#but I KNOW as soon as I hear jingle bells the next thing he would see is his balls jingling above his face

[dnd-shithouse]

I’m gonna say something so evil and controversial!!

If I knew Glenn in real life, I would despise him.

Not because he lets his son smoke pot, or because he is an absent dad or even because he likes Disney world.

I’d hate him because he plays Christmas Rock music.

[berriweb]

╰┈➤ ❝ GRAVEYARD SHIFT SHENANIGANS ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. johnathan ohnn (the spot) x gn! reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. y/n is strapped, johnny gives second hand embarrassment

: ̗̀➛ note. if you were the one getting robbed instead, i didn’t proof read this so if you saw a typo no you didn’t

only the restless and the crazies are awake at 3 am, and the only thing that those have in common are that they both have nothing better to do with their time. what does that make you?

The streets were quiet.

If you were lucky, every so often you’d hear the sounds of a car speeding down the road (likely well above the speed limit) or groups of people shouting and ranting while searching for a cab or an Uber after a long night at the bar across the street. It was rare, however, and you were more often than not left alone with your own thoughts to drown out the sounds of the fluorescent lights above you buzzing unnecessarily loud and the quiet pop songs playing on repeat from the speakers mounted in the ceilings.

Anyone else would run from the idea of being left in such a dull and lacking environment, but for you the nights spent sitting idly behind the counter waiting for the rare human interaction was necessary to keep your lights on and your ass out of the streets.

When you’d first heard the corner store was looking for a new employee to work the graveyard shift after the last worker quit due to a recent attack from a rouge villain that left him too paranoid to run the store alone, you were heavily against the idea despite your friend’s insistence that it was good money and she knew you needed it after hearing your previous complaints about your current job not being enough to cover both your bills and your meals. Knowing how prevalent crime could be, especially considering the part of town you lived in, who in their right mind would accept that job offer?

Luckily for you, you didn’t seem to be in your right mind. After a few convincing words and a quick interview with the grouchy owner of the store, you were welcomed with somewhat open arms and after two weeks of half assed training, you were successfully spending nearly all of your nights running the corner store after the sun went down.

Now it’s been two years, and as much as you love the security you feel knowing that you’re good at what you do, it can tend to get a bit boring on quiet nights.

You’d take the silence over the nights where you’d get visits from shady men coming in to withdraw a questionable amount of money and drug addicts who’d harass you for a few dollars to get a fix or were just completely off their rocker.

To make up for the lack of entertainment, you popped in an earbud and put on a podcast to drown out your thoughts, mindlessly flipping through the same magazines you’d been looking through for the last 4 hours of your shift. At some point celebrity drama had become more boring than the silence so you resulted to working on the puzzles and mind games on the back, so consumed in a sudoku game that you almost didn’t notice the sound of the scratching of metal and the small rusted bell jingling as the door to your store creaked open. As soon as it registered, you set the book down, sitting up, alert and ready as you eyed the new customer who had the pleasure of gaining your attention for the next few minutes they’d been in.

If there was one thing your shitty training had taught you it was to keep an eye out and be observant, more often than not the creeps came out at night and the last thing you wanted was to end up on the news with a bad id picture because you didn’t notice a man entering the store with a gun cocked and ready.

As a result, you’d gotten pretty good at profiling some of your customers and taking note of things that most people normally would pay no mind too. This man was no different.

Your alarms went off the moment he walked in, but you weren’t exactly sure which red flag set it off. Maybe it was the way he was dressed, in a big blue brown coat covering most of his upper half with the collar popped to hide his neck, topping it off with a brown bucket had covering most of his hat and what you thought were sunglasses. Maybe it was how you couldn’t tell what the glasses were due to his head being tilted down and his gaze locked on the floor and his own two feet. Or it could’ve been how you couldn’t get a good look at his bottom half aside from what you believed were black spotted white pants due to how quickly he scurried to the counter, his entire body tilting under your gaze as he seemed to be really shifty and refused to meet your eyes.

The only physical feature you could really make out about the person was that they were really, really pale and just from your angle you could tell he was a decently tall man.

“How can I help you?” Were the first words you chose to utter to him, trying to get an idea of what he wanted and why he seemed to be so nervous and fidgety, outlined by the way his hands messed with the hem of his coat.

“I- um,” he cleared his through, and you could sense the nervousness in his voice. His tone was light but held weight like he was hiding something or was guilty of something worse, “where is your restroom?”

What were the odds that he actually had to go? You’d had your fair share of people with the same mannerisms asking for the same thing and majority of the time they were using in the restroom, leaving you to pick up after the mess of tissue and needles, or worse, they’d leave behind, but something in your gut told you that wasn’t the case, and you couldn’t refuse him service based on a hunch.

Reaching behind you without taking your eyes off the man, you opened a drawer and pulled out a rusted keychain, clearing your throat and holding it out for him. “In the back, first door on your left, try not to make a mess,” you instructed and nodded your head towards the open corner in the back of the store.

With a small thank you, the unknown man quickly snatched the key from your grasp and made his way to the back with haste, though not without you notice the strange texture of his skin for the brief moment your fingers touched, and not without him eyeing the ATM machine he passed on his way back.

What was his deal?

A few minutes had gone by since he went to the back. You’d paused your podcast and sat silently, your gaze constantly shifting from the front doors to the back as you waited for him to reappear. Your negative attitude might have been uncalled for, he may have just been a regular guy who stopped at the first place that had an available bathroom, but you knew better than to be that hopefully. Moments later after you’d returned to your magazine, you heard a door open and footsteps, followed up by buttons clicking and pointed beeping noises. When you looked back, he was out and standing in front of the ATM, hesitantly pushing buttons.

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to make himself seem busy on the machine or was really anxious about pulling money. It could’ve been the case that he was taking out a lot for something that wasn’t exactly legal. Drugs, a sex worker maybe? It was none of your business, so long as he kept it out of your store.

You turned back to your magazine to avoid him noticing your constant staring, but about a minute later you perked up at the sound of a loud screech, silent curses and the sound of loud banging. Your senses heightened as you turned around again in your chair, and it took a moment to process the sight in front of you. The man had managed to climb on top of the machine, or at least that’s how you assumed he got up there, jumping up and down on the machine in a hurry. It was hard to piece together until you realized that the machine was now halfway through the ground, courtesy of a large black gaping hole that you were certain wasn’t there before. What the hell?

Your hand reached for the drawer under your register faster than you could process, being far too use to this drill. Your hands searched the drawer without your eyes leaving him before pushing it closed after discreetly pulling out your weapon. It wasn’t often that you needed the gun, but it’s better safe than sorry.

Quietly, you stood up from your chair and left from behind the counter, sneaking up on the man by tiptoeing through the aisles. Assuming he was a criminal, he wasn’t very good at keeping an eye out as he hadn’t noticed you creeping up on him from behind until you were mere feet away and turned off the safety, raising your arms with it pointed at his head. Unnecessary? Maybe, but you weren’t dumb enough I charge unarmed, not if he could be a serious threat.

“Freeze!” Yikes, maybe that was too officer-ey? Your tone was assertive, but your assumption that he could be a hero deflated and was thrown out the window as he reacted far too slow, turning around nearly jumping out of his (pants?), letting out a scream that could put a little girl at Disneyland to shame. His arms flailed and he lost his footing on the ATM, falling over only for another portal to open on the ground and swallowing him whole. He reappeared in a portal on the ceiling behind you and you jumped, turning around just in time to see him fall through, his torso hitting the top of a shelf and sending all of the condiments falling before he hit the ground. You couldn’t help but wince, that had to hurt, but kept your grip on the gun firm as he struggled to his feet.

Leaning against a display to pull himself off, he mistakenly put too much faith in the rickety stand and it toppled over, bags of snacks matching the other items scattered on the ground. He let out a groan of pain and when he stood, somewhat fully as he seemed to have bad posture, you watched the now broken sunglasses fall off of his face, or rather lack thereof, his hat falling to the ground.

He had no face. Where it should’ve been, there was a large, black gaping hole with no way to see anything inside. In fact, it wasn’t just his face, as you soon came to realize that he wasn’t wearing pants, those dots were his skin. He had no human distinguishable features, what you had assumed to be pale skin was actually paper white, decorated with black hopes all across his legs, seemingly his entire body. His coat still remained, but you were willing to bet that his torso was covered in the same holes as the rest of his body. If not for the humanoid figure, voice, and his clumsy personality you wouldn’t have known he was human, assuming he was.

“Wait wait wait! Please- pLEASE don’t shoot! I’m not dangerous I swear I’m a good guy, well I’m not because I’m robbing you but I’m not really robbing you-” as he seemed to start to ramble on, the confusion started contorting your face and he seemed to notice, laughing nervously with his hands still raised as he took a step back. “See, I’m not really a criminal but because I look like this now no one will hire me and I have to resort to robbing stores to support myself, you know?” As he spoke he attempted to shake an empty can that his foot lodged itself in, leaning down to pull it off while keeping a hand up which reminded you that you still held him at gun point.

While you were still only beginning to process what the hell was going on, you hypothesized that the more stressed or worked up he seemed to be, the more out of control his holes became, as the seemed to shift and swirl on his body more and more as he continued to rant. “I’m kind of like my own Robin Hood, you know the whole steal from the rich give to the poor? Except I kind of am the poor, at least I am now. I used to have a good job at Alchemax before they turned me into this, but I can thank Spider-Man for that too-” Alongside that, they popped up far more often, proven by how he suddenly toppled into another, emerging from the wall next to you and hitting the floor head first, wincing as he stood up, this time without the can, it instead falling from a different hole that appeared next to his head, hitting him square in the face before disappearing into another hole.

Without realized it, your arms slightly lowered and you resulted to watching the poor man’s sad attempts at controlling his mutation/power, finding it both pitiful and amusing. “But that’s besides the point! You really shouldn’t shoot me I swear I’ll be out of your hair, which looks great- by the way, as soon as I can I really don’t mean any harm!”

Pulling his arm out of a half closed hole, he suddenly straightened up, managing to stand in one place without being thrown around like a rag doll. Silence remained as you seemingly stood still and stared at him for what seemed like an eternity but was only a few seconds before you pursed your lips, looking down as a hand came up to your mouth to muffle the sounds.

“What- what are you doing?” He questioned you, and while there was no expression on his face you had a feeling he was looking at you with a puzzled look, only for his question to be answered when you suddenly doubled over, the muffled snicker turning into chuckles, which lead to giggles up until you were howling with laughter, hardly able to catch your breath. You left him standing there thinking you must’ve lost your mind. “Why are you laughing?!” You could only respond with more cackling, leaning against a wall and inhaling deeply to make up for the lack of air you could consume.

“What’s so funny?! This isn’t a joke!” He sounded both surprised and slightly offended, which you felt slightly bad for but given his methods you couldn’t help it, and by the time you started to calm down as he stupidly stood there, the pieces seemed to finally click on everything he was telling you, from what you knew anyway.

“Are you sure?” Were the first words that left your mouth, and he seemed baffled by your reaction. “Yes I’m sure! What’s your deal? I’ll have you know I spent a lot of time planning this out!” You highly doubted that.

The holes were definitely hard to get your mind behind, but as your brain tried to process you suddenly reminded the can while a portal, unbeknownst to you, opened up behind you. Where did it go?

BANG!

A sharp pain raced through the back of your head and the man’s hands went up to where his mouth would’ve, or rather should’ve, been. “Ohmygosh I am SO sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to!”

“Yeah, I figured!”

Reaching up to feel the back of your head, a throbbing pain settled in, but luckily no blood so you deemed it safe. You didn’t have to see it to hear the apologetic tone in his voice, and after that entire fiasco you could only feel bad for the poor guy. He clearly hadn’t been built for a life of crime, but unfortunately decided that it was his path.

“Listen,” you got his attention by showing off you lowering the weapon, before nodding your head up towards the ceiling and giving a pointed look to two corners of the store. “The cameras in here are really old, they don’t have audio and the video quality is horrible. I can edit the footage to an extent before I leave, but if the time gap between the frames is too long it might get suspicious and I’m not losing my job over you.”

You slowly raised your weapon as you looked back at him, turning the safety back on. “I’m going to act like I’m holding you at gunpoint and threatening to call the cops, all you have to do is snatch the gun when I ‘accidentally’ drop it, kind of switch the roles around, you get me? I can get you some money from the safe before I call the cops but you have to be quick-”

“Wait, hold on, you’re helping me?” He asked incredulously, his shoulders falling as he pointed at his chest. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“I am, you honestly don’t seem like a bad guy and it’s not coming out of my paycheck, so long as next time you try to pull this you don’t do it here.”

If he had one, his jaw surely would’ve been on the floor. “I can’t even begin to thank you, you’re a saint! Is this a trick? I can’t repay you for this-” he started on again, but you cut him off be gesturing towards the weapon again to remind him of your words before dropping it.

Luckily for you, he was able to catch on pretty quickly and took the gun. His acting was mediocre at best, but you doubted anyone would look at the footage closely enough to notice how amateur he seemed as he pointed it at you, he hadn’t even turned the safety off. He demanded you take him to the safe before you reminded him that the cameras couldn’t hear him and there wasn’t a need for the menacing voice, to which he sheepishly apologized. After letting him stuff his pockets with as many of the bills as he could fit, you yelled to stop him before he could race out the door.

“The gun. I need it back.”

“Oh, yeah, right…” he chuckled and left it on the counter, taking a few awkward steps back. Your curiosity got the better of you and you leaned forward from behind the counter. “You did a whole lot of talking but I never got your name.”

Flustered, he seemed to point at himself as if he were confused on why you were asking him, but replied, “I am…the Spot.”

The same feeling bubbling up in your chest as you eyed his stance and the sudden voice change, you brought a hand up to your mouth, and his shoulders fell yet again.

“You’re seriously laughing? Again?!”

“No! No, I’m not,” you tried to defend, but the giggle you let out before clearing your throat and biting back a smile said otherwise. Luckily you were able to control it this time. “It’s just- what kind of awful parents have the honors of giving you that name?”

“It’s my villain name! Not my real one!” He hissed.

“Then what’s your real name?”

He looked at you puzzled, possibly wondering why you wanted to know so much, but at the same time it’d been a while since anyone had shown genuine interest in him so he obliged.

“Johnathan.”

“Johnathan,” you repeated slowly, as if you were resting out the name in your mouth, making his stomach warm up with an indescribably annoying feeling. “Alright, Johnny. Have a good night. You might want to get lost before the cops show up.”

He turned around as if to leave before pausing yet again, turning his head back. “Wait, I never got your name?”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to come back another time to find out.” Bold, and completely not your style, but something told you that you and Johnathan were going to get along nicely. “Preferably not to rob me though, and without making a big mess I have to inevitably clean.”

You gestured to the mess of food and other miscellaneous items that had fallen off of mostly toppled shelves, and Johnathan gave a sheepish apology. “I’ll be back.”

“I’m counting on it.”

He disappeared into the night, or rather a black portal that opened under his feet once he stepped outside, and you were once again left sitting behind the counter and alone with your thoughts, the sounds of distant sirens getting louder every second, only this time you had something to look forward too the next time you clocked in and the Spot had a new motivation for his newfound criminal activity.

[watchmegetobsessed]

❄️HOT AND COLD❄️

A/N: week 2 of fanficmas yeah!! this was the first fic i wrote, some good ol' college!harry to get you all cozy hehe

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: You decided to spend two more days at the dorm before heading home to have some peace and work on your assignments. However you didn't expect them to turn the heating off once everyone left. No worries, the hot guy living next door is ready to keep you warm.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2022 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

You thought staying two extra days in the dorm before going home for the holidays would be a great idea. Have some quiet and peace for yourself, finish some assignments so you don’t stress about them during Christmas. Theoretically, it was a fantastic idea.

In reality? The worst one you’ve ever had.

You didn’t think they would turn down the heating the moment the dorm empties out. Well, it’s a logical thing to do, but it never occurred to you and you only realized it when the temperature started dropping significantly after the last wave of students left in the morning. You went out to run errands and you could feel the change when you arrived back. The hallways were chillier and your room started to feel like a cave. At first you just sucked it up, put on a hoodie, wrapped yourself in a blanket and got down to business. Your uncle always said you can decide whether you’re cold or not, so you kept thinking about hot things to keep your mind off of how freezing it was starting to get.

Hot tea.

Hot chocolate.

A tub of hot water.

Freshly baked, hot cookies.

The hot guy next door.

Wait, what? How did you end up thinking about Harry?

As you sit on your bed with your textbooks surrounding you, an all too familiar voice makes your ears perk up. You’d recognize it anywhere and it never fails to make your heart pitter-patter, but now you’re surprised to hear it since you thought you were the last one left in the building.

Well, you were wrong.

You hear Harry Styles striding down the hallway, singing Jingle Bells without a care. You get out of bed before you could think and throw your door open, catching him by surprise judging from the little jump he does as he turns around.

“Y/N? You’re still here?”

“I was just about to ask the same question from you,” you chuckle, stepping out into the hallway, but your smile soon turns into shock when you see him sporting shorts and just a shirt. “How have you not turned into ice wearing that?”

Chuckling he looks down at himself.

“I have a heater of my own. I could turn my room into a sauna,” he jokes and you can’t help a stupid laugh that slips out of your mouth.

You always lose your cool around him, he’s been your ultimate college crush since you moved in at the beginning of the semester and you usually end up making a fool of yourself in front of him. Whether it’s talking gibberish or dripping eggs when he walks into the kitchen, he has seen you at your worst in these two months you’ve been living next to each other.

“You’re not going home for winter break?” he asks, striking up a conversation and you pray you don’t embarrass yourself this time.

“Oh, I am, but only late tomorrow. Wanted some alone time before going home to the family, study and stuff, you know…”

“Clever,” he nods with a smile.

“What about you?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow too, I was supposed to go home today, but my flight got cancelled.”

“That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “You’re sitting in your cold room all by yourself?”

“Well, not everyone has their own fireplace,” you snort out a laugh, but it sounded funnier in your head for sure.

“Come over to mine,” he offers and you have to fight yourself not to let your mouth hang open.

You’ve hung out before, ran into each other at parties and while your crush is deeply rooted at this point, you two aren’t exactly the closest friends, you haven’t been in his room before, haven’t even hugged him so entering into his private space is the most intimate you’d ever get with him.

“Um, I don’t want to bother—“

“Y/N, you’re not bothering, I’m just playing video games.”

“B-But still…”

“You’d rather freeze to death in your room than to be around me? I have to say I’m a little hurt.” With a hand over his heart he gives you a disappointed look, though you can tell he’s just teasing you.

“You really don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have invited you over if I did. Come on, bring all your stuff.”

And so you end up moving over to Harry’s room that feels like paradise. The temperature is perfect, you can get rid of your hoodie as you settle on top of his bed while he sits by his desk with his PC, some kind of action game paused on the screen.

His room is oddly tidy for a college boy. The bed was made even before you appeared, there are no dirty clothes on the floor, only in the hamper in the corner, his bookshelf is crowded, but it seems to have a system in it that probably only he knows.

“Is it warm enough?” he asks, settling at his computer.

“Yeah, thanks,” you nod, feeling a bit out of place, but the warmth feels nice.

“Cool,” he nods before turning back to his game and unpausing it.

For the first hour you just coexist in peace. It takes you some time to focus on studying with Harry being so close and also being in Harry’s room, but the feeling wears down and you can finally work efficiently while he keeps himself busy with his game. But then he stops playing and becomes more interested in whatever you are doing.

“You haven’t finished this sheet yet?” he asks, holding up the statistics task sheet you’ve been putting off for over a month now.

“No,” you sigh in defeat. “I’m not really good at statistics.”

“Want me to help? I’m in Dr. Thomson’s Thursday class, but we went over the same thing too.”

“It’s my homework, I don’t want to bore you with it.”

“It’s fine, I actually liked these tasks.”

So then the evening turns into tutoring, Harry sits on the bed beside you, explaining you how to solve the tasks and even shows a better method you understand way more than what you were taught. After that, he just sticks to studying with you, though it slowly turns into anything and everything but studying. He clearly loses interest in helping you, but he doesn’t seem to want to leave you alone and your focus breaks too. Of course you’d rather hang out with Harry than write a paper on Switzerland’s economy!

You’re having a blast. Both of you. It’s the first time hanging out one-on-one, but it’s going better than you imagined. You haven’t made a fool out of yourself, even cracked some jokes that made him laugh, though he is surely the funnier one. He is telling you all kinds of crazy stories from before college and also asks you about your high school years.

“Mm, this was great, though I did not get as much done as I planned to,” you chuckle, taking a look at your stack of textbooks.

“But we had a good time and that’s all that matters,” he grins at you, hugging his pillow.

“Alright. I’ll get out of your hair,” you move to pack your things and return to your room, but then he speaks up.

“What are you doing?”

“Going back to my room.”

“You didn’t think I would let you sleep in the cold, did you?”

“What, you want me to sleep here?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Sure. There’s plenty of space for us. You’re sleeping here tonight,” he simply states.

About twenty minutes later, you’re sitting on the edge of his bed in your pajamas, waiting for him to return from his shower.

You’re really about to sleep in the same bed as Harry Styles. Hopefully you won’t kick him in the groin or say something stupid in your dreams or drool on him or—“

“You look worried,” he comments as he walks in, dropping his used clothes into his hamper. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Totally awesome and perfect!”

God, you are so awkward!

“Okay,” he smiles to himself. “Take whatever side you want. It’s not a king sized bed, but it’s fine for two people for one night.”

You gulp at the thought of Harry spending the night here with another girl, jealousy bubbles in your chest.

“At least Niall and I survived the time he got locked out of his room,” he adds with a chuckle and you exhale in relief.

You end up taking the inner side of the bed and you lie on your side as he makes himself comfortable on the outer side. It’s really not too spacious, but at least it’s warm and smells like Harry.

“Thanks for… letting me crash here,” you whisper into the silence. Harry turns to you with a tiny, but charming smile.

“I’m glad it’s you I have to share my warmth with,” he cheekily says and heat rushes into your cheeks right away. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry.”

 

You knew you’d end up tangled together. It was inevitable in such a small space. But still, your heart starts racing when you wake up and find yourself cuddling Harry, who has his arms around you as well. He’s warm and soft, definitely meant to be cuddled in your humble opinion.

He stirs in his sleep and your heart jumps when his eyes flutter open. He doesn’t move away, in fact, he pulls you closer as he exhales lazily.

“Good morning,” he mumbles groggily.

“Mornin’,” you breathe out, feeling like a giddy little girl.

 “I hope you weren’t cold,” he chuckles softly and you feel his chest vibrating underneath your cheek.

“No. I felt nice and warm.”

“Alright,” he smiles. “When is your flight?”

“Five thirty. What about yours?”

“Six. Want to share an Uber to the airport?”

“Sure,” you nod.

You spend most of your time left together. You grab a late breakfast, then hang out in his room and not just because his room is the only place in the building that hasn’t turned into a freezer. It feels natural to be around each other.

Then you share a ride to the airport, grab coffee and then wait together until it’s time for you to go to your gate.

“Well, have a great time at home,” he smiles at you.

“You too. Thanks for… everything,” you chuckle softly. “I’ll see you after the break and...”

Don’t forget about me, you want to say, but you bite it back.

There’s something hanging between the two of you, something unsaid and you fear you’ll have to leave without changing that.

“Okay, I’ll… go,” you mumble, grabbing your suitcase, but before you could walk away, Harry pulls you back.

“When we come back, do you want to… Do you want to go out? With me?”

You can’t stop your mouth from hanging open this time, his question came as a total shock.

“Honestly, I’ve been crushing on you for a while, but every time we spoke you seemed so frightened and ran away, so I took it as a sign,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. “But I think last night was nice, I liked hanging out with you and there’s a chance you feel the same way, so I thought I would… shoot my shot.”

You open your mouth, but then close it as his words sink in. He thought you didn’t like him. Because you ran away from him. But that was because you were into him. What a mess.

“Yes,” is all that comes out of your mouth at last.

“Yes as in…?”

“Yes, I want to go out with you,” you elaborate chuckling. “And I only ran away because I really liked you and I was too nervous.”

You watch his face light up before he nods.

“Great! I mean, not that you were too nervous,” he grins. “So then… Date. When we come back.”

“Yeah,” you nod, mirroring his widening smile. “I have to… I have to go now.”

“Alright. See you… next year then,” he chuckles and leaning closer he kisses the corner of your mouth before you part ways.

After that, you’re basically glued to your phone, nonstop talking to Harry throughout winter break and you’ve never wanted to return to school so badly before. You text, call and send pictures to each other continuously and you can’t even remember the times when it wasn’t like this.

When you return to campus in January, your excitement is kicking high, though on the day of your arrival, Harry’s responses come way less often than they used to, but you’re not trying to see too much into it.

As you’re unpacking your suitcase there’s a knock on your door and when you open it, your heart skips not just one, but probably several beats when you see him standing in the hallway with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Don’t you feel cold in here? I think you should come over to my room.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[writing-good-vibes]

Bestie! Can I please have number 4 from the steamy prompts for your valentine's day drabbles? I'm thinking an expansion on or a similar scenario to the thing with the waitress in Dirty Domestic Bliss. Definitely a post-Michael!Corey but you can decide if you want it to be cunningmyers!Corey or a distinct iteration. Thank you, happy Valentine's Day! <3

bestie, thank you for the req !! ahh the way i'm kinda kicking my legs, twirling my hair that you brought up dirty domestic bliss 😈 it's not necessary to read that story first, but this is the (un)official sequel. i hope you enjoy because this spiralled !! 💗

WARNING for corey x f!reader, smut, flirting, a tiny little bit of angst because i couldn't resist, and the fact this is technically set in the cunningmyers au (but michael only makes an appearance emotionally lol). 2.5K word count.

🍓very cute divider by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more 🍓

taglist: @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

You finish wiping down the counter after a very, very busy night. Valentine's day always brings in more customers, even to the roadside diner you have no hope of leaving anytime soon.

You're on shift for the next four hours alone, but you're thankful that it should be a quieter from now on, with most couples heading back home to relieve their babysitters or to make the most of the rest of their night in the comfort of their own beds. All that remain are stragglers and harmless ne'er-do-wells who have nowhere better to be at this hour.

Around 1 am, you hear the bell over the door jingle and you look up from the counter to see a young man walking in.

If anyone saw the intensity of your doubletake, you would have been mortified.

He sits at a booth towards the back of the diner, but in clear view of the door. He's polite when you go over to take his extensive order -- a coffee with creamer and sugar, a club sandwich, side of fries, a plate of bacon and eggs, with hash browns if you have any -- and thanks you earnestly when you bring out his food.

He keeps to himself, and you'd almost be able to forget he was there while you served the couple of other patrons, if it weren't for how striking he was. Dark hair, tousled but naturally curly, and even darker eyes. Eyes that look almost black even under the harsh halogen lights. He holds his cutlery tightly with broad, bruised hands.

He ate like he was starving; you'd seen plenty of men with eyes bigger than their stomachs, but he seemingly wasn't one of them. All of his plates are cleaned when you take them back to the kitchen.

The reserved atmosphere between you makes you question if this is really the same guy. He has to be, right? The possibility of someone else like him was slim to none, with his curly hair that you desperately want to pull on again, his broad, handsome features that you could stare at forever and never get bored of, and his Levi's jeans that hug him in all the right places.

Returning to his table, you ask, "Can I tempt you with dessert?"

"I think you can. What would you recommend?"

"The cheesecake is my favourite, but I'm biased because I make the strawberry drizzle for it." You lean your hip against his table,

"Strawberry? I normally pick chocolate."

"We have a great chocolate cake too?" you suggest instead.

"No, let's try strawberry. I'll have a slice of cheesecake, please."

"Sure thing," you smile. When you turn back to the counter, you glance over your shoulder, catch him watching you. The sway of your hips is unintentional, should anyone ask.

You draw a few love hearts in strawberry sauce around the edge of the plate. There's something wrong with me, you think, but you don't get a new plate.

He turns the plate slowly once you put it down in front of him, considers each strawberry heart. Then his eyes turn up to you, and it's almost like those strawberry hearts are reflected in his dark, dangerous eyes. "Would you sit with me? Please?"

"I'm working," you smile, but still you linger at his table, waiting for him to convince you.

"I'm sure they won't mind," he says, nodding towards the other weary patrons, nursing steaming coffees, filling in crosswords with blotchy pens, or reading the sports pages.

No one gave you a second glance as you slid into the booth across from him.

You watch while he eats, his pretty pink lips closing around each bite. There's a comfortable silence between one, one that you could get entirely used to, if given the chance.

"It's nice to see you again," he smiles around the food in his mouth. You'd rather get used to his voice though.

Breaking into a grin, "I thought it was you!"

"I've been thinking about you," he half-drawls "Every day since I last saw you."

The last time you saw him was a couple of months ago -- six, maybe? -- sat at what might of been this very same booth. He was just as bruised and timelessly rugged as he is now, and you remembered him being with a another man -- older, more weathered, but rugged in the same sort of way. This guy, your guy, had ordered for the both of them, and seemed relieved to find his companion where he left him after your back alley escapade.

"This is really good," he compliments. "And it's your favourite, right? Have some," He offers you a piece of cheesecake on his fork, smeared with extra strawberry sauce that had dripped down onto the plate.

You open your mouth, lips closing around the fork just where his lips -- his soft, pink lips -- had been, and take the bite from him. You chew slowly. Even without the strawberry sauce you labour over making in the kitchen, the cheesecake really is good.

He watches you closely, and you find that you don't mind at all. He's not like other men, whose stares bore into you because they want to take something from you. No, no he looks at you like he wants you to take something from him.

The palm of his heavy-knuckled hand, the one that isn't still holding his fork, feels rough against your skin when he catches your chin; the pad of his thumb is slightly weathered when he swipes it over the corner of your mouth, catching a stray spot of strawberry drizzle. Pulling his hand back, you watch him -- his eye contact never wavering -- as he sucks his thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

"When do you get off?" His question catches you off-guard, startling you from your fleeting thoughts of his lips and tongue and hands.

"Um," you try and remember your shift. "4 am." You glance at the clock on the wall and silent curse. Still two hours to go and there's no way he's going to wait for you, why would he? This perfect stranger with his split knuckles and pretty lips and --

"I think you deserve a break, don't you?"

You don't think this is like last time. This won't a quick smoke break endeavour. "I still have --," you're about to gesture at the other customers, but when you turn around, you find the diner empty. You hadn't even noticed them leave, you'd been so caught up with...

Shit. "I don't even know your name."

"Corey," he answers, and his accent swells stronger on his name than you'd noticed during the rest of your conversation.

You give your own name in return, giggling because you can't quite believe any of this is real. Because a beautiful boy walked into your diner and made you fall for him, and you never even thought to tell him your name.

Corey stands from the booth, not quiet as smoothly as you think he might of wanted to because his hip catches on the edge of the table. You're not surprised, he's built like a bull, all broad shoulders, broad hips, broad hands that trailing along the table top as he walks past. Even so, he wanders to the door, flips the open sign to closed and twists the lock.

The backroom is pretty small, the table has been wobbly for as long as you've been working there and no doubt for longer, and you distantly register that you never closed the door behind you, so you have a mostly-clear view into the diner, all the way to the locked front door, but you don't really have time to think about any of that. The only thought your mind can conjure up is please!

Corey is somewhere under your sunshine-yellow skirt, there's a sharp sting at your hip when he snaps the elastic of your panties against your skin, then his teeth biting so gently at the flesh of your thighs that they could be kisses instead. Desperate to see his face, you pull your skirt up to your waist and moan involuntarily at the sight of him, flushed and focused, between your legs.

His eyes glint impossibly dark, pupils blown wide, and he doesn't stop look at you. Reaching down, you twist your fingers through his tangle of curls, making him moan into your heat.

When he kisses you, he tastes just like you remembered, like cigarettes and something distinctly boyish, but now he has the sweetness of strawberries on his lips, like chapstick, and on his tongue there's the heady taste of your own arousal.

Corey's cock is pretty and pink just like the rest of him. (How can even his cock be pretty?) Grazing your entrance slowly, you angle your hips to encourage him, tightening your legs around his hips to pull him in.

"Is this okay?" he asks, tip pushing just enough to make you clench on him. His rumbling voice right by your ear makes you shiver, with anticipation, with need, with downright desperation.

"I've been thinking about you too," you say in lieu of any other answer. "Every night since I last saw you. Wanting to see you so bad."

Sinking it your wetness, Corey groans, sounding almost surprised. You clench around him to draw out the sound, louder and longer, until he makes himself pull back out, only so he can thrust back into you. The table rocks beneath you precariously, Corey's thrusts making it shudder an inch across the bubbling lino.

Corey's as good as you expected and even better; he's heavy on top of you, covering your torso with his, until there's nothing between you. His smell all around you, and you hope it seeps into your skin, taints you forever with the smell of the storm that he carries with him. His lips pressing wet open-mouthed kisses anywhere he can reach, along the soft line of your jaw and scattered on your neck, trickling down, down, down as he unbuttons your yellow shirt.

And his pretty cock isn't just for show; heavy inside of you, coated in the wet mess between your legs, hitting just the right spot to make you squirm and clench and rock your hips up against Corey's, his auburnish hair providing the most delicious, burning friction on your clit.

The tinny radio in the main diner is barely audible in the break room over the sounds you both make. Every thrust drawing a breath, or a groan, or a moan. Corey starts low in his throat, a rasp of a groan always on his lips, until he gets closer, and high little breaths spill out of him like he's going to cry if he doesn't finish right now.

You pull up your panties and catch Corey following your hands along your curves. He seems... cuter, somehow. Before he was a powerhouse of confidence, every bit the All-American rogue you daydream about walking through your diner doors. But now he's more modest; bashful as he tucks himself away.

The shift in personality brings your confidence back, and as the endorphins hums pleasantly under your skin, you feel like you did back then; taking a chance on hoping a pretty boy might make out you by the dumpsters.

You smile slyly at him as you straighten out your uniform, lip caught between your teeth. There's a string of hickies around your collar, you can feel them already. You want to poke and prod at them to stop them fading.

"I gotta go," he mumbles, doing up his fly and buckling his tarnished-silver belt buckle.

There's a long pause between the two of you. Uncertainty.

"Sure," you say. You chew your lip as you head back out to the diner, with Corey following behind. "So, um... will I see you around again?"

Corey shrugs, seeming genuinely unsure, "Maybe, maybe not. We might have to leave soon or... I'll see."

You decide not to push him on it, and there's too many reasons, too many different situations and scenarios for you to even start speculating on what might make him so skittish about sticking around. The thought forces an ache through your chest anyway.

"Well," you force a smile. "Whenever you come back, I'll be here waiting with a slice of cheesecake for you."

His smile lights up his whole face, tugging up one corner of his mouth and then the other in a dimpled grin.

Corey pays in cash and another kiss, before walking out of your life as if he didn't just ruin it.

You could recognise him anywhere. Anywhere, any place, any time. You'd recognise Corey by the sound of his boots on the lino, or by the smell of his cigarette breath, by the accent that cradles his words, or by the bruises that paint storms across his sunset skin.

He walks through the door, bell jingling cheerily at his arrival, and sits at a booth towards the back of the diner, shrugging his leather jacket off.

It'd be embarrassing how much his reappearance disarms you, if your mind could think of anything other than how you need to keep your promise.

There's a plate in your hand, a slice of cheesecake covered in strawberry drizzle sits pretty in the centre. You hardly remember crossing the diner; Corey's dark eyes watch the way your sunshine-yellow uniform hugs your hips as you walk.

Sliding into his booth, you place the cheesecake in front of him and press a fork into his scarred palm.

Pretty pink lips pull up into a broad grin that he almost bites back before giving in; his smile is glorious on his bruised face. His knuckles are split. His throat is ringed with yellowing bruises that shift when he swallows.

Your hand finds his on the table top. "Welcome back."

He eats slowly, even though you can tell he's hungry. After this, you'll fix him all the food he wants, plates upon plates of it until you're sure he's happy and well-fed.

"You in town for long?" This time, goes unsaid.

Corey's smile falters, his dark eyes reminding you that you probably can't even begin to imagine what it is he does, and where he goes and how he lives his life outside of the witching hours you spend with him in your diner.

"Yeah," he says, boyish smile returning. "I think I am."

on the topic of restaurant sex, you should also read [warnings apply]:

good boy by ghost (@/ghostwriterforghosts). corey and reader go out for dinner and he is very, very fun to tease.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #7

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: Some cursing, alcohol (ale and cider mentions)

Ambrose did not allow himself to get angry anymore, as a rule. Upset was fine, if properly channeled. And that meant making soup.

Elliot had insisted on helping him- something about generousness and payment for borrowing clothes- but Ambrose had barely heard him over the roar of blood in his ears he was desperate to ignore. He’d waved him off and thankfully he didn’t need to come up with an excuse due to Elliot’s condition. If he ever found the bastard that-

Shit. Focus on soup. Do not get angry.

Potato and Leek sounded good. Simple. Lots of chopping. No meat to remind him of blood and violence and-

Soup. Right.

And maybe a couple apple pies while he was at it. Dessert made everything better.

He scrawled the menu on the chalkboard at the bar and headed downstairs to storage. Soon enough he’d need to make room for the fall produce like pumpkin and squashes. Ambrose grabbed a basket of apples and headed back upstairs. And then he went to fetch a keg of ale. And a keg of cider. And the leeks. And the potatoes.

If only James was here. He’d need to fill his position soon.

He began to list off errands in his head as he sliced the leeks. 

Rearrange storage. Buy Elliot clothes. Hire an assistant. Make sure Elliot eats. Order more chocolate. Count the till after service. Pray at some point.

Not like the serpent god had forgotten about him or anything.

Focus.

The leeks were reducing beautifully in the pot. He stirred in the potatoes, spices, broth, and cream. Ambrose rearranged the logs to lower the flame; the soup could be left to simmer throughout the night.

Pie was complex enough that his thoughts thankfully remained occupied until it was nearly time to open. The scent of cinnamon and apples wafted through the air. It was a balm to Ambrose’s mood, the satisfaction of a job well done replacing the bitterness in his mouth.

Elliot appeared at the bottom of the stairs, no doubt the smell of dinner enticing him. The borrowed tunic and pants he was in nearly swallowed his small frame, but he looked nice. Wholly different from the man begging for a meal the night before. 

“I hope you like apple pie,” said Ambrose, smiling. “I’ve got a piece with your name on it.”

Elliot looked up, but didn’t smile. Hmm. He sat at the bar, and Ambrose brought him the meal. 

“Do you want cider, ale, or water?”

“Whichever is easier for you, Sir.” Elliot’s soft voice was flat, more than usual. Maybe he was just worn out. He’d had a busy day. 

Had it really been only a day? 

Ambrose got him some water.

He hoped for another slow night. He wouldn’t be able to handle much more without an assistant. Ambrose was on good terms with everyone in the village, with few exceptions. They wouldn’t mind slightly slower service tonight, especially not his regulars.

The bell above the door jingled.

“Evenin’ Ambrose!”

“Hello, Michael. How are things?” Micheal sauntered over to the bar. He sat down heavily, a seat away from Elliot, who flinched.

“Oh everything’s fine,” he gestured. “Wheat is coming in real nice.”

“Good to hear. Would you like your usual?”

“Do you need to ask?”

Ambrose laughed, only partially forced, as he poured an ale.

“So,” said Michael, his expression turning from casual to mischievous, “I hear you fired Jimmy’s boy.”

“He deserved it,” retorted Ambrose.

“ ‘Course he did. You shoulda fired the little shit ages ago. We thought you’d never do it.”

“Thanks,” Ambrose rolled his eyes with a grin, “for having so much faith in me.”

“I gotta know. What did he do to finally run out your patience?”

Ambrose eyed Elliot, who was definitely listening.

“Why?” he joked, “You have a betting pool on it?”

Micheal snorted. “Nah. Just curious. He’s running his mouth as usual, is all.”

“He said something obscene,” said Ambrose, “and I won’t repeat it. And I don’t want to know what he’s been saying.”

“Fair enough,” Micheal raised his glass in a toast before downing the rest of the ale. “What’s for dinner?”

___________________

Ambrose kept an eye on Elliot as the dining room filled. He seemed alright, and everyone mostly got the message to leave him alone. Ambrose had to wave a few people away from sitting directly next to him, and he definitely would need to answer the gossip mill at some point. But not tonight.

Elliot had left at about nine. The dim roar of the dining room was familiar territory, and Ambrose allowed himself to relax a bit as he got into the groove of things. 

As expected, no one threw a fuss about the pace. He half expected James to come barging in, or one of his few friends, but he didn’t show. Thank the gods. He didn’t need any more trouble today.

___________________

As the night grew on, Ambrose’s weariness caught up to him. Counting the till was nearly too much. His head swam with numbers when he crawled into bed at one.

He really needed to hire that assistant.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog

[popcornforone]

Christmas Wish

A Tim Rockford fan fic

I got in from the cinema tonight at about 10:30 watches a bit of tv & then went on tiktok & then couldn’t sleep. It’s now 2am & a small idea I had I’ve now almost completed a first draft of. & I think you will get the finished product soon. See this is why I have lots of fics in draft. Because bang I will get a new idea & then I’ll just write. Also I can’t believe I’m writing Tim again. Send help (but please don’t)

Synopsis: your taking your kids to see Santa but your husband isn’t sure he will make it on time. But a Santas wish box might make all your dreams come true.

Word count:3800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF TOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, breeding kink, pregnancy, swearing. Previous sexual encounters & fantasies mentioned. Husband & wife, swearing. Mentions of alcohol, teasing, crime is mentioned but not in detail, bedroom voice, Tim likes to be incontrol but he’s not a dom. cock warming, intense sex.

Thanks as always for reading peoples. All feedback is welcome.

3 rings, he always answers exactly after 3 rings no matter who it is. Today is no different.

“Detective Rockford” he answers professionally.

“Tim?” He turns red straight away & starts mouthing to the two other officers in the room with him working the case. He’s saying it’s you & it’s a family emergency.

“Ahhh hang on” he scurries out of the room & into his office down the corridor closing the door behind him. “Sorry still working the case, we’ve almost made a break through.” He says as he rubs his hand across his forehead. He always tried to think like the criminal to catch them & this case has pushed him a little. He’s often got home late exhausted & full of concern that that longer this person is on the loose, the harder it will be to find them.

“That’s not the only thing that needs to be considered” you say. He can hear babbling going on in the back ground. He’s worked out it’s your 5 year old & 2 year old. “How much later are you going to be tonight Tim?” You sound exasperated.

“Maybe an hour, so close, we’re so so close,” he then pauses “wait… I’m missing something, arent I?” He says. You falling silent down the other end of the phone confirms this. “Fuck! What am I missing?” His eyes scrunch up in anger, that he’s got caught up in his work once again. You knew being Mrs Rockford would come with moments like this, but recently it’s becoming more frequent.

“It’s 5pm at the moment, we are meant to all be meeting Santa at the North Pole Grotto at 6:30pm” you say calmly down the phone. You know annoying him by going I told you to set a reminder when you booked it 2 months ago, will piss him off. “I understand though Tim, this is a huge case. It will make our town safe. I can call them up & push it to next week if I do it in the…” Tim then hears your 5 year old son start singing jingle bells in the back ground. He knows he’s probably in his light up raindeer jumper & is so excited to see Santa tonight.

“No, you have to go. I’ll try & get there. I’m sure I’ve got the address, I’ll do my best”

“Tim I can…”

“No I can hear Jason singing in the background, don’t break his heart, I’ll make it up to him & Grace & you, especially you.” He looks at his watch. He can do this. He’s then disturbed as someone taps on the glass of his door. “Baby I gotta go, but promise me you’ll take the kids okay, even if I have to then come back to work, I’ll do my best”

“Tim I…”

“Promise me” he used his moody interrogation voice. That’s how you met. You had been a witness to a crime & he talked to you at the police station. He got no new clues out of you, but you left your number in case he needed to ask you anything else. 3 weeks later, you were handcuffed to his bed, screaming Tim’s name as he licked every inch of your pussy. His face glistening as he told you how good you tasted before he ravaged you for the next 2 days. Even detective Rockford through a sicky to pleasure his new girlfriend. That was almost 8 years ago. You knew what you were getting yourself into by having a relationship with someone like him, both work wise & sexually.

“Okay detective” you say & then sigh. He doesn’t even say bye down the phone, clearly somethings come up. You say to the beeping cancel tone “I love you baby” before Jason starts jumping about to the next Christmas song.

*

You are sat in the ‘north pole’ bouncing Grace on your lap who looks adorable in her snowman outfit. Jason is busy saying exactly what he wants Santa to get him.

“A rocket ship, lego, slime, chocolate, more chocolate…” the list keeps going.

“Yea Jason. Santa will see us in a second. He’s got lots of people to see. I think you just need to pick 3 items for today.” You say & he sits down next to you.

“What do you want for Christmas Mummy?” He asks. You had no idea your son was so thoughtful. The look on his face is genuine. He really wants to know.

“For you & your sister to have the best Christmas” you say & wrap your arms around him. His hug is pure love, the only kind of love a 5 year old can give.

“Oooh im not sure I can wrap that up, what can I actually get you?” Jason hugs you. You know what you really want but you know Jason can’t get it for you. You go to answer with something trivial, but your then interupted by a teenager dressed as an Elf.

“The Rockfords?” You stand up & go to speak.

“Yep that’s us” an echoing voice comes from down the corridor. Tim is lightly jogging your way & the beam on your face can’t be denied.

“Daddy!” Tim scopes Jason up into his arms.

“Hey sport” he gives his boy a big kiss & ruffles Graces hair as she’s almost asleep on you. “Couldn’t miss this for the world” he kisses your cheek & you turn as red as a robins breast. Tim is still in his full detective gear. Holsters & everything. It’s giving you flash backs to some previous role play. He’s previously just left his tie & the holsters on while he’s fucked you & fake interrogated you in bed. The last time he did it, he growled just before his point of climax are you on birth control, you screamed no. You didn’t know Tim had a breeding kink until that moment as he went oh we’re gonna make this stick then. He fucked you all night, even when you woke up in the morning. He was late for work that’s day & you walked slowly for a week. The man delivered though, 9 months later Grace was born.

“I’m glad you made it baby” you say to him as you enter the first room & you are both offered a mince pie. Tim bites into his & his face lights up even more.

“Oooh this tastes good, I haven’t eaten since breakfast” he says & after you’ve had a small bite of yours, you offer it to him. There’s no point rolling your eyes at Tim not eating, his job means he sometimes doesn’t stop for hours. “Thanks beautiful” he says.

You’re then asked if you’d all like to stand infront of a fake fire for a family photo. Usually Tim hates this but he sees Jason get ready to pose & smile.

“Oooh absolutely” a few sensible & also funny family photos are taken in front of the fire & you know by the time you are done with Santa, you will have the jpegs emailed across to print off at home. Tim smiles genuinely in every single photograph. It makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. Those eyes that made you fall for him, dazing in the fake fire light. So warm cozy & loving much like his hugs on a cold winters night. He sees you look & looks back into your own soft blue eyes. “Hello you” he whispers. He can see the love reflecting back to him. His hand slowly fits in yours. So large but soft. The way his thumb goes across your knuckles to start with arouses you.

“Are you all ready to meet Santa?” the elf says, bring you both back to reality.

“Yes” Jason shouts. You & Tim both nod. You’re just happy to see Tim enjoying a family moment & forgetting about work stress.

“Well let’s go” The elf lifts up the icicle beaded curtain & Jason bounds in & you & then Tim follow.

There sits Santa. On his big red chair. A large tree, 3 large sacks of gifts & a few toys on the floor. It’s in a cabin setting. Jason doesn’t move, hes star struck.

“Go on Jason” you say & he then grabs Tim’s leg feeling a little shy.

“Hohoho is that Jason Rockford?” Santa asks in his deep voice. Jason nods, but still hangs onto daddy. “& that then must be mummy & daddy & is that your little sister Grace?” He asks, rubbing his belly. His beard is magnificently white & the suit is cherry red. You knew there was a reason why people booked up this Santa experience.

“How do you know my sisters name?” Jason asks suspiciously.

“It’s my job to know everyone’s name” Santa laughs “especially those on the nice list” Jason still hasn’t budged from Tim. Tim then gets down to his knees & looks at his son.

“Come on Jason, it’s only Santa, he wants to talk to you” he gestures. Jason still says nothing, not moving, standing firm. “Didn’t you want to tell him what was on your Christmas list, you told mummy earlier didn’t you.” Jason then shakes his head. Seeing Santa might have been what he’s wanted for the last 3 weeks but a 5 year old can’t process all those emotions. “Then tell me, tell daddy.”

“Chocolate” Jason says quietly.

“Sorry sport, speak up I missed that”

“More chocolate”

“Oooh chocolate I love chocolate” Santa Ho Ho Hos again & leans into a box,” i like Milky Way”

“That’s my fave too” Jason turns his head & he sees Santa holding one. In a flash Jason is no longer star struck or shy. He is on Santas knee, telling him about his gifts he’s like & what he thinks Grace wants & the elf’s take photos.

“He’s forward like his mum” Tim whispers in your ear as you hand Grace over for the kids to have their own Santa photo.

“& shy to start with like his dad, but then once your out of the shell” you smile at him.

“Thought you like me being outgoing and adventurous” Tim says. He then does that thing with his hand, the way he rubs it around his neck always has you pining, you have no idea why, it just does.

“I want any version of you my love” you then see Santa start to wrap it up the fun.

“Now here’s a small gift” he starts & he hands one to Jason & one to you for Grace as Tim picks her up.” To keep you going until Christmas night okay”

“Wow really, thanks Santa” Jason hugs him & we thank him too.

“Don’t forget to put your Christmas wishes in the box on your way out. Ho Ho Ho & Merry Christmas” he says & your family leave the room.

You look at the wish box & get Jason to write his down & you do one for Grace. But then you see Tim with a piece of paper.

“Baby what are you…”

“You need to do one too” he says as take a photo of his before he drops his in the box “otherwise your Christmas wish won’t come true” you smile & do the same.

“Okay Tim” after dropping your wish into the box, you leave as a family & Tim helps you get the kids in the car, once you get to the car park.

“Are you coming home” you ask being hopeful.

“No I’m not, I have to go back, I’ve got a murderer interview to conduct.”

“You found them”you say excitedly.

“Yes, the team left to arrest him while I’ve been here, but I promise to not be too late okay” you can tell by the looks of it in his eyes that he wants to do nothing more than follow you & the kids home right now. Both will be sound asleep before he gets home tonight, there’s even a chance you might be.

“It’s okay baby, I get It” you smile & go to open your car door but he blocks you getting into it. Your eyes connect & the kiss Tim gives is sweet & soft & your gloved hands graze his beard. You don’t want this kiss to end. He looks full of both sorrow & love as the kiss breaks.

“I love you” Tim says & he traces his thumb across your lips & leaves you standing by the car as he walks off to go get in his.

*

Christmas Day madness has happened & you get into bed in your new pink fleece snoopy pyjamas that you got for Christmas. The clean up can start tomorrow. Your parents have agreed to get up if the kids are an issue tonight. In walks Tim into the bedroom in his dark blue pinstripe Pyjamas & he gets under the duvet with you & kisses your cheek.

“I’ve got 1 more Christmas gift for you baby & I think you have one for me”he says with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Tim you know that we were always going to have…”

“No no nope, im not talking about sex” he says & he grabs his phone. “I want to show you what my Christmas wish was that I asked Santa for.” Your eyes dilate. You’d forgotten you did that on the evening you met Santa but now you’re excited to see what his was & to share yours.

“Really Tim?” You say excitedly & move close to him under the duvet. Your hand goes for his groin automatically, you know full well that sex is also on the cards, as you slip your hand beneath his bottoms. He lets out a small deep moan & you’re not just hot due to your new fluffy sleep wear. You want your husband, & he wants his wife.

“Y…ye…oooh yes” he says. You’re not sure if that’s a reaponse to sharing or your hand working his length or both, but the way his eyebrows twitch & the more breathing he does you think it’s more from arousal. He then grabs your hand & takes it away. “I don’t want to cum already” he mumbles & pulls you in so your head rests on his top. Such a firm chest & the broadest shoulders tower above you.

He scrolls through his photos.

“Your not worried you wish won’t come true baby”

“Ooh sweetheart” Tim kisses your forehead “it’s Christmas it’s a time for miracles” he says cockily.

“Did you just try & be Hans Gruber?” You ask & you both giggle.

“Guilty as charged” he says & then he flips his phone around & you look at what he wrote on the piece of paper. Your eyes well up.

For my families love & understanding everyday, not just at Christmas.

Your arms fling around his neck & you kiss him hard. So deep so passionate so intense.

“You’ve always had that Tim”

“I know, I just sometimes take it for granted” the way his hand strokes your hair sends a sensation down your spine. His lips are soft as the keep making contact with yours.

“Do you…”

“After this” he moans as he reaches the hem of your fleece top, always a man who knows what he wants. A man who gets results. He might not be in his detective gear right now, but it wasn’t the detective fantasy you fell in love with 8 years ago. It was those big eyes, that smoulder, the messy hair, the deep sexual voice, those large hands that make your body do extraordinary things. You love Tim Rockford, he never had to be a detective to get you in bed, although now that is sometimes useful.

Your pyjamas are off before his & he kisses your tummy. Your stretch marks always get the first kisses just before he slips inside you. You still don’t like them & always gasp when he kisses them.

“There’s nothing sexier than these baby, they made the two best things in my life, be proud” his top has gone & his bottoms follow quickly. His long length dripping already. You’re so aroused that you know you won’t need lube tonight. The way his hands caress your hips as he goes between your legs. You feel the tip tease your clit & the moan you let out has Tim licking his lip.”okay maybe that noise is, make that noise again” he breaches you. He’s not fully in but it has you hand clutching the pillow. He always makes you stretch. He likes to go in slowly & sensually. You oblige & moan again. “That’s my good girl, you’re on my nice list” the next rock he’s almost fully inside. You’re already clamping around him. He feels so good.

“a nice list?” You stutter.

“Yes” the next thrust he’s completely inside you & you cry his name. “You are such a good girl except when it comes to sex, then your naughty but you do that to make me happy” he raises his eyebrows as his next thrusts hits the soft spot. The one that makes you see starts. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over as he slowly rocks into you & your body responds enjoying each movement. Your eyes open after an extraordinary kiss. He feels even deeper inside you tonight. You’re extra sensitive to each graze inside your core.

He lowers himself so he’s all but lying on top of you. Just hoovering slightly. His hands grab either side of the pillow by your head. You lift your hands up & hold his face, & look directly into his eyes. The sweat glistening off his head. His body moving in a rhythm that’s unmatched. It makes you purr.

“Baby”

“Oooh baby”

It’s intense staring into each others eyes. The way he works his hips. Your friction against him has you whimpering.

“Ooooh yes yes yes yes don’t stop, keep going oooh fuck” your heart races.

“Oooh you like that, fuck you do” those massive brown eyes are the largest you’ve ever seen. He’s lost in his lust & desire for you. That turns you on even more.

“Tim oh Tim. Yes Tim”

“You take me so well baby” one of the hands stops gripping the pillow & lightly goes around your neck. Each thrust deep. It hits the spot without fail. You feel extraordinarily sexy as his grinds his teeth. The beads of sweat drip onto your chest.

“Keep going im so close” you just about get the words out. His grip tightens & you start gasping & he is pulsing. You’re sure the bed is creaking. You’re hoping no one can hear your collective moans.

“You wanna cum?” Tim growls as his other hand tugs at your hair. “Do you think you’ve earnt it? Do you want to drench me? Make me spill inside you?” you love it when he gets in the zone & starts using his menacing voice. Criminals cave in for this tone but you squirt when he gets it right. What brings nightmares for others makes you orgasm.

“Ye yea…. Yess”

“If I cum your gonna keep me warm, your going to sleep all night with my hard throbbing cock buried inside you. We’re gonna stimulate you so you stay wet & I stay hard. You’re gonna be cock drunk when you wake up on Boxing Day, my naughty wife.” You hear these words escape Tim’s mouth but they don’t make sense. You’ve lost all cognitive thoughts. Your about to scream so that everyone knows your husband has satisfied you. “Cum baby, cum for your hubby”

The way you scream Tim’s name is deep & low, because you are almost speechless. You gush & drench his length as he keeps going inside you. Even if you weren’t speechless, nothing could describe what you’re experiencing right now.

“Yes baby, that’s my girl, oooh fuck oooh god oooh yesssss” Tim screams. His hand squeezes once more around your neck, his sperm flows inside you, filling you up. His body also juddering, from the extreme pleasure. He sharply let’s go of your neck & you gasp for as much air as you can in 3 seconds before your mouth is occupied with his. Your bodies roll you both out of your highs, slow rocks to calm you down. His hands are in your hair & on your breasts. Yours are also in his hair & stroking that small little patch he has in his beard, your favourite place for cheeky kisses. Eventually your bodies do stop rocking & your collective panting goes quiet. There is a squelching noice from his penis still semi hard inside your.

“Baby” you eventually say & flutter your eyes open.

“Ooh baby in deed” he goes to roll off you & then remembers his promise. You moan slightly as he withdraws but he is swiftly back inside you semi hard, being your big spoon. Even like this he feels good inside you. Cock warming is often something you do as you fall asleep after sex.

“Was that the best Christmas gift?”Tim whispers.

“Well it’s either that or the watch?” You giggle as he moves your hair to the side to kiss your neck. Such small soft little pecks.

“See we can make everyone’s Christmas wish come true” he says. “Hang on you never showed me what you asked santa for”

“Did I not?”

“No we got so into the moment after my reveal that we forgot”

“Hmmm”you reach your arm out & grab your phone. A smile comes across your face. “Promise to not over react?” You say with a little snigger.

“Baby what could…” Tim then looks & the photo on the phone startled. He takes it from you & stares at it. He then throws it down the end of the bed. His hands trail down your body as harder kisses fill your neck & cheek. “Seriously?” You nod “but today? How?” He’s really shocked.

“I was in charge” you smile & turn your head around so his lips can find yours.

“My cleaver girl”

You slowly both nod off to sleep exhausted, his cock still inside you, the kisses eventually stop. His hand also stops rubbing his most favourite place of all. Eventually your phone screen turns off. Your wish was always going to be true.

For Jason & Grace to love their new sibling, who should be here come August.

[welcometothedopeworld]

Boredom Buster ~ *Kanata & Nayuta Yatonokami*

Summary: You don't have a lot of free time. And when you do, you always spend it with your favorite pair of brothers. Now it's their turn to bust you out.

Pairing: N/A

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 830

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

"ORDER UP!"

The sound of the head cook in the kitchen book you out of your stupor. With quick and precise steps, you grabbed the food and brought it over to the correct table. You gave a smile and a nod before trudging over to stand behind the counter again.

Now, you loved the little diner that you worked at. It was quaint and full of kind people who loved the homestyle cooking it provided. But there was a lot of downtime and your boss was very strict, which meant you had to be ready at a moment's notice to serve. You wished he would lay off for even a day so you could scroll on your phone or joke around with the kitchen staff in the back. It wasn't too much to ask for a little fun, was it?

The front door bell jingled, which alerted you to a new customer. Grabbing a couple menus, you gave a bright smile that only brightened more when you saw who it was. "Hello! Welcome to Sonny's Diner! Usual table, boys?"

Nayuta nodded with a bright smile. "Yes please!"

"Excellent! Right this way!" 

As you led them to their usual table towards the front of the restaurant, you caught Nayuta elbowing his brother in the ribs. "See? I told you they would be working today."

When they sat down, you watched Kanata roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

You chuckle before saying, "Honestly, when am I not working? But it pays the bills, right, Kanata?"

He nodded and you caught the little blush on his cheeks. "I'm assuming Nayuta still wants the usual?"

His brother nodded. "Yes please!"

You nod and take their menus they didn't open. "Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."

You write their ticket and give it to the cooks. As they get to work, you make Kanata's coffee just the way he likes it and a milkshake for Nayuta. When you arrive back at your table, you give them their drinks.

"The usual coffee and milkshake."

"Usual?" Nayuta tilts his head to the side. "Are you trying to say we're boring?"

"They're not saying that." Kanata shot back, his hands darting for the coffee mug as soon as you set it down and almost scalding his tongue as he took a sip.

You shake your head. "It's not that at all, I promise! It's just this whole place gets boring after a while. It feels like it's the same thing day in and day out, and I don't know, I just feel like my days, or rather, my life needs some more excitement."

Nayuta frowned at your words as he drank his milkshake. "That's sad to hear. But you still like your job, right?"

"I love my job!" You exclaim. "I just feel like I'm standing still while everyone else is moving, you know? Like I've reached a dead end while everyone is going on to bigger and cooler things than me."

Kanata frowned. "You're not in a dead end."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. But I think you might be the only one who thinks that." You give a small sigh and a sad smile. This only makes the brother's frowns deepen.

However, before either of them can say anything, you are called back to the counter as the front door bell rings with more customers. You spend the next half hour doing your job like normal: taking orders, serving food, and bussing tables. Eventually, you have a few minutes to spare to talk to the Yatonokami brothers once more.

"How's everything tasting?" You ask with your usual bright customer service smile.

"Amazing as always!" Nayuta chirps.

"That's good to hear! I'll tell the kitchen to get your dessert order started-"

"When do you clock out?" Kanata asks before you can turn away.

You pause, not sure if you heard him correctly. "Pardon?"

"When do you clock out?"

"Um... not until after the lunch rush, which is in about an hour... why?" You ask, your eyebrows skeptically furrowing.

He glances over at his brother, who is practically bouncing in his seat, most likely from all the sugar he has had. "We're going to take you out to do something fun. We want to prove to you that you're not standing still while everyone's moving ahead."

A light blush decorated your cheeks. "Ah, you guys, you really don't have to-"

"It's not up for debate." Nayuta quips back, his chipper grin and sweet voice still present. "You're going and that's final, understand?"

You nod. "Alright then. Are you guys okay with waiting?"

Kanata held up his mug. "If you keep bringing me coffee, I'll stay as long as I have to."

You chuckle and tell him you'll get a fresh pot brewing just for him. As you leave their table, there's some pep in your step. You can't wait to see what fun things you'll get to do with your favorite customers in about an hour.

[partypoisonzz]

i'm dressing up like a cat (gerard way x reader smut)

Kinktober Day 15: Pet Play/Pegging

Era: Current (2022)

Reader Pronouns: She/her

Content:

- Kitty Gerard

- Pegging

- Mirror sex

- Degradation/praise

- Rough oral sex

Word Count: 2,736

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

-

"Here, kitty, kitty."

Much to your delight, the sound of a jingling bell meets your ears as soon as the words leave your lips. Moments later, you feel something brush against your calf, followed by a low purr.

You smile as Gerard rests his head against your thigh, looking up at you with wide, expectant hazel eyes. You are more than pleased to see that the only things remotely close to a scrap of clothing that he's wearing are his cat ears and collar.

"There's my pretty kitty," you greet him, combing your fingers through his hair affectionately. He rubs his cheek against your leg, eyes falling closed as he revels in your attention.

Your hand wanders from his hair, curling under his chin. You hold his head in place, forcing him to look at you. Your thumb brushes idly against his cheek. "You're going to be a good pet for me, right?" you ask. "Gonna do what your mistress says?"

He nods quickly. "Yes, mistress."

"Good." You pat your lap. "Get up here, then."

With a quiet hum, he climbs onto the bed and stretches out over your lap.

You smile. "Good boy," you coo, gently caressing his back.

Your heart flutters as he fucking purrs, leaning into your touch as your fingers card through his hair before travelling back down.

This whole pet play thing is sort of new to you, but the adjustment hasn't been as strange as you initially expected.

Maybe it's the manner in which Gerard so obviously revels in your attention, like a... Well. Like an affectionate kitten.

Or maybe it's the fact that he just looks so pretty with a pink collar around his neck, a tag with your name on it attached next to the bell. Though you laughed at the if found, please return to... message when you had it made, there's something about feeling like you own him that causes heat to pool in the pit of your stomach. He's yours. All yours.

Hell, it almost sounds natural whenever he purrs or mewls or hisses. The nicknames of pet and pretty kitty fall from your lips now almost as easily as baby and sweetheart do.

Something about all of it is just... right, somehow.

You would be happy to just stay like this all day, with him purring in your lap, if he would let you. You know full well, however, that that isn't the intention this time.

A quiet whimper reaches your ears, followed by the feeling of Gerard rolling his hips against your thigh, just slightly.

However imperceptible he may have thought the movement was, you notice. Your hand stills on the small of his back as you click your tongue at him.

"Feeling needy, are we, kitty?" you ask.

He takes in a shaking breath. "Yes, mistress."

You chuckle, resuming your gentle ministrations against his skin. "Poor little thing," you fuss over him. "So desperate and can't even ask for what he wants. What should we do about that, hmm?"

Though it was definitely a question, Gerard knows better than to answer with words. He just lets out another quiet whine, pressing his burning face against the duvet.

You scratch your nails lightly over his skin as you continue to pet him, — not hard enough to sting, but certainly hard enough for him to notice.

"Does my pretty kitty want to take his mistress's strap?" Your voice is soft, sweet. Deceptive, considering the fact that you're going to fucking destroy him before the night's over. "Tell me, pet."

He swallows hard. "Yes, mistress," he mutters.

"That's what I thought." Your hand travels lower and lower before falling away. Without warning, you give the back of his thigh a teasing slap. He stiffens against you, letting out a sharp yelp.

You don't allow his shrill little noise to faze you. You'll be hearing plenty more of those right here in a second. "Up," you command him.

With a trembling nod, he crawls off to the side, allowing you to stand up.

You take your sweet time rifling through the drawers of your nightstand before coming back up with the strap-on and lube. You walk back over to the bed, raising your eyebrows when you note Gerard's anxious expression.

"What're we so nervous for, kitten?" you press. "You act like you've never been fucked before." You crook your finger at him, beckoning him over. "C'mere."

Still carrying an odd air of apprehension, he returns to his prior spot, bent over your lap.

You reach for the bottle of lube, chuckling quietly to yourself as you coat one of your fingers. "Relax, sweet thing," you tell him. "You know that your mistress will take good care of you. I'll go as slow as you'd like. I've always done that before, right?"

He gives a jerky nod. "Mmm-hmm."

"There we go. You're okay, see?" You run your other hand through his hair as your finger presses against his entrance. "You ready, sweetheart?"

"Y-yeah." You note how his fingers are already digging into the sheets. "Do it."

Slowly, you continue to press your finger in, — only to effortlessly slide all the way up to the knuckle.

"Huh." You crook your finger slightly, embracing the debauched moan that instantly breaks up from Gerard's throat in response.

"So *easy* tonight, kitten," you remark, setting a slow rhythm with your finger. "Too easy, even. You're already ready for another." You pull your finger out, letting out a chuckle laced with malice. "Hell, baby... Don't think I even need to use any more lube."

You add another finger, making sure to press against the places that you know make him moan and squirm.

The quick pace that you set would be way too fast if he hadn't already been thoroughly prepped. The thing is, though, that he almost certainly has. You just had very little part in it.

"Have something to tell me?" you press as you curl your fingers up into him, inspiring a desperate cry.

"Fuck... Yes," he pants.

"Mmm." You hold your fingers in that exact place, unmoving. "And what, out of curiosity, would that be?"

He lets out a shuddering breath before making his confession. "I, ah... I got myself ready for you, mistress."

You chuckle. "Well, you certainly did a good job," you remark. "Problem is, I didn't ask you to."

Before he can even process what's happening, you pull your fingers out of him, punctuating the shock of the loss with a sharp slap against his ass.

He gasps. His hips buck involuntarily against you, which only earns him another slap.

"Dumb little cat," you spit at him. "You forgot your place, didn't you?"

"I-I'm s-sorry, mistress," he stammers. "I was trying to be good... Really..."

You ignore his groveling, snapping your fingers before pointing towards the floor. "Kneel," you order.

He looks over at you, eyes wide and pitiful. "I..."

"Kneel," you repeat.

With a quiet whimper, he obliges you.

Just like that, your anger begins to dissipate. "There we go." You smile down at him. A slight thrill shoots through you when he flinches as you pull his chin into your hand.

"You've gotta remember, baby," you chide him. "Bad kitties aren't allowed on the furniture." You reach down to ruffle his hair, — a gentle, soothing touch before you continue to order him around.

As soon as you pull your hand away, you point towards the other end of the room. "Why don't you crawl over there?"

He gives you a questioning look. "To the mirror?"

"Uh-huh." You giggle, giving him a slight swat. "Go on, cat. Shoo."

You don't see the way that his face goes bright red at your condescension before he begins to crawl across the carpet, finally stopping  in front of the mirror.

Once he comes to a stop, you stand up and approach him, carrying over the strap-on and harness.

You notice how his eyes freeze on the mirror as you begin to shed your clothes, starting with your pants. His eyes travel away from the reflective glass and back up to you as you begin to toy with the bottom of your shirt, itching to see the real thing.

Of course, you aren't going to let that happen. "Uh-uh. Mirror only." You wait until his eyes return to the reflection before you finally pull the article over your head and toss it to the floor.

You chuckle as your bra follows suit. "There they are, baby," you tease him, reaching up to give yourself a quick squeeze. "Those tits you love so much." Your self-assured smile melts into an exaggerated pout as you look down at him. "It's unfortunate that bad kitties aren't allowed to touch, isn't it?"

He groans. "You're fucking evil..."

"And you're fucking dumb for talking to me that way." Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking almost too hard for it to even be pleasurable. Almost.

"What is it gonna take to make you know your place, pet?" you ask him. "You're here to serve me. You don't get to make the decisions." You give his hair another sharp tug. "What has to happen for you to learn, huh?"

You almost think you're imagining it when you hear it. But *no.*

He just fucking hissed at you.

You decide to pretend that the white hot rush coursing through your veins is rage.

"Stupid fucking cat!" you shout. He cries out as your hand comes down on his ass again... and again... and again...

"P-please, mistress..." he moans between strikes.  "I'm sorry."

"Shut your fucking mouth," you tell him. "Better yet, let me do it, since you're evidently too dumb to know what's good for you."

With one quick swipe, you discard your panties and reach for the strap-on. You adjust the harness in what has to be record time, before reaching down to tug at his hair again. "Turn around."

He obliges, eyes going wide as you push your hand against the back of his neck.

"Suck," you order.

Between your hands and your voice, something drives him to finally comply.

You toss your head back as your fingers relax in his hair, becoming loving rather than cruel once again. "Good pet," you murmur. "Finally doing what you're fucking good for..."

He makes a muffled sound that you assume was meant to be an affirmation. You relish the obscene slurping sounds for a while before rolling your hips forward just slightly.

The first choked sound as you hit the back of his throat is delicious. It's enough to spur you on, repeating your actions. Soon enough, all you can hear are those obscene, strangled noises, intercut with desperate gasps.

"Is this what it takes for you to be good, kitten?" you ask between thrusts. "You need to have your slutty little throat fucked in order to lose that attitude?"

More muffled sounds between uneven breaths.

"Somebody needs to tell you not to talk with your fucking mouth full," you sneer.

He reaches up, tapping his finger against your thigh. Instantly, you pull back, allowing him to draw in a sharp breath.

He shakes his head. "N-no," he manages. "No. I..." He swallows audibly before continuing, looking up at you with tear-glistening eyes.

"It's alright, kitten." You rub soothing circles against the top of his back, allowing him to rest his head against your leg as he catches his breath. "You want to stop?"

"Need you to fuck me, mistress," he manages. "Can you?"

You laugh. "I sure can, baby." You stroke his face affectionately before pulling back. "Especially now that you've gotten me so nice and wet."

In more ways than one, you mentally add, noting the unmistakable throb between your thighs.

That can be taken care of later, of course. For now, you've got different priorities.

"Face the mirror again," you instruct him. "Hands and knees."

He does as he's asked without argument this time.

"That's my good boy." You line the strap up with his entrance before slowly sinking in.

Gerard lets out a shuddering moan, hands and knees digging hard into the carpet until finally bottom out.

"Taking me so well, kitty." You lean down, pressing a quick kiss against the top of his head before pulling back. "I'm gonna move, okay?"

"Please," he gasps. "Please, mistress. Need..."

"Shh." You pull back before pushing back into him, harder this time. "No need to beg, baby. I'm right here."

Slowly but surely, your thrusts pick up momentum.

Gerard's sounds continue to rise in volume all the while, pitiful whimpers turning into wanton moans.

Fuck, he's beautiful like this. Your only complaint is that his eyes remain fixed on the floor nearly the entire time, neglecting the mirror that is right in front of him.

That simply won't do, you decide.

Your hand cups his chin again, forcing him upwards. "Look."

As soon as those hazel doe eyes settle on his reflection, he lets out a broken moan.

The way that he looks right now goes far beyond pretty. He's otherworldly, cheeks rosy and streaked with the faint remainder of tear stains, mouth hanging open as a series of nonsensical noises break up from his throat with your every thrust. The headband that holds on his cat ears has come loose and is threatening to fall off, loose strands of silver-streaked brown hair fanning out around his face, and...

Shit. That fucking pink collar.

"See how pretty you are?" you ask quietly, planting a kiss against his bare shoulder before your hand climbs around to the front of his body. "Keep looking at yourself while I fuck you, baby. Want you to see how beautiful you look when you come."

With those words, your fingers suddenly hook beneath the leather of the collar. He gasps as you yank at it, constricting his air flow just slightly as you drive into him harder.

"You're mine, kitty," you tell him between fast-paced thrusts and tugs of the collar. "All... Fucking... Mine..."

He just continues to make debauched, incomprehensible noises in response. In his current state, you're not sure that he can do much else.

You look down in the mirror, grinning wickedly as you take note of his cock, pressed against his stomach and leaking.

"You're close, aren't you?" you ask.

He nods frantically, giving a high-pitched whine.

You reach the hand that isn't currently tugging atnhis collar around, taking him into your hand.

"That's it," you encourage him, matching the speed of your strokes to the rhythm of your thrusts. "Come for me, kitty. You've been so... fucking... good for me..."

Soon, his breathing is reduced to a series of sharp, uneven gasps. With one loud, final cry, he comes all over your hand, his stomach, the mirror.

You milk him through it until he has nothing left to give, squirming against your touch. "Mistress... Can't take any more..."

You lean down to press a kiss against the side of his face before pulling out of him. He makes a quiet sound before his knees start to give out underneath him.

"Nope." You loop an arm around his waist, pulling him until he's upright.

He leans back against you, still panting. "Holy shit..."

You chuckle, holding your come-streaked hand in front of his face. "Think you have it in you to clean up a bit of your mess, baby?"

He doesn't hesitate before allowing you to plunge your fingers into his mouth. He licks them clean in what seems like no time at all, hot tongue swirling over your skin.

You groan as you pull them back out. "Fuck, pretty boy. You must be trying to kill me."

He laughs weakly. "Think I could say the same thing for you."

"No, my dear. That chapter is done." You nuzzle your face against his neck before pulling back, threading your fingers through his.

"Come on," you urge. "Let's go get cleaned up. I'll worry about the mirror later."

He hums an agreement before tacking on an afterthought. "Want me to eat you out in the shower?"

You give an incredulous chuckle. "Ready for another round already?" you ask. "I thought I was trying to kill you?"

He manages to turn around, wrapping his arms around your waist before pressing a kiss against your lips. "Baby," he mutters as he pulls away. "I'd drown in you if I could."

Your heart soars. "We'll see about that."

-

Taglist (Ask to be included!):

@mysunfishpeedinmyroom @xocasper @clichedlovers @yachiiko @enchantinghouseofwh0res @dangerouslittlefairy @deadlovers @canyoutakemehome

[thezombieprostitute]

Flowers in Storms

A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty​‘s Bingo, again mixing three squares: Friends with benefits, Trapped together, and Flowershop AU. Reader is female.

Warnings: Mentions of the death of a character. Storms and storm damage. Angst.

The bell above your door jingles and you know who it is without even looking up. “Good afternoon, Sheriff. I’ve got your order right here.”

“How do you do that, Y/N?” Lee walks up to the counter, shaking his head. In the years he’s been visiting your flower shop he still hasn’t figured out your secret to knowing he’s the one walking through the door. He’s tried showing up on different days, at different times, in different weather patterns, and you still know it’s him. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me your secret.”

“Maybe someday,” you tease. “In the meantime, here’s your order. Make sure to give her my love while you’re out there.”

Lee nods his thanks and heads on out, pausing to turn back and ask, “are we still on for Tuesday night?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “Unless that storm we’re supposed to get gets worse. Then you’ll likely be on call.”

“Thank you, Darlin’” he tips his hat and heads out, flowers in hand. 

It’s been several years since Juanita, Lee’s wife and your best friend, passed on. You were both in a lot of pain at the loss and, after a year, ended up finding comfort in each other. Not a relationship, Lee couldn’t risk looking like he was moving on too quickly, lest he lose his next election. Friends with benefits and it worked for the two of you. 

You both became workaholics when Juanita was buried, burying yourselves in your jobs. It wasn’t healthy and it came to a head when Lee came in to buy flowers on what would’ve been their anniversary. You had told him he needed to take better care of himself and he threw that right back at you. Soon after you both agreed to start meeting up, as friends, just to make sure you each took some time off work. 

Your relationship grew from there but neither of you felt it was right to actually be dating. So you made arrangements, trysts, and other fun things but neither of you asked the other for more. Tuesday would be your next “not-a-date” and you were looking forward to it.

Business was painfully slow Tuesday but that didn’t surprise you. That storm was building and people were prepping for the worst. Lee had called and told you he was on call for the night and you reassured him you’d be home by the time the really bad winds hit.

Unfortunately you weren’t paying as much attention to the windows as you probably should, too busy making sure that your flowers would survive the likely loss of power. The next time you looked out the window it was hailing pellets the size of golf balls and you decided it was safest to just stay in the shop. You’d been through a few twisters by now and knew how to handle yourself but you still found yourself shaking and nervous as you plotted out the safest spots in the store. 

Your nerves got worse when the power cut out. The scream of the wind and the hail against the roof were the only sounds you could hear. You lit one of your emergency candles. It wasn’t much but there was something comforting about the little source of light and heat. You let yourself relax, watching that little flame, until some red and blue lights distracted you.

You heard the front door slam open followed by Lee shouting your name. You ran to the front of the shop and hugged him tight before yelling, “what the hell are you doing here, Lee?!”

“I could ask you the same thing, Y/N! You promised me you’d be home before this storm got rough. I tried callin' your home, which still has power by the way, and got no answer, so I ran out here hoping, praying you weren’t stuck in a ditch or worse!”

“I can look after myself and you shouldn’t worry about me like that,” you protest. 

Before Lee could yell back you both heard a loud boom as lightning struck a nearby tree. You pulled Lee away from the front door and windows as the tree started falling. Much to both of your dismay it landed on your cars. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. “That’s gonna be a lot of paperwork.”

“For both of us,” you agreed, grateful you were caught up on your insurance. “In the meantime, looks like we’re trapped together here. Come on back, it’s a bit safer there. You got your radio? Let the other officers know?”

“Yeah, yeah. You get on back and I’ll radio. But we’re not done talkin’ about you lyin’ to me!” Lee turns away and radios the station letting them know his car is done for, “happened while rescuing a citizen trapped in a store but now we’re both here. We’ll be alright but I’m out for most any calls.”

“Roger that, Sheriff” you hear as Lee walks to join you. 

“Now,” he says as he crosses his arms and glares, “you wanna tell me what the hell you’re doin’ puttin’ yourself in danger like this?” You’ve noticed over the years how his accent gets stronger the angrier he is. It’s cute when it’s not directed at you.

“I genuinely lost track of time, Lee. I swear it was a legitimate accident. But you didn’t have to come out and save me. I’ve been through these things before and know how to take care of myself.”

“You’d be better at takin’ care o’ yourself if you were at home. Why’d ya even bother openin’ the damn store today? Coulda saved me a heap of trouble and a car!”

“That’s on you,” you countered. “I didn’t ask you to come get me, so you do not get to hold that over my head. And the store was closed most of the day but I had to be here to make sure I’d still have a store to come back to. I got caught up in the preparation and lost track of the time. You know that happens to me.”

“Why the hell couldn’t you just stay home where I…” Lee falters. “Where I’d know you were with your neighbors, lookin’ out for each other?”

“What were you about to say?” Lee shakes his head but you press him further. “You were gonna say something else just now. What was it?”

Lee lets out an exasperated sigh. He knows you well enough to know he’s not getting out of this one. His tone is quiet as he admits “I was going to say, ‘stay home where I could keep you safe.’ It’s…it’s what I say every time I visit Juanita. I just…I don’t want to lose someone else because I couldn’t be there.”

Not knowing what to say you opt to wrap Lee in as big a hug as you can. He gives you a gentle hug back and you stay like that for a long time. Long enough to notice the wind dying down and the pounding of the hail soften to the patter of just rain. 

The hug finally breaks when Lee’s radio chimes in, specifically calling for him. He walks out the front to respond leaving you in the back room. All by yourself in the dark with just a candle. You take the time to clear your head and, by the time Lee walks back in, you’ve made your decision.

“Deputy is drivin’ out here to give us a lift,” Lee tells you. “We’ll drop you off at home and I’ll get back to work.”

“Sounds good, Sheriff.”

Lee freezes. You only call him Sheriff when there are other people around. “What’s goin' on, Y/N?”

“We should probably stop hooking up,” you admit, not meeting his eyes. “I know we agreed on no romance, dating or whatever but…this whole thing was supposed to be temporary anyways. A way to stave off the worst of the grief as we healed. But I don’t think it’s working. I’m the last person to tell you to move on but if you’re still blaming yourself, blaming her, for her death, you need something more than I can offer.”

Lee focuses his attention on the floor, even though it’s too dark to see anything. When he doesn’t respond you continue, “I’ll still happily be your friend, that sure as hell won’t change. But I’m not gonna keep up the rest. It’s been fun, don’t get me wrong, but I think it’s keeping us from healing like we should be.”

He continues to stare at the spot on the floor until you hear the deputy’s car horn. You walk out in silence and get in the back of the car while Lee and the Deputy discuss all the damage and ongoing situations. They drop you off in front of your home, Lee never once acknowledging you. 

Over the next week you and your neighbors set to picking up the pieces, helping each other out, finding missing pets and more. Happily there weren’t any fatalities. Lee was purposefully keeping his distance from you, sending other officers to areas he knew were helping. The rumor mill was buzzing, of course, but you made sure to not feed the fire. 

When you finally got back to your shop the power had come back and you started salvaging what flowers you could. There were phone calls to suppliers and insurance companies to be made and you settled in for a long day on the phone. 

The front door jingled around noon and, without looking up, you call out, “mornin’ Sheriff.”

Lee lets out an exasperated sigh, “one of these days, Y/N.”

You look at him and ask, “do you actually want to know or do you want to keep it a friendly mystery?”

“You know what, I do wanna know. How the hell do you always know it’s me?”

“You’re always wearing the cologne Juanita would buy for you. That stuff she had to order special from the catalogs. You would’ve run out of it by now but I’m guessing you keep buying it because it makes you think of her.”

He purses his lips and nods, “the smell makes me think of her. My complaints about the cost when she first bought it for me were tempered by her assurances it would help me stand out while campaigning. It just kinda became another thing we would laugh and kid about.”

Lee takes his hat off and walks towards you, “I do need to apologize for bein’ so short with you. I’ve had some time to think and, you’re right. I don’t know that I’ll ever heal from losin’ Juanita, but I need to try and I can’t do that if I’m treating you like I would her. If I keep seein’ her in your place. If I keep wishin’ it was her laying next to me instead of you.” The confession hurts but you take it in stride.

“I’d still love to have ya as a friend,” Lee looks at you sheepishly. “I ain’t been much of a friend but I’m hopeful you’ll let me work at being better at that.”

You give Lee a soft smile and walk towards him with open arms. He welcomes the embrace and you feel his shoulders relax. It takes a while but you finally break the hug, tears in your eyes but a smile on your face. You both needed this.

It’s been a couple years since the storm but you and Lee are still good friends. So much so that he considers it his duty to keep an eye on your new suitor, a war veteran who came home missing an arm. When you asked Lee why he was stalking your date he looked offended, “I’m the Sheriff and your friend. I have to make sure this new guy isn’t takin’ advantage of our town’s sweet florist.”

You’re working on paperwork when you hear the front door bell jingle. Without looking up you say, “welcome to the Bouquet Boutique! Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“So that’s what you tell your customers,” Lee says with a smile on his face. His smile grows when he sees your look of confusion. “I’m tryin’ to go without the cologne for a while. See how that works.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say as you give him a big hug. “I’ve got your order right here, Lee. Make sure to give Juanita my love.”

“Will do, Darlin’. Will do.”

[chasingpj]

𝐈𝐈. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

“I know you’re scared. I am, too, but they’re growing and getting strong. It’s time.”

pairing: percy jackson x fem child of hecate!reader

words: 6,762

warnings: brief mentions of religious institutions, catholicism, human sacrifices, and tripping on mushrooms. if you're a ginger... i'm so sorry.

timeline: the lightning thief

a/n: so excited to finally get this posted. one thing i really wish i did when i initially started writing this fic was give a proper insight on the mc's and her brother's home life. i thought the addition of her grandmother and grandpa would be so fun and i'm excited to hear what you think. in the next chapter we will finally see the twins get to camp so stay tuned!

prologue chapter i chapter iii

The final bell of the school year rings, releasing a flood of excited children. Their shouts and quick footsteps move from the hallways to the echoing streets, bodies quickly funneling themselves through the double doors like inmates breaking out of prison. 

You scrunch your nose, trailing behind the crowd along with Atticus. Though excited to go home, neither of you was ready for the awful weather outside. Today’s sweltering heat washes over your body, humid and suffocating, no doubt. Some say it’s a beautiful day, but to your standards, this was torture from mother nature herself. 

Atticus grunts in annoyance as the rays of sunlight hit him hard. It was a slap in the face compared to the air-conditioning you’re begrudgingly leaving behind. Your brother trudges beside you, quick to unbutton and shove his tie into his pocket. You follow, exposing your skin to bake under the unforgiving sun. 

“Glad that’s over,” you speak almost in a sigh, and Atticus nods. 

“I didn’t think it would end,” Atticus’s eyes avert to the statue of Saints in front of your school’s chapel as you pass by. “I still think those things are alive.” 

A snort leaves your lips, flashing your gaze at them one more time. After the principal forced you and Atticus to scrub the stone as punishment for wearing black nail polish, you couldn’t bear to look at them. That and your brother was right. Those angel statues have definitely whispered your name once. “I don’t want to hear or see anything else about Saints for the rest of the summer.” 

“Don’t want to hear about Jesus either,” Atticus adds.  

“Or how Eve ruined everything.” 

 “Or how God made his archnemesis.” 

You pause for a moment in thought. “Satan’s pretty cool, though.” Atticus nods. “Agreed.” 

Neither of you says anything else. The children's chatter around the streets does enough to fill the silence. There are thumps of basketballs in the passing park’s courtyard and the low hum of the sprinklers. The ice cream truck jingle plays in the distance, herding kids toward the sound, and cars whoosh by, honking through traffic on the busy road. As you and Atticus make your way to the residential streets, your silence feels more meaningful as it’s filled with soft croaks of cicadas and bird chirps. 

Soon, your family's familiar baby blue Victorian home is in sight. Like a sore thumb, it sticks out from the traditional American homes on the block. On the outside, the white trim and the many flower bushes your grandmother tends to make the home look sweet and inviting. At first glance, it would look like any regular residence. Though different in style, there would be no reason for a double take if, of course, the white monument sign announcing “Cromwell Funeral Home” wasn’t there. 

“Hey! Wednesday and Pugsley Addams!” A slow, agonizing sigh leaves your nostrils. Felix Bain, a fitting last name for the nuisance he is, runs out of his front door as you and Atticus pass by. His posse of boys is hot on his heels, their faces with the same arrogant smile as their dictator. They giggle and chatter, but yours and Atticus’s stride don’t falter. 

“Ignore him,” Atticus mumbles. 

“I can’t believe you guys don’t melt in the sun,” Felix shouts again. “I’m surprised you can even get into the chapel. You must have some weird pagan magic protecting you.”

You didn’t expect Atticus to betray his advice, halting sharply and turning in Felix’s direction. Your eyebrow raises.

“Felix, do you know what they say about gingers?” Atticus asks. The friendly tone in his voice is bitter under his deadpan expression. 

Felix’s smile widens with arrogant challenge. “What?” “They say gingers have no soul and every freckle on their pale ghostly face is a soul they’ve taken to fill the emptiness.”

Felix’s lips falter, eyebrows slowly knitting in the center of his forehead. 

“You have a lot of freckles,” you point out, your jaw clenching to hide your smile. 

Felix’s mouth opens, but you cut him off quickly. “Gingers are also known to be unlucky. So unlucky that Ancient Egyptians used them as human sacrifices to release their bad luck.” Slowly, he begins to frown, shifting on his feet nervously. “Count yourself lucky you don’t live down the street from pagans….” Your eyes fix on your home a few houses from his. “Oh, wait. You do.” 

“You guys are weird!” Felix yells, his face almost as red as his hair. Smiling wickedly, you and Atticus turn on your heels, ignoring Felix's sloppy insults in your direction. 

“If I were you, I’d make sure to lock your windows at night,” Atticus shouts behind him. 

Angrily, the redhead stomps inside his home and mutters about how freaky the two of you are. The moment his front door slams closed, you and Atticus burst into laughter. 

“That was so mean!” 

You scoff. “So what?! He deserved it, and you’re the one who started it.” “I did, but I wasn’t the one who made it seem like we were gonna sacrifice him!” 

You shrug, opening the gate to your home. “Oh well.” 

Atticus shakes his head in playful disapproval, “You’re on a roll today.” 

Your eyebrow raises in confusion, stumbling to the side from Atticus’s nudge. “What do you mean?” “First, it was Avery and then Felix.” 

Atticus laughs at how your eyes roll, hand coming up in a dismissive wave. “Oh, please.” 

“It was kinda mean.”

“So what if I charged her double?” Quickly, you reach into the mailbox beside your door, collecting the envelopes for your grandparents, “First, you call my tarot cards stupid.” A loud clunk hits your ears as you harshly slam the box close. “Then suddenly, you want to be nice, so I can give you a reading about your stupid crush. You know what, I’m glad the cards told her he doesn’t like her.” 

As he walks into the house, Atticus laughs and mutters something about you being cruel. You trail close behind, surprised to see the ground floor decorated and ready for service. On your left are a couple of loveseats and coat racks right across the rows of banquet chairs. Further inside, there’s a hallway with a lounge area usually set up with desserts and Hors D'oeuvre for the guest. 

“My little rascals, how was school?” A familiar voice calls from inside the mourning area, putting a smile on your face. 

Your grandmother stands on a small ladder, hands carefully arranging flowers where the casket will be placed. Bright reds, whites, and pinks decorate the walls, and Cordelia hopes the display will soothe the eyes of grieving families. 

“It was fine,” Atticus answers, and you nod in agreement. 

Being realistic, how well can school go? Almost every day, the nuns penalize you for something. Whether it’s a minor offense like having nail polish or a freak accident at the chapel altar, you and Atticus never seemed to stay out of trouble. As for today, it was just fine. It could have been worse. You only got outed once by your teacher for dozing off during mass, and knowing it was the last day of school soothed any of your usual dread. 

“Just fine?” 

“Mhm,” you shrug, leaning against the doorway as you admire the display. 

“Very well,” Cordelia says with a slight smirk, aware of the chaos she’s about to unleash. As you and Atticus move to leave your grandmother to her task, she perks up. “Since you’re here….” You halt in your tracks. “Could one of you get me the hammer from the basement? It should be in the toolbox somewhere.” 

Before you can react, your brother shoves you from behind. “Not it!” 

A growl leaves your lips as the boy flees before you can recover. “Hey, get back here!” 

“No!” Hot on his heels, you turn through the lounge area, watching Atticus struggle with the doorknob before he bursts into the back hallway. 

“You’re lazy!” You shout, finger raised in the air. Atticus, already halfway up the stairs, flashes you a smile. 

“And you’re slow.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

Theo goes down the checklist of his last-minute details. First, he soothes the flyaways from the hair, cleans the sides of the lips from any lipstick, and adjusts the flowers in her folded hands. Poor girl, he thinks. Her life was taken right at the cusp of some of the best years life has to offer. Her family wanted a closed casket, afraid her face was too mangled to do otherwise, but Theo never cowered from a challenge. Nothing’s ever too broken to fix, he always says, and his work showed for it. 

Classical music played low from the record player in the background. As he checks the final product, it’s peaceful enough to keep his head clear until the twins make it home. Theo liked to call them Tom and Jerry. You being Tom and Atticus being Jerry and never was it the opposite. A small huff of laughter leaves him as he catches some of their argument. 

“You’re lazy!” “And you're slow!” 

He shakes his head. “Those kids are something else,” he mutters under his breath, middle finger pushing the round glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

Expectantly, he stares at the long staircase on his right as the door flings open. You stomp down the stairs with an angry look and he couldn’t help but laugh at his usually cranky grandchild. 

“Hi, Grandpa,” you greet a lot more cheerfully than you looked, and his heart warms.

“Hi, Pretty Girl,” he coos, his arms stretching wide for your embrace. His hearty laugh is muffled through his chest as you wrap your arms around his waist. “How was school today?”

“It was fine. Slow day,” you shrug. “Grandma needs a hammer. Where’s the toolbox?” 

“In the big metal cabinet back there. Just shout if you can’t find it; I’m heading to the bathroom.” 

“Okay.” You turn on your heels, twisting through the tables of equipment. 

The storage room was filled with boxes of everything from old furniture, family photos, decorations, and a bunch of other things your grandmother insisted on keeping. Grandpa always urged her to clean it out, the room so congested that the door only opens just enough for you to slip in but she refused. Luckily, you didn’t need to tango your way through stacks of items, the cabinet straight ahead. You felt silly when your own reflection scared you, not expecting an old mirror to lean against the space beside you. 

You search for a second, finding the hammer in plain sight. Grasping the head of it, you wiggle it out of the toolbox and shut the cabinet closed. About ready to turn on your heels, you almost missed it. You catch something in the corner of your eye, and it takes a second look to see what it is. 

Not again. 

A girl with ghastly gray skin and hair matted to her sunken cheeks stood a few feet behind you. Soft droplets of water dripped from her hunched-over frame, and her cold blue eyes burned a hole in the back of your skull. 

Your pulse roars in your ears. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t look away. Her expression changed from a blank stare to pure bewilderment, and in her panic, she catches your gaze through the reflection. A shaky breath leaves you, watching in anticipation as her mouth opens wide. Slowly her chest fills with air, and your hands slap over your ears as a truck horn blares from her throat. 

As if released from a trance, you whip your gaze in her direction to find her gone. Even the droplets on the floor didn’t darken the concrete as you had seen through the mirror. Your eyes flicker across your surroundings. Though nothing revealed what you saw was real, the eeriness left behind was enough to get you moving, and you ran straight to the stairs without looking back. 

One would think you just ran a marathon. By the time you made it back to Cordelia, you were winded. Your heavy footsteps announced your arrival, and Cordelia turned around, her smile faltering when she caught sight of your puzzled eyes. 

“Oh honey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Cordelia jokes, grabbing the hammer from your grasp. 

“I think I just did,” you mutter to yourself. 

Shifting on your feet, you admire the intricate arrangement your grandmother had put together as a distraction. She’s always had an eye for that kind of stuff. You wander a little to your left, curious to see the memorial photo perched on the mahogany stand, and the sight of it makes the hairs at the back of your neck stand up straight. That’s her. Instead, she wasn’t gray and wet. The photo seemed to be a graduation picture, and she gleamed with life, her skin sunkissed. 

You don’t know how long you were staring at the picture, but it was long enough for Cordelia to notice. “I saw her.” 

Cordelia quirks her eyebrow. Her heels click on the floorboards as she arrives at your side. “Did you see her around town?” 

“No.” You rip your gaze from the photo. “I saw her downstairs.” Cordelia opens her mouth, assuming you’d seen her in the casket, freshly put together for her service tonight, but you cut her off. “I saw her in the mirror downstairs, standing behind me.” 

There’s a short pause between you and your grandmother, the two of you pondering in careful silence. 

“You know…” she begins slowly, fiddling with a loose nail between her fingers. “Our family is from a long line of witches, honey.” 

“I know.” She smiles warmly at you, reaching over to rub your back soothingly. “You said my mom is a witch too.” “I did. A very powerful one. You and Atticus, all your gifts are credited to her.” 

The mystery of your mother was a topic that frequented your mind. Occasionally, your grandparents brought her up and often recounted the one time your father introduced her to them. You’ve heard the story plenty, but you yearned for more every time. What did her voice sound like? Where in your face did you look like her the most? How tall was she? Did she have freckles or a beauty mark? Did her green eyes have brown or yellow flecks? You wanted to know it all. 

They always tried to give you as much as they remembered and often asked your father to help them verify some details. You knew it was their way of ensuring you and Atticus didn’t forget about her. However, they never considered how hard it was to hear about your mom and never fully knew who she was.

“Dad doesn’t like talking about her.” 

“It was tough for him when she left,” Cordelia smiles sadly, her thumb stroking the back of your neck affectionately. “I don’t think he ever fully recovered.” 

“Why did she leave?” You ask, testing the waters. This is usually when the conversation ends, but you figured you’d give it a shot. Time and time again, you’ve asked the same question, but your family has kept this piece of information strictly confidential. 

Every time, your grandmother says the same thing as she’s saying right now. “You’ll know one day, but she had her reasons.” 

The disappointment on your face was evident, and she tsks. “Don’t give me that face, honey,” she leans her cheek on top of your head. “One day, you’ll know with age. Just not right now.” 

Not right now. You’ve heard it too many times before. What even was the hold-up? You would think that being 11, almost 12 in the fall, would be old enough to know this secret. If you think about it, you’ve been in the double digits for two years. You were practically a teenager at this point, and still, you were too young by their standards. 

“As for who you saw downstairs, seeing the dead doesn’t always have to be scary.” Cordelia’s voice takes you out of your thoughts, going from one frustrating topic to a daunting one. 

“I know. She just looked scary,” you frowned. 

“Her soul is restless, perhaps, confused too. I’m sure she won’t linger for long.” A shiver runs up your spine, and your arms wrap around your frame. It felt as if the simple conversation about this girl was summoning her. A voice told you you were psyching yourself out, but as your grandmother's eyes flickered across the room, you realized you were wrong. “I think I will speak with her.”  

More than happy to leave the creepy stuff to her, you nod and don’t dare look in the direction her eyes are fixed on. “Well, you have fun with that,” you giggle nervously, stepping back toward the back hall entrance. 

Cordelia sends you an amused smile. Maybe one day, you’ll be as courageous as your grandma. Many times she’s told her creepy, unsettling accounts of the supernatural after you and Atticus would beg them out of her. They always made you feel better about the memories of your own strange occurrences that filled you with dread. 

Weird things happened to you so often you had thought it was universal. However, after the kids in school called you crazy that one time in kindergarten, you quickly realized it wasn’t. Grandma’s stories reassured you that you weren’t losing your mind. However, it was quite an annoyance for your father. As much as you and your brother enjoyed a scary story, you always sought refuge in his room when the tales lingered in your minds well into nighttime. 

“I will.” 

You give her a thumbs-up before turning on your heels. 

“Oh, and honey?” 

“Yes?“

“Remember to light your candle for Lady Hecate. You forgot this morning.” 

Your palm flies right to the middle of your temple. All day you had felt like you forgot about something, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

“Okay, I will,” you say shortly. Quickly, you reach the brown door in the back of the hallway that leads you to the mahogany stairs. For a second, your eyes grace the entrance to Grandpa Theo’s workspace, and a shiver goes up your spine. It was in your head, but you bolted up the stairs, feeling like you were being chased. 

“How rude, not lighting your candle for Lady Hecate,” Atticus peers over the railing, and your eyes roll. “Even I remembered.” “Maybe if you had to rush out because someone decided to take forever in the shower, you would have forgotten too.”  

“No, I wouldn't because I’m better than you.” A squeal leaves him when you reach over to push him, hands missing his body by a few inches.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night,” you mumble. 

As always, Hecate’s altar is in your path the moment you reach the top of the stairs. You couldn’t remember a time when the table wasn’t settled tight in the corner of the living room, making it a staple of your childhood. The dark brown table with its offerings was an eerie sight for some people, but to you, it was comforting. Talking at the altar always brought you comfort; oddly enough, you felt heard too.

Right on the top ledge sits a bronze statue of Hecate. She stands tall with an extravagant crown on her head, her dress flowy and rustled under the cape over her shoulders. Her left hand holds twin torches, and her right has a dagger. At her feet are skulls and two dogs peeking from the back of her dress on each side. If the statue wasn’t daunting enough, the shelf right under held five candle holders lined up neatly. The sides are caked with long drops of black wax, except for the holder with the candle you forgot to light this morning. According to your friends, that made the whole setup creepy, not the offerings on the table. 

Those offerings included a bouquet of dried lavender sitting in a vase you made years ago in art class, and beside it was a board of dried bread, fruits, chocolate, and garlic alongside a wine-filled chalice. There are also small trinkets that litter the table as presents to your deity. One of them is a small Yoda figurine Atticus insisted Hecate would love. Finally, settled in the corner is a diffuser, the steam dispersing the scent of citrus and flowers. That combination of smells is one that you equate with home. A whiff of that anywhere could take to the memories of this table. 

“I apologize, Lady Hecate,” you say, pulling the box of matches from the drawer. “It’s Atticus’s fault that I forgot.” A smile emerges as you light the candle and throw the match in the little cauldron beside to snuff the flame. 

“Not true,” Atticus chimes in, his footsteps growing heavy as he emerges beside you. “Hecate should punish you for forgetting.” 

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.” 

Atticus leans on the wall next to the table, arms crossed as you dig for a clean cloth in the middle drawer. You dab some coconut oil on it to polish Hecate’s statue. “Today was the last day of school,” you begin, carefully rubbing the base. “Atticus and I only got in trouble once.” 

“It was probably because we were only there for three hours,” he concludes.

“For sure.” Moving the oil up Hecate’s dress, you hum softly. “I hope the summer goes by slowly. I don’t want to go back any time soon.” “Neither do I.” 

“And I hope we go on vacation like last year.” You bring Hecate’s ear close to your lips as if you were telling her a secret. “Persuade our dad to take us to Disney World this year.” “And Universal,” Atticus adds. “And Universal, please,” you whisper again, and your brother perks up excitedly. “You think she will?” “I think so. She gave Felix nightmares when we asked,” you and your brother smile knowingly, excited for the trip as if it was already set in stone. 

By the time you finished polishing Hecate, you and Atticus had already discussed all the plans for your trip. You would like to think her divine intervention was already at work, especially as you hear footsteps coming up the stairs before your father appears in the living room. “Hi, Dad,” you and Atticus say in unison, and the man smiles tiredly. He only had two lecture classes on Friday, but being up all night working on his latest academic project had taken all his energy. “Hey, kids,” he says sweetly, ruffling your and Atticus’s hair affectionately. Putting his computer bag on the couch and tossing his keys on the kitchen island, he doesn’t notice his twins staring at him. He must have felt the burning gaze, eventually looking in your direction. As he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt, eyebrows raised at how your smiles stay frozen on your faces. “What are you guys so happy about?”

Stifled giggles release from your throats, and Vincent’s expression becomes increasingly suspicious. He’s not sure what those looks mean. “Unpredictable” already felt like an understatement for you two. “So, Atticus and I were thinking,” you pause for suspense, slightly enjoying the nervous anticipation from your father. “We were thinking that you could take us to Disney for vacation,” Atticus blurted out before you could. 

Vincent immediately snorts at the suggestion. “I’ll think about it.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?” “Eh,” Vincent shrugs with a playful smile that tells you not to get your hopes up. At the sight, you and Atticus slouch, ready to beg. “You guys suggest it like it’s cheap.” 

“That’s why you’re paying for it,” Atticus says matter-of-factly, and Vincent couldn’t help but laugh. “Summer’s barely started, and you guys are already planning a vacation?” You and Atticus nod and his eyes switch between you, wondering how this idea came to be. “Let’s talk about this another day. For now, go upstairs and wash up for dinner. I’m gonna start cooking.”

Atticus sighs, and you mimic the boy beside you. It was a shot in the dark, but he’ll come around. You were sure of it. 

“Lame,” you say, the word drawn out, and Vincent shakes his head, amused, as the two of you disappear upstairs to your rooms. 

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

What is there to do? Sitting at the edge of your bed, you look around your room, searching for something to occupy your time. Usually, by this point of the night, you and Atticus were doing homework at the table and waiting for dinner. You could almost laugh at yourself. School is over for the year, and you’re sitting here wondering what to do besides a homework assignment that doesn't even exist. 

Your usual hobby of reading felt too school-like, and it didn’t feel like the right activity to celebrate your first night of freedom. Through your jack and jill bathroom, you can hear the plastic buttons of Atticus’s controller and his frustration when he loses his game again. For a second, you considered joining him, but that didn’t feel right either. 

You resort to plopping back into the bed, staring at the ceiling—small snippets of your day flash by, your mind skimming through them like pages in a book. Abruptly, the memories stop at your conversation with your grandmother. 

“You’ll know one day, but she had her reasons.” 

Your once-forgotten disappointment ventures right back. If you had a dollar for every time you tried to come up with possible reasons why she left, you’d be rich. Brainstorming every reason you could think of, you concluded the only one that made sense was that she didn’t want you and Atticus. Truly, what could be the reason for leaving you on a doorstep and never coming to see you again? Sometimes, it felt like your grandmother was bluffing when she claimed to know that your mother loves you very much and that one day, you will meet her. Those promises felt like things your grandmother said to convince herself or to uphold an ideal to refuse reality. 

Your father’s feelings about it were the most complicated part. Every time she was brought up, it was like he couldn’t bear to listen or speak of it like swallowing something rotten. Grandma said he was heartbroken, which added to the huge question mark of this situation. How could your mother love you so much but then leave and hurt your father in the process? It was just bizarre. 

If the day ever came when you got to meet her, you questioned what you would even say. You suppose you’d hear her reasons first, but sometimes when you thought of the scenario, you couldn’t imagine giving her the time. Though inconsiderate, you wanted to yell and tell her how it feels to be the only person in class without a mother. Sure, your grandmother was always there, and your father filled in the roles as much as he could. Still, it felt like there was something you were missing out on. 

Putting on a movie or submitting to the prospect of reading felt like a good idea now more than ever. At least then, it would pull you out of these suffocating thoughts for a little while. The moment you sit in your bed, you’re surprised to see your brother standing in your bathroom doorway. 

“Wha—” 

Atticus moves so fast, you barely process the moment he slings a small golf ball right in your direction. 

“Ow!” Rubbing the sting it left behind on your chest, you glare at him

“Give me the money,” he demands. 

 “Seriously? That’s what you did that for?” Atticus doesn’t cower under your growing anger, and he nods pridefully. “Yep.” “It’s not even your money,” you explain. 

“We split what we make; we agreed on it,” Atticus says, and as you open your mouth, he flings a golf ball at you once again. 

“Atticus, stop!” You screech.  When you decided you needed a distraction, this wasn’t the one you were hoping for. Of course, right now is when he decides to torment you for a measly 10 dollars. Both of you had two clients today, and charging Avery double meant you made more money. It was yours to keep, but here Atticus is claiming his half.

His high-pitched laughter fuels your rage, “Give it to me!” “It’s not yours! I worked for it!” With a smile you wanted to wack off his face, he secures another ball into the leather tab of his slingshot. “Stop!” 

You didn’t even have a chance, his eyes calculating the shot with ease, and he releases the ball. It flies right to the plastic cup on your nightstand, and there’s a clunk, juice running out in long droplets straight to the floor. 

I’m gonna kill him, is the first thought that crosses your mind. 

You hate mess. Your brother knew that better than anyone. Along with the pulse thumping hard in your ears is the echoing drips coating the wooden floor. The boards will get sticky, and so will your nightstand. The innocent bystander of the attack, your journal, is probably soaked, and who’s gonna clean it? You. Of course, you, and here he is, smiling at you like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “You’re dead!” You scream with a straight stride in his direction, and Atticus yelps, dodging your attempt to grab him. He manages to slip past you, his hand snatching the money off your desk on his way out. “Ugh!” 

Harmonious thumping footsteps fill the hallway, wooden floorboards creaking with every heavy step. Downstairs, the chandelier over the dining table shakes, and Cordelia's cup of tea ripples into circles. “They’re fighting again.” 

Right through the dining room archway, Vincent cleans some dishes. His hands pause their task, head tilting back and eyes close for a moment. The bickering never ends with you two.

Quickly, he wipes his hands with a dish towel nearby, his footsteps heavy as he makes his way to the bottom of the stairs. 

“What’s going on?” Your father’s tired call is just loud enough for the both of you to hear, but neither you nor Atticus gives him the time. 

Hot on his heels, you follow your twin into his bedroom. He makes a beeline into your shared bathroom and returns to your room. 

“I made that money myself!” Your anger bubbles in your core as every attempt to grab his collar fails. A harsh grunt of frustration leaves your lip, and a door slamming follows. You don’t waste time checking the door that shuts by itself, lunging at Atticus one more time, but alas, he quickly escapes and heads down the hall. “We’re business partners! You’re supposed to give me half!” After several more attempts, Atticus squeals when you finally get ahold of his collar. He falls back on the floor from your hard tug, arms tucking into his chest to cage the money between his hands. “Since when? We agreed we keep what we make, and I made that money!” Atticus squirms in your hold, his fist waving frantically. “GIMME!” 

“Guys! What’s going on?” Your father calls louder, and a loud crack comes from upstairs. It was so loud that you backed off from prying Atticus’s fingers, thinking he cracked a bone. 

Atticus gasps at your father's call, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he laughs at your frustration. “You’re so ugly. You look like Grumpy from Snow White!” 

His hands catch your arms before you can punt him, and the two of you are wrestling as if your life depended on it, and in Atticus’s case, it kind of did. 

“Shut up!” You yell, then there’s a shatter. 

A painting on your left falls straight off the wall. Atticus gasps and tilts his head aside just enough for the frame to miss his face as it falls flat. When you’re distracted, he shoves you off of him, rolling on his stomach and crawling away as fast as he can. He tries to get back on his feet, but you regain your balance quick, and right as he reaches the top of the stairs, you grab his foot and drag him back. “Help!” He chokes out, reaching to grab the banister of the stairs, but it is too late. A groan leaves his lips as you climb on top of him. Straddling his back, your hand grabs a fist full of his hair and pulls back. “AHH!” 

“Gimme it!” “DAD!” 

“Y/n! Let go of your brother right now!” In your blind rage, you just notice your father standing with a disapproving glare at the top of the stairs. “He took my money!” You lean over to retrieve the bill from him, but he continues to wave his fist.

“It’s OUR money!” 

 “No, it isn’t!” 

“Is too!” 

“IS NOT!” A strangled yell comes from Atticus as you tug on his hair a little harder, causing the skin around his eyes to pull up. He looked ridiculous, but you are too angry to find any humor. “Y/n! Enough!” Vincent stands his ground, and your eyes snap at your father. You looked wicked with your glowing green eyes and a swirling aura over your head. Anyone sane enough would cringe at the sight, but his glare remains assertive and steady. “Let. Go.” 

The sternness of his tone brings you back to your senses, and there is relief in Vincent’s gaze at your dimming aura. You take your time, but eventually, you release your brother. 

“Now, without violence, tell me what happened.” Your father demands, leaning against the staircase railing. His calm and relaxed nature brings your mood down, and you rise from your spot. 

“Atticus took my money.” “It’s OUR money,” he says once again. The repeated phrase makes you so angry that you shove him back on the floor right as he’s about to stand up. “OW!” “Y/n, keep your hands to yourself,” Vincent scolds, and you huff. He sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “What money are we talking about?” 

“The money we made from our business.” 

Vincent raises an eyebrow at you. “Business? 

“Yeah, our tarot reading business.” “Tarot reading business?” He furrowed his eyebrows at your nod as if it was the most nonchalant thing in the world. “You two ran a tarot reading business at your Catholic school?”

“Um, yeah?” You shrug, and so does Atticus beside you.

It wasn’t that big of a deal. The nuns never found out, so who cares? The two of you were careful, only doing readings in the bathrooms or behind the bookshelves in the library. Maybe, it was a little wrong to do readings between the church pews, but it was only once!

Okay, maybe twice.

Actually, it was three times. 

Regardless, it’s not like the bible explicitly says, “you cannot use tarot cards.” The last time you checked the fine print, it wasn’t in the Ten Commandments.

Also, five dollars per reading was enough to get you guys all the candy and snacks you could need, so it was something you couldn’t give up. In that case, it could have been considered greed or gluttony even but those rules don't apply to you. After all, you weren’t even Catholic. 

“Pretty sure you shouldn’t be doing Tarot readings at your Catholic school.” “And I’m pretty sure pagans shouldn’t go to Catholic school, but here we are.” You mimic the beaming squint of your father but you backed down. 

Vincent sends you an expression telling you you weren’t being fair and your vision falters elsewhere. Catholic school was the only option after you and Atticus got expelled from the only public school in your area. 

It’s a long story, but basically, Atticus picked mushrooms from the forest behind your house for an art project, and you made the mistake of mentioning them to your friends at lunch. Next thing you know, Jackson makes a bet to eat the mushroom despite you and Atticus saying it was a bad idea.

One thing leads to another, and Jackson ends up having a bad trip in the middle of math class. It could have been worse. Better psychedelic than poisonous, right? Your principal disagreed and expelled you and Atticus immediately.

Vincent sighs, “Give me the money.” “What?!” You ask, and Atticus clutches the bills into his chest. “Give it to me. Now. I will keep it until you two calm down.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, “But—” 

Your father's hand comes up, stopping your words. “Atticus, give me.” Your brother sighs, begrudgingly handing it over. “Go to your rooms.” You move quickly at the command, not because you are eager to obey, but because you’re so angry you don’t want to be around either of them. You slam your bedroom door closed and Atticus’s door follows right after, leaving your father alone in a deafening silence.

The soft sigh that leaves Cordelia makes Vincent’s eyes shut tight. He didn’t even notice she joined him upstairs during the chaos. His mother stares at him in his peripheral vision as he assesses the damage you left behind. The only window in the hall is shattered. Again. Two out of three paintings are discarded on the floor, frames broken at the ends. 

“You’ve held it off long enough.” The floorboard creaks under Cordelia’s slippers. She tsks at the falling paintings. “I know you’re scared. I am, too, but they’re growing and getting strong. It’s time.” 

It’s time. Fear strikes his chest. Those words felt miles away once but not anymore. Vincent envies his past self and the privilege of tucking away the dreaded scenario.

The tiny babies he used to rock to sleep, the ones that glowed in his arms from the sheer power of their tiny wails, the two that snuggled against him when they were scared at night, were ready to leave. It feels impossible. 

Even now, after watching your legs and pride grow, he cannot wrap his head around how the two of you should go off to this camp, unlock your mother's powers, and learn to wield weapons. 

WEAPONS? Oh gods. 

The other day, Atticus stapled his hand, and you almost took a finger off trying to wash a kitchen knife. How will the two of you even manage with swords? Vincent senses an anxiety headache coming around just at the thought.

“Lady Hecate, give me strength.” The statement is drowsy but pleading. He needed all the divine intervention he could get. 

His twin's youth was slipping through his fingers uncontrollably like the shifting nature of water. Through his grief, Vincent tried to think of the benefits of their departure.

They won’t have to deal with the eerie entities they attract for the first time. Finally, no weird nightmares or occurrences, at least for a time. They’d learn to get their powers under control, which would be a blessing to his wallet. It’s going to be his third time replacing that window. They’d also get all the answers about their mother, who they’ve been dying to know about.

Cordelia always pushed her boundaries, telling them bits and pieces of who she was and snippets of memories of when Vincent was utterly in love with her. He didn’t like it, but he was grateful for it. 

It’s been over a decade since Hecate last graced him with her presence, and he still found it hard to talk about. He couldn’t help but grieve the idea of how different their lives would be if their godly parent were more involved. Still, he was glad they knew her as their patron. In a way, just like a mother, they did seek her out for solace. 

Despite all the positives, Vincent had to acknowledge it was also one step closer to becoming the people they were supposed to be. Whoever they were supposed to be.

The mystery of that drove him insane. Even aware that the trajectory of their life was up to the fates, he still prayed and hoped they didn’t end up like the Greek tragedies he’s spent years of his life studying. It was foolish, but praying was the only thing that brought him a faux sense of control.

With a feeling heavy as stone in his throat, he nodded to no one. It’s time, he thinks, the voice in his head far more certain than he felt.

masterlist my lobby: ♡

[bangtanuniversa]

Milk Tea Kiss

Pairing: Taehyung / Reader

Genre: Strangers to lovers! AU, Barista! Tae (Baristae)

Word Count: 1449

It was all people could talk about in school- the famous Milk Tea Kiss from Bangtan Cafe. Sana, a seventh grader, drank it last week, and now she has a cute boyfriend. Lisa, a popular high school girl, had it on Friday; later that evening, she tripped and was caught by a stranger that would become her boyfriend. Even boys are no exception. Jin, who had made fun of Milk Tea Kiss for months, was dragged by Namjoon to try it for a dare. Now Jin has a pretty new partner.

“It’s creepy how well the drink worked.” Your friend, Irene, muttered.

“I’m curious. Something weird is going on with that drink.” You replied.

Irene shot you a devilish smirk, “I dare you to try it.”

You glared at her. “No!”

“Come on! It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll try it if you do it. Plus, I’ll pay for you.”

Ah. There’s no way you can refuse a free milk tea.

“Fine.” You grudgingly agreed and Irene let out a triumphant cry.

So here you are, standing in front of Bangtan Cafe, your hand gripping your school bag tightly with the money that Irene gave you tucked into your pocket. Irene had dance practice, so she couldn’t come along. She made you promise that you’ll take a video of you drinking Milk Tea Kiss and send it to her. What if the rumours are true? You know that most rumours are widely exaggerated, and you also know that there was no such thing as magic, but what if it’s fate?

You pushed open the glass door and walked in. Immediately, you felt the cosy aura. The cafe was quite busy, and the bell above your head jingled as the door closed. A boy at the counter looked up to meet your eyes. He had warm chocolate brown eyes framed by round silver glasses, and met your gaze with a smile, greeting you silently.

There was a long line, and to your amusement, most of the people in front of you ordered a Milk Tea Kiss. When you reached the boy (you read his nametag: Taehyung K.), he gave you another wide grin.

“W-what would you like to order?” His deep voice was very pleasant to listen to, and his small stutter made it even cuter.

The barista next to him (nametag: Jungkook J.) started laughing. “Seriously, Tae? You took a whole minute just to ask her that!”

Taehyung’s face turned red. “Stop it, Jungkook!”

“Uh…” At the sound of your voice, Taehyung looked up again, as if he forgot you were there. You felt slightly embarrassed as you say. “One Milk Tea Kiss please.”

Taehyung turned around to prepare your order, but not fast enough so you could see the smirk emerging on his lips. You felt your face heat up as you pulled out the money for the drink and handed it to him.

You found an empty table and took a sip of your drink. The taste was not overly sweet, and it was the best milk tea you ever had in your entire life. You ended up staying in the cafe for two hours, doing some homework while you basked in the calming atmosphere that the cafe had. Most of the customers had gone home, so the cafe was a lot quieter, making it easier to hear what the baristas were saying.

A high pitched voice broke through your concentration. “Tae-you just put sugar is someone’s black coffee! Did the customer even ask for that?”

“Jimin, shut up.”

Jimin giggled. “Oi, Suga! Isn’t Tae acting so weird today?”

Your eyes found Suga, a tired-looking man who possessed the best poker face you have ever seen. “Isn’t he always weird?”

“Suga-hyung! How could you betray me like that?”

The next voice you heard was Jungkook’s. “He’s acting like Jimin whenever he sees a pretty girl!”

You stifled a laugh behind your palm as Jimin tried to slap Jungkook. Jungkook pined down Jimin’s hands swiftly. You refocused on your math sheet, writing down a few answers with a pen.

“You’re kinda right.” Jimin mused. “Taehyunie must have seen a pretty girl somewhere.”

A loud thump came from where the baristas were, and you heard Jimin choke out another strange sound.

"Hm." Suga murmured, and soon enough you felt eyes boring into the side of your head. You tried your best to ignore them as Suga spoke. "There's only one female customer in the cafe right now.” He said this loud enough so that you could hear it, and you whipped around to glare at him. He only responded with a innocent smile.

"But she-"

"What do you think, Taehyunie?" Suga turned to him, an eyebrow raised in question. "Do you think that girl over there is pretty?"

You stiffened, pretending to be immersed in your worksheet, even though you were well aware that they knew you could hear them. Not that it mattered, because you'd rather die than let the cute dark-haired barista know that you were interested in what he was saying.

Taehyung seemed to sputter uncontrollably. "Yah! What are you talking about?"

Well that was more than enough confirmation for you. You lowered your head while staring at the numbers on your paper, trying to hide how red your face was getting.

"Guys, I think you've bothered her." You heard Jungkook's voice and cursed him silently as all of them turned around to look at you. You said nothing as you tried to shrink down in your chair.

"She looks upset," Jimin agreed, "I think she's pretty!" At that, you lifted your head to see if they were still watching you. The group seemed to be immersed in some kind of discussion again, but thankfully none of them were looking at you.

Taehyung muttered something under his breath. All of the baristas turned to look at him.

"What was that?" Jungkook said, a smirk on his face. You tried to listen as Taehyung repeated his statement, but all you heard was another murmur- loud enough for the other boys, but quiet enough that you had no clue what he said.

It was probably past five o'clock now anyways- you had to be heading home so you could eat dinner. The whole thing could wait another day- after all, you weren't sure you were going to be in any luck today. Maybe the Milk Tea Kiss only worked on certain people. You got up, shoved your notebook back into your bag and plugged in your headphones- a mistake, since you missed Suga saying, “if you think that, then go and tell her right now!”, as you pushed the door open.

You were only halfway down the street when you felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned around, surprised, and your eyes met an equally stunned pair of warm brown eyes looking down at you. Taehyung?

Did he chase you all the way out here from the cafe? He was still in his apron and hat. Why was he even here? You made a mental checklist to make sure you hadn't left anything behind. All of your belongings were with you. Strange.

After a moment, Taehyung was still quiet, looking down at his feet. You pulled your headphones out. "Can...can I help you?"

"I thnn..I...hm...." Taehyung’s words came out in a low mumble as he continued.

You blinked in confusion. "Huh?" Even if he was cute like this, you had no idea what he actually wanted from you, and all you could think about was the dinner waiting for you at home.

You began to turn away. "Sorry, I have to-"

"I think you're pretty!"

You looked back slowly in shock. Taehyung seemed shocked at his own words too. In fact, the whole street probably heard it, considering how loud he'd yelled. A few schoolgirls who were on the opposite side of the road giggled as they passed by. Your ears started to heat up as you looked at Taehyung, who was nervously biting his lower lip. His whole face was pink now- it was unmistakable.

"You think I'm pretty?" Your voice came out higher than you would've liked, and you cleared your throat. Taehyung didn't say anything, and he simply gave an nod.

"That idiot Jungkook told me to chase after you. He said you might've misunderstood that I thought you were unattractive." Wow. You weren't sure how to respond to this situation.

"You're coming back to Bangtan Cafe, right?" Taehyung asked shyly.

You laughed as you watched as the tips of his ears turned a more brilliant shade of red.

"Yes, I will," you smiled. "I'll be back to see you."

[tontalunar]

Tenderized

Summary: Left alone to man the Candy Club, Rick has a dangerous and exhilarating encounter with a large devil-horned man dressed in red.

Pairing: Bob Velseb/Rick Hedony

Series: Spooky Month

Warnings: Blood, Knives (Not Knifeplay), Biting, Technically Public Sex, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 4638

Note: Finally finished this fic after so long, I'm so sorry it took so long but thank @infinite-yandbeyond for helping me edit and actually finish this damn thing

Rick stood in front of the tall wall of candy dispensers. Removing the metal lids and replenishing each of the dispenser's designated candies. All the while attempting to ignore his co-worker’s tapping shoe steadily increasing in speed and nervous eyes glancing back at him and the front entrance.

“Hey, Rick? Could I ask you for a huge favor” Kevin asks, finally speaking up and breaking the awkward silence.

“What is it?” He hums, not bothering to turn around.

“I was wondering if…you could cover the rest of my shift for tonight?” Kevin hastily asks. “I know it’s super late notice but I have a date tonight at my boyfriend’s apartment and it completely crossed my mind to ask for the night off!” He rambles as he steps away from the counter and towards his coworker. An anxious sweat falls from his brow. Feeling uneasy as he waits for Rick to answer.

Rick turns slightly to face Kevin and slowly blinks.

“Sure.”

Kevin lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Rick! You are a lifesaver!” He runs back to the counter to grab a tattered jacket and a ring of keys before quickly returning to Rick. Placing the ring of keys in his free hand he hurriedly zips up his jacket. “Alright, so there’s not much difference in tasks, just gotta lock up the register and the front door when you leave. I cannot thank you enough for this! Next time we go out for drinks I’ll pay!” He shouts as he backtracks out the front door and sprints off. Not waiting for Rick to respond to his continuous stream of thanks.

Looking at the keys in his hand he hooks them to the belt loop on his pants and continues refilling the dispensers.

...

“I’m so tired,” Rick complained to the empty store. Leaning his elbows against the counter he sluggishly holds his head up. “How does he do this every day?”

It’d been two hours since Kevin had run off and left him alone to man the store. Since then he’d only had to deal with a duo dressed up as a pumpkin and a skeleton. Who he hadn’t seen since quitting his job at the movie theater last year. After giving them some free samples they left and ran out of the store. Giggling about how Rick didn’t get “Spooky Month” when he’d asked why they were in costumes so early in October.

Pushing himself off the counter he nabs a malt ball sample from behind the counter and plops it in his mouth. Chewing the crunchy chocolate treat he grabs a nearby broom and heads for the entrance of the store. Figuring he could sweep for a bit before closing the store early considering it was lifeless. Rick didn’t think anything would come of taking a sample for himself. If it did and he got fired he still wouldn’t care. His careless sweeping is soon interrupted by the lights suddenly flickering before going out. Leaving him engulfed in darkness.

“What the…?” He looks up confused at the dead lights. An underlying nervousness beginning to emerge in the pit of his stomach. His only source of light is now the moonlight peeking through being reflected by the two large windows and glass doors before him. He turns back, heading for the breaker box in the back but freezes when he hears a bell ring and the doors slide open.

A customer.

The keys hung on his pants jingle as he whips back around, and his hold on the broomstick tightens. He’s met with a devil-horned looming shadow of a man, his unnaturally wide yellowish grin and wide eyes seemingly shining in the darkness. Small pupils twitched in twisted excitement as he stepped closer. He wielded a carving knife and a knife sharper in each hand, slashing them together as he stood in front of the automatic door.

Rick’s brow furrow and he sighs, annoyed at the sight of the devil. “Great. It’s just another Halloween obsessed weirdo.” Rolling his eyes as he calmed his grip on the broomstick, leaning it beside him on the counter.

“Hey, we’re about to close but I can ring you up quickly. I guess.”

Ignoring the disgruntled employee, the devil slinks forward. Rick remains calm at the steadily approaching devil. His lidded eyes widen and his frown straightens when he takes a closer look at the knife in their hands.

It’s a real knife.

And it’s dripping blood.

“Did you know that almost everyone has practiced involuntary auto-cannibalism at least once? Which is done by biting and eating fingernails and dead skin.” The creepy figure states in a chilling southern drawl.

In his panic, Rick sloppily grabs the broomstick and attempts to slam it over the horned man's head. The devil quickly puts the handles of his weapons with his teeth and grabs the broom. Snatching it out of Rick's grip and easily snapping it in half with his hands. Carelessly throwing the broom pieces to the side he rushes toward Rick, grabbing the knife from between his teeth and stabbing it against the white counter. He haphazardly puts the knife sharpener underneath his red sweater and slams his free hand beside Rick. Pinning the panicked minimum wage employee between his large form and the store’s countertop.

“But personally, I prefer something a bit more…filling.” The devil utters, and drool pools out of the sides of his grin.

Rick’s breath hitched as the man’s looming presence engulfed his central field of vision. Their red face inching closer and closer to his own. Forcing him to bend his back backward onto the counter in a feeble attempt to create some distance. The devil's drool mixes with his red paint and it runs down his chin and onto Rick’s white uniform. He ground in disgust as the drool seeps through his shirt and onto his skin. The sudden wetness on his dry skin makes him shiver. Though his displeasure is soon interrupted by the devil forcefully pulling the knife out of the countertop, his free hand not moving an inch as he pulls himself away from Rick. Who becomes startled at the knife-wielding maniac suddenly erupting into a fit of laughter.

“You’re not much of a talker, are ya jelly bean?” He wipes a tear from his eye and asks the startled man beneath him. Placing his signature knife underneath Rick’s chin, forcing him to look him in his blood-shot eyes.

“N-not really.” He stutters uncharacteristically in his monotone voice. Sweaty palms fall onto the counter’s edge and he twitches in fear. Causing the key ring to slightly jingle. The devil’s attention whips to his waist and he freezes.

“Nice change of pace I’ll say. Most people would be screaming their heads off. Now Rick...” He pauses before forcefully pulling the key ring from Rick’s pants, tearing the belt loop clean off his pants and leaving two small holes. “I’ll be taking these from ya. Don’t move a muscle now, butterball.”

“How do you know my name?” Rick asked as the devil backed up towards the door. Lifting his sweater and placing the now dry bloody knife in his belt. “Have you been stalking me?”

The devil chuckles as he fiddles with the keys behind his back. “You have a name tag jelly bean.” Rick looks down at his name tag and an embarrassed blush forms on his cheeks at the obvious being stated. “And I wouldn’t say I’ve been stalking ya. More like I’ve just… noticed you around town.” His grin only widens when he hears a click behind him. Indicating he’d successfully locked the front door.

“Now where were we sugarplum?”

Rick lifts himself onto the counter, trying to get away as the devil lurks closer.“Well, I’m pretty sure you were going to kill me. Or trying to fuck me.”

“What..?” He pulls back confused.

“Oh, so you’re just trying to kill me?”

“No, no I mean-!”

“So you are?”

“PIPE DOWN!” He quickly pulls his knife back out. Waving it in Rick’s face. “Where the hell did you get the idea that I wanted to knock boots with ya!?”

Putting his hands up at the frustrated knife-wielding man, Rick calmly explains. Well, as calm as one can be in this situation. “I mean you keep getting in my personal space and you’ve given me three nicknames the entire time you’ve been in here. Plus if you were going to kill me you probably would’ve done it a while ago instead of going out of your way to mess with me.”

The devil opens his mouth to speak before shutting himself up and pulling the knife away. Much to Rick’s unnoticed relief. He relaxes his shoulders as he watches the devil deep in thought. The peace lasts for only a few seconds before it’s disrupted by a disgruntled sigh.

“Bob.”

“Bob?” He drops his hands to his side.

“Bob Velseb. If you need something to scream just use that. Surprised you haven’t heard of me before. Most people in town have.”

“I don’t watch the news.”

“What? There are flyers all over town with my face on them you’re tellin’ me you’ve never seen ‘em?” Rick just gives him a shrug and Bob rolls his eyes. “You’re the weirdest guy I’ve tried to eat.”

“Thanks.” In truth he was depressed but he wasn’t about to dump all that on him.

“Wasn’t a compliment sugarplum.” He puts his knife back into his belt and flicks Rick's Candy Club hat off his head before brushing a few out-of-place strands of hair back in place. His red talon-like gloves fall softly upon his cheeks.

Surprised by the softness of the criminals' movement, Rick blushes. “So we’re doing this?” He asks, feeling a little shy at how intimate this felt.

“Isn’t this what you want? You’re the one who brought it up but don’t feel inclined to say yes. I won’t kill ya if ya don’t.” Bob chuckles, his hot breath tickling Rick's lips.

This wasn’t at all how Rick had imagined his shift would go. Despite the emotionless expression he usually wore, it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t weirdly into this. It’d been a long time since someone had caressed him so gently. His hands run up Bob’s thick red sweater and fall onto his shoulders.

“Yeah. I want this.” He softly mumbles, his heart beating faster as rough red-painted lips made contact with his own. His slick tongue nudged Rick’s lips, asking permission to enter. Rather polite for a serial cannibal. Parting his mouth slightly open Bob quickly takes charge. He’s demanding and forceful as their tongues dance together in a fight for dominance. A fight he quickly loses as his tongue is taken between sharp canines and bit down on. Rick emits a pain and pleasure-filled moan. Shuddering at the metallic taste that engulfs his mouth.

The taste of fresh hot blood awakens Bob’s bloodlust as he holds Rick’s head tightly in place with both his hands. Forcing his tongue down their throat. Rick gags as the devil’s tongue slices against every crevice of his blood-ridden mouth, not wanting any of it to go to waste.

Beginning to feel lightheaded, Rick pushes against his shoulders and the towering man pulls away. Gasping in well-needed air as Bob wipes the dripping blood-infused slobber off his mouth.

“Sorry about that.” Bob sloppily wipes the red paint off of Rick's lips, only further spreading the red paint. “I just couldn’t resist, you taste so sweet.”

“It’s fine.” Rick assures him, still panting and out of breath from the soul-sucking kiss.

“Let’s get this shirt off of ya now.” Pulling and throwing his pink clip-on bow tie to the side, his sharp fingers fiddle with the small buttons of his white uniform. Drool seeped from his toothy grin as he pulled the shirt off Rick's shoulders. Admiring the soft neck and shoulders that had become exposed.

“Wait. Let’s go to the back. There are cameras in the store and people might see.”

Bob waved his worry off with a chuckle. “No need to worry about that darlin’. There ain’t no power in the store so those cameras are as good as dead. Besides, who do you think took out the power?” He leaned back in, his chin resting on Rick’s shoulder. Tickling it with the stubble that poked through his face paint. His slick tongue travels up his neck and Rick shudders at Bob’s hot breath.

“As for the people…” Rick’s eyes widen as he hears his pants being unzipped. Quickly throwing his head back and biting his lip as the devil massages his evident bulge. A snicker escapes Bob’s lips as he feels Rick squirm under his touch. “Let them watch.”

Pulling his underwear band down, he releases the growing ache between Rick’s legs. His sharp talons trail up his shaft before gripping it tightly. Instinctively, Rick bucks his hips. A powerless attempt in getting the strong red fist to move. Bob rubs the sensitive tip, eliciting a hitched moan from the man beneath him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of ya.” Releasing his dick, Bob spits into his red glove before taking hold of it once more. A squelching sound echoes in the empty store as he moves his hand up and down. Rick huffs, in a daze as he watches the scene unfolding before him. Bewildered at the fact that the man who’d come with the intention to kill him was now jerking him off with no hesitation. As if that had been his intention the entire time.

Jagged teeth soon bite down on his plump shoulders, breaking the skin and desperately suckling for a drop of his sweet blood. As usual, Rick goes along for the ride. Shoving his face into the scratchy red sweater to hide his pained whimpers. The gnawing of his shoulder, the quick strokes on his cock, it was all becoming too much. Overstimulated, a fiery heat began to form in the pit of his stomach. He wraps his legs around the devil’s wide frame. Ready to finish entirely too early.

Bob suddenly stops his hands jerking motion. Covering the tip of his dick with his thumb. “Why’d you stop?” Rick asked in a flustered tone, almost sounding out of breath already. A little annoyed that his orgasm has come to a halt. He winces at the loud eruption of laughter next to his ear, causing it to ring.

Bob pulls back and leans close to Rick's flushed face. “Did ya really think I was gonna let ya cum that quickly? You’ve hardly made any noise!”

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “I’m just… not a very vocal guy.” This only seems to further amuse the devil in front of him and he’s quickly pushed onto his back. Grunting as his head harshly lands on the hard counter. Pulling down Rick’s pants and underwear with one swift pull, just enough to reveal his soft rump. His legs are forcefully tightened around the devil’s frame and he’s pulled forward, making contact with a large bump in Bob’s black pants. Instinctively, he links his feet together.

“If that’s the case I'm gonna love making you squeal.” His southern drawl hisses out. Biting his right red glove he yanks it off and spits it on the ground. With no warning he shoves two fingers into Rick’s mouth, instructing him to suck. Rick grimaces at the cheap plastic taste of his finger but does as he’s told. At first, he’s nervous, slowly suckling on his fingers and avoiding eye contact with the devil’s piercing gaze, Though his confidence soon arises from the ashes and he swirls his tongue between the two thick fingers, sucking on them as if his life depended on it. Making direct eye contact with Bob’s crazed eyes. His wide unmoving smile slightly made Rick hesitant as he took hold of his wrist. Pulling the two fingers further into his mouth and gagging.

“Desperate fellow ain’tcha?” He teases as he roughly pulls his fingers out of the desperate mouth. Causing strands of saliva to dribble down Rick’s face. Becoming a deer in headlights he hides his flushed face with his forearm. Embarrassed at the sudden realization of how forward he’d been. It’s quickly pulled away and pinned next to him with Bob’s free hand, “C’mon now! Can’t be all shy after all that work you did!” He does a scissoring motion with his dripping slick fingers. Grabbing Rick's thighs he unwraps them from his waist and pushes them forward as far as they can go, holding them in place with his forearm. Rick yelps as a thick finger is slowly pushed inside his hole with no warning.

“Damn you’re tight. You ever done this before?” Asking as he fondles Rick’s meaty thigh.

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “It’s just been a while.”

Letting out an amused hum he inserts the second finger. Rick bites his lip and groans as the large fingers spread his tight hole. Shallow moans escape his lips as they begin to pump slowly into him. Arching his back as they curl into his inner walls. Easily finding his prostate's most sensitive area and pushes against it. His eyes roll back and his mouth wide open as his moans increase in volume. His dick twitched and dripped in precum. The devil towering over him drools at his arousal, reveling at his squirming.

“Now now butterball we haven't even gotten to the main course! Now hold onto your legs and sit tight.” Instructing Rick as he fiddles with the zipper of his own pants. Doing as he’s told he pulls back his legs for easier access. Rick gazes back at the devil and his eyes widen at the meat in his hand. Calling it big would be an understatement, at least compared to himself and most of his past partners. Only being able to recall a recent fling who could compete with Bob. It was huge. Girthy and long, somewhere between six to seven inches.

“Is that even going to fit?” He anxiously asked.

Bob puts his dripping tip at the edge of his entrance and leans his body against the man below him. His smudged red face loomed closer toward him. “Don’t worry, if it doesn’t I’ll just make it fit.” Slowly he starts inserting his large dick, moving his hands to grip Rick’s pudgy waist. Despite the time spent getting prepped for him, it wasn’t enough. Rick grinds his teeth at being exponentially stretched out. Tightening the grip on his thighs, not wanting to vocally express the pain he’s feeling. A few aching seconds pass before Bob lets out a satisfied sigh as he finally bottoms out inside Rick.

“You alright jellybean?” Bob asks, a hint of worry seeps in his tone as he takes notice of Rick’s pained expression.

“I’m fine.” He takes deep breaths to calm himself down as the pain subsides. “I don’t think your fingers were enough.”

“Sorry about that, it’s been a while since I’ve done this myself. Must’ve underestimated my

size.” Despite being apologetic he wears a smug smirk. Clearly taking pleasure in the effect his dick is having on Rick. “Alright, I’m gonna start movin’ now.” Rick grunts as Bob begins to slowly thrust in and out before increasing his pace. Quickly, he once again finds the sweet spot of Rick’s poor prostate. Further turning the stoic man into a flushed mess from the consistent stimulation. Aching moans leave his trembling mouth and echo into the empty store. The sweet sounds cause Bob to drool.

“F-fuck Bob!” Rick mewled. His thighs shaking and his hard dick dripping with precum. The euphoric high of the consistent thrusting of his prostate caused tears to well up in the corner of his lust-filled eyes. It was evident that he was reaching orgasm.

But Bob didn’t respond, simply speeding up. Huffing after each thrust. The smell of sex overtook the sweet candy scent of the store.

Bob’s grip on his waist tightens, most likely leaving behind bruises for the next day. “C’mon butterball! Take it!” He huffs out roughly as he begins thrusting faster and harder. Rick throws his head and lets out a loud pathetic whine with tears streaming down his red cheeks. His hands release his thighs, letting them hang by themselves and fly to grip at the sleeves of Bob’s sweater. Again the stimulation has become to overwhelm his senses. He looks up at is met with Bob’s toothy grin and hungry eyes. A stare that quickly becomes too much to handle as a particular thrust to his prostate causes him to slam his eyes shut. The pressure building up in his dick is finally released as he cums on Bob’s sweater with an exhilarated gasp. The bloodshot eyes take in the sight as he chases after his own orgasm, watching as Rick’s thighs shakily snake around his waist and tighten. His moans only heightened in pitch.

With his gloveless hand, he wipes some of the cum off his sweater and snakes his tongue around it. Taking in Rick’s addicting flavor and humming in delight at the taste. “So flavorful…” Bob thrusts harshly, causing Rick to squeak. “What a delicious piece of meat I have in my grasp. I knew you’d be easy to tenderize sweetpea.” With one last thrust, he finished inside Rick’s abused hole and lets out a loud grunt. Panting as the pleasurable build-up dies down.

Rick lets out a huge sigh of relief before cringing at the feeling of Bob's load dripping out of his ass and onto the counter. Bob’s pants calm down to a halt before steadily holding onto Rick's waist and slowly pulling out with a squelch and a pop loud enough for the both to hear. His cum flows out like a broken dam, adding to the already small puddle on the counter.

“Whew! Sorry ‘bout that! Was acting like a dog in heat.” Rick doesn’t respond, exhausted from the rough sex they just had. Bob cleans up the cum on the counter and Rick's ass with the sleeves of his sweater, not caring for the stains it’ll leave.

Achingly, Rick manages to lift himself up and watches Bob in silence. A flushed pink hue still evident on his cheeks. “Sorry about your sweater. I didn’t mean to cum on it.” He says, tuckered out and buttoning his shirt back up.

“No worries, I’ve been meaning to get it cleaned anyhow. It’s drenched in blood.” He nonchalantly laughs off the gruesome fact as he puts his limp dick back in his boxers and zips his pants up. “Now listen, I’m not the type who usually does road gigs. Would you wanna go do something sometime?”

Genuine surprise paints Rick’s flushed face. “Like… a date?”

“I guess you could say that.” He huskily chuckles.

“Um… hold on.” Rick scrambles off the counter pulling his pants up as he speeds behind the counter. Grabbing his phone he scrolls through his contacts to click on the last one. Only to find that he’d still been left on read, it’d been a month since they’d responded. They weren’t dating per se but they’d meet up frequently so it hurt when he’d suddenly been ghosted. Turning his phone off he places it on the counter. “Yeah that sounds good, I think.”

“Sounds peachy! I’ll pick you up when I’m… free. I’ll be seein’ ya!” He cheerily says as he throws Rick the key ring he’d stolen. Walking up to the glass door he pulls up his sweater and grabs his knife. Slamming the blunt end at the door cracks begins to liter it before crumbling down into glass shards. He quickly shimmies out the door and into the cold night.

“Wait!” Rick yells out behind him, deciding not to question why he’d broken the door instead of using the keys. Grabbing his cell phone he follows suit. “You never asked for my address!”

Bob stops in his tracks and turns slightly to look back. “Oh don’t worry about that jellybean, I already know.” Before disappearing back into the night, being way quicker than he appeared.

Rick looked on as the foggy night consumed the red figure. Beginning to slightly regret his agreement of a “date”. Looking back at the mess the devil had made he sighs in annoyance. Dialing his coworkers' number and putting the phone to his ear.

“Hey, someone broke into the store.” He nonchalantly stated before cringing at the worried shouting at the end of the line loud enough to blow out his eardrum. Kevin frantically explains that he’ll be on his way, demanding Rick call the cops before hanging up on him. He leans against the blue wall between the still-intact glass door and glass window and slowly slides down. Hissing as he lands on the cold pavement, his butt still incredibly sore. For the first time since this morning, he’s able to sit down and breathe.

...

“So what happened after he attacked you?”

Rick looked down at the short mustached cop with curly brown hair. Holding onto the small blanket wrapped over his shoulders that’d been given to him by the police officers. “He just broke the glass door and ran off.” The mustached cop nodded as he scribbled down Rick’s partially true statement. Having left out the sexual encounter he’d had with the devil. Despite having to deal with an actual criminal, he seemed to be the calm one between him and Kevin. Who quickly became nervous when the only cops in town arrived.

“You’re lucky to be alive, son. Velseb’s already mutilated 5 other people. It’d be best for you to stay somewhere safe for the time being.” He suggested as he finished writing in his notepad. Closing it and placing it in his back pocket. “We’ll be off now, stay safe you two.”

“Oh actually!” The mustached cop's lankier partner interrupts. “We’re gonna need that blanket back. Department’s out of stock and our budget is pretty stretched so…” He snatches the blanket off of Rick's shoulders. “You know how it is! Well then, have a nice night!” The duo walks back to their car, with the shorter one reprimanding the other for their lack of tact.

Kevin sighs in relief as the cops pull out and leave. “Sorry about that, I've just had some awkward run-ins with those two.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing! Well sort of, it’s complicated.” He groans. “But enough about me, do you need a place to stay? I’m sure Streber wouldn’t mind letting you stay over until this whole thing blows over. You could sleep on the couch.”

Despite the kind offer, Rick didn’t feel comfortable accepting it. He’d only really started working at the Candy Club 2 weeks ago and while he’d gone out for drinks with Kevin and his ex-co-worker Radford, Rick didn’t consider them close enough to stay over at their places for more than a day. Despite the dangerous situation he’d willfully put himself in.

“I think I'll be fine, thanks though. I appreciate it.”

“Alright, but the offer’s still on the table if you ever need it.” He rubs Rick’s back, attempting to comfort a presumably terrified Rick. “I’ll see you when the store opens back up after it’s been fixed. Don’t hesitate to call if you need something.” Kevin soon jogs off back to his apartment, leaving Rick alone in front of the taped and boarded-up candy store. His gaze falls to the tainted counter and his face becomes flush, quickly leaving the scene of the crime and heading to his own apartment on the other side of town.

A tired sigh escapes his lips as he treks home. “What have I gotten myself into.”

[womanofwords]

Jester

Villain stood in front of the League of Heroes in handcuffs and leg shackles. “So, you’re probably wondering what’s going to happen to you now we’ve captured you,” Superhero drawled.

“Let me guess: the most secure jail that you can possibly find in all the land? Hard labour?” Villain yawned.

“Yeah . . . no. We have other plans for you. You’re going to be our jester, just like in the medieval times.” Villain’s jaw dropped as the other heroes snickered.

“So instead of punishing me or reforming me, you’re just going to . . . humiliate me?” Villain queried.

“Yes! Amazing, isn’t it?” Hero asked rhetorically, the other heroes laughing obnoxiously at their leader’s wonderful joke.

“Fine. But before I get changed, I want to know exactly how much you know about jesters. I’m not doing it unless you get it completely historically accurate.”

“They wear a dumb suit with bells and they entertain us. What’s there to know?” Other Hero scoffed.

“Are you providing the suit in question?” Villain asked.

“Yeah. Cost more than you’re worth.” The other heroes sniggered.

“And are you also going to keep me fed and accommodated?”

Hero smirked. “Yeah, you get three square meals a day and you sleep in a cold, hard cot in a cell in the basement. There’s your food and accommodation for you.” The heroes laughed harder.

“And payment?”

 The league of heroes burst out laughing. “I think you’ve already started your comedy routine! Payment!” Superhero chuckled and waited for Villain to say another joke.

“Nope. If we’re going to do this the way that it used to be done in medieval times, then you’re gonna have to pay me for my services, as well as acknowledging and giving me jester’s privilege.”

“Now you’re making up words,” Sidekick sneered, finally speaking up.

“No, I’m not. Jester’s privilege is the ability to say anything you want while insulting another person, and you don’t get punished because your words technically don’t matter,” Villain explained. “Will I have jester’s privilege while working for you?”

“Um . . .” Superhero was at a loss for words. On the one hand, having Villain as a court jester would be hilarious. On the other hand, Villain was a cruel person who knew a lot about them, and would not hesitate to use such things about them to mock them. Hurriedly, the League of Heroes had an impromptu meeting about what to do.

“We can’t give Villain jester’s privilege, they’ll ruin us,” Hero hissed.

“It’s the only way they’ll do it. Villain can and would beat us up if we don’t play along with them,” Other Hero hissed.

“Does that mean that Villain’s stronger than us?” Sidekick asked.

“NO!” everyone else yelled.

Do they know I can hear them? Villain wondered, standing there in handcuffs.

“We’ve decided you’re still going to be our jester,” Superhero said, smirking. “You start tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait,” Villain grinned.

The next day

Villain was easily able to ignore the laughs and the sarcastic whooping as he jingled over to the front of the makeshift court.

“Where do I start? How about with you, Sidekick? Mr Second Choice?”

“What?” Sidekick asked, feeling small. “What did you just say?”

“Mr Second Choice. It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Villain giggled as they stood on their hands. “Superhero was going to hire Other Sidekick, but they were drafted into a different crimefighting group, so they got you. I’ve always thought of you as Mr Second Choice.”

“What?” Sidekick turned to Superhero with rage. “You said I was the best you ever saw!”

“Oh, I guess they lied to you,” Villain grinned. The grin didn’t leave their face as Sidekick stormed out. “Speaking of lies . . . Other Hero! Why did you lie about those funds?”

“Huh?”

“The mysterious missing funds. Soon after the money went missing, you got yourself some fancy new gadgets.” Villain let a loud and exaggerated wolf whistle. “Wonder how much those cost.”

“IT WAS YOU?!” Superhero thundered. Other Hero shrank from their gaze. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH MONEY WE HAD LEFT? WE HAD TO REPLENISH IT WITH LAYOFFS!”

“I’m sorry!” Other Hero whimpered. “I’ll pay it back!” They whimpered as they scampered out of the room.

“And Hero! You adorable little thing!” Villain laughed. “I bet you’re really envying me right now, aren’t you?”

“What?! No, I’m not! Nobody is envying you!” Hero snapped. “Y-you’re dressed in a costume with bells on it!” They laughed, but anxiously.

“Really? I thought you’d like to have a costume? I know all about your little costume parties. How was it to dress as an adowable little kitten?” Villain grinned as they did a backflip. “Whoever did the face paint was amazing.” Hero rushed out of the room crying.

With Sidekick enraged, Other Hero terrified and Hero sobbing, Villain turned their attention onto Superhero. “It’s just you and me now, Superhero. Where do I start? The many women, the crimes that you commit, or the fact that you have the mayor hostage with some of his own scandalous secrets?”

Superhero didn’t pick an option. Superhero dragged away to prison, swapping out the jester outfit for a jumpsuit.

And as Villain sat in a cell not unlike the one that the League of Heroes were going to offer them, they smirked.

They’d finally broken the league that had rejected him so long ago.

[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach: I'd Jingle His Bells ~

The giggles that met me as I walked into the apartment were something that I both adored and would never get enough of - but the sight that greeted me was unexpected.

“Where did you find that?” My eyes were on a tree - a Christmas tree to be exact, and somehow it was actually decorated. Negan and Trey were on the floor and the giggles had come from our little guy laying on his back looking up through the branches that held twinkle lights, beside my husband who was just as fucking delighted in the vision their perspective beheld.

Negan’s head raised, nearly losing an eye to one of the branches, but I managed to bite my lip to keep from laughing - just in case. “Come on, sweetheart, I can find anything.” The tone and the look he shot me reminded me of all the things he’d managed to find on me - and the noises he could elicit from each and every one. A wink and his head was beside Trey’s as they mumbled together under the tree - not mumbling I realized, but singing.

“Is that Jingle Bells I hear?” I put down the few things I’d brought back from the meeting I’d had with the parents of my students. Gifts and notes, all great things that reminded me that I had a purpose other than as a wife and mother, not that either of those roles were lacking. Shaking my head, I kicked off my shoes and was on my back under the tree on Trey’s other side, the sound of Christmas carols a touch louder this close.

“Daddy brought us a tree, Mommy.” At four, our little guy was growing more articulate by the day. “And he taught me songs.”

The lights twinkled through the branches as Trey and Negan dueted on all the songs he managed to teach to the little guy we were raising. The catalog wasn’t vast, nor was it precisely perfect, but I’d dare anyone to tell me - or them - otherwise.

“Oh. My. God.” Eric’s voice called out from the now open door. “Coach, you managed to find one too.” That meant that Steven procured a tree for my bestie as well. “And do my ears deceive or is that sexy voice of yours singing in here?” My lip was going to fucking bleed soon if he didn’t stop.

And then he was under the tree next to me, and I heard a sigh as Steven joined him and us. “Isn’t it pretty, Uncle Eric?” Trey was clearly happier than even his birthday would make him. As he and his uncles chatted about the tree, along with Negan’s assurances that the trees were just the beginning, I realized that this was something he’d been planning for a while.

Eric and Steven took Trey to their place so he could see their tree, and to give me and Coach a little alone time.

I was working on putting away the toys Trey forgot to put away before he ran off to the funnest place on earth - Eric’s description of their apartment, which he usually gave with a flamboyant screech and an eye waggle that would make us all laugh, for clearly different reasons. Hearing Negan clear his throat, I looked up and was super happy I was already on the floor, because the sight of what greeted my eyes would have knocked me on my ass for certain.

There my husband, Coach Negan, fearless leader of the Sanctuary stood wearing a Santa hat - and not a fucking thing more.

“Well?” He was waiting for me to say or do something, obviously.

Narrowing my eyes as I studied him, I let my eyes take a slow tour tip to toe, so to speak. While my darling husband grew less patient.

“Amara,” he growled at me and I couldn’t stop the grin that came at his obvious irritation caused by my silence at what was clearly a private gift for me.

“Couldn’t find a bow big enough for your dick, Coach?” I asked with a head tilt and that did it, he was over top of me, and I got the full package - if you know what I mean.

On our bed, hours later and after dinner and more dessert, I felt my own giggles break free. Groaning, underneath where he held me on top of his chest, Negan asked what I could possibly find so fucking funny after the marathon we just did.

“I was thinking,” propping my chin on his chest so our eyes could meet, I sighed as his hand slid up my body to cup my cheek. “Aren’t you fucking estatic that cameras aren’t really a thing anymore?” His eyebrow went up and I bit my lip before more laughter fell free. “I mean, couldn’t you just hear the squeal Eric would unleash if I had a pic of you in that hat to share?”

His own laughter met mine, and then our lips were together and we forgot Eric and his glee if he could see Santa Negan in all his wonder.

[knamjooned]

The Red Thread (05)

pairing: idol!namjoon (third pov) x fem!reader (first pov) genres: fluff, smut, angst tropes: soulmate au (red string), magical friends, overthinking and not solving problems

summary:

After a tragic event, you find a letter that gets you out of your comfort zone. Meeting Namjoon seems to be simple, but then you see the thread. The string brings about life changing decisions. Are you both ready for it?

chapter warnings: n/a word count: 725 author’s note: cliches are okay sometimes

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~*~ If you enjoy this chapter, please reblog it! ~*~

NAMJOON’S POV

026. Go to a new restaurant

“I’ve never eaten here,” Nathan stated absentmindedly, taking in the atmosphere of the Korean restaurant. Namjoon breathed in the familiar smells of home. The conversations in Korean from the back kitchen were barely loud enough to be heard. He had spoken to the older couple who owned the place, who insisted on making him a homemade meal after hearing he was a native. “I bet it’s hard to find an authentic place when you go to other countries.”

“You’d be surprised,” he replied with a chuckle. There was only room for a handful of customers. Namjoon noticed a lot of take out being handled, with only one person eating at a table near the door. He fixed the forest green beanie was wearing on his head, which he had just gotten at Landia. It had a symbol of a crescent moon the owner had designed. “But it does take a little investigation.”

His mind went back to the store, to the clerk who had seemed to recognize him as he checked out. As soon as he spoke, she had done her best to pretend she hadn’t. Miss Butler had moved the focus over to speaking about customizing clothing, but he couldn't help but glance at her as she dealt with other customers. She had been cool, collected, and charming with them. She was attractive, which would explain why he kept thinking about her.

As he was receiving the food, the bell above the door jingled, making his eyes wander over briefly. He saw the woman from Landia enter slowly, as if she had never been here before. Their eyes locked, time seemed to slow down like in the movies, and his hand missed a plate being given to him from the server. As soon as the plate hit the ground, he blinked and came back to the real world and held back a vulgar curse.

“I’m very sorry,” he apologized repeatedly, embarrassed at the scene he had made in front of the store woman. Nathan watched, trying not to laugh as he drank his beer. Risking more embarrassment, he looked around the dining area to find her. She sat in a far corner, looking at a paper menu, brows furrowed in concentration. Finally, everything was back where it was supposed to be, the broken dish cleaned up and forgotten. Namjoon pressed his lips together, thrown off balance by the moment.

“You…good?” Nathan asked, studying Namjoon’s face. Namjoon cleared his throat and dug into the food more aggressively than he needed. He forced himself not to look toward the corner table and stuffed some noodles into his mouth

“I’m starving.”

“Do you know her?” Nathan’s lips twitched toward a smile as Namjoon choked and coughed a few times. He felt his jaw tense as he glanced back toward the table. She was now talking to a server, a bright smile on her face as she pointed to different things on the paper menu.

“No, she works at Landia, where I got the new clothes.”

“Reminds me of when I met Ashlyn,” Nathan chuckled. He seemed to look into space as the memory made him grin. Namjoon took a smaller bite and let his new friend continue his story. “Jodie was about ten. Her mom and I never had a serious thing,” he added. “Anyway, I had just gotten sole custody. Jodie and I went shopping to celebrate, and Ashlynn worked at that store. I ran into a pillar when I first saw her.”

“Did she see you?”

“I have no idea, she never told me either way,” he admitted, rubbing his forehead fondly.

“I’m only here for so long,” Namjoon sighed, letting his chopsticks sit. Nathan blinked at him, confused. “I can’t start -”

“Jumping ahead, don’t you think?”

“Oh.” Namjoon felt like an idiot, assuming so much when he had nothing to go on. He didn’t even know her name, but was worried about leaving her. Had she even noticed who he was? Maybe she was just naturally shy, which is why she reacted the way she did. Nathan grinned and nodded, like he knew exactly what Namjoon was thinking. “I guess I can introduce myself.”

“Good luck,” Nathan chuckled, holding his beer bottle up then taking a gulp. “I’ll just enjoy the food myself and hang out for a bit.”

[themermaidsdragon]

Lestrange's Love...Good?

Warnings: Dubious Consent,Underage Drinking,Underage Sex,Consensual Underage Sex,Fluff and Smut,Romance,Yule Ball (Harry Potter),Food Kink,Rough Sex,Dom/sub,Rape

Summary:

After attempting to recover from another silent treatment, Asadel interrupts Adelia's candy trip to tell her some of what's been going on inside him, as he is inside her! (LOL)

Notes:

In this chapter of Adelia and Asadel, will Adelia ever truly forgive Asadel and how he handles his emotions, or will she need more eventually?

Chapter 4: Squashed Candy Floss and Hurting Hearts

Adelia woke up the next morning with little sleep and the messiest bed head. She was upset from the night before. How could he be so awful? I mean he never shows his emotions ever, but that was different. It was like he didn’t care how I was feeling at all, and usually he cares if I’m upset. How could he also just walk away from me instead of talking to me? Maybe I’ll go get candy to make myself feel better. Ya, some fresh air and candy will help clear my mind.

Adelia got dressed and ready for the day.

“Hey Adelia! Where are you off to?” Daisy says.

“I’m off to Honeydukes for some candy.”

“Would you like some company?”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll be fast. Maybe we can get the gang together later though for studying, since I'm still on the verge of failing.” Adelia says with a smile.

“Adelia! We told you to cut down on the candy until your grades got better. I don't want you to be kicked out!”

“It’ll be fiiiiiiine. Gotta go. Byeeeeeee.” Adelia said, running out the door before she got scolded more.

“Adelia!!” Daisy said but gave up as soon as she was out the door. As much as she wanted to stop her, that was her best friend. She knew something was up when she looked at her, and she knew candy would help her. Then like usual she would come back to Daisy later and cry, to let out everything she needed to out, and Daisy would be there like always.

Adelia made her way to Hogsmeade. It was still a little cold outside as they were slowly still nearing the end of winter. Normally she would pick up flowers she saw as she passed, but since there weren’t any growing yet she just got excited seeing the saplings starting to sprout up.

Once she got to Honeydukes she knew she needed the one thing that was going to help her the most. Candy floss. She made her way to the back wall and grabbed one bag of every flavor. She made her way up to the counter with her six bags and paid. As she gave the man the money, she heard the bell on the door jingle as someone walked in.

“Thank you!” Adelia said to the man with a huge smile on her face. Ya this is going to help.

As Adelia turned around, it felt like she hit a brick wall. Thankfully her bags of fluff took most of the impact.

“Oh sorry!” Adelia says, starting to step around the person before looking up.

“Do you need some help carrying those?” Asadel said, standing in front of her.

Anger filled her up inside as she let out a simple “No.”

“I think we need to talk about last night.”

Adelia clenched her candy floss to her stomach tight. “No. No, I don't think we do.” Adelia says with lots of sass, as she tilts her head up and to the side with her eyes shut, pretending to ignore him now.

“I have some stuff I would like to say. I think you need to hear it. I want to be with you. I just think I’ll hold you back. I’m really not the best, and I want what’s best for y-…..”

“Ya know, after yesterday I think it’s just best if we think about other stuff right now., and I’m thinking about this candy floss because that is what’s going to help me right now. Well, my crushed floss thanks to you” Adelia says pouting, cutting him off, and starting to walk away.

“FUCK! Can you just listen to me?!” Asadel says grabbing her arm before she can leave.

Adelia looks down at her arm and then back at him. “...No…,No I don’t think I want to now. Now I really just want to leave and have my candy. Plus, I need to study and I'm just going to hang out with our other fr-.” This time Asadel cuts her off from frustration on how this situation was turning out and drags her outside. Realizing they are in public he takes her and dips into the alley way right nearby. He lets go of her, and Adelia has her back against the wall looking at him.

Adelia looked up at Asadel… she looked afraid of him, remembering their last sexual encounter made her body tense up and her breathing quicken. Asadel saw her reaction and, he felt a knot twist in his stomach… she was afraid of him, and it was his fault.

Asadel reached up and gently cupped her face, gently brushing his thumb against her cheek “Adelia…I won’t hurt you.” he whispered in her ear. Adelia looked at him, she was shocked by how tender he was, even the way he looked at her was different… softer. Her lip quivered slightly, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him “I believe you” she whispered back to him.

A weight lifted off his shoulders and he pulled her in for a kiss, it was a desperate kiss, a needy kiss, he needed her… he needed her warmth, her kindness, her goofiness, he needed all of it. Picking her up, Adelia wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him back with enthusiasm and began to unbutton her top for him.

Kissing her neck, he was leaving a trail of hickeys down her neck and to her chest. Adelia ran her fingers through his hair and panted “A-Asadel…I can’t walk around with a bunch of hickeys on my neck” she whimpered, but he ignored her gently nipping her chest, opening her shirt more. He took her nipple into his mouth and gently bit it. Reaching down he started to pull her panties down and Adelia stopped him “Asadel… not here…” she gasped not really wanting to do it in public again.

Asadel put her back down on her feet and turned her around pressing her chest against the wall, he pulled down her shirt and began to kiss and bite her shoulder. Adelia became nervous again… he wasn’t listening to her…was he going to hurt her again? She tried to wiggle away “Asadel… we can’t” she whimpered and then she heard Asadel say something she never thought she’d hear from him…

Asadel gently kissed the nape of her neck to the shell of her ear “Adelia… I need you” he whispered as he massaged her hips. Adelia felt like she wanted to cry, he needed her? He was finally being vulnerable to her? She felt her heart flutter a bit and she stopped struggling. Asadel pulled down her panties completely and unzipped his pants, taking out his length he teased her entrance and reached down to rub her clit, he felt her body relax and he pushed in, making Adelia let out a soft squeak.

Asadel held her tight, one hand was rubbing her clit while the other pinched and teased her nipple. Adelia braced herself against the wall trying to stay as quiet as she could as he pounded into her, her moans and whimpers never going above a whisper. Asadel could feel himself slipping once again… something bubbling inside him, biting down on her shoulder his pace increased. His thrusts became more animalistic.

“A-Asadel… I…I can’t take much more…” she gasped, feeling her knees becoming weak. Asadel felt himself near the edge as well, taking her chin he turned her head and kissed her deeply, as he thrust a few more times before pulling out and cumming on the back of her thighs. They both stood there for a moment, catching their breath before redressing.

Adelia looked up at him and blushed and gently kissed his cheek “Asadel… whatever you are going through, whatever is bothering you, I want to be by your side… and get through it with you” she said shyly. Asadel looked at her and actually felt his face heat up and turn red. As usual he didn’t say a word, but wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him and rested his head on top of hers, maybe having someone to be by his side… wouldn’t be so bad after all.