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roosterforme · 1 month ago

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Sugar and Lace | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley had a hot wife. He went wild for you in your work clothes and his worn out shirts. You didn't need any bells and whistles to look sexy, and you never would. But now that he knew what you looked like in a little lace, he needed to have that version of you, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, drinking

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist

Bradley looked at Jake over his beer, and Jake looked right back at him. The Hard Deck was virtually empty this early on a Saturday in the middle of the blazing summer heatwave, leaving the two of them very much alone together with their drinks.

"So..." Bradley said, tracing a line through the condensation on his half empty bottle. It wasn't that he disliked Jake. Not really. But he didn't know how many times he could be coerced into hanging out with him for the sake of you having a 'girls day'. It wasn't like he could complain about work to the person who annoyed the shit out of him at work yesterday.

"So..." Jake replied, picking up his drink and chugging it before signaling to Penny for two more. When he turned back, he had a smug little smile on his face that let Bradley know he was about to get annoyed again. "I'm assuming by the way your wife looks and how fucking pussy whipped you are that she has good taste in lingerie?"

Bradley sputtered, almost knocking his bottle off the high top. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hangman. What the hell kind of question is that?" He could feel heat rising in his cheeks at the memory of you prancing around the bedroom last weekend in a lacy tie dye bra and matching boy shorts. Everything you wore was sexy.

"That's obviously what they are out shopping for," Jake drawled, handing the empties to Penny as she dropped off fresh beers. Bradley waved two fingers in a half-hearted salute and then glared at Jake as he added, "Jessica specifically asked your wife to go with her. She told me she's picking out some things for the honeymoon, and you and I both know what that means. They are trying on lingerie." His smirk was back. "Together."

Bradley swallowed hard, digging his fist into his thigh. His teeth were clenched as he said, "Stop picturing my wife in lingerie."

All he got was a jovial laugh in response. "Tell me right now to my face that you're not picturing both of them wearing something tight, cropped and lacy, and I'll stop."

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the mental image of you and Jessica in a cute little fitting room, laughing together. "God damn it, Hangman!"

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You and Jessica were crammed into a fitting room together, trying not to laugh at the enormous stacks of cute things to try on. Your pile was on the left side of the decorative bench, and hers was on the right. You knew that Jessica Reed happened to collect lingerie in every color imaginable, but she was on a quest to find some unique things to take on her honeymoon. And you were on a quest to wow your husband with something more than a bra and boy shorts for once.

Not that he complained. Not that he ever complained. Bradley went absolutely feral for you in your damn work clothes and loafers. He about lost his mind when you wore his ratty, old tie dye tee shirt to bed. He often sounded like he was going to need CPR when you put on his bathrobe and nothing else. It was hard to contain your smile when you just knew that something in this fitting room was going to blow his mind to the point that he would be rendered speechless.

"Try something on," Jessica suggested gently, and you took a step closer to your pile. "Then you'll get a better idea of what you like."

There was red, green, black, white and pink fabric. There were nightgowns, thongs, bralettes and stockings. When you reached your hand out, you hesitated, confidence wavering. This seemed a lot more challenging than solving a linear algebra matrix.

Jessica whispered, "You'll look beautiful in anything, Advanced Calculus. I can promise you that." When you kind of shrugged in response, she said, "Do you want me to wait in line for my own fitting room so you can have more privacy?"

The two of you already agreed to help each other make selections, and the last thing you wanted was to keep opening the door so everyone else could see you wearing this stuff. "No. It's not that. I just... don't really own anything like this. I mean, I have a few things, but some of this is elaborate." You glanced at her over your shoulder and winced. "And this was supposed to be a shopping trip for you! For your honeymoon! Not for me."

She shushed you and then reached into your pile and pulled out a fairly innocuous looking nightie in a soft champagne color. "Start with this. Then you'll see how hot you look, and it'll be a gateway drug to you starting your own collection that will rival mine."

"I've seen your closet," you muttered, taking the hanger from her and holding the garment up in front of your body. It was pretty. The color even complimented your hair. It was a far cry from what you usually wore to bed, but you'd give it a shot.

When you started to undress, Jessica turned around and played with her phone, which you did appreciate. All of your bumps and lumps would be on display soon enough anyway, but at least you'd have a minute to straighten yourself out. The fabric was cool and slick against your skin, and you shivered as it settled high on your thighs. When you looked in the mirror and turned, you were pleasantly surprised with the result.

"It's not bad," you said, and she looked up and gasped, green eyes wide.

"It's perfect!"

"I wouldn't go that far," you muttered, smoothing your hands along your sides.

"Well, I would. And I'm sure Bradley would, too. Do you want me to take a picture on your phone?" she asked, and you nodded while she posed you with one hand on your hip. "Like I said, perfect," she muttered as she took the photo and then set your phone down again. "Try on something else."

"Okay," you whispered, reaching blindly into your pile and pulling out a black lace corset top.

Jessica jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "I love that one. I picked one up to try it on, too."

"I don't know about this," you said, holding it up in front of the nightie. "Not sure how Beer Boy is going to like it."

"You won't know until you try it on."

With those words of wisdom, you changed from the nightie to the corset, and your immediate thought was how cute this would look under your sweaters and tweed when you were at work. And it would feel amazing. It was snug and sexy, and somehow you felt like you could kick even more ass at work if you were wearing this thing.

"What the hell?" you whispered, and Jessica turned to look at you, clapping her hands once again. "I feel like I have super powers."

"Because you do! Look at you! Please let me take another picture of you to send to Bradley."

This time you posed yourself and turned so your tattoos were visible through the lace cutout on the side. Then you stood there and admired yourself before saying, "I'm definitely buying this. Catch me wearing it to work under my cardigans in the fall."

Jessica started digging into her own pile now as you changed from the corset into a bodysuit, but when she met your eyes in the mirror, she looked like she was going to freak out.

"What?" you asked. "The bodysuit looks that bad?"

She shook her head, and pressed her lips together before almost shouting, "When were you going to tell me you have a math tattoo?"

"Oh," you replied, not sure you'd ever heard her voice reach that octave before. "Euler's Identity? I've had it since I was nineteen."

"I love how you embrace your inner nerd," she said as if she was in awe of you, and you started laughing which made her laugh. "Now send those pictures to your husband and let that man worship you."

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Bradley had just buried his face in his hands while Jake laughed when his phone went off. You hadn't even bothered to inform him that your little 'girls day outing' was a quest to make sure Jake enjoyed his honeymoon with Jessica. Honestly, Bradley kind of hoped the other man was correct in his assessment that you'd be shopping for something for yourself, too. Not that you needed it. Holy shit, you still looked like the girl he fell in love with over a decade ago whenever you wore his old Grateful Dead shirt or his robe around the house.

But now he wanted something special, too. Why should Jake get to have all the fun when it came to having his partner all wrapped up in a pretty package that was specifically meant to be removed?

"Sugar," he grunted when he saw that you'd texted him. Jake was rambling about something across the table, but Bradley couldn't hear him. He could no longer hear anything. He couldn't process thoughts or form words. All he could do was stare at the two photos you'd sent to him. "Oh, fuck."

In the first one, you were wearing a shimmery light gold colored thing that looked soft. Like maybe almost as soft as your skin. His heart hammered up into his ears as he examined every inch of it on your curves. Your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, and he could practically feel them between his lips. When he swiped to look at the second one, he abruptly stood from his stool with his phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes bugging out.

"Let me guess... your wife sent you photos?" Jake asked, clearly amused.

Instead of verbally responding, Bradley made sure his phone was tipped away from Jake as he zoomed in for a closer look. Holy hell. Your tits were being pushed up in the sexiest black lace he had ever seen. It was sinful, and now he was imagining you wearing it under one of your tweed blazers while giving a lecture. He swallowed hard, realizing he could see the tiniest bit of your tattoos through the little cutout on the side, and he actually whimpered.

"Yeah... she definitely sent you photos," Jake murmured as his own phone chimed. "Oh, Jess just sent me five."

"How did you get five?" Bradley complained, swiping back and forth, desperately looking for more. "I only got two!"

It was then that he noticed you texted him after you sent the pictures.

What do you think, Beer Boy?

Bradley laughed a bit maniacally. What did he think about the lingerie? Ha! He could barely think at all! He paced back and forth a bit, sweating as he wrote back.

You look fucking hot as hell, Sugar. If you don't bring that black top home, I think you'll break my heart.

Bradley cringed, because now Jake was the one who was whimpering. "They're sharing a fitting room," he whispered, and Bradley's eyes went wide with the realization that Jessica must have taken the photos for you. Then his eyes narrowed as he reached for Jake's phone.

"You better not be able to see Sugar in any of the pictures!"

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You and Jessica were wearing matching fluffy robes and sorting through everything you'd already tried on.

"You have to get that thing," you told her, pointing to the garters and stockings. "It fits you like a glove."

She nodded and added it to her 'yes' pile. "And you have to get the thong and bustier," she replied.

"I'm already buying four things," you reminded her. The bustier was nice, and your breasts looked good in it, but you didn't love the color very much. Besides, there was one last thing you hadn't tried on for fear of looking or feeling ridiculous, but there was a part of your brain that just knew your husband would love it.

"Missed one!" Jessica said, pulling on the bright pink fabric like she could read your mind. Always the best cheerleader, she held it up in front of your body and nodded. "It's bold, but I think you can pull it off."

You took it from her, but looked at yourself skeptically in the mirror. "I don't know... it's going to look bad. Like I'm trying too hard. I don't know why I even picked it up."

But you did know. Bradley was attracted to you in that dumb tie dye shirt like you were some sort of exotic bird whenever you put it on. All of the bright colors swirled into something that just lured him right to you. Part of it was nostalgia, sure, but you felt like there was something more as well.

"Actually, I do know why I picked it up," you told Jessica, holding the chemise closer to yourself. "Bradley really likes it when I wear his old shirt that I kind of held hostage for ten years. It's vibrant and bright, and I think this is the sort of thing he might enjoy?" You pursed your lips and sighed. "But, maybe I'm wrong, because he also just seems to like me how I am. No frills, you know? He's always been that way."

Jessica smiled. "Yes, I understand. And I hope you realize that you just described a man who is desperately in love with you, not just how you look. Sounds like the kind of man you should spoil a little bit." She tugged gently on the chemise and added, "This is a far cry from a tee shirt, but you won't know how you feel about it until you try it on."

"You're right."

Once you were out of the robe, you pulled the stretchy lace over your body, and gaped at the deep neckline as Jessica tied the satin ribbons around the back of your neck. You hadn't noticed before, but there were some yellow and orange threads woven in, making delicate swirls in the fabric. Almost like a different kind of tie dye. It actually looked stunning on you, and as you turned from side to side, you already knew you had to have it.

"I'm obsessed," Jessica said, bouncing excitedly as she clapped her hands together. "Should I take one last round of photos for you to send to Bradley?"

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Bradley was lightheaded. He sweat through his shirt, and he had his forehead cradled in his hand as he opened three photos of you wearing something so bright and pink and sexy, he wanted to lick it off of you. Everything was covered up, but barely. In the one shot, he could almost see your ass. In another, he could definitely see your pert nipples. In the other one, he could make out part of your titty tattoos.

It was a good thing Jake was staring at his own phone in amazement, because Bradley was pretty sure he was drooling and incapable of formulating a sentence. He had already written back to you, begging you to buy the pink thing. Telling you he needed it. Letting you know he wanted to peel is slowly off of your body in bed later. In fact, the last thing he sent was 'Buy everything in that whole fucking store, money is no object'. And he meant every word.

Bradley had been crazy about you for so long, and most of the appeal came from how smart you are and the fact that you weren't fussy. You let him dote on you in your work outfits. You wore his clothing around the house. You didn't need all the bells and whistles to be sexy, and you never would.

But now that he knew exactly what you looked like in black satin and colorful lace, he needed to have that version of you, too. He needed it.

"Since when does your wife have tattoos?"

Those words snapped Bradley out of his lust filled stupor, and his brown eyes bore into Jake's green ones. How did he know about your titty tattoos? When his gaze drifted back to his phone, he turned the screen toward Bradley with a grin. Apparently you had taken a photo of Jessica, in which your reflection was visible in the fitting room mirror. You were wearing a bra, and you were as covered up as you would be for a beach day, but Bradley loathed the idea of Jake having any sort of access to those tattoos.

"Hey!" Jake complained as Bradley snatched the phone and deleted the photo. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I wanted that picture of Jessica! You could have just cropped it."

"Hey, boys!"

Bradley turned in time to toss Jake's phone aside as Jessica headed through the nearly empty bar with you following behind her. There were two enormous shopping bags in your hands, and you had a smile on your face as you asked, "Ready to go home, Beer Boy?"

"Hell yes," he murmured, closing the distance to your lips and kissing you hard. "Did you buy that pink thing? And the black one?"

His hands wound around your waist possessively, and he got even more excited as you tucked the bags behind your back and whispered, "There's only one way to find out."

Bradley started guiding you to the door. "Yeah. We're going home. Right now." He ran his nose along your cheek and gave you one more sweet kiss before shouting over his shoulder, "Thanks for the beers, Bagman. Oh, and Jessica, I need you to crop your photos better next time you take my wife shopping."

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I love Beer Boy for making Sugar feel so good about herself every day. She's a badass, and he knows it. I wrote this as a little wedding treat for @je-suis-prest-rachel Congratulations, Rachel! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

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sakuravalelp · 5 months ago

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A dream land - DP X DC Prompt

Okay, so I was thinking about that episode "Perchance to dream" where Bruce is trapped in a dream world and this, even thought really different, came to my mind.

Danny is king or prince of the infinite realms. He's been working on personalizing/decorating his castle in the infinite realms. When he feels someone walking just outside the castles walls. The thing is, that someone isn't a denizen, they aren't in a corporeal body, but he can feel that they are very much alive and feel distinctly human. He approaches the person to ask why and how they are in the infinite realms, but they fade away before he gets the opportunity.

Clockwork, who was with him at the moment, tells him that the visitor from the living, was just the soul projection of someone that was sleeping, and then refuses to elaborate further. Since it's something that was to do with sleeping, Danny decides to go and ask Nocturn, it seemed like a reasonable assumption that he was the one at fault for the soul projection.

Contrary to what he thought, Nocturn informed Danny that Sleeping soul projection was a natural phenomenon that he didn't control. The land of dreams, ("My domain" - Nocturn reminds him), was in the infinite realm after all, and those who have been close to death sometimes slipped they're whole soul instead of just their mind, and ended up all over the infinite realms.

It isn't too different from a lucid dream for them, the body gets all the benefit of the sleep, the mind feels rested if they had a good time in the realms. Except, if they hurt their soul too bad during their little trip, it would have real consequences. Loosing memories, abilities regression, migraine, pain that reflects the soul damage, all either temporary until the soul healed, or permanent and deteriorating, and in some occasions finishing in the persons death. In the latter, the soul is usually too damaged and cease it's existence, or have enough ectoplasm and emotion to form into ghosts with crack cores whose existence is instantly in danger.

Danny clearly didn't like the image that was painted to him, so he asked Nocturn if there was really nothing that he could do. It took a lot of talking and convincing, but eventually Nocturn admitted he could be able to direct the soul projecting to appear on a certain place, but he refused to babysit anyone. Which was enough for Danny, all he needed to do was make another expansion in his castle.

He decided to make a garden to receive their soul projecting guests. The garden was enormous, with all kinds of spaced within it. Playgrounds, picnic spaces, soft benches, tables with ghost and space teamed board games, fountains, and of course, the beautiful flowers that surrounded and decorated the place. Once he got ghosts with gardening, protection and caring obsessions on the place to look out for the souls, he was ready to receive them. It took him by surprise the amount of people that came, the garden was never crowded, but was never empty either, and souls of all ages and places were visiting at all times.

He kept expanding the garden as he heard of new things their guests wished for. He enjoyed spending time in the middle of the garden where souls passed by but rarely appeared, it was calm, but not completly quite with the background noice of the soul enjoying their dreams, and he could do the more mundane king/prince work. Until, he starts getting a regular visitor on his little space of the garden.

Choose the DC character you prefer, my idea is for people who hasn't died in the past but has been in the doors of death (so died and came back would be disqualified but you do as you prefer), but I'm going with Tim.

The soul of a boy around his age appears just in front of him, as usual when he greets new arriving soul, he welcomes him with a gentle smile and tells him he is free to explore the garden. A ghost taker is assign to him. The soul, as usual, seems confused and like he wished to asks questions, but seems content to ask them to his tour guide, and Danny continues with his own duties.

But then, the same soul continues to appear in the same place every two or three days, they exchange greetings and every time talk for a bit longer before the boy leaves to explore once more. It's rear to have multiple visits from one soul, even more so for said soul to appear in the same place every time. By the four time, Danny decides to take a break on his royal duties and accompany his new friend.

~ They get close, and have cute scenes, Tim asks a lot of questions and Danny answers and not-answers a lot of questions ~

One day, Tim shows up as usual, but he is in full Red Robin costume, and well, Danny wasn't expecting an identity reveal.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On the Bats side:

There's an attack of some villain that's able to put Red Robin (or character of your choice) on a sleeping beauty type of sleep while carrying a serious injury, were he stays sleep until teammates or backup gets him out of it. The event affects his soul, making him disconnect partially from the land of dreams and making his soul sleep project almost every time he sleeps.

Tim starts sleeping more often. It's worrying at first, Bruce being paranoid does every test in the book, despite Tim saying he's just finding sleep easier now. But, he was just affected by sleeping magic and suddenly his sleeping easier? Seems like a side effect, and that makes it worrying.

Tim's health in general improve, just like he's concentration and productivity. Who would have thought that working rested actually was more productive than working on less than three hours of sleep and missing obvious details and clues due to how tired you are.

With everything not only being okay, but better than before, paranoia about Tim's new sleeping schedule soon dies, and instead is replaced with teasing about how he used to refuse to rest kicking and screaming, and now he may sleep more than any of them.

On Tim's side, he's loving being able to soul project so often. He knew from the start he was in a different dimension, and he just wanted to know the hows, whys, and everything else. So far, he seems to do it at least once every three days, and he's even gone two times in a row a couple of times.

The garden had a lot of things to do, but Tim doesn't care about that, he's more interested in all the information he's getting. The first 3 times he was given different ghost nanny's, who were more focus on entertaining him and didn't really answer direct question. But then king/prince Phantom decided to accompany him personally, and everything went smoother. He was going back to get to know more about this new world, and maybe to know more about the cute prince/king too. He might also have gotten some better looking pajamas.

Now, he has a mission that takes more than a couple days with some people in his team that hasn't yet sen his face. He didn't realize how difficult it would be to do all nighters after getting used to a sleep schedule. He would usually try to go as long as possible without sleeping, but he decides that he should take advantage of the safety of where they're staying and sleep a bit too. He ended up soul projecting in full Red Robin costume. He tried to play it cool, maybe Phantom wouldn't know it was him.

"Red Robin, even if you didn't appear on the same spot as always, I can feel your soul. I know who you are."

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604to647 · 2 months ago

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Red Herring

3.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You make Detective Rockford a Halloween costume.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous), lingerie, semi-public sex, desk sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV, bad puns, half-assed costumes.

A/N: Since The Rockford Portfolio was born from @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge this summer, I thought it was only fitting to write the same couple for Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge (as always though, the stories in the collection can be read standalone ☺️)! Tim's hatred of Halloween is heavily influenced by Amy Santiago from Brooklyn 99 🤭🤭 Happy Halloween and spooky season everyone!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘 / Series Masterlist

Tim was right. Halloween at a police precinct is a mess.

The streets outside are absolute mayhem, crawling with costumed Halloween revelers stumbling and celebrating in various states of undress and inebriation. No one seems to care that they’re causing a ruckus right outside of a building full of cops. Even walking up the stairs to the main doors, you had found yourself side stepping at least two incidents of vomit, and you still feel a little worried about leaving the trio of drunk Power Puff girls on the bench outside even though they had giggled that they were fine when you asked. There’s no safer place for them to be, you suppose.

The inside of the precinct is no less chaotic than it is outside. It’s exactly as Tim had described. You chuckle to yourself as you pass a couple of patrolmen headed out as Jedi Knights and think back to your conversation earlier this month when Tim told you he would be working on Halloween.

Curled up in Tim’s lap, you’re scrolling through TikTok as he watches some police procedural on the TV that he keeps grumbling at when you come across a few spoopy videos, “Do you think you might want to do a couples costume for Halloween, Detective?”

Tim actually grimaces. He hates Halloween with a passion, “Oh Shutterbug, I’m so sorry – I have to work Halloween. I work every Halloween.”

“Every Halloween?”

“Yeah - ugh. Halloween is honestly such a gong show. People think costumes make them invincible for some reason,” he closes his eyes and scowls at the memory of Halloweens past. “Every patrolman works overtime and is out on the streets breaking up fights, putting people in the drunk tank, getting drunk drivers off the streets.”

He’s not done; Tim brings his paw of a hand to his face and massages it in irritation, “The entire detective squad comes in to help process every idiot that’s brought in: DWI. Underage Drinking. Disorderly Conduct. Assault. Vandalism. Trespassing. Theft. You name it, gorgeous. Halloween is a fucking mess.”

You chuckle a little, you’re not used to seeing your normally unflappable detective so out of sorts, nevermind at the mere thought of a children’s celebration.

“Does everyone hate Halloween like you?”

Tim cracks a smile at this, “No one hates things the way I hate things.” This has you giggling – Tim can be terribly grumpy. “I guess not everyone. The precinct gets decorated and there is a costume contest.”

“Oh!” You perk up at this, “And they arrest people in costume?”

“Might as well,” Tim’s face screws up in annoyance again, “It’s not like anyone respects the uniform on Halloween. You have better luck getting compliance as Godzilla.”

For a second, you imagine Tim sulking behind his desk, filling out public intoxication reports dressed as Batman and you have to stifle a snort of laughter, “But not you though? You don’t dress up?”

“Nope.”

“What’s the costume contest prize?” your eyes twinkle.

“No, nope,” Tim kisses the nose that you’ve scrunched up in mischief, “What do you plan on doing for Halloween, Shutterbug?”

You look thoughtful, the truth is you’re not really up for anything too exciting this year, “I’m probably going to volunteer at the library to give out candy, then I told the girls I’d meet up with them at a pub for some food and drinks. Then they’ll head over to a bar or club or something that’s hosting a Halloween party and I don’t really want to do that. Maybe I could come hang out with you?”

“Of course you can, baby. But just be prepared, it’s going to be messy.”

The bullpen is loud – every desk is occupied by a dog tired, costumed detective taking down statements, yelling into their phone, or typing aggressively away on their computer – some of them doing all three. The holding cell is overflowing, and the occupants are either wildly indignant about their detainment or completely unphased and appear to be continuing whatever reveries that had brought them in from behind bars. There is no in between.

The commotion is so much more unruly than it usually is; it might be unsettling, except for how comical it is to see Tim’s colleagues in various costumes doing their very serious jobs. At a quick glance you see: a bumblebee, a Pikachu, two pirates, an Aquaman, and three Howls from Howl’s Moving Castle.

The juxtaposition of these outfits to the cacophony in the room is hilarious. You spot and wave to Tim’s partner, Detective Arnold Calloway, who’s dressed as Elvis on your way to Tim’s office.

Tim’s door is open but before you announce yourself, you take a moment to ogle your handsome boyfriend as he types, brows furrowed in concentration at his computer. He’s not in costume but you can’t complain – Tim's usual crisp white dress shirt stretches taut across his broad frame, his hunched shoulders restrained slightly by the unforgiving leather of his gun holster. His tie is loose but it’s the only thing that’s loose - Tim’s rolled up shirt sleeves strain to contain his beefy arms, and from where you stand, you can see his exposed forearms flex tightly with every furious punch to the keys on his keyboard. Even without a costume, Tim Rockford looks like a superhero.

“Happy Halloween, Detective.”

The smile that breaks across Tim’s face when he looks up and sees you is nothing short of breathtaking, it sends a blooming warmth through your chest that quickly winds its way down between your legs.

“Happy Halloween, Shutterbug. How’s your night going so far?”

“Pretty fun! The library had so many kids coming in – I gave out so much candy! And dinner was good – the girls say hi. What about you, baby?” You walk around Tim’s desk and lean down to place a sweet kiss to his lips before massaging his weary shoulders.

Tim sighs, “As good as can be expected for this godforsaken holiday. I’ve been to the hospital for interviews twice, and now I’m processing a mountain of misdemeanors.”

You ghost your lips behind Tim’s ear and smile when the little puff of air you blow makes him groan. Planting chaste kisses to the back of his neck as you continue kneading the hard muscles of his back, you chirp mischievously, “I have something that could make your evening more fun, Detective.”

Tim leans back and spins his chair around to face you, smirking, “Oh yeah? What’s that, Shutterbug?”

Chuckling, you reach into your purse and take out a headband with two springs coming out the top like antennae and hold it out to Tim.

“What’s this?”

You point to the tops of the springs: on one you’ve glued an empty packet of Trident gum, and to the other is affixed a small dog toy in the shape of a shoe that you had found at the dollar store. Giggling, you place the headband over Tim’s head and tuck the ends behind his ears, “It’s your costume, Tim. You’re a gumshoe.”

Tim groans and drops his face into his palm. The resulting bounce of the little objects over his head makes you giggle even harder, “See? You were already dressed up and you didn’t even know it.” You wave you hand over Tim’s body.

Detective Rockford peeks through his fingers and when he sees your impish grin and how much joy your mischief is bringing you, he can’t help but grin himself, “Alright, gorgeous. Where’s your costume, then?”

Delighted at how easily Tim’s given in to your silliness, you reach back into your purse and pull out your own headband – a red one with similar antennae to match his black, but at the end of each of your springs is a little plastic fish, swaying and jiggling erratically as you slip the band onto you head and jovially announce, “A red herring for my dashing gumshoe to chase!"

Tim lets out a low gruff of a laugh, one that crinkles the eyes that are already always soft for you, his smile as relaxed as his shoulders now are, “Where’s the rest of your costume? Shouldn’t you be wearing red?” He teasingly does the same waving motion you did to him earlier over your closed trench coat jacket.

If possible, your smile gets even wider when you reply, “I am! You want me to show you?”

“Sure, baby.” To Tim’s surprise, instead of opening your jacket, you coyly saunter over to his office door, closing then locking it. On your way back to him, you start to undo the knot of your jacket belt, letting the lapels of your jacket fall open to reveal the sexist red lace lingerie set Tim’s ever seen in his life. As you slide between Tim and his desk, perching gingerly on the edge, you snicker at your boyfriend’s drooling expression.

“Trick or Treat, Detective Rockford?” you flirt, fingers hooked under the warm leather straps of Tim’s gun holster, lightly tugging to beckon him closer. He obeys.

Hypnotized, Tim slowly brushes his fingers over the frill of the delicate fabric that lays tantalizingly over your delicious curves – leaving goosebumps on your supple skin everywhere his hands graze, and even places they don’t. He unwittingly licks his lips at your pert nipples, already at attention and tenting the crimson red floral lace that hug your tits so prettily – Tim can’t help himself; leaning forward in his chair, he takes one in his mouth.

The soft gasp that you let escape exhales to a throaty groan as you feel Tim’s hands travel down your body; they come to a momentary rest at your hips - tugging teasingly at the ruffled skirt of the garter belt before trailing down the straps. As he rubs the bands that loop around your mid thighs between his thick fingers, Tim chuckles into your chest, “Is that what you wore at the library, baby?”

You giggle uncontrollably and shake your head, little fish above your head dancing wildly on their springs as you push back a little to show Tim how you’re still wearing your modest, library appropriate red dress, but that it’s been unbuttoned and left open under your trench coat. Eyebrow cocked in amusement, Tim hooks his fingers into and pulls down the cups of your bra before diving back in, and you think you hear him mumble something like Dirty girl, through his mouthful of your breasts.

“You never answered my question – trick or treat, Detective Rockford?”

With some reluctance, Tim parts from the softness of your tits to lean back in his chair, ogling your near naked form shamelessly while he pretends to contemplate his response. Finally, he scootches his chair forward and cups one of his powerful hands beneath your boobs and presses so that you lean back – his other pries open your legs so you can accommodate the expansive width of his shoulders.

“I think you already chose ‘treat’ for me, Shutterbug.”

Your girlish squeal as Tim lays a sweet kiss to your clit through the thin fabric of your panties is louder than you’d like and you quickly cover your mouth with a hand in order to muffle it. As Detective Rockford open mouth kisses your panty clad cunt, your eyes roll to the back of your head and the flatness of your palm becomes insufficient to contain your escalating moans – when Tim pulls the gusset of your underwear to the side, the snap of cool air hitting the wetness of your exposed core pulls a cry from your throat that can only be stifled by biting down on the heel of your thumb.

The sting from your teeth causes you to buck into Tim’s face and from that moment forth, there’s no holding back his animalistic lust. Tim licks fat stripe after fat stripe through your folds to the tip of your hardened nub – every new path made by his tongue dug deep and true. Your pooled arousal is collected and swirled over your sweetest dips and waves, then sucked and savoured in his mouth like his favourite whiskey. It might actually be. Tim’s own groans and growls at the sweetness of your taste vibrate right into your cunt and straight to the tightening band beneath your belly.

Eyes taking in the lascivious sight above him, Tim’s dick strains painfully in his pants: his pretty girl is laid near bare and gorgeous, tits bouncing while her face screws up in pleasure, mouth stuffed with her own fist. You're a true heaven that contrasts starkly to the hell of mundane paperwork that Tim thought would make up the bulk of his Halloween shift, still sitting next to you on the very same desk you’re currently writhing on.

With a feral grunt, Tim tongue fucks your slit while his nose and the elastic hem of your pulled back panties work your slippery clit in tandem. He builds and builds until he knows you can’t take anymore, then pushes you over the edge with the tenor of his baritone command to come.

You crest with a wild cry that’s barely contained by your now aching and wet hand, drool running down your wrist as your body shudders with wave after wave of indescribable pleasure.

Only when he feels your lithe body settle does Tim rise to his feet and undo his belt. Lips and facial scruff still shiny with your release, he grins a wolfish grin, “Now it’s time for 'trick', gorgeous.”

Kissing you roughly, Tim busies himself with pulling out his leaking cock as you return his affections just as fiercely, spurned on by the taste of you in your own mouth. He pulls back to clean his face with the back of his arm, and you whimper when you unsuccessfully chase after his lips.

“No need to be greedy, Shutterbug. Your Detective is going to fuck you now,” smirks Tim, notching himself at your entrance and sliding in with ease.

The heft of him still leaves you breathless every time. When you look up at Tim, you find his face relaxed in a look of reverence that tells you he feels the same about the welcome of your warm walls.

“Going to fuck you hard and fast, 'kay baby? Don’t have much time. Can’t have anyone coming in and seeing my pretty girl split on my cock” Tim’s mouth slots over yours and he drinks in your moans at his dirty promise. One of Tim’s meaty hands grips your hip so hard you know he’ll leave a bruising imprint of his desire for you to find tomorrow, the other grabs your lacy garter belt like a cowboy would the reins of his horse; as he starts to ride you, every punishing drive of Tim’s cock leaves you marveling that the delicate fabric doesn’t rip to shreds under his efforts.

“Fuck me, Detective,” you breath, nipping and sucking along Tim’s strong jaw to behind his earlobe where he’s most sensitive. Sticking out your tongue to lick down the column of Tim’s throat, your mouth jolts against Tim’s bobbing Adam’s apple as he continues to thrust into you like a man possessed. The scrape of your teeth and the soothing lave of you tongue over the responsive skin at the base of his neck, cause Tim to groan, low and throaty. When your fingers thread through his soft curls and yank down so to expose more of his neck to your sinful mouth, he retaliates by reaching for your breasts, roughly kneading and worshiping before directing his attention to your nipples.

Without letting up on your sopping hole, Tim rolls and pinches, pulls and tweaks your pert peaks, all while gritting out dirty words of praise:

Pretty thing came to a police precinct tonight to get fucked, didn’t she?

So fucking hot in your little outfit, gorgeous just for me.

This pussy's made my whole fucking night, baby.

You can only hope that your near pornographic wails are adequately buffered by the thickness of Tim’s chest, as you bury your face against the wall of him. The combination of your tight and slick cunt and the added friction of your panties, now soaked with your cream and pressed taut against his cock, has Tim on the expressway; when his pace starts to grow frantic, he leaves your perfect tits to press his thumb down on your clit.

“Oh fuck, Tim! Fuck, I’m going to c-” Tim’s solid and comforting circles on your crying nub are enough to send you over the edge again. Your heaving breaths against his neck and the fluttering of your walls as they clamp down on his length send Tim barreling to join you soon after.

Hands still in Tim’s hair, you card through his dampened waves as the two of you rest forehead-to-forehead, exchanging tender butterfly kisses and soft words of devotion during the comedown from your twin highs.

Knock, knock.

“Rockford.” It’s Arnie.

Tim slips out of you and tucks himself back in before walking to his door, waiting with his hand on the handle to make sure you’ve had time to right and button up your dress before he opens the door to see what his partner wants.

“Rockford, do you have that repor- What’s that?” Detective Arnold Calloway’s eyes widen and he points to the still bobbling springs on the headband that Tim never took off his head.

Tim has no words.

Your hand flies to your mouth and you barely contain the hysterical giggle that threatens to escape. Arnie looks past Tim right at you, and his face breaks out in the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. His eyes dance with mirth and you can’t help but blurt out the answer to his unspoken question, “He’s a gumshoe!!!” The two of you shriek in laughter as Tim stands stiffly, eyes closed in disbelief, willing himself to disappear.

You bound up to the door and loop one arm around Tim’s waist, the other you arch to point to your own headband, beaming, “I’m the red herring in his case!”

Arnie nearly drops the files in his arms to hold his stomach as he cackles, “Perfect costumes! Never thought I’d see the day when Rockford dressed up for Halloween! Forget the report – I need a picture.”

“No pictures,” Tim practically bellows as he storms back to his desk in a huff, headband adornments swinging wildly.

Winking at Detective Calloway, you whisper, “I’ll get a picture,” before you walk back into Tim’s office and settle in on the couch. Tucking your legs under your bum, you pull out the book you checked out of the library earlier before looking up to your sweet boyfriend who's gone back to typing his reports as if he wasn't just ravaging you on that same desk minutes earlier, “Love you, Detective Rockford.”

Tim glances up at the sweet angel who willingly keeps him company on this horrid night and makes it decidedly less horrid; giving you a soft smile, he winks, “Love you more, Shutterbug.”

The Monday following Halloween, you’re putting the finishing touches on dinner when Tim comes home, carrying a large box that he deposits on the kitchen counter with a look of pride and amusement.

“What’s this?” you ask with curiosity, giving Tim a deep welcome home kiss before opening the package to discover a case of wine.

To your gleeful howl of laughter, Tim tells you that he won the precinct Halloween costume contest this year.

You’re looking through the box, picking up the bottles and reading the labels. Malbec. Gamay. Beaujolais. Barbarossa. You take out a bottle of Nebbiolo that you think might work with dinner and exclaim in delight, “Congratulations, Detective! This is a great prize!”

Tim sweeps you into his arms and presses his lips to your pretty pout for a searing kiss, murmuring, “I got a better one right here.”

Visual aids for this instalment:

#Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge #tim rockford #tim rockford fic #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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afra-blueraz · 3 months ago

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|| Diabolik Lovers Secret Memories Headcanons ||

Shu knew Yui since childhood and was secretly in love with her.

He and Yui were best friends at school when they were teenagers and secretly dated each other.

Shu was from a noble family, that's why he hid his love for Yui from everyone.

Their memories and secret dates continued for years.

Shu always dated Yui in one of the farthest cafes in the city and always brought her flowers as a gift.

One day he held her hand in a flower shop and kissed her for the first time and proposed to her.

They run away together to start their romantic life away from the hustle and bustle of others.

Reiji first met Yui at university.

Yui was a beautiful, dignified and very hardworking girl.

Yui and Reiji always met each other in the university library.

Yui always got help from Reiji for her studies.

Over time, Reiji fell in love with Yui and the two started dating.

Reiji always invited Yui to the park, library and cafe.

One day Reiji proposed to Yui in a park with a bouquet of flowers and a beautiful ring and gently hugged her and kissed her lips.

Reiji introduced Yui to his family and introduced her as his future wife.

Ayato is one of the bad boys in high school that all the girls liked.

But he secretly had a crush on one of the most beautiful and cutest girls in his class, but he never revealed it.

He always teased and bullied Yui.

But when no one sees them, he kisses her and smiles at her.

No one knew about Yui and Ayato's relationship. They only spent time together after finishing school and sometimes went to the cinema together.

On one of the rainy nights when the two of them were under the rain, Ayato threw his jacket over Yui's head and kissed her.

and told her that she will be only Ayato's forever.

Kanato was a boy who had no friends because of his mental problems.

Yui was the only one who was kind to him and loved him.

Kanato loved Yui. More than anyone else.

In his opinion, Yui was as beautiful as dolls.

Yui and Kanato used to go to the doll shop together and Yui decorated various dolls for Kanato.

Kanato had a rich family bought Yui a lot of clothes because he wanted her to be beautiful like dolls.

On Valentine's Day, Kanato buys a teddy bear for Yui and kisses her and expresses his love to her.

Laito fell in love with Yui from the first day he saw her and kept flirting with her.

Yui was very shy at first, but when their relationship became serious, Yui gradually got used to it.

Laito's favorite place to hang out with Yui was in the park, and every time they sat on the bench and talked, Laito would kiss Yui's cheek every time Yui smiled.

Laito had told Yui many times that he would like to date her at home to do exciting things, but Yui was embarrassed and refused every time.

Finally, on an autumn day while they were sitting in the park and watching the orange leaves, Laito kissed Yui and proposed to her.

Subaru had a crush on Yui from the first time he met her.

Known as the scary and lonely high school boy, Subaru had no friends.

But he saved Yui many times from school bullies and blushed every time he looked at her.

Yui kissed his cheek every time to thank him and Subaru blushed more and just shouted.

They always saw each other in the school gym.

Yui always liked to share her food with Subaru because apparently Subaru didn't have any food with him.

Yui was the one who took the lead in inviting him and invited him for a walk several times.

Finally, on a rainy day, while they were taking shelter in a small store with wet clothes, Subaru wiped the raindrops on Yui's cheek with his finger and kissed her lips and proposed to her.

Ruki was a genius in high school and Yui was his classmate.

Yui and Ruki were grouped together in a school project.

They met in the school library to work on this project.

Yui admired Ruki a lot and always tried to help him.

According to Ruki, Yui was a very cute and clumsy girl, but he praised her efforts.

Ruki gradually became interested in Yui and asked her for date.

Their dates were usually in libraries or book cafes where they could spend time together in a quiet place.

With the passing of time, Ruki became very fond of Yui's sweet and kind personality and gave her the title of angel.

Ruki always brings Yui chocolates and books as gifts.

One day in a quiet library, while Yui was explaining her favorite book to Ruki and smiling sweetly, Ruki gently grabbed Yui's waist and pulled her towards him and kissed her lips.

Ruki gave Yui a ring and proposed to her on a spring day at a spring festival where they were both wearing kimonos.

Kou was a famous Japanese idol who secretly had a crush on his classmate Yui Komori.

But because of his job, he had never announced this publicly.

One day, while wearing a mask so that no one would recognize him and walking in the city, he saw Yui staring at his billboard.

He was so excited that he decided to announce it on the TV show and introduce Yui as his crush.

Kou had confessed to Yui at school and Yui was very embarrassed.

Kou repeatedly invited Yui to the Carnival and park.

The two of them had a very good relationship and most of their dates were secret, and Kou wore black clothes and a mask in most of the dates so that no one would recognize him.

But some time later, Yui was harassed by Kou's fangirls in social media.

This upset Kou so much that he quit his job and ran away with Yui to another city.

They started a happy life together and after two years, Kou proposed to Yui in a park while kissing her.

Yuma first met Yui in the school greenhouse.

Each of the students had a responsibility and Yui was in charge of the greenhouse. Yuma also joined Yui.

The school's greenhouse didn't have a good situation, but after months of Yuma and Yui's efforts, it revived.

Yuma gradually fell in love with Yui and their secret dates were in the greenhouse.

Finally, one day Yuma kissed Yui in the greenhouse and expressed his love for her.

Azusa was a strange boy who was always bullied by students because of his strange behavior.

Yui defended him once and that made Azusa fall in love with Yui.

At first, Azusa was very clingy and this scared Yui.

But as time passed, Yui realized how sweet and kind Azusa is and fell in love with him.

Azusa and Yui's dates were in the school art class and secretly so that no one would disturb Azusa.

Azusa always gave his handmade gifts to Yui.

One day, while Azusa had invited Yui for a walk in a park, he took her hand in his and kissed her and proposed to her.

Carla was a transfer student who apparently came from an noble family.

All the students were afraid of him and no one wanted to be in his group except Yui.

Yui was paired with Carla in the school project and helped him a lot.

Carla found Yui charming and kind and liked her sweet and kind personality.

Carla invited Yui to his family mansion and confessed to her in a lavish dance ceremony.

Some time passed and Carla bought a lot of expensive gifts for Yui and they had many dates together.

Several years later, at a family dance, Carla got down on one knee in front of Yui and proposed to Yui, and kissed her when Yui accepted.

Shin was a transfer student from a noble family.

Unlike his older brother, he did not behave like an noble at all and was a noisy student.

He was very scary and all the students were afraid of his bullying.

The only one who stood up to his abuse was Yui.

The fact that a petite girl didn't obey him bothered Shin a lot, and he tried to bully Yui more, but it didn't work.

Shin decided to tease Yui in another way, that's why he decided to play the role of her lover.

One day he confessed to her but Yui refused.

Shin got more and more annoyed by Yui's behavior but decided to trap Yui in the secret places of the school and punish her.

But every time he did that, he found himself unable to tease her until one day he couldn't control himself and kissed her.

Kino was a student who did not have a good relationship with his family and his only friend was Yui.

He was friends with Yui since childhood and their friendship continued until high school.

Since Kino had a family issues, Yui's affection gave him a good feeling and he fell in love with Yui from an early age.

But he never told her anything.

One day, Kino invited Yui to a game club and confessed to Yui there.

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munson-blurbs · 9 months ago

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie's rejection made you question your own hopes and dreams, but the consequences were even more dire for him. (3.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, depiction of alcoholism, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter three: turn the lights back on

Eddie left during Dad’s shift on Friday. Over the years, there were more than a handful of guests who’d put up a fight when check out day arrived, but he wasn’t one of them.

When you’d inquired about his departure, as nonchalantly as you could, Dad only said that Eddie had signed the log and walked off without any formal goodbye.

“What time?”

“Six-thirty, or thereabouts. No later than seven.”

Almost as if he’d waited for you to clock out. Purposely avoiding you.

You shrugged off the thought, chastising yourself for taking a harmless coincidence so personally. Maybe he had to be somewhere early or wanted to beat the rush hour traffic. Maybe he didn’t even take your presence—or lack thereof—into consideration.

He did, however, swipe the blanket from his bed, leaving behind just the pillow and a rumpled sheet. Disappointment wove its way through your veins at its finality. He was simply another guest, another face stored in the depths of your memory with some many other one-timers.

Making a mental note to replace the blanket before the summer crowd arrived, you stripped the remaining sheet and pillowcase and made the bed with clean ones. The fabric was so worn that it was nearly transparent, barely concealing the litany of stains that decorated the old mattress.

Eddie didn’t appear to have added any to the collection. That was something, you supposed.

Your Friday and Saturday evenings were always spent the same way: watching groups of friends traipse up and down the boulevard, laughing at jokes that were only funny because everyone was on the right side of tipsy. Rain or shine, teenagers could always be counted on to frequent the local bars and liquor stores that didn't bother to check for identification.

Sundays brought the usual sense of existential dread; the week ahead was daunting and the week prior was a blur of exhaustion. A new guest checked in, an older woman who’d missed her flight out of LaGuardia and needed a place to stay until the next plane took off in the morning. You almost put her in room four, the key temptingly dangling from its hook, but you plucked the one for room three instead.

And then Monday arrived, baring its ugly teeth in a menacing grimace. It exhaled a rancid puff of morning breath, the same smell that belched from the bus’s tailpipe.

Backpack sagging low with the weight of overpriced textbooks, you dragged yourself towards the bus stop. Your only reprieve is that today marked the last week of classes. All that remained after that was finals week, and then you were done.

The typical small collection of commuters greeted you in traditional New York City fashion: tired half-smiles with a respectful lack of eye contact that you reflexively reciprocated. One of the older men sat on the bench, but the normally empty spot next to him was occupied by none other than Eddie Munson. He kept his guitar case safely clenched between his thighs, his garbage bag suitcase leaning against his left leg.

Curiosity nudged you and wormed its way into your thoughts. Where was he going? Was he staying at a different motel, one that had cable so he could watch MTV whenever he needed?

Or maybe he was en route to Port Authority so he could high-tail it back to not-New York, to his hometown where people considered it polite to strike up conversations with strangers.

Wherever his destination was, it was no longer your problem.

If he noticed you, he gave no indication. His vacant stare never left the ground, vaguely looking up one time to light a cigarette. He cupped a hand around the flame, blocking his view of you.

It was probably better that way.

The bus hissed as it pulled up to the stop and the doors hinged open to let passengers board. Would he sit next to you? Would he position himself as far away as possible? Or was he wholly indifferent, regarding the exchange as out of sight and out of mind?

Taking a seat towards the back, you searched for him in the sea of faces. You could apologize, explain you were only trying to help and never meant to embarrass him, and the two of you could part ways knowing that you didn’t look down on him.

But there was no sign of the frizzy curls that he wore like a crown, no guitar case inching into the aisle. For all intents and purposes, this bus was an Eddie Munson-free zone.

A disappointed ache settled in your chest and you massaged your sternum in hopes of alleviating it. When the driver turned the wheel away from the curb, you caught a glimpse of Eddie through the fingerprint-smudged window, sitting on the bench just as he had since you’d arrived.

Except this time, he was looking directly at you. It was intentional; he’d seen you waiting at the stop and waited until conversation was an impossibility before daring to glance your way.

He averted his gaze the moment your eyes locked onto his. It was so fast that you worried that you’d imagined it. A sleep-deprived hallucination, even.

You didn’t stop looking even as the bus left the stop. You watched him toss his cigarette butt to the ground and crush it with the sole of his sneaker. You watched him take another one and place it between his lips. You watched trembling fingers dig into his jacket pocket and take out the lighter once again.

He was out of sight before you could see a spark.

Excitement hummed through campus, a live wire that electrified even you. It was hard to ignore the end-of-semester buzz, especially with the sun warming the air in a soft spotlight.

Other students sat on the quad, blankets tucked underneath them as they ate lunch with friends. Their mouths moved in conversations about exam cramming and upcoming parties and post-graduation plans. You wanted to bottle their lightheartedness and carry it around with you, dipping into it when life got too serious and dabbing it on your pulse points like perfume.

Fluorescent bulbs replaced the natural light as you walked the hall towards the classroom. You slid into your usual spot and placed your bag on the adjacent chair to reserve it for Nora. Until she arrived, you’d be left alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Great.

The memory of the other night, of Eddie’s sullen expression and the way his lips hardened into a frown, was a stone in your stomach.

How could he think that you pitied him, looked down on him for his circumstances? Wasn’t it obvious from the motel’s disrepair that you weren’t exactly living in the lap of luxury either? And yet, he’d perceived your attempt at an alliance as some sort of enemy threat. You wanted to shake his shoulders and yell, “we’re on the same team!” but it would probably just bounce off of his MTV-obsessed brain without him ever processing it.

Eddie’s reaction wasn’t the only part of the confrontation that bothered you. No, what really drove you to the brink of insanity was that the confrontation bothered you at all.

How many guests were snippy or even downright mean to you over the years? How many had raised their voice over the most trivial matter? You had lost count of the number of times someone had spat the word ‘bitch’ in your direction because of low water pressure or a lightbulb that needed replacing.

And yet, this is the instance that grated at you, had you wondering if he’d looked away from you this afternoon out of disdain, guilt, embarrassment, or some combination of the three.

It shouldn’t have even mattered. So what if he hated you? He was out of the motel, which meant that his problems were no longer your concern.

The click of the door being wrenched open forced you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Last week of classes!” Nora trilled with a wide grin. She practically skipped to your side, slinging her backpack over the wooden chair back. “Then we have finals,” she contorted her face in disgust before resuming her excited disposition, “and then we graduate!”

She plopped down in her seat, adjusting her body to face you. “That reminds me; we should probably figure out where we’re going to meet before the ceremony, because I am not sitting through that alo—what?” She frowned when you flinched, the realization setting in. “Nonono, don’t tell me you’re not going.”

“Sorry,” you offered half-heartedly. The pen markings on your desk suddenly became incredibly interesting, and you rubbed your forefinger over them in a feeble attempt to end the conversation.

As usual, Nora refused to accept defeat. “Still haven’t told your parents?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks.” She clapped you on the back a bit too harshly, her lips pinched with an edge of impatience. “Time to put on those big-girl panties.”

She meant well–she always did, doing everything in her power to encourage you to pursue the career you wanted. But she just didn’t understand the mounting pressure to be what your family needed, or how you were constantly towing the line between selfishness and dignity. One step in the wrong direction and you would either crush your parents’ dreams or your own. And while there had to be some gray area there, it was overshadowed by the polarizing categories.

“I’ll try.”

You won’t.

You spent the class forcing yourself to listen to the professor, jotting down notes every so often when you could remember to do so.

Paying attention to lectures, final papers and exams, the graduation ceremony–it all seemed asinine when you considered your failure to help people on the most basic level. Like with Eddie: as hard as you tried to emphasize the mutual benefits of him working at the motel, you’d still inadvertently offended him.

When were you going to learn to stop extending help to people who weren’t asking for any? In these situations, you tossed logic aside to make room for emotion. It had been that way since you first began to understand that answers to life’s problems were seldom clear-cut.

There was one day in particular, where rain fell in sheets and your only option was to play indoors. You were jumping rope in the lobby, excitedly counting along with each skip.

“Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty—”

The rope smacked against your ankles, but you were too distracted to feel the sting. Your eyes were glued to a man who was stumbling towards the front desk. He wobbled in his whiskey-drenched cloud, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before collapsing to the ground in sudden hysterical sobs.

“Everything okay, sir?” Dad asked. His inconspicuous hand motioned you towards your room, but you froze in place. It wasn’t fear so much as shock that a grown-up was having a temper tantrum.

The man didn’t answer; instead, he took a swig from the brown paper bag clutched in his hand. Amber liquid trickled out from between his lips as he cried, and he slowly pushed himself up and out the front door without acknowledging anyone else’s presence. Raindrops pelted down on his head and matted whatever hair was left on his head

“Why was he crying?” You’d asked Dad, the jump rope now all but forgotten. “And what was in the bag?”

Dad gave you a small smile and did his best to explain the adult situation to a child. Even now, you remembered him talking about how drinking alcohol can make people feel happy, sad, or angry. He omitted the fact that all three emotions could occur in the same person, in the same moment, but your eight-year-old mind wouldn’t have comprehended that anyway.

Ever inquisitive, you continued asking questions. “But if it makes him sad, why doesn’t he just stop?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dad said with a tight grimace.

You’d considered his response for a moment, eyes lighting up when you conjured up a brilliant idea. “What if we go in his room and throw out all of his alcohol!” You tugged on Dad’s hand, expecting him to reciprocate your enthusiasm, but he’d stayed where he was and shook his head.

“Afraid it doesn’t work that way, kiddo. He’s gotta want to stop drinking first.”

It hadn’t made sense to you then, and though you’d learned about the nuances of addiction as the years crept by, it didn’t do much to quell your frustration. Any solution being beyond your control was a piranha ripping into your ambitions with its razor-sharp teeth.

The Eddie situation gave you that same helpless feeling. If you could turn back the clock, you would have done something different. You weren’t sure exactly what would be different, but it would almost certainly be better than your spur-of-the-moment offer last Wednesday.

But since time travel was out of the question and Eddie was no longer one of your guests, both he and his problems were out of your hands.

If only your heart could accept that.

A reel of your shortcomings played in your mind on a continuous loop; it still gnawed at you as class was dismissed, the professor calling out a reminder about final paper submission while you and Nora walked out the door.

“Are you okay?” She frowned and put out a gentle hand to bring you to a stop.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

She wasn’t falling for that lame excuse, not when something heavier than sleep marred your face. “Seriously. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you ever feel like you’ll never actually help anyone?”

The words came out in a rush before you could curtail them. Wincing, you allowed yourself a peek at your friend’s expression. Confusion knitted her brows together, but her arms stayed at her sides.

“What do you mean?” Her words were soft and careful, distinctly absent of judgment or condescension.

A monologue of response was lodged in your throat. It was a thought you held inside, silently rehearsed but never dared to speak aloud:

Are we really going to make a difference? Or enough of a difference that it even matters? Like when you see a homeless person and you give them some money, or buy them something to eat. And you feel good for a split second, because now that person isn’t going to be hungry for a little while, right? But then you pass by another homeless person. And another. And you realize that, to them, it doesn’t matter that you helped someone else. Because those other people are still hungry.

You said none of it, swallowing the words and replacing them with a, “never mind, I’m too in my own head today.”

Nora nodded, not wanting to push too hard, but you knew she was teeming with questions. She offered a small smile that told you the conversation wasn’t over, just paused temporarily.

A nod of your own sealed the compromise.

The rest of the afternoon played out without a hiccup. Lunch was your usual greasy sandwich from Niko with a side of his irritated banter, this time about the price of gas.

“You girls think it won’t affect you because you take the bus,” he warned, finger wagging between you and Nora, “but just watch them hike up the fare. It’s only a matter of time. Especially with those new card things you gotta use.”

His fears were unfounded, at least for the moment, and you and Nora each dropped $1.25 into the coin slot.

“About what you said earlier,” she started, finding space to wrap her hands on the pole, “we don’t have to talk about it—”

“Please.”

“–but I need to tell you one thing.” Her eyes held firmly onto yours. “If anyone’s gonna make a difference in this shitty world, it’s you.”

The compliment should have illuminated you from the inside out; instead, it was a firefly’s light, barely bright enough to cast a shadow with its pathetic flickering. You ached to believe her, but it was impossible to imagine that the same person who wouldn’t tell her parents a simple truth could also change the world.

“Thanks.” One word compounded with a forced smile, and the truce snapped back in place. Weighing potential conversation topics, you settled on the most neutral–the final paper for your class–and launched yourself into it with as much enthusiasm as you could summon for the remainder of the ride home.

There was no overt sign of Eddie when your bus pulled up to the stop. Not at first. The only indication of him was a familiar mint-colored blanket tightly wrapped around a lump laying across the bench.

It wasn’t until you stepped off of the bus and got closer that you could make out the curly brunette tendrils peeking out from the top, the blanket rising and falling with each breath he took. His face was hidden and his eyelids were screwed shut in fitful sleep, allowing you to hold onto the false hope that it wasn’t him, just someone with a similar build and hair texture. Even the frayed hems of his jeans and his scuffed sneakers sticking out from the other end of the blanket could have been a coincidence.

But there was no denying the truth once you caught a glimpse of the guitar case being hugged to his chest.

Just keep walking. Stop trying to fix things that you didn’t break. Things that didn’t ask to be fixed.

Your conscience trumped logic once again as two fingertips gently pressed against his blanket-wrapped shoulder.

“Eddie?”

His eyes flew open in an instant, revealing the delicate red lines that scarred the whites and meandered towards his brown irises. He clenched the guitar case even tighter as he jolted upright, protecting it like it was his child, and the sudden movement sent a handful of empty beef jerky wrappers floating to the ground.

Sunlight streamed through the glass panes, fragmented where it had been shattered by a rogue baseball or perhaps the crown of someone’s head, though you would have heard about it if it was the latter. It backlit him in an angelic glow, a halo comically contradicting his bitter expression.

“Fuckin’ shit–don’t scare me like that!”

The gentle, rhythmic inhales and exhales were long gone, replaced by a frantic fight-or-flight panting that flared out his nostrils. His hardened jawline softened a bit once he’d fully clawed himself out of his sleepy haze and realized that the person in front of him wasn’t a threat, just a nuisance.

“I told you; I don’t need your charity.” His lips set into a scowl and he laid back down on the bench, tugging the blanket back up to his chin.

That’s it. Conversation over. Go home.

“You certainly need my blanket, though.” Raising one eyebrow, you thumbed at the thin material to make your point.

Eddie only doubled down, sitting up once more to ball up the blanket and toss it in your direction. “Here ya go. It’s all yours.”

You caught it with one hand, the loose threads tickling your forearm.

“That’s not what I meant.” A hiss of air passed through your teeth. This was the perfect opportunity to leave him behind, to go somewhere you were needed and wanted. He had been making it abundantly clear that he’d rather live outside than spend another second with you.

And yet.

“I’m not just gonna let you sleep out here.” Tone thick with insistence, you mustered up all of your determination. The blanket was now tucked beneath your underarm and sopping up the pooling perspiration. “And it’s only a matter of time before you get mugged. With that thing,” you gesture to the instrument still in his grasp, “I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened. So you can either stay at the motel and re-wallpaper the lobby or you can kiss your precious guitar goodbye.”

Fire burned behind your eyes as you spoke, each word adding kindling. You couldn’t tell if you were doing this for his safety or your own pride, but both led to the same outcome.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just scraped his top teeth over the dead skin on his lower lip, drawing a speck of blood that went unnoticed. You stayed silent, too, the weight of his impending decision anchoring your tongue.

Finally he nodded, slowly at first, then faster as desperation seeped in, but he remained steadfast in his refusal to meet your eyes.

“Fine.” Eddie’s breath was shaky, teetering on the brink of tears, but none fell. “Just until I find a paying gig.”

He grabbed the neck of his guitar with one hand and pressed on his knee with the other. Fixing his posture, he stood tall in hopes that no one walking by would equate him with the pitiful mess who had been sleeping at a bus stop in a stolen blanket.

“Okay,” you agreed with a quiet breath, a cautious smile playing on your lips as the two of you walked back to the motel. You stayed two steps in front of him, leading the way.

He could turn heel and run. He could back out at any moment and you’d never see him again. But when you unlocked the door to room four–Eddie’s room–he was still behind you.

“I can take the blanket back,” he said, motioning to the bundle under your arm as he stepped over the threshold and into the room.

Like a phantom appendage, you’d forgotten it was there. “No. I’ll get you a fresh one.” You shook your head, finalizing the matter.

“Okay.”

No hesitation. No argument.

Maybe there was a chance you could actually help him. Maybe you didn’t ruin everything you touched.

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horzagobuchul · 2 months ago

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The next step in the Yor story~

A few more months had passed, and Yor's visits to the little cake shop had become a daily ritual that the entire town noticed. Her once athletic and muscular physique was now a distant memory. With each indulgent slice, she had grown larger, reaching a point where movement was a significant effort. It was obvious to everyone that she was now morbidly obese, her BMI soaring to levels that made even the plus-size clothing stores struggle to accommodate her.

As she waddled down the street toward the cake shop, her pace was slow and labored. Each step required effort; her muscles strained under the weight they were not accustomed to bearing. Her breathing was heavy, and her heart pounded with the exertion. The fabric of her dress, the largest size available, clung tightly to her body and persistently rode up, forcing her to pause frequently to adjust it and prevent unwanted exposure. Her bulky belly rested heavily against her thighs, and when she sat, it settled lazily onto her lap, a constant reminder of how much she'd changed.

The townspeople had started to whisper, referring to her as "the lady who eats cake by herself in the park." Children giggled as she passed by, and adults exchanged knowing glances. The gossip didn't escape her notice, adding a layer of embarrassment to her already complex emotions. Yet, despite the social stigma and the challenges her size presented, there was a part of her that felt a sense of accomplishment. She had, in a way, achieved a goal—even if it was one she hadn't set consciously.

Entering the cake shop, the bell above the door chimed softly. The shopkeeper looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he composed himself with a polite smile. "Good afternoon, Yor," he greeted her.

"Good afternoon," she replied, her voice tinged with both shyness and anticipation. "I'd like to purchase that large birthday cake, please."

He hesitated for a moment. "Is it a special occasion?"

She shook her head lightly, causing a subtle ripple through her body. "No, just… felt like treating myself."

"Of course," he said, carefully boxing up the cake. As he handed it over, she noticed the slight strain in his arms from the weight of the sizable confection.

Leaving the shop, Yor made her way to the familiar bench in the park. The short journey left her winded; her breathing was labored, and a sheen of perspiration dotted her forehead. Sitting down with a relieved sigh, she felt the bench accommodate her weight, the wooden slats creaking softly beneath her. Her body visibly relaxed, the strain of standing alleviated.

Opening the cake box, she gazed at the intricate decorations—the swirls of frosting, the delicate icing flowers. A rush of endorphins flooded her system as she took the first bite. The rich, sweet flavors ignited her senses, providing a momentary escape from the complexities of her reality. Each mouthful brought both comfort and a fleeting sense of joy, the physical act of eating intertwining with a deeper emotional satisfaction.

Despite consuming the entire cake, she didn't feel uncomfortably full—a consequence of months spent overeating. Her appetite had expanded along with her body, and satiety was a feeling she rarely experienced fully. As she finished the last slice, a mixture of contentment and guilt settled over her. She was acutely aware of how far she'd let herself go, yet there was a peculiar solace in having surrendered to her desires.

Is this truly what I wanted? she pondered, gazing at the empty box. The thought of needing assistance for daily tasks loomed on the horizon. Her mobility was already severely limited; simple actions required significant effort, and she knew that if this continued, she might soon be unable to care for herself independently.

As Yor attempted to stand from the bench, she felt an overwhelming heaviness anchoring her in place. It took considerable effort to lift herself, her muscles straining and her breath growing shallow. Finally on her feet, she paused to steady herself, aware that even this simple act had become a significant challenge. Her body, once a finely tuned instrument of agility and strength, was now burdened beyond its limits.

Walking slowly toward Anya's school, each step was a deliberate effort. Her thighs rubbed together continuously, and her now-prominent belly swayed with every movement. The whispers and stares from passersby were impossible to ignore. Children pointed, and adults exchanged glances, the town gossip echoing in her mind: "There goes the lady who eats cake by herself in the park."

A profound realization settled over Yor. I've crossed a line I can't uncross, she thought. I'll never be thin again. The acknowledgment was a mixture of resignation and a strange sense of relief. She had been wrestling with her desires for so long, the constant push and pull between restraint and indulgence. Now, the struggle seemed to dissipate, leaving behind a quiet acceptance of her new reality.

She knew that her life would be different now. Everyday tasks had become arduous; even the plus-size stores were struggling to accommodate her needs. The prospect of needing assistance for simple activities loomed on the horizon. Yet, amid the embarrassment and the social stigma, there was a certain solace in letting go. She had surrendered to her desires, and in doing so, found a twisted sense of accomplishment.

Reaching the school gates, Yor saw Anya running toward her with open arms. "Mama!" Anya exclaimed, hugging her as tightly as she could. Yor felt the softness of her own body enveloping her daughter, a tangible sign of how much she'd changed.

"You're so cozy," Anya giggled, her eyes full of innocent joy.

Yor managed a genuine smile. "I'm glad you think so, Anya."

As they walked home at a leisurely pace, Anya chattered about her day, unaware of her mother's inner turmoil. Yor listened, but her thoughts drifted. She understood that she had become a slave to her desires, her life now dictated by the very impulses she once tried to control. The realization was both humbling and daunting.

That evening, settling into her chair required careful maneuvering. The furniture creaked under her weight, and once seated, she felt an immense relief. Looking across the table, she met Loid's gaze. His eyes revealed little—no judgment, no pity, just a neutral acknowledgment. Whether his silence was out of respect or indifference, she couldn't tell. But she knew now that seeking his approval was secondary to facing herself.

As dinner progressed, Yor felt a mixture of emotions: regret for the path she'd taken, but also a resigned acceptance of where she was. She had crossed a boundary from which there was no easy return. The possibility of reclaiming her former self seemed distant, if not impossible. And perhaps that was okay.

#ai generated #ai #fat #ai art #fat girls #fat anime #weight gain #animation #before & after #stable diffusion #yor forger #spy x family fanart #spy x family

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classicmemorialbenches · 2 years ago

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What is the tradition of memorial bench?

The tradition of memorial benches dates back many years, and is rooted in the desire to provide a lasting tribute to loved ones who have passed away. Memorial benches are often placed in outdoor settings such as parks, gardens, or other public areas, as well as in private gardens or backyards.

Today, memorial benches are often seen as a way to honor the memory of loved ones, while also providing a peaceful and reflective space for visitors to enjoy. They can be customized with engravings or plaques that commemorate the life and legacy of the person being remembered, and can be designed in a variety of styles and sizes to suit any outdoor setting.

Overall, the tradition of memorial benches is one of remembrance and reflection, and provides a way to celebrate the lives of those who have touched our hearts and made a difference in the world.

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redcrowncafe · 9 days ago

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FANFICTION CHAPTERS IN SHORT

Here you will find a summary of the chapters so far, so there will be spoilers. There may not be all of them so I'll add them from time to time.

Be warned.. spoilers!!!

Chapter 1: Introduction

The chapter begins with Lambert arriving to Camelliatown in a taxi. They are freshly graduated from university and they're moving to a new city to spend some time alone and learn how to be independent on their own, working at a "simpler" job while looking for some more close to their study's field.

Once they clean and fix their new home, after stumbling into a certain three eyed mean cat who told em to fuck off, they start giving their CV to several places. They find Ratau's coffee shop and manage to get hired after Midas quits the cafe after he wins the lottery. Lambert is happy about it even if they find out that mean cat works there and will be their colleague.

When they come back home and look outside the terrace they meet their new neighbor: Ratoo. They think he's similar to someone they've seen, but they don't know it's Ratau's older brother.

Chapter 2: Gerberas for the café

After facing some insecurities due their memories of struggling to fit in back in university, Lambert starts their first day of work at the Red Crown Café. They arrive pretty early and Ratau shows approval, then expresses frustration towards Narinder, revealing he always arrives late and sometimes never shows up, without even warning him beforehand. He hints at some issues the coffee shop had to went through after its best era, but refuses to elaborate, leaving Lambert confused. The sheep then gives him the idea of renovating the workplace aesthetically and they all agree on getting some flowers to decorate the entrance.

Lambert goes to the flower shop to buy the flowers Ratau gave them and they meet the owner, who is Forneus, who also sells handmade things in the same place. In fact Lambert lays their eyes on a green sweater and Forneus decides to keep it aside for them so they can buy it whenever they want.

When Lambert comes back they find Narinder, who is receiving a lecture from Ratau for his being late, and when they show the flowers they bought he acts mean. Things get worse when Narinder spits in the drink that was preparing to a customer and Lambert takes it away from him, pouring its contents in the sink. Angrily, Narinder drags them in the storage room and pims them on the wall, insulting them and what they're doing for the shop, but when Lambert takes a stand he fails to sustain his point when Ratau interrupt them awkwardly.

Lambert gets to know one of Ratau's friends: Klunko, who is silly and kind. He helps them placing the flowers the sheep bought in the vases and leaves a good impression on Lambert. When they come back home, they don't realize someone is watching them.

Chapter 3: Fake cigarettes

Ratau is visiting his brother's house before starting the day of work. He knows Ratoo is depressed and when he doesn't find him in any room, he starts to fear the worse, but thankfully when he checks the terrace he finds he simply fell asleep on a chair outside.

Lambert meets the Fox in the café while Ratau is in the bathroom, and the Fox, after introducing his character with politeness, he starts to insult them without apparent reason while they are preparing their order and they don't find the strenght to fight back. After the Fox leaves Narinder arrives and sees Lambert leaving the coffee shop in tears.

Lambert is crying on a bench not too far from the café, and when they see Narinder reaching them and trying to comfort them in his own special way, by telling them they should never let someone step on their feet just because someone is a customer, they are pretty surprised by it and starts seeing him under a different light.

After Lambert comes back to the café with Narinder and Ratau comfort them too, they get to know the rest of Ratau's friends and they end up playing cards together. Narinder seems to adore Shrumy.

At the end of the day Lambert has a nice conversation with Ratoo, who gives them advices on how to befriend the mean colleague. Anyways, the following day Lambert will visit a new city since Ratau suggested them to take a day off because of the stressful day they had to endure.

Chapter 4: Abandoned Necklace

Ratau wakes up in Shrumy's bed and panics because he remembers what happened the previous night. He finds him in the kitchen and, after Shrumy insists on Ratau staying to his place for the morning, failing, they have a lovely conversation while the turtle prepares his horrible coffee. Ratau starts to feel nostalgic, remembering about how it was to be with him, and when Shrumy notices it he starts to get bitter and kicks him out of his apartment.

When Narinder gets to the café to work, before Ratau arrives, he finds the vases flipped over and the plants are a mess. When the owner arrives and sees what happened he seems shocked, but pretends to not to know what and why it happened, belittling the event and looking suspicious in the eyes of Narinder.

After a calm morning, Lambert visits the nearby city, that is bigger. They get to buy a new dress, even if it isn't the one they wanted to get in the beginning, they visit a park and they find a LGBTQIA+ bookstore café, where they meet Heket, Leshy and Shamura. Lambert doesn't get a good impression of the first two, due Heket's coldness and Leshys nervousness, while they're visibly having a crush on Shamura.

The chapter and with Ratau meeting the Fox for mysterious reasons at night and with Lambert finding a moon necklace on the beach.

Chapter 5: Vanilla Extract

Narinder wakes up from an unpleasant and confusing nightmare featuring Shamura and start their day in a depressing way. When he arrives late at work and Ratau lies him Lambert being already here to make him feel guilty, he explodes and tries to stab him with a soft straw. Meanwhile Lambert is visibly in love because of Shamura and both Narinder and Ratau fear they're high. Lambert works in a very distracting way because of their crush, ending up to pour too much vanilla essence in someone's order.

During the day, Ratau understands Shrumy is trying to avoid him and the only way he manages to get the turtle's full attention is when he mentions the Fox. Meanwhile Narinder manages to manipulate Klunko into telling them why Ratau and Shrumy are having a weird time thanks to reverse psychology, so Klunko tell them about the fact they were a couple once but broke up several years ago due Ratau not telling his parents about his gay boyfriend.

After work Narinder drags Lambert away again, but to tell them about the fact he's sure Ratau is hiding something and that he wants their help to investigate. Lambert agrees but at one condition: to hang out so they could at least get to know each other a bit more. Narinder agrees, and then receives an unpleasant call from his landlord.

Chapter 6: Mushroom pizza

After moments of gender dysphoria, self hatred and ADHD syntomps, Narinder arrives late at the restaurant with Lambert, who forgives him for letting them wait so long. The two get to know the owner of the pizza place, Sozo, who Lambert learns he is now happily married with another man. Meanwhile, Narinder and Lambert seem to have a nice conversation: they joke around, tease each other, but for a reason or another Lambert hit the wrong nerve and manage to piss Narinder off, turning that pleasant, casual dinner into an awkward and depressing one.

When they are going to come back home they see Forneus being cornered and attacked by hooded people who want her money. Narinder is paralyzed from the fear, but when Lambert sees one of them pulling out the knife they vocally intervene, trying to stop them. They manage to distract them and Forneus flees, but this makes the criminals pretty angry and start to chase them and Narinder. During the flight Lambert feels sick, and when Narinder takes a sigh of relief because of the danger they escaped, he sees his friend passing out in front of him.

Lambert wakes up in Narilamb's place, a very small apartment, and that's where they admit they have a congenital heart defect. Narinder tries to convince them to talk about it to Ratau, but they insist on waiting for the right time. The chapter ends with Narinder telling his friend to stay for the night and then he plays the bass in front of Lambert's sparkly eyes.

Chapter 7: Missed calls

Narinder wakes up near Lambert and disapproves the fact they're drooling over his pillow, having one of their sweet dreams featuring a certain person. After the two wake up and talk about the events that took place the previous night, the landlord enters the apartment to talk to Narinder, and suddenly shows disapproval when he sees him with another person, which is against the rules of his rent. He doesn't believe in their story while displaying his bigotry and ableism. When he leaves the two realize they're late for work and go together to the café.

When Narinder and Lambert try to explain what happened to Ratau, he forgives their being late but don't seem to take seriously anything they report, which brush them the wrong way, especially Narinder who is deeply disappointed. Shrumy doesn't approve Ratau's behaviour as well and brings him to the storage room to talk about it. The two have an argument but Shumy learns Ratau doesn't want to minimize what happened and that he simply wants to hide his secrets to protect them, then Shrumy explains that even if Ratau is doing so to keep the workers safe, he's getting the opposite result.

At the end of the day of work, Narinder leaves with an upset expression without even saying bye, which makes Lambert sad, but then Ratau explains them he acts like this because he's scared of rain, in fact it was very cloudy.

Ratau and his friends bring Forneus to the police station, where she reports the aggression of the previous day to the cops. They don't do much about it and she's so unhappy about it that she screams in anger mentioning a certain Delilah. Ratau and his friends are forced to drag her outside to avoid troubles with the police and after they bring her back home, Shrumy comforts Ratau who feels guilty and offers him to sleep in his house that night.

Chapter 8: Baggages

The chapter opens with Kallamar and Leshy interacting behind the counter. Kallamar comments the ugly color combinations worn by some customers, while Leshy replies with more creepy comments directed to him and taking advantage of his hearing impairment to not to repeat the mean things he said to him. Leshy also shows disapproval and frustration when Kallamar talks about removing a star that Narinder drew on the wall before leaving.

When Lambert enters the bookstore cafe Kallamar serves him and introduces himself in a very polite, almost dramatic way, also explaining his disability (hearing) and the ones owned to the other two colleagues. He looks a bit weird, but leaves a good impression on Lambert. When the sheep sees Shamura and they don't seem to recognize them they feel horribly embarassed, but then that's how they learn about their friend's memory impairment. The two happily chat again and Shamura lets Lambert give them their phone number, that is also secretly taken by Kallamar.

The following day, on Monday, Narinder manages to get to work on time, but he's particularly tired and silent. During their day of work anyways, Lambert catches Narinder being bullied by the same woman he tried to give her that drink in which he spitted during the first day of Lambert's work. She reveals to be transphobic towards him and it turns out that wasn't the first time she was verbally attacking him. So Lambert defends their friend and kicks the mean customer outside the café, surprising Narinder.

Once the day of work is over, Lambert meets Forneus again, who thanks them for the help they gave her when she was being attacked by those criminals and, as a gift, she gives them the sweater that kept aside specifically for them. Then, when they're about to come back home with the new sweater, they see Narinder being dramatically kicked out by the landlord because of his inability to pay the rent for more than one month. Lambert tries to comfort their colleague and convinces him to sleep in their home until he finds a new sistemation.

Chapter 9: Guns

Lambert welcomes Narinder in their home and he seems to be happy to not have to sleep in the streets. Anyways, he definitely changes attitude when he finds there is only one double bed and decides to sleep on the sofa, even if this one is terribly uncomfortable. Narinder also opens up about his mental health issues linked to depression before they go to sleep.

The following day Narinder punches Lambert in the face while he's sleeping because he doesn't want to be waken up, and after eating breakfast the cat finds Ratau talking at the phone, talking about someone meeting mysterious. The two manage to hear the whole thing and to not get caught by Ratau, then they decide to follow him after work to see what is he really hiding.

When the moment arrives, the two struggle to follow Ratau because of the not functioning street lights and Narinder seems to be concerned with his physical state. Anyways they finally find Ratau and they see him courageously facing the same Fox that insulted Lambert days ago. He lends him a empty envelope telling him he won't give him any more money, and the Fox starts to punch him in front of the two scared colleagues who get caught by Klunko and Flinky, who were here too. After the Fox tells Ratau he's not going to kill him, but attack the people he cares about just to see him suffer, Shrumy appears and immobilizes the criminal. Anyways, he finds himself surrounded by his sidekicks he finds himself forced to leave him go. When the evil guys leave Ratau invites everyone to his house so he can finally give Narinder and Lambert the explanations they deserve.

Chapter 10: Cracks

Once they all get to Ratau's house, Flinky starts medicating his wounds while he explains how he started to pay the Fox many years ago to protect his café because of issues and troubles unknown people caused. He is aware about the fact it was a mistake and he regrets it everyday.

After said explanation, Lambert sees Narinder looking at the raindrops on the windows with a tense expression, this is where Narinder expresses his illogical yet intense repulsion for rain. He gets melancholic and Lambert fails to comfort him.

The same night Shrumy and Ratau sleep in the same bed and they almost kiss, but Ratau steps back because he hates the Shrumy keeps being romantic with him even if he stated pretty clearly he doesn't want to be in a romantic relationship with him anymore.

The following day Forneus and her kits show up at the cafe, and when Baal sees Shrumy, recognizing him for mysterious reasons, he flees, leaving everyone confused but the turtle, who is feeling suspicious about it. When Narinder tries to serve the two customers he suddenly feels unwell and finds himself unable to move because of the tension. Lambert fears he's having a heart attack, but then it turns out Narinder suffers from panic attacks and that one of those was happening right now. Ratau and Kudaai, who is a doctor, manage to support Narinder, who is brought to Lambert's home after the attack.

At the end of that difficult day of work Lambert apparently receives a message by Shamura, but they don't know the person who is texting them pretending to be the spider is, instead, Kallamar.

Chapter 11: Masks

When Lambert arrives home, they find Shrumy entertaining Narinder with the bass and when they leave them alone, Lambert asks him how he feels. After expressing the fact they will do anything to help them in case another panic attack occurs, they gift him the moon necklace they found on the beach, telling him it's magical and brings luck. Narinder of course doesn't believe them but still apprecciates the gift.

This time Lambert lets Narinder sleep on the bed while they will sleep on the sofa instead, surprising their friend. Lambert struggles to sleep that night and they end up chatting with "Shamura", managing to get a date with "them".

The following day, while Narinder stays home, Lambert goes to work and gets to see Sozo and his husband, Helob, enter the café. They express how much they love each other publicly and Lambert feels inspired, wishing to be in such a cute and lasting relationship in the future.

The chapters end with another victim of the criminals who gets beaten after he explains why he can't give them the money. One of the goons runs away from the scene and, removing their mask once he's away, he reveals his tears. He is Baal.

Chapter 12: Comics or books

Baal comes back home pretty late and has a heartbreaking argument with his mother, who begs Aym to let her know whatever is going on with his brother once he finds out.

Lambert finds Narinder's secret: he keeps a gay comic and they decide to read it out loud to tease him. Once they're done Narinder ask them to give him some secret as well and that's how they give him an album filled with photos, the most embarassing ones as well. He starts to feel melancholic and pretty jealous because Lambert still has a family, but when a half burned photograph portraying Lambert and a lion person distract him, they explain that is their ex-boyfriend and that they left them because nonbinary. Narinder of course comforts his friend telling all those muscles and hair compensate for something else. When he suggests them to burn or destroy that photo to get rid of him on a deeper level, Lambert says they will think about it.

The day of the date finally arrives, Lambert waits for their date for almost a hour and when they see Kallamar arrive instead of Shamura they feel confused. Heartbroken even, when Kallamar says Shamura simply forgot about the date. The squid almost convinces Lambert to hang out with him instead when Heket and Shamura arrive on the spot and this is how they all find out Kallamar was pretending to be Shamura just to go on a date with Lambert instead. Heket drags him back to the bookstore café where he left Leshy working all alone while Shamura decides to hang out with Lambert.

Lambert spends a beautiful day with Shamura, buying books and comics for the bookstore, eating dinner together and they end up stargazing. Lambert is completely enamoured with Shamura, even if they don't understand their yapping about astronomy and physics, but then they found they spent too much talking and lost track of time. In fact, it is too late for Lambert to get the bus or the train and go back home, so Shamura suggests them to sleep in their home as a solution. Of course, Lambert accepts their offer, not realizing Narinder had been calling them for a long while due the late hour and them not showing up at home.

Chapter 13 - Pancakes and apologies

When Lambert arrives in Shamura's house they realize Narinder has called them several times because they planned to dine together and he was also worried because of their disappearance. After apologizing and reassuring him they're fine, they find Shamura live with the people they work with, Lambert even meets Kallamar who suggests them to sleep in his beautiful room because of a more comfortable bed, proposal that was kindly denied by the sheep before Heket dragged him away. That night Lambert sleeped in the guest room then than was revealed to be a room that belonged to a friend Shamura really misses and disappeared years before.

After sleeping and having a nightmare about being lost in a maze that looked just like Camellia Town and being eaten by the Fox, Lambert wakes up and hears someone playing the guitar. After they investigate on the sound they find Leshy and a yellow cat on his bed while he's playing the guitar for her. During breakfast the yellow cat reveals to be Felix, a friend Leshy never spoke about to the people he lived with and she leaves overall a good impression on everyone, aside Kallamar who finds her a bit gross.

After exchanging music playlists with Leshy and Felix, Heket invites Lambert for a Halloween party, and when they come back home to invite his friend Narinder he is just too offended by the carelessness Lambert showed the previous day to accept the invitation.

The day comes to an end as Felix brings Leshy back home after a karaoke night. She encourages him to practice his singing to get better and offers herself as a singing teacher since Leshy is already giving her guitar lessons and he gladly accepts the proposal even though he isn't convinced about the singing. She greets him with a kiss on the cheek before going back home, leaving Leshy embarassed and confused, snd that's when Kallamar intervenes saying that it's obvious that Leshy and Felix have a crush on each other, but when he denies Kallamar's insinuation he proceeds to say pretty aphobic things. Heket and Shamura interrupt the discussion before it devolves and Leshy flees locking himself in his room.

Chapter 14 - True Colors

The chapter continues where it was interrupted in the previous one: Leshy is inside his room after having an argument with Kallamar and Heket comes in to check how he's doing, communicating with him with a text to speech option on her phone. Leshy opens up about how Kallamar made him feel, but doesn't mention his doubt for what he feels for Felix.

As Halloween approached Narinder mantained a cold and detatched behavior towards Lambert, who felt a bit too awkward about it to try and actually speak about it with him. Anyways, after they dressed up as a vampire to go to the party, they find Narinder crying inconsolably in the bed. Lambert manages to let him open up for the first time and this is when he finally drops his lore trauma: turns out that he was kicked out from his biological family because he is transgender when he was 18 yo, that he was helped by a older friend who hired him at their bookstore café and that he accidentally caused his death in a car crash he fleed away from out of panic. In the beginning Lambert is disgusted by the latest revelation, but after seeing in much pain and shame he was because of the burden he has on his conscience they feels sympathy and comforts him, deciding to give up the party and stay with him that night so that he won't be alone.

Meanwhile, at the Halloween party, as Kallamar despairs after learning Lambert won't join the party, Leshy and Felix are chatting on the terrace. When Leshy explains her what is aromanticism and asexuality she expresses how much she finds that relatable, even though she doesn't think she's ace. Then she mentions the fact that probably the blame falls on someone who ruined her relationship with intimacy, and when he jokingly says it's because romance sucks, she clarifies that the person who ruined that for her wasn't a romantic partner, leading to an ominous change of mood.

Chapter 15 - Clauneck

When Narinder and Lambert wake up they get prepared to go to an autumnal fair in town, while at the same time Narinder finds the courage to remove a gacha game from his phone. The same morning Clauneck, who is getting prepared to go the same fair but as tarot reader, gets called by Kallamar, his most annoying customer who asks him for the upteenth future love tarot reading.

Narinder and Lambert spend a beautiful morning in the town when at the fair they see Clauneck for the first time, while hes having a fight with another seller who tried to sell a sick woman rocks to heal her cancer. They get a tarot reading from him that reveals the challenges and transformation they will have to face in the future.

Leshy dreams about kissing Felix and wakes up with a flower growing on his face.

#red crown cafe au #cult of the lamb #cotl coffee shop au #coffee shop au #cotl

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kestrelteens · 1 year ago

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The lovely Rhys set by @pinkbox-anye is a bit more alpha-y than what I usually convert, but I absolutely loved every item so here it is! 🐇

I'm literally obsessed with decorating kitchens and can never have enough clutter and these objects looked good enough to eat I swear! 🐛 I have some more sets from Anye coming up, keep an eye out for them!

I have managed to significantly lower the number of polys on all of the items and most textures are 512x512 (they're very high quality so the difference is minimal but your texture memory will be thankful). 🌼

The items list as well as the unedited preview are under the cut! Everything's compressed, enjoy! ♥

download (sfs) // alt download (mediafire)

The set consists of:

apples (1,130 polys)

dining bench (432 polys)

blanket (1,203 polys)

blueberries (3,018 polys)

bread (992 polys)

utensil canisters (1,240 polys)

cutting boards (872 polys)

dining table (1,583 polys)

eggs (1,533 polys)

fried egg (1,426 polys)

pancakes (1,717 polys)

pillows (not pictured, 1,497 polys)

plant (876 polys)

hanging shelf (not pictured, one slot, 1,276 polys)

teapot (1,462 polys)

Unedited preview:

#s2 #s2cc #ts2 #ts2cc #4t2 #4t2cc #4t2 conversion #4t2kestrelobjects #sims 2 #sims 2 cc

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krenenbaker · 1 year ago

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Trick or Treat~!

Pairing: Che'nya x Floyd (could be read platonically or romantically)

Summary: It's finally Halloween night, but Floyd is in a bit of a slump. However, the arrival of a curious companion may just make the Halloween party a bit more interesting for him.

Notes: This is my first attempt at something following a prompt - specifically, "Trick or Treat" for the 2023 TWST Rarepair Halloween event. I'm trying to get more comfortable/practiced with writing prose (which is why this wasn't posted on the 30th... oops), and only vaguely ended up following the prompt. I'm fairly happy with how this little piece turned out, though!

Tags: @dove-da-birb, @azulashengrottospiano, @inkybloom-luv, @eynnwwyjth, @officialdaydreamer00 (please let me know if you'd like to be included or excluded from future writing of mine, or only want to be included in specific types of creations)

Floyd wanted to take a break.

It was Halloween, and all he had done the entire week was work, work, work. Getting costumes ready, decorating, helping with their dorm's presentation, plus cooking and serving at the Lounge, all on top of normal classes?

Sure, it was fun, especially getting to show off Octavinelle's cool setup, and 'taking care of' those misbehaving visitors. But now? Everything felt draining and boring, and Floyd simply wanted to leave, which sucked because the actual Halloween party had just started!

Maybe he should just ditch and go back to his dorm; being in a funk when everyone else is having fun around you is not enjoyable. He slumped down on a bench and unwrapped a sweet he had picked up earlier, before wrapping it up again. Ugh, not even in the mood for that candy he wanted only a few minutes ago.

As he shoved the sweet back into his pocket and was about to get up from the bench to leave, Floyd heard a rustle behind him. Someone was quietly humming, and… laughing? The sound gradually moved to his side, towards the empty side of the bench.

“Trick or treat~”

Floyd turned to face the voice. "Listen, man, I'm not in the mood to—” he froze, staring at the figure beside him. “Hang on a second, where's your body!?"

A toothy smile came to the face of the head that currently floated beside Floyd. "Oh, it's here.... or maybe it's there." A pair of hands materialized on either side of this boy's head, followed by the rest of his body.

“I'm just kidding. Mind if I take a seat? I’d like to rest up before I keep purrowling around and startling people.”

Floyd blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Uh, go for it.”

This guy was... weird, and it was hard to tell if he'd be annoying, or interesting. "You don't go here, do ya? At least, I’ve never seen you before. And you’re no ghost, either.”

The cat-like boy shook his head, his jewellery jingling softly. "I'm just passing through for the festivities and collecting treats. Scaring some people, too. That’s loads of fun. And it's always nice to see my friends let loose."

Floyd had a vague memory surface. "Ohh... you must be that RSA boy who's friends with Sea Turtle and Goldfishie."

"'Sea Turtle' and 'Goldfishie', hey? Those are good names for my green and red friends. Cats are known for liking fish." He leaned forward, his grin growing. “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Floyd nodded, “Floyd Leech. It's nice to meet you, too.” He looked curiously at the boy beside him, taking in his shaggy hair, piercings, and impish smile.

"You're not what I expected.” Floyd smiled, "But you seem fun, Catfish. I didn't think Goldfishie would get along with someone so... interesting."

Che'nya's eyes lit up slightly. "Catfish? Heh heh heh, most people call me Che'nya, but I guess that works. And I’ve heard some… interesting stories about you, too."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back with his arms behind his head as he sighed. "But yeah, I don't think Riddle could shake me if he tried."

"I'm almost jealous." Floyd tipped his head slightly. "Most of the time, Goldfishie likes to swim away before I can play with him."

Che'nya laughed, "Well, if you're wondering, he 'swam off' that way." He pointed off to the side. “Just don’t be rough with him. I don’t like people mistreating my friends.”

Floyd looked off into the crowd where he had pointed, and let out a small laugh. “Alright, good to know. Maybe I’ll find him later, if I feel like it”, he smiled and sat back. “And Goldfishie’s stronger than he looks, but I guess you’d know that.”

Che’nya nodded, then leaned closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet we could do something that would really surprise him.”

Floyd turned slightly towards Che’nya, and flashed a smile. “Yeah, we probably could. I think we should talk more in the future, Catfish. You seem pretty fun.”

Che’nya grinned, “You seem pretty fun, too.”

"Well,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I think I’m going to go and find some more treats… and play some more tricks tonight. I'll catch you around, Floyd."

With a haunting giggle echoing in his ears, Floyd watched as the boy beside him faded into nothingness, just the same way he had arrived.

What a weird guy.

Floyd unwrapped the candy he had pocketed earlier, then popped it into his mouth. Maybe this party was worth staying at after all.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst rarepair halloween #rarepair halloween #floyd leech #che'nya #artemiy artemiyevich pinker #che'nya x floyd #krenenbaker's :)#krenenbaker's creations #and now... for the ramble-y tags #first: I desperately need more people to write Che'nya and Floyd interacting. their dynamic would be so damn silly!!#second: I had SUCH a hard time figuring out Che'nya's speech patterns - he really doesn't have many lines in canon!#I based some of his lines on the Cheshire Cat's lines in the 1951 film. I think they fit?#and I have no idea is this feels at all natural or in character for either Che'nya or Floyd... but there was an attempt :)#I need to practice writing more stuff like this #I also went through about 4 different possible ways their conversation could have gone before getting this down #here... it's almost like Che'nya's taking a break from tricking AND treating at the NRC Halloween party #that's how I'm saying the prompt applies at least #anywho... I GOT IT FINISHED! I WROTE A THING!!#and I'm going to write more. that IS a threat ^v^

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years ago

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Absolutely Dripping [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A very wet towel-clad god interrupts your prank. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Extreme Loki Thirst. Language. Based on my Hot Gif Drabble: The Towel (w/c 2.9k)

You bit your lip, nerves of excitement flushing through your blood as you rounded the corner toward the men’s locker room. Revenge sat snug in the pocket of your jeans; the small bag of powder nestled against your hip. The plan was perfect. That smug bastard wasn’t going to know what hit him. You’d been planning this all week, waiting until he predictably spent Saturday morning in the Tower gym with Wilson. This’ll teach him to mess with me, you thought; grimacing at the memory of your most unflattering underwear decorating the Avengers common room like goddam bunting.

You looked around, registering the patter of a shower in use down the hall. I’ll be in and out, you thought; frantically scanning the benches. A few kit bags lay dotted around. You squinted, reading the names embroidered into their fabric; Wilson, Barton...Barnes. You smirked, tiptoeing like a cartoonish villain across the tiles, incandescent with silent glee. You unzipped Bucky’s kit bag, rummaging for the prize you sought. Why does he need so much shit for the gym, he lives upstairs; you thought, while one hand fumbled inside the pocket at your hip. Your eyes widened with excitement as they fell on the item in question. His trousers. “Reduced to indulging yourself with the stolen scent of Barnes’ raggedy sweatpants, Agent?” You froze, eyes flickering back and forth against the lockers as you stood hunched with the offending article in your hands. “You really must work on your clandestine techniques, darling. I could hear your elephantine footsteps from the shower-room.”

You spun around, clutching the black sweatpants to your chest. “Loki. Hi.”

Laufeyson leant against the open doorway, a fist holding a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. Clearly, he had been in a hurry. A dark trail of fine hair bordered the towel's edge over his Adonis belt, skin still glistening with fresh droplets of water. You swallowed.

He was soaking. Absolutely dripping, in fact. The dents in his chiselled torso glimmered with a mirrored sheen, flicking his sodden hair back from his face. Water ran down his biceps, catching in the crook of his elbow before pattering to the floor. He crossed his ankles, the jaunty confidence of his stance making it difficult to retain even a nugget of dignity. You felt your cheeks begin to burn under his amused stare.

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.” you chuckled awkwardly. Loki shrugged, inspecting his fingernails. “Not really. There is a degree of inevitability within this scenario that cannot be denied.” You frowned, glancing back at the benches. “Do you...do you need your kit bag? Sorry, I’ll get out the way-”

“I do not require a kit bag.” he snapped haughtily, pacing forward across the tiles. He ran his hands through his sodden black hair, dripping tendrils pasted against his long neck. Fuck, he looked good naked. Well, almost naked. Fuck me, you thought; feeling heat rising in your cheeks. He's even hotter without the leather. He's fucking hotter. If you’d known there was even the possibility he’d be here to catch you, you’d have worn something a bit less...tragic. “You also ‘do not require’ a towel.” you sniffed, trying to sound clever and immediately regretting it. An amused smirk flickered at the god’s lips, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. “Is that so, Agent? Perhaps I should divest myself of it, then.” he purred, careful footsteps edging closer as you shuffled, knees hitting the back of the bench. “I mean, I meant- I didn’t mean now, I meant... because you can dry yourself...you’re always saying you can just dry yourself...oh-never mind.” you spluttered, throwing the sweatpants back on top of Bucky’s bag.

The small plastic square filled with powder fell to the tiles, landing perfectly beside Loki’s left foot. The two of you stared at it, eyes rising in tandem. Loki was brimming with mischief, his wide pupils glimmering with interest in the unexpected drama in which he had become immersed.

“And what, pray tell, is that?” he said, tilting his head as you wished the ground would swallow you whole. “It’s uh...itching powder.” you muttered, pulling at the sleeve of your baggy sweatshirt. Loki couldn’t be standing more than a foot away. You could feel the heat from his shower-fresh skin wafting across the space between you. Clean, fresh musk hung in the air; like warm pine and wet leaves and sandalwood and bergamot. The scent of him. You'd always assumed it was cologne. Christ, you thought; feeling your chest tighten under a roll of feral desire. Keep it together. Trickles ran from his hair to his glistening collarbone, gathering in the hollow. Some made paths over waves of abdominal muscle, soaking into the rich cotton hanging dangerously on his hips. You swallowed, unable to draw your eyes away. "I was under the impression that on Midgard it is considered rude to stare." Loki hummed, rolling his shoulders back and readjusting the fingers toying with the tuck of the towel. "Is that not so?" Your eyes snapped upward, lips opening and closing as you searched your empty brain for a sentence that wouldn’t make you sound like a pervert.

"Mmmm..." he murmured thoughtfully, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he marinated in the awkward silence. "So, are you going to get that?" The side of his foot nudged at the baggie lying abandoned on the tiles below. Even his toes are sexy, you thought with an internal whine; noticing your breaths quickening as you lowered on your haunches reaching for the bag. You wobbled, hands flying to the nearest surface to steady yourself. His thighs. Oh god, no. You grimaced, feeling Loki rock into your pathetic grip above his knees. “Sorry.” you mumbled, looking up. His pointed chin was cast down to his chest, the symmetry of his face heartbreakingly perfect. You let out a light whimper.

How many times you’d fantasised about kneeling in front of him just like this, worshipping him with aching slowness. You would trap every growl of pleasure from his throat in your memory as you sucked him dry. Relishing every desperate rut of his hips further into your mouth, fingertips sinking into his bare, godly ass. You could feel wetness sliding in your panties as you bounced weakly on your calves, trying to gain purchase to come back up. They were jelly. His long thighs bulged against your hands through the towel. Imagine how he can fuck with legs like these, you thought; feeling another tide of arousal seep from your pussy. The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched, making his cheekbones sharpen in the bright overhead lights as he observed you through half-lidded eyes. The angle of his jaw highlighted his flawless bone structure as he leant forward, the sharp edges making you dizzy. His patient stare filled your head with absolute filth as you hovered with your mouth level to his crotch, rendered mute. Drops of water from his dripping locks spattered your upturned face. A solitary drip rolled down the side of your nose, catching on the edge of your upper lip. Without thinking, your tongue flicked out, drawing it in. “Are you alright, Agent?” Loki murmured with faux concern, enunciating every word as his keen eyes searched your face. Your thighs began to quiver as you balanced weakly on the balls of your feet. Loki pursed his lips, his voice as richly seductive as it was in the darkness when your fingers crept between your spread legs, alone in your bed. “Do you require some...assistance?” he purred knowingly, the slant of his eyebrows making you feel faint.

“Yes.” you said quickly, the solitary word catching in your throat. Loki smirked, his open palm appearing by your shoulder. “All you had to do was ask, darling.” He raised you slowly as pangs of discomfort shot up your legs. How long had you been down there? It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds, surely, you thought; as his warm breath skated over your lips. You realised you didn’t want to know.

“Since you are so brazenly flirting with failure in this prank of yours, perhaps it’s time to enlist the professional?” he hummed, his thumb wiping trails of moisture from your temple before resting on your cheekbone. Loki’s gaze hovered on your lips, his wide fingertip rubbing the angle of your jaw twice, before releasing you. You nodded, dazed. What the hell is wrong with me, you thought, holding up the baggie of itching powder beneath his sceptical gaze. He pinched it from your grasp, observing it with mild interest. “Well for one thing, Agent...it’s white. Even a simpleton like Barnes will notice a dusting of suspicious powder adorning his black sweatpants, wouldn’t you agree?” Your face fell, realising he was right. “But never fear, darling. Your saviour is here.” Loki winked, shaking the bag as you watched the white powder turn dark. A sly smile spread across your face, mirroring the devilish glint in Loki’s eye. He nodded, an unspoken understanding as you took the bag and opened it carefully. You spread the waist of Bucky’s sweatpants holding the legs in a tight fist and sprinkling the powder liberally in the crotch. “Give them a shake.” Loki whispered gleefully, lips stretching in a broad smile as he relished the mischief afoot. You shook the trousers, scraping the sides together to mesh the powder deeper into the thick fabric. “Good girl.” Loki murmured, folding his arms approvingly. The sound of raised voices echoed in the corridor. “Shit” you gasped, dropping the sweatpants on the floor. Loki’s hands clasped your shoulders, his broad chest inches from your face as you stared up at him, wide-eyed. His features were set in determination, fair skin and emerald eyes accentuated by wet, slicked back hair. God, he was so fucking hot. “If you are to evade discovery, drastic action is required.” he grumbled, ushering you to the side as he snapped his fingers. The sweatpants flew neatly folded into the kit bag, contents re-arranging of their own accord.

“Drastic ac-action?” you stammered, wondering what the hell was happening as your shoulders bumped against the tiled wall in the corner of the room.

Loki had manoeuvred you to a tight L shape space, a row of lockers to the side blocking your view of the door. Panic rose in your stomach, “They’ll see me, Loki, when they come across for the bags...” you hissed, craning around the corner before he pushed you back against the wall. “I think you’ve had enough opportunity to prove your skills in the art of mischief, pet.” he whispered, his forearm pressed against the wall above you, “And sadly lacking, I’m afraid.” The mockery was palpable. You grimaced, making Loki chuckle. Fat strands of sodden hair brushed your cheeks as he towered over you, encased by his semi-naked form against the cold wall. You felt yourself clench, the mess in your panties becoming untenable as he lowered covertly to your ear, lips grazing the skin. You let out a light gasp, a shudder making your knees buckle. “Just stay quiet.” he murmured, as the voices drew closer. “I have a plan.” Your eyes hovered on his twitching pectorals, an impossibly firm bicep flexing as he fiddled with the side of the towel. Moisture glistened against the veins protruding against tight skin, endless drips still caressing down the side of his stomach through deep grooves of muscle. Loki turned, the expanse of his triangular back close enough to bite. Fuck, you thought; as he raised one arm to rest on the side of the lockers, his thick trunk concealing you. You devoured the sight of his shoulder-blades adjusting, the rear of his arms even more toned than the front. Not a fingernail scratch in sight, you thought with interest, before your eyes flew wide; lips pressed tight to conceal a gasp.

He had dropped the towel. You stifled a whimper, unbidden delirious laughter building in your belly as you heard the owners of the voices fumble with the door. “Jesus Christ, Laufeyson...what the hell, man?” Wilson yelled, coupled with a low yowl of surprise from Bucky beside him. "Is it not enough you’re swingin’ that thing around in those tight leather pants 24/7? Fuck, man...puh-lease.” You bit your lip hard, the sharp pain settling rising giggles as you flattened against the tiles. Loki turned to the side, extending his arm to its full length against the wall of lockers. Wilson’s shoes were all you could see of him, the toes shuffling back and forth as he clearly tried to avert his eyes. “Apologies, gentleman. I wasn’t expecting company.” Loki purred, his ass clenching. You sucked your lips between your teeth, a silent girlish scream ringing in your brain as blood thundered in your ears. His rear was an absolute monument to marbled masculinity; it was all you could do not to sink to your knees. Imagine what he looks like from the front, you thought; cupping your mouth with your hands. A silent scream puffing out your cheeks. “Expecting?! Can you believe this guy? Dude, havin’ your dick out is cool, fine...but don’t stand there like one of your brother’s fangirls in the lobby with their ya-ya’s out, c’mon man; this is a public locker room not an Amsterdam shop-window.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about Wilson. This is perfectly normal on Asgard. A little post-workout self-care, if you know what I mean." he said knowingly, a sly twinge in his voice. "Which you just interrupted, actually.”

This was met by a humph of disapproval from the men, low tsks peppering the air as Loki re-adjusted his stance, spreading his legs wider. Wilson’s hand appeared beyond the lockers, a finger waggling toward the belligerent god. “Laufeyson. Do not stand there with your schlong in my face and tell me you were about to masturbate in the same room as my stuff. Please. Tell me that is not what I’m hearing right now.”

Loki chuckled, running a hand through his hair as you slid further down the wall; squeezed as far into the corner as you could get. From this angle, you could see the profile of his cock bobbing adjacent to one muscular thigh, semi-hard. A violent shiver rolled down your spine, brow furrowing with utter, disgraceful need. Bucky piped up. “Go wack it in the showers like a normal dude. Haven’t you just been in there?” From the direction of his voice, you guessed he was facing the door. “Whatever gave you the impression I was one of these...‘normal dudes’ of which you speak, Barnes?” the god hummed, leaning seductively against the lockers. The shoulder closest to your face tightened, his hand shifting across his hips, brushing his growing manhood. “You got that right.” Wilson spat, the squeak of trainers on the tile signalling the stand-off was over. “You got five minutes. And don’t go near my bag. I’ll know, ass-hole.” The door slammed shut, raised voices sounding from the hallway growing fainter as silence reigned in the locker room once more. Loki’s back rose and fell, the scent of his skin hanging in your nostrils like incense. How easy it would be, you thought, just to lean forward and bite him. Right there between his shoulder-blades. Loki cleared his throat. “I’m going to bend down now, Agent” he murmured, casting a cautious glance over his shoulder at your contorted body pressed feverishly against the wall. You nodded; eyes glazed. This is a dream, you thought; watching Loki’s long, lean body squat and gracefully scoop his discarded towel from the floor. This isn’t happening. Not really.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, darling. I’m sure you’d agree.” he purred, rising and spinning on his heels, the loose towel clutched to his groin. You traced the twin valleys of definition with wandering eyes, on the thin wires of pubic hair creeping beyond the cotton’s reach. The long drape of towel swayed gently between his spread legs; the fist he was using to hold it aloft probably unnecessary.

You took a sharp breath, words forming on your tongue that choked behind your teeth. Loki stepped forward; the fine trail of darkness ghosting his lower stomach becoming a shadow.

The scent of his clean musk was overwhelming, the soaking mess in your underwear sliding against your clit as you squirmed. His bare chest pressed lightly against your sweatshirt, trapping you in the corner under his smouldering stare. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, eyes wide in faux-innocence. “You were desperate... weren’t you, Agent?” “Yes. Thank you, Loki…” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. He hummed approvingly, stepping back to let you pass. “Forget you saw anything with the powder” you said hastily, “and I’ll um, do the same. I never saw...anything.” You waved your hands in front of your eyes for effect, casting them downward as you made your way quickly to the door. Loki’s velvet chuckle sent shivers down your spine as your fingers gripped the doorknob, his palm sliding around your waist from behind; the other flat against the door; holding it shut. He wasn’t holding the towel. Loki pulled you back against his chest, a wall of stomach muscle straightening your spine. You could feel his cock hardening furiously against your ass, rubbing upward as he thrust gently against the soft flesh. His wetted lips grazed the edge of your jaw, making your head tilt to the side. You exposed your neck with a soft moan as more droplets from his hair rolled against your skin. “Don’t you dare forget, Agent.” he purred darkly, messy kisses melting into your heated skin. “We both know that I was not the only one absolutely dripping in this locker room today.”