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silasours · 6 months

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ৎ⸝⸝⠀SUCKIN' THEM OFF ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. toys usage. edging. oral sex. masturbation. praise kink. sub/dom reader. anal play. sub lucifer because I love him. vox using his hypnosis on you for a short minute. ill check this in a few hours after some sleep. #summary : title says it all; in which you suck em off during different occasions. #note : been busier with uni lately, not gonna post that often for a couple weeks. male reader will be out soon as per a request I received, I started writing this before the ask came in

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer's thighs could practically be inked by your hand from how hard you're clawing onto him. he's seated on the edge of your bed while you're kneeling between his legs on the floor, his length enveloped nicely by the warmth of your mouth. you draw a groan from him by swirling your tongue around his cock, his fingers tangling with your hair further with a tug. he sucks in a shaky breath, face flushed as he tilts his head back.

you hum softly, hollowing your cheeks and moving your head ever so slowly. you feel the tip brush against the back of your throat, the sensation causing you to moan around him. lucifer shudders from the vibration, his groans gradually growing into soft moans and whimpers. hearing him being so vocal strikes a chord in your chest, tempting you to go further into pleasing him and watch him break under your hands.

with a grin, you you remove your mouth from him which earns a whine from him as he briefly opens his eyes to look at you. “why’d you stop..” lucifer breathes out heavily, his chest heaving as he speaks. you don’t reply, pushing two digits past your damp lips and into your mouth, coating them with saliva. the angel watches you with confusion as you push his leg up onto the bed with your free hand while remaining kneeled on the ground.

that confusion did not last long. he didn't get the chance to even speak before you plunged the two fingers into him, your saliva working as a lubricant. a sharp gasp tumbles from lucifer's lips from the sudden stretch, his upper body falling further onto the bed until his arm weakly catches himself. he watches as you thrust your fingers in and out of him, bringing your lips closer to his twitching cock, and placing a kiss on his leaking tip.

you take your time drawing noises out from lucifer with kitten licks and kisses before slowly taking him in your mouth once again, sinking down until you have him fully in your mouth. you use your other hand to keep his legs spread open, increasing the pace of your fingers while working your mouth on his cock. the pleasure that he receives is amazing, so much so that his body visibly trembles as his moans grow.

lucifer's arms give out, and his upper body plops onto the bed with a thud. his back arches off the plush bed while simultaneously pressing the back of his hand onto his mouth, feeling himself approach closer to unraveling, blabbering about how overstimulated he feels to you.

"cum f' me, pretty boy?" you mumble just loud enough for him to hear before taking him whole in your mouth again, your words triggering the coil in his stomach. you feel hot strings of thick liquid shoot down your throat, your ears filled with the sweet, loud noises of your partner. you carry on swiping your tongue around the base of his cock until he's done and remove your fingers from him.

you keep his release on your tongue while removing his cock from your mouth, climbing up from between his legs to hover yourself above him; you make it visible to him when you swallow to watch his face burn up instantly. shooting him a smile, it's obvious that you're not done with him just yet.

ʚ ALASTOR .

it's near impossible to focus yourself to work your mouth on alastor's cock, not when he's having his face buried in between your legs as you lay on him. having a long tongue compared to the others has always been a win for alastor, able to reach sensitive areas inside of you with his mere tongue and watch your body twitch. you blink away tears that found their way to gather around your eyes from pleasure, attempting to steady your breathing in order to properly work your mouth.

the moment you fully take him into your mouth, he sinks his teeth into your inner thigh and sucks on the skin until he leaves dark marks. his grasp on your legs is hard and so does yours on his. your nails dig deep into his flesh, moaning while moving your head, the heat and dampness of your mouth engulfing his length that throbs from the feeling.

"carry on with your task, my dear." alastor speaks when he notices that you stopped moving your head just to bite back moans. his grin grows when he hears your small mumble of curses under your breath before taking him in again; he almost instantly plunges two fingers into you once you do so. your body twitches from the sudden shot of pleasure, moaning as your hips involuntarily push back to have his digits enter deeper.

his groans grow, feeling the amount of vibration that is sent coursing through his body from you moaning around his cock. it's rare to even hear him being this vocal, and you want more of it. taking advantage of his fingers thrusting into you, you don't hold back any moans and whimpers that climb up from your throat. the radio demon would occasionally curl his fingers inside of you, causing a jerk at your hips every time.

alastor doesn't keep a steady pace, often slowing down and picking up the pace of his fingers at random times. his hips sometimes buckle further into your mouth, tilting his head back deeper into the pillow he lay on from pleasure.

his voice is shaky as he speaks, "close- fuck, so close." his clawed fingers could almost draw blood out of your skin from his tightened grip. you give his cock an exaggerated suck after hearing his words, knowing exactly how to snap the coil in his stomach faster. his breath is hot against your thighs. with a thrust of his hips, strings of hot liquid shoots down your throat as he curses.

you reduce the pace of your head, allowing him to ride out his orgasm while you gather every drop of his release, not wasting a single bit. once you feel that he calmed down, you pull away and swallow, tasting the slightly salty and bitter taste sitting on your tastebuds. as you attempt to pull the fingers that are nestled inside of you and turn around, alastor holds you in place firmly and roughly thrusts his fingers into you.

you cry from pleasure, your head dropping onto his thigh as you look at him through the space between your legs; his smugness is painfully visible.

"oh no. not so fast, darling."

ʚ VOX .

"doing so good for me, mm?" vox coaxes, his voice gentle compared to the grip he has on your hair. you whine at his words, the tip of his cock practically bruising that one spot at the back of your throat from the pace he's having you work on him. you lap your tongue around the base, closing your eyes in hopes of stopping your gag reflex from having him so deep down your throat.

light chattering and sometimes even yelling could be heard outside of his office. demons are constantly walking by the doors that lead to the wide room that both of you are in; you're aware of this, of course, considering how he called for you in the middle of a busy working hour plainly because he wants his cock in your mouth. needy vox in the middle of work has slowly become a normal occurrence for you now.

you shudder from the vibration of vibrators being strapped around your inner thigh, strapped so close to where your sensitive area is. vox requested for you to strap them onto yourself the moment you stepped into his office, two strings hanging off his finger while he pointed your way. your thighs rub together, the friction drawing a moan from you.

vox leans back against his office chair, head tilting back to rest against the headrest. your teary gaze shifts from his wrinkled, loose outfit to his gaze that has been focused on you from above. meeting your gaze, a grin stretches onto his lips as he allows a groan from him to return your small plea. feeling satisfied, you carry on sucking him off while your drool travels down from his inner thigh down to his leather chair.

you can feel that he's close from the way he tugs on your hair harder than before, your scalp burning so much that it feels numb. you whine both from the pain and his size in your mouth, your jaw growing sore after being stretched open for a period of time. noticing this, vox gives your hair a light tug as he closes his eyes. your gaze lands on his screen, watching as his eyes re-open to reveal a red and black spiral, hypnotizing you.

your body freezes for a short second before it continues to what you were doing before this, obediently allowing vox to unravel while remaining inside of your mouth. he knows you're aware of his actions, and that you absolutely love it when he does it. you pull away from him as the hypnosis fades, blinking while his cum stays on your tongue. vox lifts your face up by the chin with a finger, pushing his thumb past your lips to feel the thick liquid that sits there.

you swallow, the warmth traveling down your throat slowly. your tongue swirls around his thumb, parting your lips to show that the liquid is no longer in your mouth. the demon hums at the sight, a hand moving to pat his lap; a signal for you to sit.

"come up and sit here for me, will you?"

ʚ VALENTINO .

valentino's limo drives through street after street in town, the area bustling with demons all around. he promised vox and velvette a nice place for dinner, yet you're here pleasuring him by fucking his cock into your mouth as per his request. the shaky car makes it harder to do so compared to when you're in a room instead, the tip constantly hits your throat with no mercy.

the inside of the limo is dim after you requested for him to turn off his bright, flashy lights. valentino agreed to do so unwillingly since he preferred to have them stay on, claiming them as iconic. but he turned them off in the end, complying with your request so you'd feel more comfortable while having a heated session with him in the vehicle at the very least.

that's not all, though. you also have a dildo stretching your gummy walls open so nicely, the unsteady movements of the limo allowing it to stimulate the specific spot that's buried inside of you. your fingers grip his coat tightly, uncontrollable moans continuously spilling from your mouth, muffled by his cock filling your mouth to the brim. valentino lets out a chuckle, a hand from his lower pair of arms holding your head by your hair.

"we're almost at the restaurant, cariño. gonna finish yourself off along with me?" you nod weakly, hips moving to thrust the dildo in and out of yourself. a hand of yours snakes down to hold the toy in place, your mouth never removing itself from his cock. your eyes close shut while tears gather from pleasure, hand gradually switching to ram the toy into yourself with a quicker pace.

you clench around the dildo, the grith of it drawing an excessive amount of noise from you as you suck valentino off. he curses from the pleasure, legs quivering ever so slightly with a buckle of his hips. he lost track of where the limo has headed to until the vehicle came to a halt, his eyes turning to gaze outside the window. vox and velvette are both visible sitting by the restaurant window.

he mumbles for you to keep going; it doesn't seem like he's in a hurry at all. you do as he says, wanting to finish this as soon as possible despite his seemingly relaxed demeanor. you don't want to have any one of them call valentino and ask about his whereabouts, knowing how he'll straight up tell them that you're not done milking him in his limo.

he gives your hair a slight tug, taking a long drag from his cigarette before speaking as pink smoke escapes through his lips. "those two can wait, we're staying here until we're done."

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

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hana-no-seiiki · 4 months

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WHY DON’T YOU GIVE ME A SMILE? (ACT 2)

YANDERE! BATFAM x JINX (ARCANE/LEAGUE)-ESQUE! READER

[ ACT ONE HERE ]

cw/tw: mentally ill reader. schizophrenic reader. reader w/ abandonment issues. manipulative reader. crimes. arson.

summary: we dive deeper into Gotham's explosive personality and history with those that took the title of ‘boy wonder’

MORE ON YOUR ORIGINS

“They were right! You’re just a Jinx.”

“Everybody shut up! I need to think!”

“We weren’t . . . “

As much as you scared the crap out of Joker’s goons. Since they saw you grow up first hand. A lot of them tended to be overprotective over you.

I mean, they’re insane enough to follow Joker. What more you?

They see you as his successor. An heir of sorts.

Which is why Jason Todd felt like he had no choice but to either fix you or keep you locked up.

You don’t remember much of him. If you did you would hate him.

He was the one that essentially helped you pull the trigger on your family.

If you haven’t read my other posts about it, here’s the rundown.

Jason had a massive crush on reader when the two of em were kids. Prior to everything. Before he was adopted, before reader set their world ablaze, before shit hit the fan essentially.

He saw how neglected you felt. The rejection you faced from your peers for not being strong enough. For being small and weak.

Him and your sister were pretty popular amongst the kids but it only made the comparisons worse.

It was always how they were “twice the kids at [Y/N]’s age.”

And so he thought of a little gift. Just a little something to show the others how cool you really are.

He didn’t expect you to use it that way. And the worst part of it all, he wasn’t there to comfort you. I mean sure, dozens of people died that day. Many of which he was somewhat fond of. But he was sure they’d want him to comfort you. To say that it wasn’t your fault.

And despite all that, you only knew Jason as that one guy Joker went too far with.

“Hey, [N/N].”

The call of your name almost froze you on the spot. Their screams pushed forward from the back of your mind into the forefront. You didn’t think. Your hands just pulled the trigger of your machine gun on its own.

“Who the hell are you?” You grit your teeth. You’ve heard of this Red Hood going around and ruining your adoptive father’s plans lately.

And what’s worse? The man kept forcing you to stay away. Plying you with all sorts of prostitutes and all the money you could ever need or want.

Despite your hostile disposition, the man in question doesn’t return it. “I’m sorry. This was all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

“Leave.” You lowered your machine gun. A sudden wave of drowsiness overwhelmed you. A sense of calm. Weakness. Everything was screaming at you to end the source. But if he kept dodging your bullets them perhaps diplomacy would work.

You breathed out. [Y/N]. That name, that identity — though it fell down a well and was long dead it still had it uses.

Softened voice, doe eyes, and posture loose. If you had no other weapon they you always had your vulnerability.

“You need to leave, Joker is coming soon and I can’t help you if you’re caught.”

“Who was that, Jinx?” Joker asked.

You turned around. Your eyes meeting his chest and then his face, where that wide, freakish grin was stuck unto him.

“Old man, I think you mean what.” The toxic pink glint flashed through your eyes as you once again buried your old self along with the rest of the corpses that have met their demise by your hand.

“Meet Fishbones.”

BACK TO YOUR RIVAL:

Recently Tim had been . . . more agreeable to your demands somewhat?

You could tell he was pulling his punches.

Sometimes he’d even join you in your exploits.

You never trusted him of course. You never trusted anyone but yourself. But he was fun to be around is all. Whether it was you two beating each other to near death or blowing up buildings (he made sure to evacuate its residents before you two went all out).

“You know. I kinda wanna blow up that building. Don’t you think we’ll have a better view of the sky that way, Timmy?” You pointed to the structure with your signature gun shaped hand gesture.

That was one of Bruce’s buildings.

“You . . . “ Tim blinked at you a couple of times. “are so right.”

“Let’s go.” You yanked him the hand.

Tim smiled. Even if he wasn’t making direct contact with your skin, and you with his — he couldn’t help but smile at the intimacy of this moment. What were his worries with you beside him? All the sadness and anger felt so fleeting when he was with you.

His glee almost costed him his life as it took him a couple of moments to realize that you have pushed him off a building after a while of parkour.

He managed to grapple himself back, and with your assistance, he got back up to the ledge you two were on.

He gave you one half hearted glare. You laugh at his face, “You’re such a loser! Always ready to cry! Wah wah wah!” And you set off. Getting within the building with no care for stealth whatsoever.

What was the point of being all sneaky like when you had bombs on you?

"Wait up! Get back here!" Tim ran after you. He didn’t mind that you were essentially destroying all his and Bruce’s hard-work on his industries, but you were being too reckless. He would sure as hell minded if you were caught.

Turns out he wasn’t so far off when it came to his fears and suspicions.

“You. You set me up.” You glared at him. Hands on your blaster. Ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Your eyes flicking between the men in front of you, wondering who was best to pick off first.

Batman, Nightwing, or the man you stupidly thought was your friend.

“No. No you have to believe me I—“ Tim tried to explain. But Dick cuts him off, “Good job, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You traitor. I knew it. I knew it.” Your voice got weaker and weaker.

No, no, no. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t part of the plan. Tim was supposed to be with you for longer.

“I told you, you have no choice.” Bruce finally spoke. His cape moved to his back.

He wasn’t going to let you go. Not without making it bloody.

“Oh, boohoo. You’ve always been no fun!” Your eyes never leave the two dark suited men, but Tim knew you were speaking to him. “Good thing I never trusted you.”

And you take a deep breath, dropping the laughing gas Harley gave you for emergencies. It wasn’t as strong as the original one, hell you’re sure that those people probably expected that move. But it at least blocked their line of sights on you, allowing you to create some distance.

You managed to get far enough to ready your weapons and send a call of help to your adoptive parents before your prediction proved to be true — footsteps behind you; loud and clear.

“Look’s like we’ve got even more company. Huh, boy savior?”

“Don’t move and I won’t cut you down.”

Pow pow in your hand, and desperation in your mind. The last thing you heard is a blade unsheathing before you pull the trigger.

୨ ©️ ୧⸝⸝﹕hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024﹐⊂☁️⊃ ‹𝟹

AUTHOR’s NOTE: YALL THOUGHT THIS WAS GONE!! WELL THINK AGAIN!! I AM BACK!!! Sorry for the late update!! Man I’m so excited for season 2 of arcane ahahsheudidj

Taglist: @w31rdg1rl @cherry-peach-flavored @ice-cream-writes-stuff @speckle-meow-meow @inejghafawifesblog @sitepathos @mimiissia @rolo-at-midnight @mossyvampire @kawaiimusiccollection @harpy-space @takottai @maddeningmangos @obsessed-with-a-fictional @ihatemylifeuwu @caramelstrikezz @szapizzapanda @vanessa-boo @imbiafandbored @victor-rose @earphonejack09 @rainnyydaysworld @bubbabobabubbles @ksziggy @evan-trand @emo-z0mbiezzz @nyra-42 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @orangeboulevard @alwayszealousdetective @huhuhhuhh @iwasveronica @imginarygirl @nebuluma @heyitsaloy @mysticalhills

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h3r3-h3-c0m3s · 4 months

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doodles from that whiteboard!! some of u probably already saw em then lol

‼itft 6 spoilers btw‼

part 1?? might make enough for another post, not sure yet !

also!! ab 3 making me go insane. ill probably have art for that soon too maybe first i gotta get over feeling too hyperfixated cause all i can do rn is sit and vibrate with autistic joy /silly

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vintagemulti · 9 months

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shards and splinters

parings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

desc: apparently what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. now you’ve died and returned alive, perhaps it’s time to test that theory; or risk losing your life once and for all.

warnings: blood, angst, swearing, fighting, guns and gun violence, death descriptions, long as fuck, sex mentions i guess(? if you squint), hurt/comfort, gory i guess (jake🤷🏻‍♀️) writers note: idk how accurate these are bc i’ve been writing this on and off for years but cover all bases i guess xx

a/n: psa to pls reblog anyway she’s BAAAAAACKKK did you miss me ?? i missed youse … if there’s even a moonknight fandom anymore 🫣 i’m so sorry for the 2 years gone from the face of tumblr, i’ve quite honestly had two years from hell and insane writers block so. can anyone even remember this series?? idk maybe you should all reread the first parts 👀👀 anyways. there’ll be one more part to this (will it come this year? next? 2026? who knows…) bc i HATED my original ending and just had to change it. also sorry if this feels rushed or like it jumps around a lot, it’s been written over YEARS, but i’ve tried my best for continuity. also, i know there’s a lot missing in like fight scenes but they are BORING and i hate writing em so i’m not doing it. tried, got half way thru then didn’t touch this for 7 months so.. it’s no fight scene or no part at all. but my last part is pretty much done so hopefully it’ll be posted soon! ill let youse savour this for a while tho lol. on a real note thank you all SO much for all the love, even two years later. it means the world. all my love, all the time x

series masterlist

masterlist

the air felt different now. it was funny; you and marc had been apart hundreds, if not thousands of times, but he had never felt your absence. not like this. no, never like this. it was different now because he knew he could look for you everywhere and you would still be in that room, not breathing, not living.

he could see it all so clearly now. all of what? all of it. everything; life, your life, his life, where everything went wrong, what he should have done, should have said, how he could have saved you.

there was nothing you could have done, marc.

“that’s easy for you to say.” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “you’re not the one who was halfway through a fucking argument when harrow took her. and if you can remember, harrow took her because of me.”

steven sighed, and went quiet.

“i should’ve died on that fucking alter.”

marc said it over and over, like a prayer, to go back in time and pull the trigger. he was fuck knows where, it looked like the middle of the desert but marc didn’t care enough to question it.

he had walked out of that pyramid and kept on walking - for hours. the hot egyptian sun had began to set, casting a rosy hue on everything. the humidity make marc’s head ache.

steven had gone silent - a small hum of anger in the back of marc’s head. it usually would have surprised marc, for steven to be the angry one. but he wasn’t sure he would never feel surprised again.

are you going to wallow here forever?

marc looked up, low sun glinting in his eyes, making him squint. but he could tell exactly who it was - crescent staff in his peripheral.

“fuck off.”

khonshu laughed. that’s one way to talk to a god.

“fuck off.” he repeated.

and why should i, mortal? why should i listen to you?

“you did this.” it was stiff, cold, a definite statement. “you did this to us.”

khonshu groaned, moving to block the sun from marc’s eyes so he could see him properly. aren’t you going to question how i am here?

“no.”

perhaps you should.

marc could never cope with khonshu’s riddles. they had always infuriated him - never getting a straight answer. but this one, he could tolerate.

“fuck does that mean?” he was looking directly into khonshu’s eyes now - something he had readily avoided for years. “and don’t give me any of your goddamn riddles.”

if you must be so blunt, it would seem like osiris has taken a liking to your poor lady wife. hathor isn’t half fond of her, either. maybe you ought to go back to the pyramid, something tells me your needed.

and he was gone. disappeared with a gust of wind, leaving marc alone in the saharan sunset, shaking and still covered in his wife’s blood.

she’s alive?

“i-” marc looked around. “i don’t-”

his eyes slipped into the back of his head.

steven took a deep breath, swallowing hard. he set off in a run - towards the pyramid.

“this feels so fucking weird.”

you were pressed flat against the wall, peeking around every few seconds to make sure one of harrow’s followers wasn’t coming your way.

i must admit, it’s been a while since i’ve had an avatar.

you let out a breathy laugh. was that your first ever laugh since being revived? you supposed it must be. oh, you wished it was one of steven’s jokes you were laughing at instead.

you didn’t think you’d ever find one of his jokes unfunny again.

“where is he?”

it’s hard to tell. i can’t check, unless i’d like ammit to spot me.

humming, you looked around the corner once again, breath hitching when you saw a shadow come closer.

what made your breath stop completely, however, was the slow, melodic tapping of a cane, following every footstep the person took.

harrow was less than two feet away from you.

swallowing hard, you pushed yourself against the wall even harder, back cold against the concrete. you hoped - prayed with your newfound faith in osiris and his mercy - that harrow would turn back the other way, not hearing your thumping heart.

but your luck had ran out for this lifetime.

the tapping of the cane became louder, until you could see the tip of it in your peripheral, crunching glass finally becoming audible. he was about to come around the corner, and see you. you would be impossible to miss, even the bright red of your new outfit making you stand out.

it seemed like it was impossible to escape harrow, and the tapping of his cane. he had killed you once, what would stop him from doing it again?

apparently, a guardian angel. someone spoke, making harrow turn to look behind him.

this was your chance - to slip away and turn the opposite corner, escape harrow in your new life as you couldn’t in your last.

his voice made you flinch. cool, charming, low. like a snake - exactly like a snake, now you thought about it. the way he slid through life, from the bar all those years ago, to now, awakening a centuries old god, aiming to destroy the world.

you could slither away too, though.

still holding your breath, you sidestepped along the wall, making sure to watch your step over any lose stones, until the wall fell away behind you and led you into another corridor.

as soon as the light from the hall had faded, you let out your breath, hands coming to your forehead and rubbing your eyes.

we have to keep moving. ammit is almost ready to begin.

nodding - although it felt like your brain was rattling around your skull - you looked back up and saw hathor, still looking as beautiful as ever.

this hallway was much dimmer than the last. colder, too. it was like all the light had been blocked, the only thing keeping your vision was the small, fading candles lining the walls every meter or so.

perhaps it was your natural instinct, or a new given sense as an avatar, but you could tell - something wasn’t right. something in the air had shifted, on top of the hot, sticky, egyptian heat, there was something sinister.

your years as a mercenary had taught you to recognise something - blood in the air. and there was certainly blood in the air around you.

“what is harrow’s plan?”

he wants to judge people. through ammit, he believes he can rid the world of everyone bad, even if they aren’t already bad.

“so he’s playing god?” the corridor seemed to go on forever.

he would never admit it, but yes. and ammit is the perfect enabler for him, she’ll know exactly what he’s up to, but because he can give her her power back, she’ll play along.

you scoffed lightly. “harrow isn’t stupid either. he’ll know what she thinks.”

hathor shrugged, a few paces in front of you. only time will tell, my dear.

for a few minutes, the walk along the corridor was silent. the tap of your shoes echoed down the hall, breeze from your passing flickering the candles on the wall.

why did you marry him?

it stopped you in your tracks, hathor stopping too.

“what?”

marc. why did you marry him?

you stuttered for a moment, looking around as if someone would come and help you.

i don’t mean it in a rude way. i’m the goddess of love, it’s natural for me to want to know.

“well,” you paused for a moment and began walking again, slower this time. “we were young when we met, i was coming up for 18 and he was 19.”

and?

“and i knew what i had done to him.” you swallowed. “i felt fucking awful, i thought, maybe if i get to know the guy, and he’s not as much of an ass as everyone makes him out to be, it’ll make it easier for me to forgive myself.”

the corridor kept on, as if it were never ending.

“as you can tell, it didn’t work.”

he wasn’t as much of an asshole as everyone thought?

“no, he was,” you gave a dry smile. “it just so happened that assholes are my type, and i think he worked it out pretty quickly. so after only about two months of knowing each other, he asked me on a date. a real date. it was my first ever date too, god knows anton never took me out. but god, he was such a gentleman.

he picked me up, gave me flowers, wore a fucking tie. and he payed for everything, too. dinner at a four star restaurant, a movie, then out to a bar for drinks.

i knew i had fucked up when he kissed me that night.”

you regret it?

“not for a day. and that’s my mistake- i mean, i was supposed to hate him. i told myself i would hate him. so i wouldn’t feel bad about telling someone to kill him. i didn’t even know how he got out alive- he didn’t tell me about the khonshu shit until after we got married.

oh, our wedding,” you smiled again, a real one. “it was perfect. i was twenty one, marc was twenty three. we were so young. it was a small wedding, just some friends, neither of us invited our family. it was the best night of my life.

it was the night i met steven, too. i think the stress of the day must have triggered it. and that was it- there was marc, and there was steven.”

didn’t it take a while to get used to?

the corridor began to open up, getting slightly wider by the meter. still - there was no end to it in sight.

“it did and it didn’t. i knew for a while there was something happening to him, he would disappear, look confused all the time. i knew it was a matter of time until something changed. and then came steven, perfect steven.

he changed so much- it was like dating all over again. he was even more perfect than marc, stupid english accent included. but, naturally, abuthing that’s perfect must come to an end.”

hathor sighed. and it gave you the impression, just for a moment, that she already knew the whole story. that she was humouring you by letting you tell it. her sigh, sad and resigned, almost confirmed that she knew what was coming.

“the-” you stopped. your voice had broken, and your feet no longer moved. hathor continued for a few paces before looking back at you.

i understand, but if there’s any time you need to tell this, it’s now.

“you know?” you voiced your suspicions.

take into account which god i am, my dear. there is no one else i could chose, but you.

you swallowed. “what’s the point of talking about it if you already know?”

you have been born again. revived. would you like to carry this, this horrible vendetta against someone who has done nothing but love you, for the rest of your new life?

“no.”

then voice it. i can take this pain from you, if you only ask me too. i can help you.

you bit your tongue, looking down at your feet and kicking around a few of the loose rocks. hathor waited.

“the baby was supposed to be born just after my twenty-third birthday.”

a beat. hathor didn’t reply.

“but he didn’t live past twelve weeks.”

you looked back up at hathor, anxious for a reply. she didn’t give you one, only nodding.

“i don’t- i don’t know what i did. i was waiting until i could get a scan, tell marc, have it done properly, you know? but when i went to my appointment, i knew. she didn’t say anything, she just looked. then she left, got the doctor to come in.

he said that the baby had died, that they weren’t sure of the cause, but it was a boy. that my baby boy had died.”

tears threatened your eyes. never - never - had you spoken about this before. not even with marc.

“i went home, with a hatred in my heart. the next few days were the worst. i was grieving a child no one knew i even had. the blood was horrible, it hurt so badly. i told marc i was on my period. fuck, for all he knew i was.

and then my baby was gone. and i hated marc.”

why did you hate him?

you shrugged. “i have no idea. i needed someone to blame and marc was the easiest. that’s when it all went downhill, you know? i wanted him to be there for me, for something he didn’t even know happened. and when he wasn’t, i blew up at him. and he blew up at me.

and that was it, for three years. this horrible hatred towards each other, me hating marc for something he knew nothing about, and marc hating me for every other reason.

he hated me the most for making him stay a mercenary. he wanted out, he wanted a normal life in the suburbs with a dog and a big house and maybe, one day, a child.

but i can’t have that. i don’t want that kind of normal - not when i was so close to it and lost it. so i pushed him into this world. i made him take jobs and work himself to death, even when i found out about khonshu. i made him do it.

and that’s why we’re here. because i told him to follow khonshu here. and now look what i’ve done.”

hathor took two, wide steps towards you, and cradled your face in her hands.

you have done nothing that makes you inhumane. none of this mess is you fault. khonshu would have gotten marc here one way or another. anyone in your shoes would be the same.

her hands were warm. you felt a tear fall, running underneath her fingers. “but i’ve been so horrible. i’m a monster - if not for this, for everything else.”

hathor shook her head. you are a human being.

there was silence as you cried and hathor wiped your tears. at least two minutes passed - but it didn’t matter to you. harrow could come running around the corner and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

hathor took a deep breath, looking to her left along the corridor. she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another figure appeared.

is now a bad time, human?

you flinched at the rough edge in khonshu’s voice. “what do you want?”

what do i want? there’s a long list.

even through your tears, your patience thinned. “seriously?”

hathor took her hands from your face, turning to look at khonshu. enough of your riddles. just tell her.

the unmistakable sound of footsteps, running, drew your attention. they were getting closer.

i don’t think i have to say a word, actually.

just as khonshu had finished, a figure appeared, coming around the twists and turns of the corridor.

your heart stopped.

marc looked around in a daze, eyes falling first on khonshu, then on hathor, then…

“y/n!”

just as he had stopped running, he started again, coming towards you like a lion out of his cage, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off of your feet.

“oh baby,” he mumbled into your neck.

you had just reached - wrapping your arms around him in equal tightness, hands flying into his hair. oh, god. his hair - his curls, his skin - you’d never take it for granted again.

he pulled back, hands on your cheeks in a mirror image to hathor. his eyes locked into yours, brown irises melting into his pupils, filling with tears.

marc stuttered, trying to get several sentences out at once, before you hushed him.

“please, marc, we don’t have much time. harrow is gonna-”

“i know,” he nodded, eyes still not breaking from yours. “i know- baby, i know. please- please, just give me a minute. i never- i thought i’d never- oh, baby.”

he leaned in, moving his hands out of the way to rest his forehead against yours. he was hot - sticky with sweat and dirt and, although you didnt want to think about it, your blood.

“i know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “marc, i know.”

barely having finished your sentence, he leaned in and kissed you.

it was like the first kiss all over again, and you supposed it was. hot, needy, passionate, desperate. you could live in this moment.

but the unmistakable sound of khonshu clearing his throat broke your kiss.

if you wouldn’t mind, harrow is about to release ammit. i’m sure your couples catch-up can wait another hour.

“yeah,” you nodded, breaking away, but marc was far more hesitant to let go.

“i can’t-” he looked around, paranoid. “i can’t do this, y/n. i just lost you, i can’t run the risk of losing you again, i’ve never- y/n, i can’t let you go, you’re everything to me, and if harrow- oh god, what did harrow do to you? i swear to god, the minute i see him, i’m gonna-”

he blinked. a beat.

“paranoid git never did know when to be quiet, did he?”

“oh, steven,” you threw your arms around him again. “fucking hell.”

steven, unlike marc, seemed far more willing to let you go. “love, i know, but if we don’t go now, we’re all gonna end up dead. please, we can do this all after, yeah?”

he took your hands in his, stilling your shaking fingers. he was so warm - always so warm.

“okay,” you nodded, looking between him and the gods beside you. “okay.”

you had severely underestimated how far harrow was willing to go. it had been what felt like hours, an unrelenting fight. you weren’t even sure when layla showed up, hoping to help you in any way she could.

but her attempts were futile; ammit was huge. really - huge, bigger than the pyramid behind her. khonshu had, as usual, gotten involved too, so that meant he was the same size, almost trampling you with every step he took.

you had tried. really, you had. you’d tried to use your new found avatar abilities to at least land something on harrow, but truth be told, you were failing. he’d hit you far more times that you’d even aimed for him, you were covered in cuts and rapidly forming bruises, you were sure your shoulder was dislocated.

but worst of all? your head wasn’t right. you weren’t sure what was wrong with it - it seemed fine every time you focused on identifying the issue, but every time you weren’t paying attention, it was there again. dizzy, a ringing in your eyes, everything a second or two behind; your vision lagging and cloudy. but just as you’d notice it, it was gone.

it was getting worse, too. you could see marc out of the corner of your eye; he was one to one with harrow. it would have made you anxious if you could properly focus on what was going on. but you couldn’t - your thought were scattered, a ringing back tenfold in your ears, the world had gone distant and hazy.

the doctors told you it was a concussion the next morning. layla had actually came in very handy, able to translate the man’s arabic into english for you.

he had told you that you’d sustained a massive head injury - you figured it would have been investigated, if you hadn’t been one of the people there last night.

‘there’ was all people could talk about. first the sky had gone backwards (you’d missed that part, thanks to being dead), then, out of nowhere, two ancient egyptian gods had appeared, destroying all the buildings in their wake, pyramids too.

it wasn’t that you couldn’t remember it. you could - it was clear in every aspect. it just didn’t feel like you’d been there at all. even the build up to it, every moment from when you’d stepped out of that pyramid, hand in hand with steven, hot air hitting your face;

it wasn’t you.

well, obviously it was you. but it wasn’t the same you. everything felt different, you didn’t have the same emotions you did before. the same key ones, yes, like how you felt about marc, and steven, and who you are as a person, but basic thing, like fear, and compassion? it was gone.

you’d have voiced this to a doctor if you could put ‘i died and got brought back to like by an ancient god, but not the same one who destroyed half of your city last night, sorry about that, by the way’ into layman’s terms.

trauma induced dissociation was enough of a label for you. it fit - everything just felt a little hazy, was all. not that you’d asked your doctor, a google search (excluding the resurrection part) had taken you to pages and pages about dissociation and how it’s normal to feel it after a traumatic event. you were pretty sure dying was a traumatic event.

and yes, you could bring it up to your doctor, he was payed to help you, after all. but there was a strange gnawing in the back of your head: that if you voiced this feeling, it would only get worse, and the happy ending you and your husband currently had would be shred in two because you couldn’t feel properly.

so instead, you listened to his professional diagnosis; a severe concussion, fractured rib, dislocated shoulder, several cosmetic wounds, and mental trauma that would be discovered at a later point, if you ever got around to voicing it to a doctor.

what a lovely shopping list, you thought.

it was three days before they let you out, and marc wasn’t getting out for another two after that. you’d had to beg him to even go to the hospital in the first place, but now he was getting the medical attention he’d needed for years, he seemed content in his hospital bed. not that he’d ever admit it.

with two days to yourself (not nights, you’d go back to the hospital and stay with marc), you decided to have the egyptian holiday you had come for.

the first stop was obvious; buy clothes. all of the ones you had were either covered in blood or halfway shredded. once you’d achieved this, in a new white linen sundress (cut below the knees to hide the still raw scars), you felt just slightly lost.

of course, you weren’t lost, you were always quick to get your bearings in new places - mercenary years had left you with a few skills, after all - and you kept yourself in a fairly small area, close to the hospital in case you got an emergency call.

no - the feeling of being lost came from deep down. ever since you’d come back to life it was the same, a strange longing for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. something you felt you just had to have, maybe not right now, but in the near future. the hazy feeling had already begun to pass, you were sure google had served you well. but it left behind this in its wake, a new, even stranger feeling.

a breeze blew your hair lightly as you looked down the street in front of you. it was picturesque, all kinds of small shops and cafes as far as you could see. you could hear kids playing somewhere, a baby crying in the distance.

the lost-longing feeling piqued at this.

“oh.” you breathed. “oh.”

beside you, hathor, dressed in a golden, floor length dress and looking beautiful as ever, laughed.

oh, indeed. did you forget which god i am?

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ilovejoll · 6 months

Note

WAIT before i forget…. STEVEN IM SO CURIOUS!!!! i know you’ve made Poppy Playtime art in the past, SO with the release of chapter 3 do you have any future plans to draw any of the new charas like the smiling critters? If there IS any interest, i would absolutely LOVE to see how you stylize ‘em!!!

WII HI GALA!!!!!!! I’m so glad you asked, cuz I JUST finished playing PPT 3 like yesterday and i planned on redesigning the smiling critters!!!! I actually plan on redesigning other characters too, but ill save that for its own post lol. I'm mainly focused on the critters… cuz gosh they're so cute, but i think their designs are a litttleee bland for my liking. I’m so glad you want to see my take on them…. Ragh… here’s what i managed to cook up ! (PS. These took MULTIPLE iterations, I literately redrew these guys three times, so I hope u like them :3. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough motivation to finish anyone other than catnap and Dogday rn,,, but hopefully soon I’ll do the other critters! )

I always hate how cartoons make humanoid creatures naked, it never really clicked to me whenever they do that. So, firstly, I gave them clothes! I tried to make their outfits fit their personality, along with some personal headcanons :o] !!! Also tried to give them more diverse body types,,,

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #Dogday #catnap #Kenziedraws #kenzieanswers #Kenziebabbles #shut it Kenzie #I’m not toooo proud of it #cuz I wanted to make them look like carebears…. but failed 😅😅#hope u like it anyway!#PRETEND I DIDNT ANSWER THIS LATE AAHHH

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tom-is-online · 8 months

Text

Project Sekai x Pokemon AU (base ideas)

i have brainrot heres my scraps i gots whilst i revise for my mock exams, ILL BE BACK POSTING ART SOON I PROMISE when i get more for this cuz i will cuz its living in my head ill post it and when i have enough ill make a big post with em VBS sketches for designs I have in mind for them

Sketch concepts - im also gonna be real loose with the typing of the teams its more of a theme than a set in stone type

VBS

I want VBS to be double battle experts with their partner, they have matching pokemon and everything and build their teams on each other. Trying to surpass the RAD WEEKEND Who are the best trainers in the area

NIIGO

The main basis for NIIGO is i want them to not be fighting but instead be the other areas of pokemon: Kanade = gen5's music gimmick + pokedex Mafuyu = Pokemon centre nurse (she broke the nurse joy cycle) Ena = pokemon snap and pokemon art academy. do you see the vision. Mizuki = THEYRE THE PROP MAKER FOR SHOWS. they do costumes and make props and will find weird items for you if asked

id also like to add the idea of them making a pokemon anime or mv still honestly not sure what they do as a group but that's the best i have rn :)

OTHER GROUPS I HAVE NOT DOODLED YET!!!

Leo/Need - wants to become the new elite four! they might also find some legendaries along the way

More More Jump - pokemon contests!!!

Wonderland X showtime - POKESTAR STUDIOS. if youre not aware what that is, they make films. they have robots and actors and its awesome. Rui makes the robots btw

i wanna make a ver of this with the finished ones kinda like a pokedex entry i wanna fuck around a bit with them and make ones for the other characters I want the Mikus to all have a cosplay pikachu based on this i made last year - might make my own miku designs based on voltage tho :)

+ this i made last year

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND IF YOU HAVE ANY OPINIONS FOR ANYTHING LMK LMAO THIS HAS FULLY TAKEN OVER MY HEAD HELP

also. if anyone has ideas for tsukasa tenma. send em my way. i cannot think of anything for that man

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thoroughlymodernminutia · 9 months

Text

This Christmas - Prequel

Pairing: Benny "Borracho" Magalon x F!Reader

Word count: 8,219

Summary: This is a prequel of sorts to this from last year. It’s basically the how Benny and the reader met, etc

Warnings: Mostly Hallmark-style fluffy stuff, lots of pining, but brief mention of loss, guilt, some foul language. If I missed anything else let me know and I'll add it in.

A/N: I don’t know folks, I started writing this and was really chugging along and had a whole plan for how I wanted this to be. Then I got sick with everyone’s favorite illness from 2020 and lost a lot steam. I found, I think, a happy compromise with myself because I wanted to post this before Christmas (self imposed deadlines am I right?) and realized I can always I don’t know, post more parts of it later?? I am my own worst critic so if you read this and it isn’t your jam, please don’t say anything lol I’ve probably already thought it, so it would be redundant! Also, clearly, I do not know the proper use of a semicolon, or an em dash and I don't have an editor, so we'll all just have to deal. Anyways, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, all that jazz

-----------

It’s a little after six in the morning and they still haven’t rolled in. Usually, the five of them would have been here for an hour already; a few hungover, one still drunk, and the fifth one acting like an adult babysitter for the other four. It’s weird how this happens–people come into your little donut shop and after a while, instead of you becoming part of their routine, they become part of yours. Eventually they start to feel like stand-ins for the friends you hardly ever get to see. You’re busy with your business and they’re busy with their jobs and families.

It could feel lonely, but you have people like Noreen, who comes in every Friday to buy three dozen assorted donuts for her team. Noreen is kind and not the type of person you envision working at a private equity firm. When you were thinking about expanding into the small space next door, she looked at your plan and helped you figure out where you were being too aggressive and in some cases too shortsighted. She didn’t ask for anything in return, but you made sure her next three dozen donuts were on the house.

There’s Will, a retired teacher, who comes in every Sunday. He used to come in with his partner, Charles, and they would sit at the table you have set up near the front window. They traded off different sections of the newspaper while drinking their coffee and sharing one old-fashioned donut and one raspberry jelly donut; they never strayed from those. Charles passed away six months ago and it was unexpected. You didn’t expect to see Will for a while, but routine is hard to give up especially when it’s the only thing you have left. Every Sunday morning you set a 'reserved' sign on the table near the window.

There’s Stuart, who hangs out in the plaza your shop is located in. You’re not sure if he’s unhoused or just likes to spend his day outside, but it felt strange to always see him and not interact with him. One day you invited him to come by for coffee and a donut but he turned you down. You told him the offer was good for any time and that you hoped you’d see him in there soon. He came in a few days later and it made you feel like you were doing some good; and then you felt bad for feeling like that. Stuart’s reserved and not much of a talker so you just let him sit at a table while you go about your work. Some days he’ll start a conversation; it’s rare but it feels like you both trust each other enough to make more than small talk. If you don’t see him in his usual spot outside, you worry. He usually turns up a few days later, but you're concerned that at some point he won’t turn up and what are you supposed to do then?

There’s a handful of people that fall into this category of if they never came back you would notice. It’s because some of them are smart and kind like Noreen. Some because they sit in the same spot, newspaper sections still divided in two, like Will. Some because their silence fills your little shop, like Stuart. And some whose absence you would notice because they don’t fit into these boxes. Sometimes they can be loud or irritating; but they can also be entertaining. And they’re are always five of them, but only one that makes you feel like you’re thirteen and just saw your middle school crush.

They started coming in sometime in February. You only remember because the biggest one said he’s 'not eating a fucking, prissy, heart-shaped donut.' Some men are like that, afraid if they come in contact with something feminine that’s not a woman, that their dick will fall off. He was loud and obnoxious and only one of the other four looked truly embarrassed for the guy and for himself. He apologized for his friend and ordered five large coffees and a dozen glazed donuts.

“You sure glazed are going to be manly enough for your friend over there?”

You ticked your head over towards the table where his friends were sitting. He laughed and it was a surprisingly warm laugh for a man with neck tattoos.

“He won’t even remember being here, let alone what kind of donuts he ate.”

He sounded annoyed but used to the behavior. You remembered having friends like that, in your twenties, but you were well past that age and so were these guys by the look of it. You saw him eyeing an apple fritter so you grabbed it from the case, put it on a plate, and set it on the counter next to the box of donuts.

“On the house, since it doesn’t look like you’re getting paid for your babysitting duties.”

He smiled, said thank you, and then went to sit with his loud friends. You noticed he was quiet in comparison and thought it would be nice if they were all quiet like that.

When they were getting ready to leave you saw that the quiet one made sure all the trash was thrown away and all the dishes went into the right bin. At the door as they were leaving he gave you a small wave thanking you again. There was something about his smile that made it feel like flowers were blooming in your stomach. That feeling carried you for a week. You’d think of that moment of him at the door and a fog would enter your brain and the flowers in your stomach would grow larger.

The feeling would start to subside after a while and you would get caught up in your real life–your business, the rare time with your friends, the occasional bad date. It would slowly drift from the front of your mind to the back. Then they would show up and the cycle would continue.

The one who had the soft smile and neck tattoo, you learned his name was Benny. And that if you gave him a choice between the apple fritter and anything else, he would choose the apple fritter one hundred percent of the time. The loud drunk, that was Big Nick and he’s only been not drunk five percent of the time they’ve come in. There’s Connors, Zapata, and Henderson–you’ve only heard them referred to by their last names. A thing that you’ve only ever heard men do. They all come in once or twice a month–usually early, usually hungover. It makes you wonder what they do before they end up at your place. You never ask because to know would be to probably ruin your crush on Benny.

Benny always pays and there’s a part of you that hopes he’s doing it just for the chance to talk to you. When he leaves he always gives you a wave goodbye and a thanks again. The flowers in your stomach have bloomed and blossomed to an embarrassing degree by the end of May. And that’s when they stopped coming in.

—-

Benny shakes his head no at Connor’s who’s trying to hand him a beer, “Not feeling it tonight.”

Benny isn’t feeling it any night, but he keeps that to himself. The drinking, the cocaine, the women, none of it interests him and it hasn’t for a while. Since February if he’s being honest with himself.

They had ended up at your donut shop, Glazy for You under random circumstances. The usual place they would go to sober up after one of these parties had been closed down by the health department. He should have known it was bound to happen, the place was dim and oddly seedy for a diner. Benny was the designated driver that night, since he hadn’t been feeling well he didn’t drink and spent most of the night ushering random women out of a grim motel room. When he saw Glazy for You as he was driving by, it looked like the complete opposite of his evening; it was bright, there were Valentine’s decorations on the window. It looked comforting and warm, two things he felt like he was missing in his life.

Nick of course was an asshole and Benny felt like he spent a lot of time silently apologizing to you. His apologies must have entered you mind telepathically because you gave him an apple fritter–the best apple fritter he’s ever had in his whole fucking life. There must have been some kind of magic in because that moment lodged itself somewhere in his heart and reappears when he’s feeling low. Like now–sitting in this motel room, on this couch that probably hasn’t been cleaned in two decades, watching his friends lose their fucking minds over shit they should have outgrown.

Benny hasn’t seen you in months, ninety-seven days to be exact, not that he’s counting. They’ve been working on one case after the next and it’s left time for little else. No post drug test parties, no early mornings sitting in a donut shop waiting for everyone to sober up, no you. It’s been sleep and work for three months straight. Last time he saw you, it seemed like you were happy to see him. Maybe he imagined that feeling; misunderstood the warmth in your smile. Maybe that’s the smile that you’ve practiced in order to be able to perform it for everyone. Maybe everyone feels what he feels when they see you.

Benny sinks further into the couch and looks up at the ceiling. It’s a drop ceiling which brings back memories of a case he had worked on. While securing a crime scene, they were in the living room of a run down apartment. It had this same type of ceiling and a body fell right through it onto the floor. He thinks that maybe this is how it ended up being called a drop ceiling, because shit just drops right out. That thought, that memory makes him realize that he doesn’t want to be in this room anymore. He gets up, grabs his jacket off the back of the couch, and leaves. He hears Connors call after him as he’s closing the door but he doesn’t care. He only has one place that he wants to be right now.

—-

You’re putting a tray of bear claws in the display case when you hear the door open. It’s still early, the sun is barely up, pink and purple hues are still in the sky. You get a lot of municipal workers that come in at this time, barely past opening. So it’s a little bit of a surprise when you get a glimpse through the display case of Benny walking in, alone.

There’s a second while you’re crouched down, adjusting the tray that you let yourself be excited; allow yourself to give into the childish feeling of getting a glimpse of your crush. Your knees are wobbly as you stand up–unsure if it’s because you’re getting old or because he’s looking right at you.

“Oh hey, how’ve you been?” You wipe your palms on the front of the apron you’re wearing. “It’s been a while.”

You try to sound neutral, neither excited to see him or disappointed that it's been so long. He smiles and that familiar sensation of flowers blooming returns.

“We’ve been working on a lot of cases and it’s been hard to find time for anything else.”

You lean forward and rest your arms on top of the bakery case.

“Cases? You guys are lawyers?” As the words leave your mouth you realize how truly stupid it sounds. You’ve never in your life seen any lawyers that look like these guys.

Benny chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, something he does when feels embarrassed or self conscious.

“No, definitely not lawyers. Detectives. We work for the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department.”

You fail at suppressing a laugh, “I’m sorry. All of you are detectives? Even your friend Nick?”

Benny knows your laugh isn’t mean spirited and if he were you, he’d probably laugh too, knowing what he knows about the people he works with. He moves closer to display case and leans in.

“Even Nick. You seem surprised.”

“It’s just. I.” You pause, trying to choose your words with care, because you like Benny and you don’t want to insult him, “I mean, it’s hard to imagine being a victim of a crime or something and like Nick is the person taking your statement, trying to help you. That is my nightmare.”

You hope you don’t sound like an asshole, but the idea of Nick serving and protecting seems like a stretch. If you offend Benny, he doesn’t show it, he just laughs.

“The way that you’ve seen him, I can understand the sentiment. He’s not like that a hundred percent of the time. I promise.”

You give Benny a joking look, “Okay, but what percentage are we talking here?”

You’re both laughing when the rest of the guys walk in. The rowdiness is a shock to your system after not dealing with it for a while. You look at Benny and he’s no longer leaning in towards you and maybe you’re projecting, but you think he looks a little disappointed too.

Benny’s disappointed, but he tries his best to hide it. The guys may be drunk, but they are cops and they are perceptive. Benny already knows he has a reputation among them as being soft. It used to bother him, but it hasn’t for a while. He knows he would rather be soft than be the type of man that can’t feel anything other than bitterness and rage.

“Borracho, you fucking asshole, you left us.”

Nick, is of course loud and slurring his words. Benny hopes you can’t understand Spanish–he doesn’t want to be known as a ‘drunk’ to you.

Benny turns from you to look at the guys. Connors is propping Nick up; Henderson and Zapata are stumbling towards a table.

“I was hungry.”

Benny hopes it’s enough to shut Nick up. He knows it’s not because he sees Nick loosen himself from Connors and stumble towards him. He claps a large, drunk hand on Benny’s shoulder and the force almost knocks him backwards.

“Fuck, Borracho. You’re no fun anymore.”

Nick is a mess and that’s not really that surprising to you. What is surprising is how uncomfortable Benny looks. He has the look of a man who would give anything to disappear. You can’t really blame him, these guys, Nick especially, are exhausting to be around and you only deal with them for a few hours a month.

“Can I get you guys something or are you just going to loiter?”

Benny looks towards you and you give him a sympathetic smile. He shakes Nick off of him and is about to order when Nick lurchers towards the counter that you’re standing behind. You step back as he unsuccessfully tries to paw at you.

“I know what you can get me, sweetheart.”

Benny groans and runs a hand over his face, “Jesus Christ, Nick. Shut the fuck up.”

You step closer to the counter and lean forward, putting a hand on Nick’s shoulder.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sweetheart’?”

Nick tilts his head to the side and mutters, “That the next time I do it, you’ll put my head in the deep fryer.”

You pat his shoulder, “Good, you remember.”

You hear Zapata, Henderson, and Connors–who’s joined them at their table laughing and chanting do it, do it.

You gently push Nick away from the counter, “Go sit down unless you’re willing to see if I’m serious.” You look over at Benny, who no longer looks like he wants to disappear. “Benny, five coffees and a dozen glazed, right?”

Benny nods his head, “Yeah, that’s good.”

Nick turns around and starts walking towards where Connors, Zapata, and Henderson are sitting. He jerks his thumb back towards you, “She’s no fun either.”

Benny feels awkward standing here, watching you gingerly place twelve glazed donuts in a box and then pour five large coffees. It’s calming though, watching you do routine things, like you’re slowly rooting out the anxiety of being around drunk idiots. You put the coffees in a tray and place it down on the counter next to the donuts.

Benny pulls out his wallet to pay, “Uh, sorry,” he pauses, he’s sorry about a lot suddenly, “sorry about Nick. He was acting like an asshole.”

You shrug and hand Benny his change, “Don’t worry about it.”

Benny is sitting with the guys and can’t help feeling like he’s messed something up. You didn’t give him an apple fritter like you normally do. He wonders if you’re mad that he didn’t do something more when Nick was acting like an asshole. Maybe he’s overthinking it–he can’t expect you to give him a free donut every time you see him. It’s possible he’s misread the situation entirely, that you’re just friendly and nothing more. He watches you behind the counter adjusting things, bagging up donuts for customers that have come in. When Benny checks his watch for the time, he misses seeing you slip an apple fritter in a bag and write 'Benny' in a tidy script.

You watch the guys start filtering out of your place; Nick and Connors are first and from the store window you can see them getting into separate cabs. Benny is still throwing trash away as Henderson and Zapata leave. They share a cab and you imagine that maybe they rallied enough to start drinking again at 7:30am. You see Benny heading towards the door and it looks like he’s leaving without giving his usual wave goodbye. Your stomach sinks a little–maybe he’s mad at you for not joking around more with Nick or the other guys. Or it could just be that he’s tired and wants to go home and you’re creating feelings that aren’t there.

You grab the bag with the apple fritter from below the counter and hold it up, “Hey, you forgot something.”

Benny looks at the bag with his name on it–it’s the nicest handwriting he’s ever seen. He walks over to the counter and takes the bag from your hand, your fingers overlapping for a fraction of a second.

“So this means you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you? Wait, you think because of Nick?” You look at him strangely as he nods his head yes, “He’s the idiot, I’m not going to hold that against you.”

Benny smiles, “That’s good to know.” He starts walking away, but stops when he gets to the door, holding up the bag with the donut, “Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

“Take care, Benny.”

—-

“You like that girl at the donut place?”

It sounds less like Connors is asking you a question and more like stating a fact. Benny’s a little caught off guard and pretends to start looking for something on his desk.

“What?”

Benny tries to sound confused, like he’s never even heard the word donut before.

“At the donut place. The girl who runs it, are you into her or something? You always act fucking weird when we’re in there.”

Benny thinks back to all the times they’ve been at Glazy for You, trying to remember his behavior. Did he look at you for too long? Say ‘goodbye’ in a way that sounded like he didn’t want to leave. Benny opens the bottom drawer of his desk and pretends to look for something.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Benny knows he doesn’t sound convincing and Connors must hear it too because he keeps going.

“Really?” Connors sounds incredulous. “You’re always lingering at the counter. She’s always giving you free donuts. Any of this ringing a bell for you?”

Benny can feel Connors staring at him. He closes the desk drawer and goes back to looking at the file on his desk.

“Maybe she likes giving away free donuts. I really couldn’t tell you.”

Connors crumbles a piece of paper into a ball and lobs it at Benny’s head, hitting him just behind the ear.

“Whatever you say asshole.”

—-

The summer goes by quickly–it’s one of your busier seasons. School is out, the weather is nice–there are day camps, company off-sites, and sleepovers. All the types of occasions where the people in charge don’t want to make breakfast but need to provide it. Benny and the guys come in a few times throughout the summer. It feels a little different from before. Benny doesn’t linger at the counter as much anymore and sometimes one of the other guys pays. It’s stupid little things that you shouldn’t notice, but you do, because they used to be part of your routine. It’s embarrassing thinking you let this crush on Benny become such a big part of your life that you’d notice he didn’t pay last time or the time before that. It’s that embarrassment that makes you start building a wall around that garden in your stomach so the flowers can’t reach your heart.

It’s the end of October when you’re opening up one morning and it registers for you that you haven’t seen Stuart since some time around June or July. His absence gnaws at you. You feel like a bad person for not noticing sooner; that feeling that you failed someone even though they weren’t your responsibility. You don’t know what to do or if there’s anything you actually can do. So when you see Benny a few weeks later it feels like a little bit of a last resort when you ask for his help.

—-

You were hoping that Benny would be the person paying this time when they all came in, so you could mention Stuart without having to pull him aside. But he doesn’t and it makes you a little anxious trying to figure out the best way to talk to him about something serious. So it’s a relief when it looks like he’s going to be the last one to leave. He’s behind Connors and when Connors makes it out the door, you stop Benny who’s close behind.

“Benny, hey. Do you have a second?”

You come out from behind the counter, nervously smoothing the apron tied around your waist in short downward strokes. Benny stops and lets the door go from his hand. You look upset and he hopes it’s not because he’s been acting standoffish lately. Ever since Connors asked about you, he’s been trying his best to act normal–whatever that means–around you.

“Did Connors’s card get declined again?”

You let out a small laugh, “No. Um, I was actually wondering if you could help me with something.”

Benny steps a little closer to you. You have some powdered sugar on your cheek and he has to stop himself from brushing it off.

“Yeah, of course. What’s going on?”

“This is probably going to sound weird, or stupid. Maybe both. But there’s this guy who h—”

Benny cuts you off; his voice is a little rougher, “If someone is bothering you, I’ll take care of it.”

You laugh awkwardly, “Oh no, it’s nothing like that. It’s this guy, Stuart. He usually hangs out around here and I have him come in sometimes for coffee or donuts and I haven’t seen him in…since maybe July, I think? I’m just a little worried.” You pause and try to read Benny’s face to see what he’s thinking, “Sorry, this probably sounds stupid to you. I don’t even know what I’m asking.”

Benny scratches his jaw piecing together what he thinks you’re getting at, “Do you know his last name?”

You notice that Benny’s voice has gone back to the soft tone that you’re used to. He’s looking at you with compassion and not like you’re stupid or some kind of burden. Benny is the kind of person that you would want helping you in a crisis and it makes you wish there were more people like him in his line of work.

“I don’t, but I printed a photo from the security camera I have.” You walk over to the counter and lean over, grabbing the photo from under the register. “I don’t even know if you can do anything with that. I watch a lot of crime shows. Don’t judge me.”

Benny laughs and shakes his head as you hand him the photo.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Yeah of course. It’s…I don’t know. I’d feel like a bad person if something were to happen to him and I could have helped.”

Benny feels bad because he knows how these things generally end up. Usually there are no happy endings.

“You can’t put that on yourself.”

You nod your head, “I know, but still, you know?”

Benny understands the feeling and also understands it’s easier to tell someone something isn’t their fault than to know it yourself.

As Benny leaves you start to feel a bit lighter. Like someone has taken some of your worry, some of your concern and is carrying it for you; so you aren’t so weighed down.

—-

“What was that about?”

Benny is surprised to see Connors waiting for him in the parking lot.

“Nothing. Well, I guess there’s some guy, homeless, I don’t know. He usually hangs out around here. She hasn’t seen him for a while. She’s worried.”

Connors flicks a cigarette on to the pavement, “Figures she’s one of those bleeding heart types. What did you tell her?”

Benny pats his jacket and then his pants pockets feeling around for a pack of cigarettes, forgetting briefly that he’s trying to quit. Connors pulls his pack from his pocket and tosses them to Benny.

Benny pulls a cigarette out, “I told her I’d look into it.”

Connors laughs and hands Benny a lighter, “Chump.” He waits a beat for Benny to light his cigarette, “But, if you want. We can start looking into it now.”

Benny’s grateful it’s Connors out here and not one of the other guys. Benny and Connors go back further than just Major Crimes and he’s someone Benny would trust with his life.

—-

Benny’s worried that he’s going to have to deliver you bad news. Best case scenario seems like Stuart is in jail. Not great, but it would mean that he’s alive. Worst case scenario is that he can’t find Stuart and that usually doesn’t mean anything good. Benny is suddenly hoping for some kind of miracle for a person he doesn’t even know.

The photo you gave him does turn out to be useful. Connors is able to find him in the system through facial recognition. Stuart Morton has a record; a few arrests for driving while under the influence and some time in a county jail. Benny is able to get a last known address but it’s over a year old. It’s a sober living house that’s not actually that far from Glazy for You. He doesn’t have much hope that going there will bring him any closer to finding Stuart.

It takes a couple of weeks, but Benny is finally able to meet with David, the director of the sober living facility. He finds it’s better to meet with people in person. Talking with people over the phone, he’s learned, makes it easier for them to not give you the information you need. David of course is a little guarded at first with Benny; not wanting to share anything that could get Stuart in trouble, which Benny can’t really fault him for. Benny explains the situation, that the owner of a donut shop near here is worried because they haven’t seen him in a while. When Benny mentions your name to David, he lights up.

“Her glazed old fashioneds are the best ones in this entire state.” He pauses and to Benny it looks like he’s getting lost in the memory of a donut, a feeling he knows well.

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

David turns away from Benny to look through a drawer in a filing cabinet, “Just this year we got to talking and she’s been generous enough to donate breakfast here every month. And recently she’s been working with us on a job training program at her bakery.”

Benny thinks back to Connors calling you a ‘bleeding heart’ and is glad he came here by himself.

“She didn’t mention anything about knowing Stuart lived here.”

David pulls a folder from the cabinet and thumbs through it, “Stuart is the type to not overshare, so that doesn’t surprise me.” He pauses to write something down on a piece of paper and hands it to Benny, “Here. This is his sister Noreen’s information. When he left, he was going to be staying with her for a while. Might still be there.”

Benny barely makes it to his car before calling the number that David gave him.

—-

“Wait, so you’re saying that Noreen, the Noreen that comes in here, is Stuart’s sister?”

It’s late in the day, near the time that you close up. You and Benny are sitting across from each other at the table near the window. It’s hard to believe what he’s telling you, that Stuart used to be a resident at the sober living facility, the one where David works; that Noreen is Stuart’s sister and somehow all these dots never got connected for you.

“She didn’t realize that you two were,” Benny pauses looking for the right word, “friends. She feels terrible that you didn’t know he had moved out of the state and were worried. She said he’s doing well.”

You’re quiet for a moment, trying to take in everything Benny has been telling you. It’s a lot to process, considering you had been preparing yourself to hear bad news. You can feel your eyes fuzzy with a few tears and feel a little embarrassed to be getting so emotional over the good news.

“It’s such a relief to know that he’s doing okay.” You feel a tear slide down your cheek and quickly brush it away hoping that Benny didn’t see it.

Benny can tell you’re trying to keep yourself from crying and he wants to tell you that it’s okay, that there wouldn’t be any judgment from him. He has the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you, but he knows it would be wildly inappropriate. He feels awkward sitting here, looking around, trying to figure out what he should say.

“I like the Christmas decorations you have up.” It’s lame and he knows it, but it seems better than freaking you out with a hug. You smile at him and that feels reassuring.

“You do?” You look over at Benny, nodding his head, “I know it makes me basic, but I love Christmas. The lights, the decorations, the movies, the music. Expect to see a lot of green and red frosted donuts until December 31st.”

Benny laughs, “I’m looking forward to it.” He looks at his watch and starts to get up, “I should probably leave, so you can close up.”

You get up and follow Benny to the door, you put your hand on Benny’s forearm to stop him for a second and he feels a little spark through this jacket.

“Thank you, again, for everything.”

“I’m glad I could help. And that everything turned out okay.”

You’re not sure what it is that compels you to hug him, but you do. Maybe it’s the gentleness of his voice, or how he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. It feels intimate and dreamy and it’s hard for you to recall the last time anyone has looked at you like that. It happens so fast that Benny barely has time to register what happened.

It hits him as he’s walking to his car–the delayed feeling of your arms around him. It strikes Benny that maybe there’s a chance you like him, that maybe you’re both kind of stupid and clumsy, and afraid to ask the other one out. There’s the realization that one of you will have to make the first move or it will go on like this forever. That he will see you every few months at your job, that he’ll get a free donut occasionally. It’s not enough for Benny and he knows that he can’t be stupid about this much longer.

—-

It’s the last piss test party of the year–the week before Christmas. The concept is idiotic–sure it made sense at one point when Benny wasn’t wading into the deep end of forty. Going to a cheap hotel to get drunk and high, have sex with women that Nick found God knows where. It was never appealing to Benny but he used to understand the idea of celebrating after your mandatory drug test. Now he usually just sits, drinks a beer or two, and tries to avoid contact with everyone. There’s something especially depressing about it during this time of year.

Benny’s spent the last few days mulling over the best way to ask you out. He regrets not asking you when he was giving you the news about Stuart. Although there’s a part of him that thinks maybe you would have felt obligated to say yes given the circumstances. He thinks about asking you tonight, if they end up there, but he doesn’t want to do it in front of the guys because you might feel obligated then too, maybe even feeling sorry for him and not wanting to embarrass him in front of everyone by saying no. If you say yes, he wants it to be because you actually mean it, he doesn’t want there to be any room for doubt.

His decision is made for him, because when they get to Glazy for You, you aren��t there. Benny can’t remember if there’s ever been a time when you haven’t been there, behind the counter, greeting him warmly. It’s a little bit of a shock to his system to see a middle-aged man in a goofy Christmas sweater in your place. Benny’s good at thinking up doomsday scenarios and imagines one in which you’re trying to avoid him, so you no longer work this early in the morning. But then he thinks of when you hugged him and that even though it was quick, it was like your touch had gone directly to his heart. He doesn’t stay much longer, opting to go home, lay in his bed, and try to figure out what he’s going to do.

—-

You used to hate working during the holidays. Maybe it’s because you were working for other people and not yourself. Maybe it was because the work you were doing felt unimportant and people expected you to care even when everything else around you was winding down. Five years ago the thought of working on Christmas Eve would have made you want to walk into traffic. Now it feels different, like maybe you’re contributing to the holiday experience versus missing out on it entirely. You’ve always loved Christmas, but Christmas Eve is your favorite day of the year. It just feels more special somehow. There’s anticipation and excitement in the air. It’s possible it’s a product of all the Christmas movies you’ve watched over the years where there’s the idea that anything seems possible on this day. There’s something about the idea of your life changing for the better, surrounded by twinkle lights and ornaments that you find very appealing.

The morning is kind of slow–you spend most of it watching holiday episodes of tv shows on your phone. Around 11am you start cleaning up–taking trays out of cases, boxing up the donuts that are left to drop off at the comic book shop next door. You’re looking forward to going home and laying on the couch the rest of the day, queuing up your standard Christmas Eve movies. You’re ready to watch Scrooged and feel abnormally homesick, but then put on Christmas Vacation and remember why it’s never a good idea to spend Christmas with your entire family.

You’re in the back when you hear the bell on the door jingle, letting you know someone is out front. You consider just staying where you are, pretending no one is here so you can wrap up your day. You don’t want to have to tell anyone that you can’t help them with their donut emergency–getting yelled at on Christmas Eve is not something you’ve prepared yourself for today. So it’s a pleasant surprise when you make your way back out to the front and you see Benny.

“Hey, this is a—hi.” You’re not sure why you’re suddenly unable to put together a decent sentence.

Benny rubs the back of his neck with his hand, “Is this a bad time?”

“No. No, well. I mean, unless you were looking for a few dozen donuts. Then it definitely is.”

Benny smiles, “Actually, I, um, was,” he pauses and tries to collect himself, he can suddenly feel his heart beating in his ears, “I wanted to ask you out. On a date.” The feeling has spread to his skull.

When he says it, it’s almost like the words traveled through your brain and you can’t comprehend what’s actually happening. Benny, the guy you’ve been harboring your fragile middle school crush on, is here asking you out. It makes little, if any sense to you.

“Are you just trying to get more free donuts?”

Benny shakes his head no, “I promise I’m not.”

You’re quiet as you consider what he’s asked–trying to reprocess the information in your mind so that it makes sense. When all the words are finally in place and you repeat them in your mind, you feel some of those flowers that you’d walled up in your stomach starting to push through the cracks.

“Yeah, okay.” You grab a business card from the counter, write your number on the back, and hand it to Benny.

Benny’s not sure he’s ever heard anything better than yeah, okay in his life, it’s like a bolt of lightning right to his core. He puts the card with your number in the chest pocket of his jacket, the safest place he can think of.

“Great. Amazing.” Benny laughs nervously. “I need to get back to work. I’ll text you.”

“Okay. Well, have a good Christmas, Benny.”

“You too.”

Benny gives his standard small wave as he leaves and you lock the door after him. When he’s out of sight you let out a squeal and excitedly dance in place. Your phone vibrating in your back pocket interrupts you mid-happy dance.

Hey, it’s Benny. Are you free for dinner on the 27th at 7?

Benny watches dots appear and then disappear on his phone. It feels a little bit like torture as he sits in his truck waiting for you to respond.

Dinner on the 27th at 7 sounds great

Benny releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Let me think of a place and I’ll text you the address

Sounds good. And you meant Dec 27th right?

Benny laughs to himself, Yes dec 27. I’m not going to wait until jan to take you to dinner

Just making sure 🙂

You read his last text at least ten more times before finally going back into the kitchen like you had intended. Each time you read it, there’s a sensation in your stomach like bricks dissolving and flowers blooming again.

—-

Benny texts you on the morning of the 26th with a restaurant name and an address. You already have the sense that he’s different, the type of person who has follow-through. You try to temper your excitement about dinner with him, not wanting to do that thing you sometimes do where you make something out to be more than it is. You keep telling yourself that it’s just dinner, nothing more. But as you pull up to the restaurant a few minutes late and see Benny standing outside, looking nervous in dark denim and a green flannel, you let yourself think that maybe it could be a little more than just dinner.

“Sorry I’m a little late, I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

Benny smiles when he sees you standing in front of him, “I just got here a few minutes ago.”

It’s a lie; the last one he’ll tell tonight; but he doesn’t want you to know that he was so amped up about this evening that he got to the restaurant thirty minutes early. On the way in, when you pass in front of him, your perfume delicately floats by him. It’s earthy, but slightly sweet, with cinnamon and vanilla blending neatly in–he’s sure it’s the most beautiful thing that he’s ever smelled.

It’s a French restaurant, one that you’ve never been to before, but it’s cozy and still in the Christmas spirit. There are multicolored lights strung up and silver tinsel hanging from the ceiling.

“Have you been here before?” Looking at Benny from across the table and you can see flecks of silver in his facial hair catching the light of the candle on the table.

“My sister and her husband had their tenth anniversary party here last year. Most of my restaurant choices come from wherever she has an anniversary party.”

You laugh, “Nice. Do you just have the one sister?”

Benny has just the one sister, you learn, among other things. You find talking to Benny is easy, he doesn’t give one word answers to questions like some men you’ve gone out with. Where trying to get to know them is like trying to get to know a slab of pavement. He’s funnier than you thought, something that you didn’t expect, but is a nice surprise.

“Did you always want to be a detective?”

Benny butters a piece of bread, “To be honest, the only thing I wanted to be growing up was a magician. I guess I saw one too many David Copperfield specials as a kid.”

You start laughing, “Do you know any magic tricks?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. What about you?”

“I don’t know any, no.” You shrug jokingly as Benny laughs. “But, yeah, I guess I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to be doing. I’m lucky that things have worked out how they have.”

Benny’s curious now, “You didn’t always work in a bakery?”

“Nope. I actually used to work in tech. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, I’m not in any hurry to end the evening.”

There’s something about Benny that puts you at ease, that makes you comfortable enough to want to open up to him. Something that you would never normally consider doing on a first date. You don’t feel the need to downplay that you made a lot of money when a company you worked for in New York was bought out. He doesn’t flinch when you tell him that the reason you moved to California was because of your now ex-husband. He tells you about his own divorce and for the first time in a long time you don’t feel so unlike yourself on a first date. It doesn’t feel scary telling him that you felt insignificant in your own life because of your work and your marriage. That every conversation with your husband made you feel like a burden.There’s a moment when you start to apologize, out of habit, but he stops you. He smiles when you say that the divorce was the best thing to happen to you because it–and you hate to say it like this–gave you your power back.

“I always wanted to own my own business and I love donuts, so when the divorce happened, I just said fuck it, and went for it. Just threw myself into it.”

“I’m glad you did, I don’t know where else I’d get an apple fritter that good. And for free.”

“Yeah, about that.” You smile playfully, “I’m going to have to start charging you before you put me out of business.”

Benny makes a show of looking at his watch, pretending to want to leave, “I guess we should probably call it an evening then?”

He likes the way you laugh, how it’s kind of loud and fills the room. It makes him feel good, to hear you laugh, to see you smile; like he’s responsible for some bit of happiness you’re experiencing.

“See, I knew this was a scam.”

As the waiter clears the table and they wait for the check, Benny asks you what your favorite donut is.

You don’t even have to think about it, “Definitely a maple bar.”

Benny watches as your eyes light up, telling him how you first had one when you spent the summer between fifth and sixth grade visiting your aunt in Seattle. He listens to you describe how your mom was, in the nicest terms you can find, an extreme dieter, who tried her best to pass all of her food issues down to you, and never let donuts in the house. But your aunt didn’t care and the first thing she did once she would pick you up from the airport was take you to her favorite bakery. It was the highlight of every summer after that until you graduated high school. It was the first donut you learned how to make because on the east coast they’re hard to find. You laugh when you say the best part of moving to the west coast is that every donut place has maple bars, but you’d like to think that yours are the best. Benny can’t help but think it’s cute.

Benny doesn’t want the night to end; he knows that you took a cab to the restaurant so he offers to drive you home. You try not to sound too eager in accepting his offer, but fail.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

You ask him if he wants you to put your address into google maps for directions, but he doesn’t need them. Benny spends so much time driving all over the city that he knows every street, every highway, every interstate. The map exists in his head; he can get anywhere without really having to think about it. Benny drives you through some unfamiliar, but beautiful neighborhoods. The homes are still decorated and lit up, it’s like driving through the set of a Christmas movie–the only thing missing is snow.

You ask him more about his job, the guys he works with. You like hearing the stories that Benny has about them. You can tell by the way he talks about him, that he’s closest with Connors. You finally learn everyone’s first names and how Benny got his nickname–which you had previously googled out of curiosity. You ask if it bothers him to be called a drunk.

“Knowing the shit they all get into, not really.”

He says that it doesn’t matter what they call him because he knows that in any situation they’ll have his back and he’ll have theirs. That’s what he cares about.

When he pulls up to your house; a small, one-story home, string lights along the frame and around the windows; it looks exactly like he’d imagined. You both sit quietly for a few minutes unsure what to do next.

Eventually you unbuckle your seatbelt, “I had a really good time tonight, Benny.”

“Me too. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.” he looks over at you, “protect and serve, you know.” Benny knows it’s a dumb joke, but you laugh anyway.

When you get to the top of your steps, you find it hard to say goodbye. His face is illuminated by the Christmas lights and you can tell he doesn’t want to say goodbye either. You start to say something, you’re not even sure what, but no words come out because Benny’s mouth is on yours, his hands gently cradling your face. His lips are soft and you can feel the warmth of his tongue asking for permission. You drop your keys onto the porch and pull him closer to you by his belt loops.

It feels like hours have passed when Benny finally pulls away, “Sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

You rest your hands on his chest, “Next time,” you gently tug on his shirt collar, “don’t wait so long.”

Benny smiles as he watches you crouch down to pick up the keys you dropped. When you stand back up, he reaches towards your face, his fingers grazing behind your ear, “Hold on, you have something in your—” Benny sweeps his fingers against your hair and when he brings his hand in front of you, he’s holding a small, folded piece of paper.

You take it from him, unfolding it. When you see the words ‘what are you doing for new years?’ written down you start grinning, “So you do still know some magic tricks.”

Benny places his hand on your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek, “A few.”

#benny magalon x reader #benny magalon x f!reader #benny borracho magalon x reader #benny borracho magalon x f!reader #borracho magalon x reader #den of thieves fic #christmas fic #holiday fic #this christmas fic

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