligence - you could help with research about Asgard! The life in the other realms! You're so smart, you know all about those things!"

He casts his gaze down, not bearing the pleading, soaring wonder in your eyes.

You shake his forearms, "C'mon, Loki. You wouldn't have to make up anything about yourself. This could even redeem what you've done in the past, or at least begin to. And plus, there's mad money in it. But that's not even what matters to me."

"I can't even begin to think about this," he turns away, pulling himself from you.

"Loki, don't do this," you say softly, but it's a demand. "Listen to me."

"You do not understand my position."

"No, I don't! I haven't seen what you've seen, I haven't done what you've done. You're one-hundred percent right."

The fabric of your flannel pajamas itches your leg. Loki picks at his palm, looking for something to look at.

"But I know you have potential. I know you're one of the smartest people I've ever met. I know you have so much to offer. And look!" you motion to the mess of papers around you, "You clearly have a desire to use it."

Carefully, slowly, you approach him. The icy outer layer can be very hard to break when he gets like this. His stone cold gaze doesn't lift, doesn't waver, but he relaxes ever so slightly at the touch of your hand to his wrist.

"You could change the world, Loki."

"What if I don't want to change the world?" whisper-quiet, his eyes meet yours. "What if I just want this little life with you? I'd like to take some of the responsibility off of your shoulders, yes, but what if just, just this, makes me happy?"

You wet your lips, as they've gone dry at his words. So many things going through your mind, so many emotions. But you push them aside, for the sake of your best friend. "Well, I would still support you. It would be a little hard, knowing that you have so much more potential than just this. But I'd still love you. I want you to be happy, no matter what."

Loki closes his eyes. He breathes in. He wonders how in the Norns he got so lucky. He wants to just scoop you up and hug you, cry into you until all of the emotions are out of him, but he refrains.

"I'll consider it." He takes your smiling cheek into his hand. So soft, he thinks. "Only for you. Because you make me happy."

~

tag list: @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @paradisaicsam @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum

[oyatemolly]

heating lamp 400w 800w 1200w

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Heating Lamp 500w 240V for Blowing Machine

Heating Lamp 660mm 1000w with SK15 Base

heating lamp 800w

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Heating Lamp for  Ink Drying

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[henry-09]

350w 500w R7S push flash lamps halogen infrared heating lamps for screen printing dryer unit

[soniaqin]

616mm 400v 1650w quartz infrared fast medium wave heating lamp quartz flash cure bulb#textile#dryer

[aquaminwrites]

sndfdhsdkjl i relate to #81 on a spiritual level, that is 1000% something i'd do. with fluffy hobihobi please! [also hi hello ily lots ♥]

Downpour

Pairing: Hoseok x ReaderGenre: FluffWarnings: NoneWord Count: 1.7k

Prompt: 81. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?”

A/N: FOR MY DARLING LIA! I hope you enjoy love

Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

Raindrops smack against the large glass façade of the coffee shop as you stare out the window wistfully, the palms of your hands pressed to your cheeks. Your elbows are propped up on the counter as you watch the puddles grow on the sidewalk, wondering how unlucky you have to be to forget to bring an umbrella to the café, even though your roommate had warned you about the weather when you were heading out the door.

You had gone to the coffee shop in the hopes that the cute barista, Hoseok, would be working today. Well, that was partially the reason. In reality, you have a paper due next week for one of your political science classes (an elective you chose on a whim that you only partially regret), and could have just written it in the library.

But as a regular, Hoseok often checks up on you and gives you cookies or muffins if you’ve been cooped up working all day. And you had hoped he would be there to offer up his heart-stopping beautiful smile and a sympathetic ear. Instead, it had rained all day, you barely got through a quarter of your essay, and Hoseok isn’t even working.

You pull out your phone to check the time, and realize that it’s later than you thought. It’s dark out, the moon snuffed out by the clouds overhead. You debate texting your roommate to come bring you a spare umbrella, but then remember that she has a meeting with one of her study groups this evening and is probably on the other side of campus already.

You weigh your options and are just in the process of calculating just how soaked you would be if you were to run home right this second, when the bell above the door chimes, signalling the entrance of another customer.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” A familiar voice chirps. Your eyes widen and you spin around to see Hoseok shaking off his umbrella, looking sharp in a well-tailored coat and his hair pushed back from his forehead. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You try to suppress the blush that blooms across your face, but you know that you probably resemble a cherry tomato by now. “We only ever see each other here, Hoseok.”

“And whose fault is that?” He winks with a grin. You try not to read into it too much—Hoseok is flirtatious by nature, and you just happen to be the only girl in the cafe whose name he actually knows. “Were you here all day again? Paper due soon or something?”

You sigh, remembering the mountain of work you still have remaining. “Unfortunately, yes. Poli-sci with Professor Lee, due next week. Barely made a dent, though.”

“Ah,” Hoseok commiserates. “I took that class in second year. I don’t envy you.” He gestures to the counter with a jerk of his thumb. “I just came by to pick up my pay check. Do you need anything? I can try to swipe a croissant for you if you’re hungry.”

You shake your head with a bashful smile. “No, it’s alright. I was actually going to head out, but I forgot my umbrella and I’m trying to see if the rain is going to let up anytime soon.”

Hoseok frowns slightly. “Well, it’s supposed to start thunder storming soon—”

Just as he makes the statement, a flash of light bursts from the clouds and a loud rumble shakes the sky. You groan, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Maybe I’ll just call a cab,” you mutter, pulling your phone from your pocket. Hoseok sees this and gently places his hand atop yours to lower your device from your line of vision, and you can’t help but shiver slightly at the feeling of his skin against yours, no matter how brief the contact.

“No need. I can walk you home.” He gestures to his umbrella with a smile that makes his cheeks dimple slightly. “My umbrella has room for two.”

You open your mouth to protest. “Hoseok, I—”

But then he lifts his hand, gesturing for you to stop. “I insist. You don’t live very far, right? Let me just go pick up my pay check and we can head out.”

He doesn’t let you get a word in edgewise before he’s heading for the counter and disappearing into the back. Hoseok emerges five minutes later with a grin and his elbow extended towards you.

“M’lady. Ready to go?”

You manage to nod and place your hand in the bend of his arm, and the two of you venture off into the storm.

It doesn’t rain often where you live, but whenever it does, it always seems like a torrential downpour. This storm is no exception—the raindrops are heavy, splattering against the material of the umbrella and pummelling against the pavement. The battering overhead is so loud that you have to raise your voice in order to speak, and you have to strain to listen whenever Hoseok replies.

The streets are pretty much abandoned, the only light coming from the street lamps that cast their illuminated reflections along the puddled concrete. There aren’t many cars on the road either. You figure that most people are already holed up at home, waiting out the storm and hoping that the power doesn’t cut out and leave them stranded.

You hope that, too. But at least, for a little while, you have Hoseok as a companion.

You’re still holding onto his arm, not that he’s protested at all or shifted in any way that would make you believe that he wants you to let go. The two of you have been dancing around each other for months, now. You were in that limbo between being friends and him just being your barista. But with this offer to walk you home, to actually be alone with him outside of the café, your heart and head can’t help but soar to so many different possibilities.

Your other arm swings idly at your side, and you feel a few drops of rain against the back of your hand. You glance down for a second, enjoying the cooling sensation on your skin, and it reminds you of when you were young and used to splash around in the rain in your parents’ backyard. You stop walking and Hoseok jerks back, regarding you curiously.

“You okay?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, I just…” You pause, shaking your head. “It’s silly. Never mind.”

Hoseok nudges you with his elbow, a faint smile growing on his face. “I’m sure it isn’t silly. What’s on your mind?”

“I just…” You glance past him at the heavy rainfall that slaps against the street. “I want to feel the rain.”

Hoseok’s expression turns to one of surprise. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?”

You blush, tugging lightly on his arm to get him to start walking again. “It’s dumb, never mind.”

He doesn’t budge. “It’s not dumb,” Hoseok replies quietly, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place. “Not for too long though, okay? I don’t want you to get sick.”

Hoseok then takes his umbrella and closes it, allowing the rain to fall down on you, drenching you both in a matter of seconds.

You tilt your chin up to the sky and close your eyes, basking in the sensation of the droplets on your cheeks, against your eyelids, and dampening your hair. It instantly brings you back to when you were six years old, when life was simple, and you can’t help but smile. The rain brings the smells that cement you in your childhood—fields of wet grass that you would race through in your sneakers (to your parents’ dismay), and the driveway of your childhood home where you would watch the rivulets filter down into the storm drain where your property would align with the street.

You recall all of it behind closed eyelids, and the memories have you instantly smiling with fond nostalgia.

Your eyes are still shut as a giggle escapes your lips, and then suddenly, you feel a pair of hands gripping your waist and gentle pressure against your mouth. It takes you a beat to realize it’s Hoseok, that his arms are around you, and that he’s kissing you in the middle of the sidewalk in the pouring rain.

As soon as your brain resumes functioning, you tug him closer by the soaked lapels of his coat, angling yourself slightly to deepen the kiss. Your hands rise to cup his sharp jawline, and you feel him smile slightly against your lips. The raindrops that fall against your face help to cool your skin as you feel yourself growing warmer and warmer on the inside, and you wonder if the racing heartbeat you feel belongs to you, or belongs to him.

Hoseok’s lips are slick from the droplets but neither of you seem to mind, totally wrapped up in your own little world. Reluctantly, you both pull away, your eyes glazed over slightly as breath returns to your lungs in tiny puffs.

“W-what was that for?” You have to ask, though you’re smiling so wide that you’re afraid it will split your face clean in half.

Hoseok licks his lips, a subconscious action that has your mind reeling and heat pooling between your legs. “I don’t know,” he shrugs, his arms still holding you close. “You just looked so…beautiful. And ethereal. And perfect.” He then adds, with a shy grin, “Plus, I’ve never kissed a girl in the rain before, and it’s always something I wanted to try.”

You nibble at your lower lip and move a lock of wet hair away from your face. “Worth it?”

He beams at you, eyes soft with affection. “Worth it.”

Thunder claps overhead again, and it catches you off guard. You jump just slightly in his grasp, and he chuckles, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

“Do you want to come over to mine?” He asks, sounding a little bashful. “I have an en-suite washer-dryer combo and I would feel really terrible if you caught a cold being out in the rain like this.”

You don’t even have to think twice. Grasping his hand in yours, you answer, “Lead the way.”

Send me a drabble request from this list!

[lilibug--xx]

Lemon Drops and Chocolate Chips

CHAPTER 2 

Ao3 -  chapter 1   chapter 2 

Read chapter 1 here, on Tumblr. 

Despite their interaction last week, bordering on flirty, Betty hadn’t seen Jughead since then. He still had her Tupperware container, so she supposed he would bring it back eventually. She really doubted those cookies had lasted the rest of the night with the way those three had been eating them before she even left. She was glad they enjoyed them though, could hear their groans and pleased ‘mmmm’s when she thought about it, the smiles on their faces.

She really liked baking, cooking too. It gave her satisfaction to see others eating, enjoying the things she made. Betty liked it so much that in addition to working as a freelance editor (working from home but meeting with authors, publishing houses, bookstores, as well as editing manuscripts) she started a blog online called ‘Burnt Cooper’ (it started as easy recipes for those burnt out on life – time, money, etc.) which has gained a pretty decent following and with the ads from the site she actually makes some money from it. She posts at least once daily if not more. Whether it’s about a dish she’s made from a recipe she found, one that she created herself, or a review of a restaurant or food product from a store.

She’s still saving up for a better camera than her phone. It takes decent enough pictures, but as her blog continues to grow, she’ll need something a little fancier. However a large portion of her income goes toward the student loan bills she’s been paying (and will be, it feels like) forever. The price of a good education, even with the scholarships she had acquired, was steep. Her monthly payment was almost more than her rent. It didn’t afford very many luxuries. She didn’t have a car, but did have a bike she rode or generally walked places. She also used uber if needed, though it could get pricy.

Since, Jughead had moved in she had noticed a shiny black motorcycle parked near or in front of their building most evenings when she came back from running. It had to be his. He just seemed like the type, his scent creating the picture in her mind – him on the back, cigarette between his fingers, smoke clouding around him as he leaned forward, leather stretching across his back. A hand pushing through his hair as he looked over toward her, expression a mix of cold fearlessness, pupils wide with desire. He tilted his head toward her, cigarette perched between his lips, pulled up in a smirk.

Betty blinked, reality coming back to her. She was sitting on her loveseat, plate of leftover Chinese food teetering on her lap. She righted it, placing it on the coffee table, appetite gone. Leaning her head back, she stared up at the ceiling. Why did she always have a type?

Betty hadn’t even seen Jughead in passing. She gazed curiously at his door a few times. Found herself with her fist raised, poised to knock, but always lowered her hand at the last second. She didn’t want to be a bother. So instead, each time, she slipped back into her apartment.

The silence was deafening.

A loud knocking at her door started her, she jumped, eyes moving to the door and then back to the clock on the bookshelf by her tv. It was almost 10, on a Tuesday and the front door was key only. Her heart rate started to slow a little, the thoughts of someone coming to murder her dying down.

Betty jumped up from the couch and started toward the door, got halfway there before she froze. Her feet were cold on the hardwood and she chewed her lip. Should she throw something on really quick? She was only wearing a thin pair of mid-thigh shorts (that might have kittens on them) and a white v-neck shirt – the red lace of her bra fairly visible underneath. Another loud knock on her door brought her closer, hand reaching out and pulling it open. Her pajamas were fine.

“Betty, hi,”

She blinked.

Jughead was only holding a towel around his waist, one hand clutching it closed at his hips. 

His chest was bare, his skin and hair were wet.  He was leaning against the door frame, all bare skin, and arms, and hands, lips being chewed nervously. Her throat felt dry and scratchy, her fingers clutching the door under her grasp. Damn it, why did he have to be so attractive? She brought her eyes up to his, an eyebrow raised as she stood straighter, composing herself.

“My shower isn’t working. Or, well. It was working until I got in and started washing my hair.” He explained, pointing to where there seemed to be soap suds in the locks that were pushed back on his head, colored darker with the water.

Her eyes flicked back down to his, blue eyes looking at her pleadingly.  

“You want to use my shower?” she questioned, mentally emphasizing the whole sentence, because she really couldn’t deal with this being reality right now.

“Yeah, if you’ll let me. I don’t know anyone else in the building. Plus you said ‘knock anytime’, the other day,” he started to try to run a hand through his hair, but pulled it back immediately, fingers soapy.

On instinct she wanted to scream ‘of course’, but obviously that would seem over eager. Thinking about Jughead naked in her shower, wet, possibly using her soap? Yeah, of course.

The time it took to picture him was enough that he must have thought she was leaning towards ‘no’ because he spoke again.

“Don’t make me beg,”

Maybe I want you to.

A flash of him kneeling before her, towel slipping down his waist as he pleaded with her. His fingers would disappear into the waistband of her shorts, tugging them down her thighs. “Favor for a favor..” His lips tickling her skin, as he kissed down her belly. Her fingers threading through his hair, pushing his head further down.

Betty shook her head, pushing the fantasy away. “Yes, sorry. I don’t think I’m cruel enough to let you stand around like this,” she offered, opening her door further and letting him step inside.

“Thank you, Betty. I really didn’t want to have to go upstairs and try someone up there,” He was looking around her apartment, eyes taking in the eclectic mix modern farmhouse, vintage, and pastel colors she had used in her furniture and décor. The soft click of the door closing behind her back reminding her that she was going to be all alone with him.

“Yeah, of course. Follow me,” she gestured as she walked towards the small passthrough to the right of her living room. The small room had a stacked washer and dryer and storage shelves. The door to her bedroom was open and she flicked the light on, trying not to think of the state of it.

“Pink your favorite color?” Jughead asked as he shuffled behind her, almost running into her where she stopped halfway to the bathroom. He stepped beside her, eyes sweeping over all the pink in her room. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands curled into fists, shaking slightly. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and counted to three, slowly.

“Betty?” he laid a hand on her shoulder, her eyes springing open. She gazed up as him, fingers releasing and stretching out the stiffness.

“No, not my favorite color,” she said simply, crossing the room quickly and pushing the bathroom door open. She glanced quickly at her sink counter to make sure there was nothing completely embarrassing sitting out. With an exhaled breath Betty pulled the flowered curtain back from her tub.

“So, I’m sure my shower is the same as yours. Just don’t go breaking mine now, okay?” she teased, smile on her face as he stepped up beside her, peering up at the shower head that was just a couple inches above his head height.  

“Right. Can’t promise I won’t break something, but I do promise I’ll try not to,” his words light and playful as he leaned a hand against the door, swinging it a little under his hand. Betty rolled her eyes at him, backing out of the room and catching the door from him, tugging it closed after her.

“Take your time, Jughead. I already showered earlier, so plenty of hot water,” the door clicked shut and she stepped away, further into her room. She never heard the click of the lock on the knob.

She looked around her room, fingers smoothing the wrinkles in her pastel floral bedspread.  After making her bed, she picked up a couple items of clothing she had tossed on the floor earlier in her haste to get undressed. She turned on her bedside lamp, flicking off the overhead light. The room bathed in a softer glow, the pinks reflecting the orange of her window curtains.

Betty ran a hand over the jewelry box on her dresser, pink. Fingers twirling a scarf she had curled around her full length mirror, pink. Her hamper, the shades of her lamps, the bedskirt, the blanket she had folded on her bedspread, the cozy reading chair she had tucked against the window – pink.

She sighed, hand resting on the closed lid of the jewelry box, the little treasures inside haunting her.

The sounds of the shower turning on making her think of Jughead, and him dropping his towel. She quickly left the room, heading to the kitchen. Grabbing her plate from the coffee table, she put her leftover Chinese away. She pulled out a box of brownie mix from her pantry and decided to whip it up real quick.

Betty had set the timer on the oven for 25 minutes and then set about cleaning up her dishes. She was wiping the kitchen counter down when she heard the water shut off from the bathroom. Her heart started to race a little again.

She busied herself, picking up around the living room. She changed the channel on the tv to The Golden Girls, one of her favorite shows. She had settled down on the couch with her feet tucked underneath her when Jughead stepped back into her living room. He looked much the same as before, skin slightly damp, hair wet, but his skin was flushed with heat from the water. He ran his hands through his hair like a comb, playing with the strands.

Betty realized she had only seen him with his beanie on before, and was curious what his hair looked like dry.

“Nice shower?”

“Immensely. It’s always nice when the water actually comes out. Bonus if it‘s hot,” he was striding over to the door, and she hopped up from the couch quickly.

“I’m making brownies, if you want some?” she offered, biting her lip, fingers playing with the drawstring of her shorts. His eyes lowered to her hands momentarily before shooting back up to her face. He licked his lips.

“Brownies sound great. But, Betty..” Jughead trailed off and her heart plummeted. “I gotta go put some clothes on first,” he chuckled, eyes glancing down at himself.

Her cheeks burned and she stumbled over her words. “I – shit, right. Duh. Sorry,” she sat back down on the couch and he smirked at her, slipping out her door but not closing it all the way.

She waited, poised on the edge of the couch. She kept her gaze on the tv, fingers tapping against her knees. When the timer on the oven went off Betty jumped. She held a hand over her heart, cursing silently. Why was she so twitchy?

She went to take the brownies out of the oven, putting her oven mitts on and sliding the brownies out. They were brown and golden, steam rising and filling the air with the chocolatey aroma. She placed the pan on top of the stove, closing the oven door. Mitts were stuffed back in their drawer and she was pulling out a couple bowls, spoons, and a tub of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. Warm brownies and vanilla ice cream were the perfect combination.

She was setting the bowls up, 2 scoops of ice cream in each and threw the spoons in. She had her little notepad out, making notes about the batch of Betty Crocker’s boxed brownie mix. Pulling out her phone she snapped a couple of pictures of them in the pan before slicing them into squares and placing them strategically on a teal cake plate. She snapped some more pictures.  

“Those smell fucking amazing,” Jughead’s words blew into the shell of her ear and she could feel the press of his chest against her shoulder as he leant around her to get a deeper whiff. He groaned loudly, heading falling back. Betty stayed still, even as he pulled away to lean back against the counter on the other side of the pan. She looked over to him with a smile. She hadn’t heard him come back in, nor the click of the door, or his footsteps up to her. She steadied her breathing. He smelt like her soap – vanilla and honeysuckle, the scent of his leather and cigarettes muted underneath.

He was at least wearing clothes now. Red and black plaid pajama pants, dark grey t-shirt, feet and head still bare. His hair was getting fluffy, air drying right before her eyes. He had set her Tupperware container she had given him with the cookies on the counter by the sink, though it did look like he had washed it already.

“Thank you,” she had put her phone back on the counter, depositing two brownies in each bowl beside the ice-cream.  “Milk?” she had gone ahead and pulled two glasses down from an overhead cabinet, shaking the glass at him.

“Yes, please,” he brought the bowls to her little round kitchen table, black porcelain stark against the white lace table cloth. Betty poured milk into the glasses and sat them down on the table, folding herself into the wooden chair and tucking one knee up to her chest.

Jughead was already spooning a bite of both brownie and ice-cream into his mouth. He moaned around the spoon, pulling it out clean and pointing it at her. “Will you marry me?”

Betty laughed, hands clutching her chest. It faded into a giggle and she tilted her head at him. He was smirking around another bite. “It’s literally just a boxed brownie mix, Jug. I’m sure you could make it the exact same,” she took a bit of her own, chewing the warm brownie, chocolate melting on her tongue and filling her belly with warmth.

He shook his head her though, eyes filled with mirth. “That’s where you’re wrong, Betty. I would have to have a baking pan, and eggs, and oil. And I would have to want to make them.”  

Rolling her eyes, Betty licked the bite of ice-cream from her spoon. Her eyes watching Jughead’s fixed gaze on her lips. “It’s really easy though,”  

“It’s really easy when I can come over here and just eat yours,”  

She pointed her spoon at him. “You’re pretty lucky your shower ‘broke’ then, huh?” he laughed at that, hand coming up and missing through his hair, scratching a little.

“I swear it’s broken, Betty,” they each took a drink of their milk, continuing to each their late night desserts.

“So, what do you do Jughead?” she was curious, after all.  

“Ah, I’m a photographer, actually.” He paused, chewing the rest of his food and sipping his milk again. “I do headshots, portraits, weddings, magazine shoots, anything really,” he was fingering a ring on his right middle finger. A dark metal band that looked raw, maybe homemade, with sharp points laying flat against his skin. She realized it was shaped like a crown, much like his beanie.

“That is really cool. Maybe you could give me advice on a camera to buy? I’m looking for one that’s not terribly expensive, but photographs well with mostly indoor light,”

He let out a ‘hmm’ fingers stroking his chin as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe a Canon EOS 80D, not terribly expensive but has a lot of focusing points and a popup flash if you need it,”

Betty repeated the name, getting up to grab her little notebook. Sitting back down, she scribbled the name of the camera down to look up later.

“Thanks. I’m a freelance editor, but I also run a food blog that makes a little money. I’m just taking pictures with my phone right now,” she said sheepishly, spoon scraping against the bottom of her empty bowl.

Jughead looked interested though, hands tapping against the sides of his bowl. She stood back up and grabbed another brownie for him, which he took from her happily. “No, it sounds really cool. I mean, your blog. What’s the name?” he said around a bit of brownie.

“Really? It’s called ‘Burnt Cooper’, on WordPress,” she felt nervous at the thought of him looking up her blog and reading her work, seeing her photo’s, considering his profession.

“I’ll look it up later,” he smiled at her, setting her fluttering heart at ease. Jughead had this easy quality about him, and she felt eerily comfortable around him. She smiled back, pulling her knees up to her chest, ankles crossed. Her arms hugged around her knees, fingers rubbing her cool skin.

“Cool, let me know what you think,” She was working on a post right now comparing boxed brownies, hence her choice for tonight. She chewed her lip for a moment.  

“Oh, I’ll be knocking on your door again. Trust me,” his eyes darkened and she felt a shiver run down her spine. His blue eyes running down the bare skin of her arms and legs, roaming over her chest, lingering on her lips, before he pulled up to lock his eyes with hers. “I am so fucking glad that Veronica is a pain in the ass to live with,” he sighed, sounding happy.

Betty rose an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry?”

“I used to live with Archie. Veronica moved in with him and, while I can stand her in short intervals and not invading my personal space, she is infuriating to live with,” he groaned, head falling back as he sunk into the chair, hands crossing over his stomach. “I had to leave before I killed her,”

Betty laughed, hand covering her mouth. The girl who answered the door the other day seemed nice, and she would have liked to get to know her. It seemed like her and Jughead clashed though.

“Well, I’m also glad you moved in. It was getting lonely here, that apartment has been empty for over three years,”

“Maybe that’s why the shower doesn’t work? They must have forgotten to check the apartment before renting it to me,” he said with a snort, sitting back up in the chair. His hair falling forward into his eyes, now almost totally dry. A couple of locks curling in front of his face. His hand pushed them back and she almost sighed.

“Oh, maybe?” she gave a shrug. She hadn’t seen a soul enter or exit until the day Jughead moved in.

“Well, anyway. You don’t have to be lonely anymore, you have me Betts,” he winked at her, her heart thumped loudly in her chest. She loved her name coming from his lips, but Betts sounded even better.

“Thanks, Jug,”

He looked down at the table, searching for something. He reached out and grabbed the pen she had used to write down the camera name. He scribbled some thing underneath that, laying the pen down on top of the writing. “My phone number,” he gestured, getting up from his chair. Betty also stood, heading over to the door behind him. “Feel free to text me anytime you need a taste tester,”

“Oh, so you only want to come over for food, huh?”

“Now, I didn’t say that was the only thing I’d be coming over for,” he drew his gaze down to her chest, from his angle and the way he had stepped closer to her, crowding her against the door, he could see the red of her bra against pale skin. Could see the obvious flush spreading from her cheeks down, disappearing beneath the rest of her clothes. “I like you Betts, I wanna get to know you. All of you,” he hand tugged gently on the end of her blonde pony tail.

She gaped a little at him, at a loss for words. She wasn’t used to this. “I – thanks? I want to get to know you too, Jug,” she said sincerely.

He gave a little grin at that, pulling the door open and slipping out into the hallway. “Text me, I mean it. Not just about food, even though that is the way to my heart,” he was opening his door now and they each stood leaning against their doorframes.

“Good to know,” she had kind of already suspected that. “Have a good night,” she said, glancing behind him to still see stacks of boxes hanging out in his living room.

His eyes didn’t stray from hers. “Goodnight, Betty,” he closed his door and that was the end of their conversation. With her back now against her own, she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. She buried her head in her arms, wondering if this was something worth pursuing. He was definitely interested in her. She was interested in him as well. It had just been so long since her heart was broken, she didn’t know if she could do it again.

She took a deep breath before standing up and finding her phone on the counter. She plugged in Jughead’s number and texted him a smiley face. She debated adding that it was her, but she figured it would be obvious, they had just spoken.

Immediately he texted back, his own line of emoji’s including a crown at the end. She smiled, adding that in beside his name in her contacts. Another text came in and she smiled at it.

J: Sweet Dreams, Betty

B: You too! 

J: I will, cause I’ll be thinking of you.

Betty bit her lip, climbing into her bed and snuggling into the sheets. She didn’t respond, just put her phone on her nightstand.

Maybe she could do this after all.

[nikaharper]

Unrelated Happenings in a Big Apartment Building

It was considered a regular Tuesday.

James had a productive evening, catching a quick drink with a coworker who was stuck completing a project he had moved on from a month ago. It was still as fucked as ever, and James grinned inwardly as he got the leftover fried rice out of the fridge. Time for some Hulu.

Alex had a sinus infection, again, and was resigned to laying on the patched couch full of bleary-eyeing cold medicine. He fell asleep while flipping channels and woke with memories of a strange dream about the American Revolutionary War. No more napping to the History channel.

Marielue always felt awkward in the evening, the transition between day and night, and this particular walk home had perturbed her. A discarded brown sweatshirt in the gutter had, at a glance, appeared to be a dead dog, and after a double-take she couldn't shake it from her mind. Everything became an abandoned animal corpse. She saw three more "dead dogs" and one that looked like a slain kitten, but was actually a gnarled tree root poking out of a lawn. She closed her eyes as she closed the door of her apartment, took a few deep breaths. But the rest of the night didn't fare much better. Every bit of discarded laundry was a lifeless form; she saw a skull in a bar of soap.

Naseem was cooking up a stew for dinner, and he checked his phone for texts from his girlfriend. There was a flash of pain on his forearm; he had rested it against the stew pot on the stove. He washed it under cold tap water, but it glowed a livid red. He remembered thinking it would blister, and considered taking a picture for his girl. 'This is what I go through for you!"'

Charles was out of the apartment, watching the basketball game on Ian's couch and talking too loudly about a girl he'd met that weekend. He didn't know it was too loud, though.

Amelia was plucking her eyebrows in the bathroom mirror. One, two stray hairs, grooming to the perfect shape of arched but still natural. The phone rang as she gave one last look in the mirror. Odd, that one had bled, and left a smudge of red on her dark skin. That never happens.

Caleb was doing laundry in the basement, full of coin-op machines and scuffed linoleum. He sorted the wet items into dryer-ready heaps, except one of them... That wasn't his. Maybe it was leftover from another tenant? A cotton pair of too-small boxer briefs, he was about to discard it before he remembered what happened last week. Best to put them in the trash. He bit his lip too hard as the garbage can top swung and creaked.

Jackie just woke up. Her head pounded, and she always swore Monday night drinking was the most abrasive of them all, because you'd be around people who may have no jobs or may have nothing left in life, and keeping up drink-by-drink was a hazard. She remembered some names... Michael or Mike or maybe something unusual like Makivar. One look at her phone said she was right. Skyla was asking how she felt, punctuated by emoji of which she could only see half and the rest were rectangular blocks. Then there was two missed calls from "Makkovar." She must have really liked him. She wondered if he had a job.

Kevin removed his headset. The raid wasn't going well. Wiped five times on a boss that they considered farm-status. He rubbed his eyes and didn't notice the shadow passing by his fifth-story window.

Thomas and Stephanie lay on sweaty bedsheets, panting in the glaze of newfound love. Three times that night! It wasn't even midnight. "Need anything from the bathroom?" he asked. "A towel." Stephanie turned over and smiled into the pillow, feeling the stickiness between her thighs. But it wasn't all just passion. "Um, maybe I'll... get it myself," she called, carefully rolling on her back and edging out of the bed, trying to hide the blood on her fingers. "Fuck," said Thomas from the bathroom, the lights on, "Are you okay? I mean there's—" "It's fine, I got my period, sorry sorry." Stephanie hadn't had a period in two years.

Ed was home early. It was bullshit. He pulled off his hat and cheap, dark wig, slamming himself down into his favorite lounge chair, the same chair his dad used before he died. The costume party was an annoyance at best, a disaster at worst. "IT'S FROM TRIGUN," he finally yelled out over the keg at a dumbstruck partygoer dressed as Finn. He didn't mean to scream, but Ed had never been good at environments where music was blaring and everyone was drunk by the time you arrived. He really cared about his outfit, it was good shit. A bottle of shochu washed the taste of cheap beer out of his mouth, and the remote flicked through his library to find Trigun, the episodes with Rai-Dei. He pressed 'Play.' Ed looked awesome. Fuck anyone who didn't get it.

Brandon took out the trash and found himself face-to-face with an oppossum. He hadn't recognized before how much their face looked like a skull.

Alejandro let the faucet run for a bit, waiting for hot water to make some rice. His nose was in a book, so he didn't notice that for a moment, the water ran blood red.

Makayla wasn't into that witchy shit, it seemed like stuff for dispossessed white girls. But on the websites, as fucking footnotes, there was a mention of Marie Laveau, and voodoo, and the things that called to her. She had more power here than she thought, without the fuckin' salt lamps and quartz crystals that cost nine dollars each. Nah, there was good shit in here, and it called to her. She held half a dead cigar in one hand and grabbed an oily eel filet, the best she could find at the Asian market, in the other. It jolted through her like a seizure. Something was very wrong, and very near. Makayla gasped and dropped her reagents. Nah, fuck this. She'll fry that damn eel and not fuck around with this shit anymore.

John's business worked at night. So he didn't recognize the flickering lights in the hallways, excited squawks and yelps from other apartments doors as he passed. This was all normal. Eyes followed him from the underside of dark doors, squinted through the keyholes of post boxes as he went to get his mail that evening. He paid no mind. Why should he?

Renee had the worst night. Newly single, full of glass-shard memories that hurt to remember but they were everywhere.... It was easy to exist, to do normal things in a normal life because there was a repetition that was comforting. Coming home was the awful part. Moments to rest were the awful part. She felt unloved. Worse, she knew she wasn't loved anymore. Things had ended that badly. An hour passed sitting on her bed, thinking about a bottle of wine. Any bottle. It didn't matter right now. Then it was an hour and a half. Mentally taking note of all the things in her space which SHE had touched, the candles they had lit on romantic evenings, the way the pillow still smelled like her, the dress and leggings still piled into a corner from the last time they... It was three days ago. That they touched, that they felt each other's heat and Renee felt the heartbeat of her as she lay her head on that chest, that perfect chest that held the most golden heart, the person she loved. It all seemed to be going so well.... Or well enough. Good enough. Enough to go on, to continue, to keep being in love as they were, as they had been for over a year now. Maybe Renee hadn't seen the signs. She must not have, because it all felt so sudden. Two days ago. Three days ago they had been twisting limbs in a galaxy of jersey bedsheets, and one day afterward, nothing. She wanted to wash the sheets. But she didn't dare. There was no wine, so that... couldn't have been the problem. Renee didn't take any pills, she had always been a rather healthy person but admittedly she hadn't eaten much that day and didn't plan on putting together a dinner. Her friends didn't know yet, so they couldn't provide survival comforts. It was just her, on a bed, in a tiny apartment, alone. So it wasn't wine or pills or attributed to anything particularly chemical, but it just so happens that on that night, Renee got a nosebleed. In the midst of her tears, a dark stain spread on her palms and she realized she was bleeding. It felt so dramatic, she walked to the bathroom pinching her nose and looked for the nearest towel to wipe on her face. As she removed the washcloth, a threadbare thing she would probably throw away after this incident of staining, she realized it had changed color. It was a yellow handcloth, she had wiped her hands on it for years, probably too long without replacement, but it was yellow. It was a bit blanched with wear and wash. But it was yellow. Not now. The cloth in her hands was a deep red. Renee's eyes snapped to the mirror, inspecting her face and nose—maybe she had bled a lot more than she thought— but her face was clean. The cloth stayed red. A single tear snuck from the corner of her eye... she followed its path in the bathroom reflection... and it was dark, moody, red. Like wine. She felt wet, like having walked out of a steamy shower, the air was warm and full of vapor and she could barely breathe. A drop of blood splattered the hexagonal tiled floor, but her nose felt dry. Dropping the towel, Renee watched as her fingernails pooled with thick burgundy liquid and spilled to the ground. This time the mirror showed her looking clean, and pale, and scared. The floor was splattered art, white tile and grey grout, artful splashes of deep red. Her sandals stood in pools of crimson, a steady flow easing out of the peep-toe opening. This wasn't just grief, it was worse than that. Renee knew she wasn't losing her mind. The world, like many other things, was here to blindside her, and she had no control over it.

Maybe the other tenants could have seen the sloshing red liquid in the other washing machine. The mysterious stains on the stairs. The pupils of their eyes that looked red and luminous in the mirror's reflection. The metallic tang from a bitten lip.

But it was a regular Tuesday night. Easy enough to forget, anyway.