#cold cash comic

[strange0-0storm]

These are some ocs I've wanted to introduce for a long time now‼️ LETS GO

Meet some of the main characters of my comic "Cold Cash" which is in the works. I've posted about it before a while back, but I wanted to give more formal introductions to these guys!!

Chip Gamesmen

One of the major main characters of Cold Cash. A well-known casino owner in the big city of Pralsbridge, California. He's a fairly serious man, and most are intimidated by him due to his status and personality. He tends not to take shit, but behind closed doors, his hard shell softens. He's complex and hates to show that to people. He's very independent, and he tends to keep to himself. He comes from a rich family who owns a holding company under the name "H. J. Gamesmen" or "H.J.G." for short.

Torano Leone

A main character in Cold Cash, a former mafia member who ran away for a new life. The manager of the entertainment department, this includes shows and bar, of Royal G. Casino. He can be charming, but 99% of the time, he spends flirting and letting out cocky remarks towards others. He enjoys bothering people to get a good laugh in, but will stop depending on the situation. A ladies (and gentlemens) man. People are either attracted to him or down right scared of him.

Eight Duval

A main character in Cold Cash. The manager of Royal G. Casino's electronics and utility, as well as the café located in the casino. Takes his job too seriously sometimes, often referred to as a party pooper by his colleague Torano. He tries to keep everything in order when Chip isn't there to do so. He seems boring but once you get to know him he brings very nice company.

LORRDD I LOVE MY SILLIES SO MUCH. I'll be posting more about this project once I finish the comic cover 😈 This has been developing for years, unlike some of my other stuff so this means SO MUCH TO ME and I hope yall like it as much as I do <3

I'll need to make references for the rest of the main characters soon 😈😈

[smashpages]

Gary Phillips’ ‘Cold Hard Cash’ debuts on Comixology

The crime fiction writer brings his prose character Martha Chainey to comics.

[graphicpolicy]

Preview: Cold Hard Cash: A Martha Chainey Escapade #5

Cold Hard Cash: A Martha Chainey Escapade #5 preview. Martha and her colleagues are on the brink of discovering the stolen funds if they can only survive the final confrontation and walk away with the money… and their lives! #comics #comicbooks

[lunarnightt]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 ⎯ Carl Grimes

WARNINGS! ⎯ there are none! Just pure fluff! SUMMARY ⎯ Your father, Daryl Dixon, always treated your mother like a queen before she died; now you want someone to do the same, and who better than your best friend, Carl Grimes. A/N ⎯ This is based on the song 'Like My Father' by Jax. I also want to thank everyone who LOVED my Carl Grimes x Gothic reader so much! I love you all!

For as long as you could remember; your father treated your mother like a goddess, like a queen.

Whatever she wanted, she got. whatever she asked for, she got. There were never any ifs or buts about it. Your dad worshipped the ground she walked and treasured her like any man should do a woman.

As you got older, you watched your father do everything he could for your mother. He would constantly have dinner dates with her, and take her on romantic walks in the middle of the night when they thought you were asleep. This never changed when your mom got cancer and started doing chemo.

Your father shaved his own head with her so she wouldn't be alone, held her hand during every treatment, and watched her throw up blood until her last dying breath.

Your mother died before the world went to shit so there you were, sitting at the query watching other kids play with their moms and dads, silently resenting them for having both. Your mother was dead and your dad was cold and couldn't care what you did anymore because he was still grieving the loss of his wife.

That was when that changed; a little boy walked up to you and practically forced you to play with him. You would learn that his name was Carl and he too lost his dad but of course, we all know how that went.

Eventually, you and Carl became best friends; going and growing through hell together. You both survived through so much and yet you helped him look on the brighter side of life.

Over time, as you two grew older, the two of you slowly fell in love with one another but never said a thing because one- you're either running from the dead, and two- neither one of you thought you liked each other back.

But one thing was for certain; you wanted a man who loves you like you're father loved your mom.

It was like any other day for you and Carl. You both sat in your bedroom reading comic books, the soft sound of Johnny Cash playing in the background filling your ears.

You looked over at the Grimes boy, looking over the handsome features you've grown to love over the last few years; to his long shaggy hair, his beat-up cowboy hat, and his missing eye something he was very insecure of but you thought was badass.

Before he could catch your gaze though, you looked down and the record stopped playing which made the both of you groan. "Great. Now one of us has to get up and flip it over." You whined, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at the record player in your room.

Carl sighed and pushed himself off the ground, walking over to the record playing and taking the record off. "What are you doing?" You asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Carl smiled and turned to you. "Putting on Abba. I thought Dancing Queen was your favorite and you want to listen to it?" He spoke and he wasn't entirely wrong.

"I do but I thought you wanted to listen to Johnny Cash?" You spoke softly and Carl just rolled his eye and turned to face you. "Does it matter what I want?" He spoke before turning to face the record player and placing the needle on the record, the song Dancing Queen filling the room as he made his way and sat back down next to you.

That day you knew that Carl was the type you wanted, the type you knew would love you like your father did to your mom.

So, you contemplated forever, debating on telling him how you felt but when you did; you wrote him a nice simple letter and left it on the inside of his hat. It took him a while but he finally found it, looking at it with confusion while the words "read me cowboy" jumped out at him in all capital letters.

He knew it was from you because only you called him cowboy and only you would do something like leaving a letter on the inside of his hat.

So, he read it as instructed and he became over the moon because not only did you tell him how you felt but you actually liked him back.

Carl rushed out of the house to look for you, going to all the places he knew you would be. He went to Rosita, to Maggie and Glenn's place because you loved playing with Herschal Jr before finally finding you training with Jesus.

"Looks like you're boyfriend is here" Jesus joked which made you roll your eyes and flip him off as you made your way over to Carl. "Hey cowboy" You spoke with a teasing smirk but your smirk was wiped clean off your face when he held up the letter.

"Are you telling the truth?" He asked, needing reassurance like he always did when he was unsure of something. You gave him a small smile and nodded your head. "Yes. Why would I lie to you of all people?" You asked and before you could say anything else, his lips were pressed against yours.

As the two of you kissed, your hand moved to the back of his neck while his hands moved to your waist. After a minute, the two of you pulled apart and he pressed his forehead against yours.

"You don't know how long I wanted to do that" He whispered against your lips and you giggled, moving to play with the soft locks of his hair. "It's about damn time, cowboy" You spoke back and he immediately pressed his lips against yours, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

Ever since then, he truly loved you like your father did your mom and maybe even more than he ever did.

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇴​​🇺​​🇷​​🇴​​🇧​​🇴​​🇷​​🇴​​🇸​🇪​​🇩​​🇺​​🇷​​🇴​—⨾❝

— 𝐚 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥, 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐀𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐬.

Notes: As per part one, my depiction of Wade here aligns with comic Wades personality, this is still angst central and reader still likes saying fuck. Wade finally breaks the fourth wall a crack (Playlist in part one's notes <3)

Warning/s: Canon Typical behaviour, unhealthy relationships, toxic behaviour, angst, references to alcohol consumption & sexually explicit activities, explicit language

Words: 3k

For once Wade was true to his word and you had found a duffel bag of cash on your bed not a week later, the blood and bullet holes in the fabric made you wince and while you questioned if the money was even safe to spend you weren't really in a place to turn it down. Hell knows you didn't have enough money for the repairs, so you sucked it up and called some guys to attend to your sink and your window. You gave vague answers when asked about what happened and avoided eye contact when you produced the wads of cash to cover the bill; considering the humble state of your apartment you knew they left with more than a little suspicion about where you had managed to scrounge up the cash.

You didn't really care what a couple of repair guys thought of you and whatever types of wild fantasies they conjured in their heads though, you were never going to see them again.

The real question was whether or not you'd be seeing the merc that provided said financials again. Your parting had led you to believe you would, eventually. You got a stray text here and there and even a phone call that had barely gotten past you saying hello. You wanted to be cordial, feeling kinda guilty at how you'd acted during your fight; you were better than that. At least you hoped you were. Your therapist said you were. You just knew you didn't want every conversation with Wade from here on out to be both of you trying to dig deeper holes for each other and twisting daggers into each other's side with underhanded attacks and defensive comebacks.

You weren't the picturesque model of a happy, healthy relationship before but you'd never hurt each other on purpose; not with the kinds of venom you shared that night.

You were a two-person army against the world, both a little fucked up and broken and slotting against each other's puzzle pieces with some grit and grime holding you together. There had been love there, a lot of it. Even if Wade's main ways of showing it were through spam texts, wierd expensive gifts and sex. You could always feel it, in the way he held you; stood in front of you when there was danger. In the way he looked at you, even with his eyes hidden you could feel how he felt about you.

But that was gone now and you hated not knowing if it would ever come back.

You were back to being a stray dog baring your teeth with no one to watch your back; sort of. In typical Wade fashion you'd caught him several times, across streets, in the corner of cafe's; he always popped up. Keeping tabs on you, making sure you weren't being bothered. Before he'd just act like your shadow and distract you to the point you forgot what you were doing or where you were going. And you didn't care because you were happy to see him. Part of you was still happy to see him, see that he still cared and wanted you safe. Another part of you was upset that while it seemed half of his world still revolved around you he couldn't be bothered to try being a grown up and actually fixing what he broke.

Because it was on him. No matter what you said to yourself when your bed got too cold or the doubts that crept in when you showered alone got a bit too loud—Wade broke up with you. Made a big spectacle of it, made sure it hurt and that everyone heard it. He didn't run after you after you tossed his gun in his face and stormed off, he didn't crawl into the apartment that night apologising and explaining why he did what he did. So if he wanted back in he had to make the effort and you would…

Well, you were still making your mind up on that one.

If he put the time in your heart obviously wanted to let him back in, just the tiniest gesture and it would be skipping with joy. But your brain told you that you had to have some kind of self-respect and make it harder than that, something had to happen that would mark a new beginning for you both and prove you could have him in your life again. Prove that you could trust him not to hurt you amidst his self-sabotage.

But the more you thought on it the less likely that seemed. Wade never did much in the way of self improvement, sometimes it seemed like he needed to upend his whole life in order to take a few steps forward. But it was always a one step forward, three steps back situation. You could never figure out how to help him out of that loop and you could never agree it wasn't your job to do so.

Partners helped each other. When they're at their lowest or their highest, with little and big things. Two-person army and all that jazz.

You soon realised you'd been staring at the bathroom sink for ten minutes or so, mulling over Wade and your catastrophic relationship for the hundredth time and decided it was time for a walk. You tossed on a jacket and grabbed your wallet and keys, stuffing your phone in your pocket as you made you way out of your apartment. Part of you expected to see Wade waiting for you on the street but only strangers were there to greet you.

You shoved your hands into your pockets as you walked, trying to think about anything but Wade and quite frankly—failing miserably. He'd been your everything for two damn years you could hardly be blamed for thinking about him. You still hadn't wrapped your head around where he could have possibly gone to that made him think he wasn't coming back. Wade always came back, he was like a cockroach. Or… You really couldn't think of a positive example at the moment.

You had tried to ask once you'd calmed down, a few days after your heated encounter; you'd sent a few texts and he'd dodged the question. Like usual.

You swore he had less trouble getting his limbs crushed than he did being straightforward. But when you first met that had been something you both had in common, the difference was you'd worked on it some since then.

"Fucking hell…" You muttered under your breath, running your hands down your face as a familiar antsy feeling tingled through all of your limbs. You wanted to run, wanted to punch a wall into pieces of rubble and dust; you needed to do something to keep your mind occupied and body steady. Anything at all.

"Talking to yourself is my thing sugar buns, don't start copying me just because you miss me."

Your feet froze on the concrete and a firm chest collided with your back, a surprised intake of breath and large hands grasping your shoulders to steady both of you building up the waves of shock in your system. The shock soon faded and you jerked away from Wade's hands, afraid of the warmth and the way your body wanted to melt against him. You had to stay firm.

"I wasn't copying you, I was feeling sorry for myself," you turned to face him, "but I guess that's still copying you, huh?" you took him in; full suit on under a hoodie and jeans; like that was inconspicuous in any fucking way. You'd always thought it was cute in a wierd way, knowing it was from his insecurity however had always kept a slight pang of sympathy clouding everything else. Even now you thought back to last week when his face was on full display and you could follow valleys of pale scars and rivers and lakes of warped skin and red muscle. He was beautiful to you, even when you were angry at him you couldn't deny that.

But you knew the world saw him at face value, and he knew it too. His imperfections and more noticeable blemishes compared to a majority of the populous did not give him a high chance of landing on the cover of sexiest man alive.

You saw Wade's mouth shift under the red fabric, like he was about to say something but instead he ducked his head down and scoffed, thinking better of his first thought.

"It sure is, I expect nothing less from my ex-biggest fan." He churned the word 'ex' out like it was fire on his tongue, letting it land between the both of you and burn into the dirt. You wanted to correct him, as part of you hadn't given up on him and part of you hated the idea of ex being shoved in front of anything to do with you now. He also had no right to be so upset about it since, again, this was his fault. But then again, he was his biggest enemy and maybe the chipped tone was for himself and not you.

"Is this gonna turn into another thing or do you want to come get a drink with me and not act like dramatic teenagers during their first breakup?" You sighed, stepping back and gesturing to a café across the street from the park you'd been walking through. Wade paused, considering your proposal before shrugging.

"Fanfic authors sure do love their café scenes." He mused and had it been two years earlier you'd have scrunched your face up in confusion at the strange, out-of-nowhere sentence. But by now you were used to it, Wade was just like that—and possibly hooked into a part of the world you didn't have access to. You wouldn't be surprised considering the crazy shit that went on in his life and in tandem your own. Most of it was because of him and most of the time you didn't mind it.

Until you got shot or kidnapped, that was never fun—and absolutely not something either of you talked about after.

So communication had never been either of your strong suits, obviously, maybe that's why this whole shit show had gone so badly. Maybe when Wade plotted it out in his head it was with versions of the both of you that had figured out all the intricacies of civil and logical discussions. And maybe you were making up scenarios to make yourself feel better and give Wade an out again, like you always did.

You both sat down in the back, Wade dwarfing the café chair and you slipping into the booth with much more care. You looked through the menu, painfully aware of Wade's stare and not planning on ordering anything other than your comfort beverage.

"How's the sink?" Wade sounded nervous, or maybe just uncomfortable. Gloved hands toying the the salt and pepper shakers on the table as you flipped through the menu.

"Fixed. Don't know what it ever did to you by the way." You glanced up at him and his head rolled to the side, eyes no doubt fixed past you or up at the ceiling.

"It hit me first."

"Sure it did."

More silence. Only broken by a waiter coming up to your table with a bottle of water and two glasses, he poured your drinks and took your order. Wade was halfway through ordering an alcoholic beverage with too many steps when he realised this wasn't a bar, then he settled for a hot chocolate. You rolled your eyes, sipping your water to stop yourself from smiling.

"So… How have you been? Any good fucking riddance parties with the besties?"

"Wade." You snapped sharply and he held his hands up in immediate surrender.

"Okay, too soon. What have you been up to?" He lowered his hands back to the table and you could picture the almost bashful smile on his face, a mix of apologetic, amused and strained. You leaned back into the booth, he was trying. In his own way.

"You want the truth or the comfortable?" You asked and Wade's head bowed slightly; this was the question you both asked when everything was shit but you didn't want it to rub it off on the other. Oftentimes you chose comfortable, it was just easier to give the most vague answer and cuddle or fuck the problems away from your mind. Or go on a midnight binge at the local gas station, raiding it of its most treasured comfort snacks.

"Truth."

That, was surprising. Wade had never been a great listener, an excellent talker but that was common knowledge. You pulled your lips into a tight line before shrugging.

"Fuck all, waking up," Crying in the shower, " going to work, dealing with assholes, going home," crying while eating a shitty dinner, "going to bed feeling like shit—Rinse and repeat." You throw your hands out in a lazy jazz-hands motion before dropping them into your lap.

"I said truth." Wade's ever scratchy and course voice was soft in that moment and you paused. You couldn't tell him you'd been crying over him, your pride didn't want you to. You didn't want to. But you had a feeling he knew, somehow he always knew. Even if he never said anything, the spontaneous trips and gifts weren't always that spontaneous and you weren't an idiot.

"You stalk me half the fucking time I think you know the truth." You threw back, harsher than you'd meant to and Wade noded, not making any move to deny your claim. You wouldn't have believed him if he did anyway, he was purposefully letting you catch him. He wanted you to know when he was there, and you did. He was the only thing you saw when you did.

"I haven't left Al's apartment, besides when I… Need a walk." Need to see you, follow you from the shadows and refuse to even say hi, creep on you from the tree outside your apartment. All the things you heard and knew but he didn't say.

"So we're both being pathetic, good to know." You smiled, a stiff and unconvincing one as you glanced over at the barista working on your drinks.

Silence hung over you both again and it felt different to what you were used to. It wasn't comfortable, it wasn't tense but it certainly wasn't pleasant. It was something new, something you really didn't like.

"I got shot into a black hole."

You blinked.

Wade stared.

"Uhm. You what now?" You leaned forward, brows furrowing as you shot him an incredulous glare. He held his hands out like he didn't know how to expand further than that before they dropped to the table in defeat. He knew you wouldn't accept those words alone, you needed it to make sense.

"The short condensed version is that I got offered a fuck ton of moolah to do a gig that led me to being up in the stars and getting bitch slapped into a swirly void of nothingness," Wade twirled his fingers in circles for empahsis, "No one promised they could get me out if that happened but they did." He shrugged and you watched him with a steely squint. He wasn't lying, you always knew when he was. He'd come back from worse but you supposed if his teleporter broke and whoever he was working with was as shady as the usual suspects—

"So that's why you broke up with me? Because you got a gig that sent you into a black hole?" You leaned back in your chair and Wade seemed to deflate minutely, as if he'd been expecting his brief explanation to fix everything.

His head drooped forward and he ran a hand over his masked face, the waiter dropped off your drinks and you barely bit out a thank you; not taking your eyes off of Wade. You realised, sitting here, you needed far more than an explanation and an apology. You needed action, you just weren't sure what kind and it didn't feel fair giving him a task you couldn't even think of. So you stayed quiet and let him think, because frankly you didn't know what else you could say that wouldn't derail into another hurtful fight.

"I thought I was gonna be floating up in a million itty bitty atom sized pieces, I didn't want you waiting around for me when you could be… Living. Happy." Wade spread his fingers out, before grabbing his hot cocoa and tugging his mask up just above his mouth so he could sip at it. He cursed when the hot liquid met his tongue and you didn't even have the energy to find it funny.

"How much?"

"Huh?" His tongue hung out of his mouth, adding to the dumb, questioning noise as he looked back at you.

"How much was breaking up with me worth? A million? Five? What's the price tag on our relationship Wade I'm real curious."

"That's not—Can we not—"

"You—" You half stand in frustration before sitting down quickly and glancing around the café, covering your mouth as you feel those stupid tears biting at your tear ducts again.

"You've gone on so many gigs and died I don't know how many fucking times, in ways no one thought you could come back from and none of those times did you feel like ditching me so I could have whatever your version of a happily ever fuckin' after is." You snapped, voice hushed as you leer over the table at him. He flinched back, obviously off-put by the water building in your eyes but he recovered after a moment; meeting you in the middle, torso half over the table.

"This was different." He hissed and being able to see his bared teeth only served to ignite that deep irritation within your chest.

"How?" You exaggerated the 'o', holding the vowel as you waited for him to finally give you the answer you needed to hear.

But Wade never made it that easy.

"It just was!"

"That's not good enough." You fell back into the booth and glared into your drink, you wouldn't storm out and cause another scene. If anyone was getting embarrassed it would be him, he could be a diva and run away from you if he wanted but you weren't going to budge. But of course his stubbornness mirrored your own and you both remained in your seats, whispers and glances being thrown at your table as everyone got a kick out of your spiralling relationship.

You should have just just kept fucking walking.

End notes: Forgot to mention this'll be updating every Saturday AEST! Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear what you think of this part! I really love writing Wade in conflict, just continuously going down a hill in every way possible. <3

[prodbymaui]

Guilty Pleasure

before this night is over, I want you in my arms

PAIRING: na jaemin x reader

GENRE: celebrities in love

WORD COUNT: 931 words

WARNINGS: mentioned edging, public sex (?), voyeurism

SYNOPSIS: Just the ideal couple enjoying each other's warmth on a cold night.

A/N: my first dream fic on this blog, yay! I hope you enjoy this one <3 tell me your thoughts! (this is just another surge of a brainrot so don't mind the grammatical errors and lack of plot + porn)

Escaping the after-party of this big celebration for a minute was out of the equation. You're one hell of a party-goer and, obviously, has a knack for parties which is why you haven't thought of getting out of here even for a mere second to breathe. But one text from your loving boyfriend and you're already excusing yourself from the dance floor.

JM: Where are you, love?

Spotting Jeno not far where you stand, you quickly stride towards him, steps careful not to trip on your favorite heels. You exchange pleasantries with a slap on his arm. ''Where's Jaemin?''

The man comically flinch in surprise, turning around. ''Well, hello to you too. He's out in the back. Do you want me to accompany you?''

Shaking your head, you wave your hand dismissively, sending him a 'thanks' before heading out to finally meet your boyfriend. There Jaemin is, clicking on his phone with his blazer hanging on his left arm, his dress shirt opened until the fourth button.

You don't know whether it's the alcohol in your system that is responsible for the quivering of your legs or something else. The light emitting from his phone enables you to get a view of his adonis face. It's definitely something else.

Your heels clacks the ground but the music coming from inside of the building overpowers it. Jaemin looks a bit surprise as you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face on his chest. There isn't much of a height difference between you but the warmth of Jaemin's body has been a comfort area for you ever since.

He places his blazer on your naked shoulders before sneaking his arms underneath it, hugging your waist. ''Bless me with some words next time, will you? I was about to whip those arms away thinking it was someone else.''

You let out a breathy chuckle, slapping Jaemin's bicep lightly before gripping the fabric of his dress shirt. Humming, you close your eyes as you let your lips touch the skin of Jaemin's neck, placing sweet pecks on areas you could reach without moving too much.

Looking up, you meet the loving eyes of your boyfriend that speaks a thousand words; I adore you. I cherish you. I want this to last forever.

You couldn't help but smile shyly at the amount of fondness in Jaemin's eyes. Caressing the side of his face, you tip-toe to place a kiss on his slightly chapped lips. It isn't even a second after the first one when you lean in for the second time, deeper this time.

Jaemin's hands grips your waist a little tighter, head bowing to force his tongue inside your mouth as you gasp for air. Jaemin licks everywhere he can, biting on your lower lip before moving on to suck on your tongue. Your lipstick smudges but Jaemin thinks it only makes things better.

With the little bits of his sanity, Jaemin is able to hear the slow music that is being played at the party. He takes this as a chance to move your body along with his, swaying you side to side while he pours out his feelings into the kiss you are sharing.

For the paparazzis who's watching you right now, this is surely a private moment worth the risk of invading. A former child teen star and her best friend turned into lover sharing a sweet kiss after they escape the chaotic party to enjoy each other's presence? This will truly make the headlines and bring them a lot of cash. Everyone loves a sweet moment from famous celebrities!

Anyone who would see the pictures are gonna be filled with adoration mixed with envy as they watch Jaemin, the ever-so-boyfriend-material, hug you tight in the midst of the cold night while whispering what seem to be sugary words on your ears.

Well, it is partially true. Indeed, these are some sugary and sweet words but no one knows it is partnered with sensual and dirty connotations. They don't know that the reason for your shaking legs isn't the cold. They don't know the real reason behind Jaemin's charming smile. They don't know the actual words being whispered.

Jaemin's fingers works on swiping his phone underneath the blazer he lent you. ''Are you gonna cum for me, pretty? Right here where the media can possibly catch us? Oh, how dirty you are, darling. I don't have to do much to have you fucked out in my arms. Look at those legs going jelly over a toy vibrating inside your pussy. You're falling apart. God, you're so beautiful.''

Your eyes rolls to the back of your head and your tongue lols out. Jaemin turns your back in any possible angle your face can be seen, covering you. The graph in his screen curves up courtesy of his fingers.

''You've held in so well, darling. Come for me. Just like that. There we go. Such a good girl, always a good girl for me.'' Placing a kiss on top of your head, Jaemin brushes your hair soothingly.

Your boyfriend stops swaying your bodies and steadies you in his arms because if it weren't for his hand on your waist, you would drop down to the floor the moment you came.

Still couldn't believe what happened, you pinch Jaemin's nipple through his dress shirt. ''Aww--''

''That's what you get for edging me for an hour and making me cum on public.''

Jaemin chuckles lowly. ''Isn't that great, love? Another box to tick off our list--''

Yep, no one can definitely know about this.

[thepolysworldau]

Oh fuck

So...long time no see-?

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO "GETTING AS FAR AWAY AS POSSIBLE" FROM THIS PLACE?! YOU LITERALLY WENT BACK TO THE SAME HOUSE WE FOUND YOU AT YOU MORON!

Well I was pretty sure no one would even think twice about me..

CLEARLY YOU WERE WRONG!

So, what is the plan now?

We have no reason to save your ass twice, Tord-

True, but you don't seem like you are about to kill me-

Look, we will help you here but if it doesn't work, you know full well neither of us can risk loosing our jobs.

...I understand-

"We need it to look like an accident. Luckily we have a conveniently placed unhinged lady to use-"

Hey, you two done with him already?

No, Patryk is handling it. It is a shame, though, keeping Tord alive would probably be good bait to get the others here.

I mean they don't even know WHERE Tord is, they probably won't jump to come here. Guess we aren't getting any of them anytime soon-

WHAT?! WAIT!

"Hopefully, she will then barge in to stop us."

WAIT! DON'T KILL THAT ASSHOLE YET!

I need you to hold up a sign that says our location so Tommy will come and get you-

What-?? No?!

Mrs.Grills, please stop-

"While we are arguing, you need to slip out. There aren't any cameras in here, but to my and Fawn's accounts, it will look like she distracted me while you got away."

"Paul will meet you with a coat, and he should be able to take you out the backway. I don't think Red Leader has handed out your face to any of the guards, he tends to be secretive when his plans fail. So, most will probably just think you work here."

I actually can't believe that worked-

Lucky for us, Fawn is pretty predictable..

Here, snagged some stuff I think you'd like. Now, just go out there and make a left, should be able to leave scott free.

Thanks, again-

Eh, as much as a pain in the ass you are, I would rather not have to kill ya in cold blood. Especially not over some cash..

( Comic by @crybaby-casey )

[strange0-0storm]

The case won't stay cold forever.

YO? YO??? YOOOOOOO!??!?!? I posted this on Instagram but imma post it here too! I'm working on something BIG, my very own comic. It features a lot of my object head and human ocs that live in this universe.

The story of a case gone cold 8 years ago in Pralsbridge, California. The disappearance and supposed death of Calloway Jones, Chips Gamesmens old business partner, and the murder of Charlene Allard, a bartender who worked at Royal G. Casino.

The comic will include sub plots and daily life chapters as well as the main plot of the Calloway Case. I've been working on developing characters and plots for years now, and finally it's coming together.

I'm working on the cover art rn, and I already am almost done with the first page of chapter 1! I also have multiple chapter summaries done aswell. I hope you all are as EXCITED as I am.

Here's some old refs of some of the main characters. Chip Gamesmen, Torano Leone and Eight Duval

[ratsoh-writes]

Dealer's choice:

Skele gets the chance to organise a new national festival for all of Ebott. What do they theme it around, what activities do they include, and when in the year do they hold it?

Sans: he would hold a science fair! Something for new inventors to show off their creations. None of that kiddie science fair crap. He’s talking about the big wigs! He’d most likely hold it in the fall or winter as really hot temperatures don’t work well with tech

Papyrus: he would do a holiday based on storytelling!! Like every one comes with a sort of play, or a live reading. If it’s mystery themed even better! Papyrus loves to hear adventures. This would go great around gyftmas in his opinion

Star: he wants an agility/gymnastics holiday! It would be so fun to see people flipping around and doing tricks! And plus, he gets to show off too! This would definitely be a summer holiday

Honey: three words: Giant. Comic. Con. Does he even need to go into detail? He just wants more merch of his favorite things! Oh and probably do this one in the spring, when it’s not too hot or cold so the cosplayers can be comfortable

Red: he really doesn’t care, but a chocolate festival should be fun. One that doesn’t need a date like valentines. Blegh! He’d have it the day before valentines to give his middle finger to that holiday lol

Edge: a cat contest. Where his precious doomfanger wins every year cause she’s the Queen. But also he wants to pet every one else’s cats. Ahem, it would make sense to hold it in fall~

Mal: a fashion contest obviously. Mal wants to see the next upcoming trends early so he can get ahead on making jewelry designs that sell faster. He doesn’t care when it’s held.

Cash: oh oh! Giant slime fight! Or water balloons work too. Anything that’s really messy and just fun to be in! He’s down! And it definitely has to be summer.

Oak: uhhhh what about a cool holiday where farmers make a big market and show off their animals- oak wait no, that’s the echo festival

Willow: willow would love a craft fair. Something low stakes where people just show off their stuff for fun, no contests needed. It sounds super cozy to him. Spring would be perfect for this!

[smashpages]

Cold Hard Cash #1 (Comixology Originals, February 2024) preview pages by writer Gary Phillips, artist Adriana Melo, colorist John Kalisz and letterer Tom Napolitano 

[graphicpolicy]

Preview: Cold Hard Cash: A Martha Chainey Escapade #1

Cold Hard Cash: A Martha Chainey Escapade #1 preview. Martha Chainey gets looped into the assignment and sets out into Los Angeles to chase her early leads #comics #comicbooks

[sashaisready]

Chapter Sixteen - Friends?

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 17

Series Masterlist

The next day at the bakery you opened up as normal, yawning and stretching as you laid out everything you’d already baked in the early hours. You kept an eye on the door all day, expecting another visit from your mobster stalker, but there was no sign. Maybe he’d finally listened to you this time. Maybe it was over.

But you had a feeling it wasn’t.

You went out briefly in the afternoon, asking Wanda to keep an eye on things while you dropped some cash off to pay in at the bank and picked up change for the register. You told her to call you if you know who made an appearance. It wasn’t fair for her to keep fighting your battles.

You must’ve only been gone half an hour but were stunned when on your return you could barely open the front door. As you battled your way in you understood why - the bakery was absolutely jammed full of helium balloons. In every possible colour. They were squeezed into every available space, covering the ceiling entirely as the ribbons hung down to the floor. You could barely walk through the store.

“What the…” you spluttered as you fought your way to the counter.

Wanda cried out when she realised you were back. “Oh thank God!” she exclaimed as she untangled a rogue ribbon caught around her ankle.

“They showed up literally seconds after you left. I thought maybe it was Peter again after the minions y’know? But the delivery men kept bringing them in! They kept coming!! They said I couldn’t refuse them as I’d already signed - I thought that was it but I'd only see the first batch...”

You groaned, snatching a small white envelope off the counter and tearing it open - like you didn’t already know exactly who did this.

So you like balloons? Then balloons you get.

I’m sorry for all of it but I’m not giving up

- JBB

You rolled your eyes.

“This is ridiculous” you shout.

You wade through the mess of ribbon and navigate through the balloons to lean over the counter and pull out a pair of scissors. You begin to cut open and pop each balloon you encounter, clearing a path and scooping the deflated debris into a trash bag as Wanda watches on, amused.

“Pathetic dick measuring contest” you mutter.

“What have you got yourself into…?” Wanda sniggers.

“Don’t…I cannot deal right now…”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you know exactly who it is. In spite of yourself, a small part of you is flattered by this over the top, excessive and silly gesture. Clearly, you have his attention. But you ignore that part of you.

“Doll. Did you get your gift?” a low voice purrs through the receiver. You shudder briefly, before snapping yourself out of the effect that voice has on you.

Before you answer him you snip the edge of the balloon you’re holding, moving it to your mouth and inhaling deeply.

“What gift?” you ask, your voice comically squeaky with helium.

Bucky laughs at that and it catches you off guard. It’s a genuine, unselfconscious laugh. A giggle if anything. Worlds away from the big bad wolf everyone sees him as. You soften slightly at that giggle.

But then you remember his coldness towards you. The woman in the bakery with him. Cancelling your date.

You harden once more.

“I told you to leave me alone” you hiss down the phone at him. "How is trashing my store leaving me alone?"

But he just laughs. Not the sweet laugh you just heard, but the mocking laugh he reserves for his cruelty. You sigh. You’re exhausted from the emotional whiplash. Every time you see a glimpse, a glimmer of a Bucky you could like (maybe could even love?) it’s extinguished quickly and the mob boss Bucky is back.

It’s tiring. You have no time for it. You want consistency. Transparency. Sweetness.

You want Peter.

“Goodbye, Doll” he rasps and promptly hangs up.

You roll your eyes, resisting the urge to launch your phone across the room.

Wanda looks at you expectantly and you just wave the scissors at her dismissively. “He’s just being a dick” you shrug.

Wanda nods, but can’t help but see how flustered you are. She understands firsthand how deeply Bucky grates on you, but can’t help but think the fact he bothers you so much is significant.

“Seems weird to spend hundreds of dollars on balloons just to be a dick” she says pointedly.

You shrug again. “Well, he’s a pretty weird guy so...” you say.

Wanda nods again, grabbing a trash bag and helping you with the balloon massacre. She would never tell you of course, but wonders if there are stronger feelings on both sides than either are willing to admit.

**

Friday rolled around and you were buzzing with excitement for your date. You took the early shift so you had time to get ready, Wanda waving you off as she looked after the bakery.

The rest of the week had been mercifully uneventful, no more balloons, no more sudden SUV visits. You’d sent your feedback on the Assistant resumes to Pepper and she had started the interviews. The candidates seemed really promising and you had a great shortlist.

If Bucky was still watching you - his henchmen had been more discreet than usual.

After trying on seemingly every piece of clothing you owned, you settled on a figure hugging black dress. It showed off your curves without being too revealing. You posed in the mirror as you slipped on your black heels, feeling confident and happy in how you looked. You’d styled your hair in your favourite way and spent a decent amount of time on your make-up, painstakingly applying it - even mastering your eyeliner flicks. It was nice to dress up, normally you were covered in flour and frosting at the bakery - dressing for comfort rather than style. You’d even put on your lucky red lingerie set…just in case things went really well.

You felt a bit nauseated as you thought about the last time you’d had sex. That night with Bucky. As good as it had been (and it had been good) - his subsequent rejection of you had been too much to bear. You didn’t want to open yourself up to that again. You wanted to take things slow, get to know Peter, not let your libido lead you again.

Although he was very attractive…

You checked your phone to re-read Peter’s confirmation of your plans. You were meeting him at a nice Thai place in Manhattan. You checked the time and rushed out, hopping on the subway and making your way there. You were full of excitement, optimism and hope for what lay ahead.

*

The date was going really well. You and Peter hit it off, talking like old friends and laughing away. He worked for a shipping company with a real cast of characters, all with colourful nicknames like Drax and Rocket. He had you doubled over as he told you stories of them and their escapades, seemingly rarely able to get through a project without some sort of high jinks.

He liked a lot of pop music, but nothing before the 90s. He listened attentively to you in return, smiling warmly as you spoke and gushed about the bakery as you ate your meal.

He was open, straight talking and upfront. It was genuinely refreshing to be on a date with a man who didn’t play games or make you second guess his motives. What you saw was what you got with Peter.

He even shared a bit about his ex, Mora, who he split with earlier in the year. No drama or fireworks. Just a gentle fizzling out, wrong place wrong time for them both. He spoke about her fondly, and you felt jealous that his life was so drama-free.

As dinner rolled on, you had a sudden sad epiphany. As much as you liked Peter, and you did a lot…you weren’t sure it was in a romantic way. He was handsome, funny, sweet, great company, honest…what was wrong with you exactly??

But ‘it’…whatever it is…just wasn’t there.

You told yourself you just hadn’t given him enough of a chance yet. You swallowed your doubts down, shaking them off as you continued the conversation.

You could have a nice time with Peter. Have fun with him, dance to 70s hits in your apartment and laugh until the early hours. Never doubt how he’s feeling, know exactly where you stand at all times. No SUVs. No goons. No crime.

**

Later after too many glasses of wine, Peter accompanied you home to be sure you were safe. You laughed for the entire journey, basking in the light of his company.

As you got to your building you stopped and smiled at him as you leaned against the brick wall of the block's exterior, the warmth of the wine spreading in your belly.

He smiled back at you, his hand reaching out and cupping your cheek. He leaned over and kissed you softly, his tongue tenderly slipping into your mouth. You returned the kiss, your hands slipping up around his neck as you pressed into him.

It was nice.

Very nice.

But nice was all it was.

You felt nothing.

No fireworks. No excitement. No delight that this was happening. You could’ve been kissing anyone.

Not like Bucky. When he kissed you it was like a thousand explosions at once within you, your legs wobbling and your skin inflamed.

Maybe that was because you knew Bucky was bad for you, and you were stupid.

Regret and sadness washed over you as Peter pulled away. Just as you went to speak, you watched his face pull into a grimace.

He inhaled sharply. “Oooh” he said as his lips curled around his teeth.

“What?” you asked, your hands still locked around his neck.

“Look. Don’t take this the wrong way. You’re great and all…but…I didn’t feel anything from that” he said kindly, wincing. “Like…nothing. I’m real sorry”.

You stared at him in shock for a moment before your expression relaxed and you began to laugh.

“What?” he asked nervously.

“Me fuckin’ neither, dude” you grinned with relief. “Oh…thank fuck”.

You both laughed together as you took your hands down from his neck and he exaggeratedly mimed wiping the sweat from his brow in a gesture of relief.

“Thank God” he muttered. “I mean I had fun tonight. Really. And you’re great to hang out with. But I thought I was going to have to break your heart…”.

You swatted him playfully, shrieking with amusement.

“Get over yourself, bro” you laughed.

He smiled back at you.

“Friends?” he asked, extending his pinky.

“Friends” you agreed, hooking your little finger around his before you shook them together.

“It’s been genuinely great getting to know you, Peter”.

“Have I blown my chance to get free danishes?” he asks teasingly.

You grin. “Of course not…come by any time”.

Once again, you valued Peter’s candour. And you were always happy to have new friends.

You waved him off after some further giggles and shook your head, amused at the idea of you both uncomfortably squirming throughout dinner - both too nervous to tell the other that you weren’t feeling it.

As you stepped towards your building door your smile dropped when you saw a familiar car parked up across the street. The initial annoyance you felt at seeing it was suddenly replaced with fear as you realised they’d witnessed everything. You doubted they’d heard your mutual declaration of agreeing to be friends - but definitely would’ve seen Peter kissing you. And that would be radioed to their boss, pronto.

Nope, not on your watch.

[lightofraye]

Hi there!

Per your request, I cropped your name. I absolutely understand why you don't want it known.

I have to agree with you, Danneel's behavior at the panel was very upsetting! All the lies and put downs and belittling teases on Jensen was beyond the pale! And what's worse, people think it's "funny"!

The fact he decided to put himself down was distressing as heck.

Yeah, they never flirt with each other. Danneel has no desire to, since she already landed the guy and his cold, hard cash, and Jensen despises her.

Yes, Danneel lied and we have the receipts to prove it! She avoided Supernatural for a long time, claiming it was Jensen's thing, and then saw how it was popular and pushed him to have her added! They added her all right--Sister Jo/Anael was exactly like her! A materialistic, lazy-ass, selfish being!

The fact she made it to Wales Comic Con still has me baffled, to be honest. She better stay the hell away from Creation. She isn't worthy anything so I don't see them wanting to add her anyway.

Yes, I heard there was practically no waiting on her photo ops and autograph ops--which is hilarious! No one knows her, no one wants her!

I hope Jensen gets away from her soon too, myself. It's clear she makes him miserable. His smiles were all too rare this weekend and not real ones at all. Otherwise he looked miserable and couldn't wait to get away.

Danneel should just stay away. Maybe get some therapy to learn that she's the problem--no one else.

Thank you for your support for him. You can vent to me any time!

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Hey big fan of your work. I have two questions.

1.) Got any new comics coming up?

2.) Will steven ever meet Spinel? I'm assuming she is still in the garden waiting for "Pink Diamond" to come back. It would be interesting to see steven (and maybe seaglass) accidentally arrive at the garden via a warp pad mishap and meet spinel. At least in my opinion anyway, it's your series after all.

Cheers!

I do have some new comics coming up. Both of the WDAU variety and... other. But I'll hold off on announcing those for now because they're a far cry from being ready.

Unfortunately, I'm not planning to take the story to Spinel. No offense to her army of fans, but in order to get me to draw any part of the movie or her plot you'll have to bribe me in cold, hard cash.

[robsheridan]

Poster for the unproduced 1984 live-action horror adaptation GARFIELD: FIRST BLOOD.

Following the success of CUJO in 1983, studios were scrambling to find the next hit “killer pet” flick. Notorious grindhouse auteur Ron Sharleton, seeking a big-budget movie deal to fund his struggling production of CANNIBAL QUARTERBACK 2, set his sights on the most unlikely of properties: Jim Davis’ beloved comic strip Garfield. Sharleton, a self-proclaimed fan of Garfield who called the strip “a subversive celebration of misanthropy,” believed an “alternative, adult” spin on the character could thrive in tandem with its kid-friendly cartoons. Describing his rationale in an interview later, Sharleton said: “You have all of these R-rated films that come out and become big hits and the studios want to suck every penny out of one idea, so they sanitize it and repackage it as a cartoon for kids. So I said, why can’t we do the reverse?”

GARFIELD: FIRST BLOOD was pitched as a dark, gritty reimagining in which the titular cat, pushed to the brink on a particularly bad Monday, finally snaps and kills Jon’s dimwitted dog Odie. As he tastes Odie’s blood, Garfield is overcome by how good it felt to put a permanent end to something that annoyed him. He then realizes that everything and everyone annoy him, and his murderous rampage begins.

Describing his take on the character, Sharleton said: “Garfield never really sat right with me as a children’s character. He’s so much darker, more complex. You have this cat who is filled with contempt; he looks at the world around him with radical skepticism and scowls at the prison of tedium mankind calls ‘society,’ and he responds with this very self-indulgent nihilism: Be lazy, be a glutton, don’t participate in anything because it’s all bullshit. Garfield looks at Jon waking up early on a Monday and putting on his tie to go to a job he hates, and he sees a pathetic fool. It’s all such a powerful rejection of the Reagan Wall Street capitalist disease that has poisoned the 80s. ‘Work hard, climb the ladder, buy a boat!’ Garfield says fuck that, stay home, eat lasagna, accept no master. But living as an iconoclast in a conformist world has filled him with all this tension. There’s anger in there, you know? So I wanted to examine what would happen if Garfield was finally pushed over the edge. Where’s the line between a passive nihilist and a violent anarchist?”

Warner Bros execs were intrigued by Sharleton’s pitch (and the lucrative cash cow of the Garfield brand) and funded a short “proof-of-concept” trailer, directed by Sharleton, to convince Garfield creator Jim Davis of the idea. The trailer reportedly went “all-in” on Sharleton’s signature “splattercore” horror, including a scene where Garfield grinds up Liz Wilson alive in a meat grinder and bakes her flesh into a lasagna he then serves to Jon. The presentation to Davis was described as “one of the most disastrously miscalculated meetings in modern Hollywood,” with Davis stopping the trailer midway to ask the room “are you people completely fucking insane?” before storming out.

Reflecting on the meeting years later, an anonymous former Warner exec said “we knew it was a long shot, but we really felt like the only way to sell the concept was to push it as far as possible. In retrospect I think yeah, we did let it go too far. We were so absorbed in it that we didn’t realize how jarring it would be for a guy like Jim Davis to just be thrown into this cold. I think it was a mistake to open with the Nermal blender scene, but we wanted shock, and we thought… I don’t know, everyone was doing a LOT of cocaine back then. Well, everyone except Jim Davis."

-----------

UPDATE: T-shirts and poster prints now available!

NOTE: This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series. NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

[wroteclassicaly]

Winter is the bane of your existence, your fingertips prickling with that icy electric as they struggle to lock your door with trembling hands. You’d lost your mismatched gloves in the laundry pile you’ve yet to do, and with your dad coming for supper this weekend, you realized you had to venture out into the arctic rain to get a few things at the store. It’s only a block from your trailer, but the moment you leave the confines of a tin roof that shields you beneath safety on your porch — you wish you would have managed your finances better, to save back some cash to order a pizza instead. Holding onto the railing, your legs tighten to hold you steady, deep black sludge darkening the wood of your steps, covering your half-shoveled walkway. You clutch your Goodwill thrifted handbag, digging out your list and balancing your ink pen between your teeth.

This, of course, has you not looking as you approach your mailbox to start your journey, failing to hear snow pack itself down beneath bike tires. His big feet hit the pedals for all they’re worth, and he lets them slam into the ground to slide, cold instantly soaking through his boots, past his socks, and landing across his toes. He prevents a total collision, but his torso catches you by the shoulder and his arms release his mailbag, crashing into the ground along with your tangled limbs. Your purse goes flying across the road, list destroyed, ink pen a casualty. It takes you a few moments to realize that you’re laying back against his chest, legs wound together, his bike several feet beyond, both of you soaked in muddy rain water and discolored snow, that you pray to god Old lady Tilly’s Pomeranian didn’t piss or shit in.

Everything aches, near that numbing, throbbing process from temperatures. Baron is groaning behind you, fingerless gloves swiping his chocolate tresses from his face. Looks like he forgot his hat today, you note, drinking in his disheveled appearance beneath his patchwork coat (you’re pretty sure he got that thing from a time capsule planted in the 70’s). His green cargo pants are sopping wet, having taken the brunt of the mud, his cheeks are dusted pink, along with his damp mouth and red nose. He’s an absolute treasure, shining everytime you see him, blinding your vision and common sense.

You look down as your skin warms from your realized predicament, almost forgetting about the snow and slush soaking through your pants, and now your panties.

“You okay, doodlebug?” His accented voice is winded, his hands reaching out gently to grasp his own ankle and lift it off of yours. Once your legs are free, he pulls you up with him and that hidden strength he possesses, his coat crunching under rustling fabric.

Your snow boots smack into the watery muck below, one hand held in his massive, gloved palm, the other planting itself on his jacket clad chest. You’re nodding, lifting your chin to face him. “I’m so sorry, Baron. M’ good, I just wasn’t paying attention —“

“You know how many times I’ve done that? Knocked into your mailbox a time or two.” He reaches down beside you to knock his knuckles across several indents in your box’s post. It makes you shiver, cars driving across snowy roads in the distance, a simple backtrack to you both.

Baron clears his deep, wind—coated throat, sniffling softly, taking a few steps behind him to grab up your purse. He brings it to you with an offered hand, starting to protest as you bend to retrieve his overflowing bag. Nothing is ruined, thankfully, and you make a quick exchange, fingers lingering, grazing.

“You’re cold, sweetheart. Should be wearing somethin’ on your hands. Momma used to tell me how fast the weather works against us.”

At the mention of his mother, you note his jostled deflation. You try to lighten his spirits, thanking him for breaking your short fall. “Just grateful we didn’t seem to land on anything special. Like a clockwork present from Mrs. Tilly’s dog.”

It’s comical how his moss-shrouded eyes, kissed beneath luscious lashes — widen in fear. He whispers, just to you, with tendrils of his hair blowing over your nose, tickling, caressing, drifting from your cheekbone, and even nicking your forehead. “Did it, ya know… do its business in there, you think?”

“I considered it within the first seconds, but I think we’re safe.” You’re chuckling, and the next sentence is leaving your mouth before you can stop it. “I think your ass got the brunt of the damage, if we’re being honest.”

He marvels at your language, lips pursing and then they pop, tongue clicking at the roof of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’ve overstepped, but he smirks, the corner of his mouth, tugging in a way that makes you want to kiss him breathless, not missing a beat. “You wanna check it out for me?”

Your brows raise higher on your frozen forehead, and he’s immediately apologetic, manners kicking into overdrive. “No, oh my goodness. Doodlebug, that wasn’t very proper of me when you were just—a—kiddin’ and all.”

His flustered state gives you confidence. “Maybe if you spin real slow. As for checking it out, I’d love to, if I didn’t have to make the store before closing.” You sigh when reality pushes its way in. Here in this park it’s usually Baron that jumpstarts those reserved butterflies, giving you something to always look forward to.

“What are you needin’? I might have it at home.”

“Baron, I don’t want to take anything from you —“

“It’s not takin’ if I offered, now is it?”

He’s slipping his bag over his shoulder and yanking bike by the handlebar off the ground, one hand on his trim waistline.

“Some stuff for supper. Dad is comin’ in this weekend.” Baron’s smile melts you entirely, your energies on high alert. He knows how your lack of relationship with your father affects you. He feels a possessive need to protect. Besides, your pop doesn’t deserve you working yourself into a frenzy over a home cooked meal.

“I got a frozen pizza. I think that’ll do just fine for him.”

He raises a hand off his bike to push his hair back, and then scrambles to replace it, the heavy object almost clattering onto the ground once more.

By god, he’s too cute for his own good.

“Okay.” It’s not one word, but it’s how you say it. Pliant and secure, satiated.

“Okay.” He replies, bashful, toeing his work boot into the ground and swirling it around the slush. “You go on back in and I’ll bring it to ya after my route?”

Your response shocks his flickering gaze into finding you. “Can I walk with you, Bar?”

Because yeah, you sure can…

// Eat me paragraph //