#pos shelves

[us-costco-official]

community fans cant have one conversation w/o referencing it

[oceandiagonale]

I love team skull. they have a fire extinguisher in the kitchen. like we’ll wreck the rest of the shady house but let’s keep fire safety a priority, you know, for the kids. anyways I made the world’s worst layout of the shady house lol

total beds (excl. guz and plumie’s): 8, queen-sized

2 couches

a lot of chairs and tables

side note: HW WHY ARE THERE SO MANY TRUCKS

LIKE SERIOUSLY THERE “S   THERE”S NO CONNECTION TO THE REST OF ULA’ULA ISLAND. NOT AT ALL. THE STONE PATHWAY IS BARELY A ROAD BUT EVEN IF YOU COUNT IT AND YOU COUNT THE DIRT PATHWAY THAT IT DISAPPEARS INTO THERE IS NO WAY TO CONNECT TO THE REST OF THE ISLAND!!! THE DIRT PATHWAY TURNS INTO A WOODEN BRIDGE FOR PEDESTRIANS ONLY. WHY ARE THERE TRUCKS WHY ARE THERE. TRUCKS.

[kadens-a-bee]

I’m so normal about the IRIS video. (massive lie)

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Kinktober Special Part 1

The Crew's Whore (Part 1)

It's KINKTOBER BABY!!! I'm celebrating early and it's getting weird. Making a multi part series about being the Straw Hat's plaything. If anyone has any suggestions about other chapters, I'm happy to hear them! I'm open to almost anything! Sanji is first, because like? Of course he is.

Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great talent. Your years working as a high-end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy. 

Pairing: SUB Sanji x DOM afab!reader

WC: 3600 lmao

TW: sub and dom situation, she tops him, groping, masturbation, pet names, submissive behavior, kissing, voyeurism, BONDAGE, rope play, BDSM, cropping, riding crop usage, smacking, edging, teasing, submissive sanji :(, vaginal sex, fingering, begging.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 1: The Cook

You had been sailing with the Straw Hat crew for just a week now after agreeing to join their band of pirates. You made an agreement to join them not only to aide in their battles but also to provide your… services. You always had an insatiable sexual appetite, hence becoming such a professional in your line of work. After a week with not a single suitor, you had felt yourself become needy and frustrated. It had been 7 days and not a single member of your newly found crew had come to seek you out for some relief. Not even Sanji… 

You were so sure he was going to be rapping at your door the first night you spent aboard the Sunny. When you agreed to join the crew and allow your body to be used by any of them at any time, Sanji’s nose sprung a leak so strong that he had to be carried back to his room partially conscious. 

So when a week had passed and he hadn’t made you a proposal, you were concerned. He had barely even fawned over Robin or Nami either, actually… He seemed off. You started to watch him closer throughout the day. He was constantly running back and forth between dishes, preparing meals, setting tables, and taking inventory of the pantry, he just looked so spread thin, not like the charismatic love drunk cook you had gotten to know. You realized that had he not been so busy, of course he would have made a pass at you, he just needed to relax and frankly, so did you. 

The hour grew late and you knew while most of your shipmates would be in bed, Sanji would be in the galley finishing up the dishes from dinner. You finish the glass of white wine you were enjoying on the deck and walk into the kitchen. 

“Y/n my darling,” Sanji sighed out tiredly as he saw it was you who entered the galley. “Do you need more wine? I can open another bottle if you just give me a moment I have-“ He looked for a towel to wipe his hands dry of the dish water. 

“Sanji thanks but no, it’s fine. Keep doing what you’re doing. I’m a big girl, I can get it myself. I don’t want to make more work for you.”

“If it’s for you, my love, it’s never work.” 

You chuckled and winked at him as you headed towards the wine pantry. You perused the shelves for a bit before grabbing a bottle off the rack and walked back out to the kitchen where Sanji had returned to washing dishes. You noticed his broad shoulders tensing under his dress shirt as he continued to clean. He really was pretty. You walked towards him. “You still keep that wine key in your pants pocket, Sanji?” You ask him, a sultry low tone in your voice. 

“Oh, um, yeah, I’ll grab it hold on-“ Sanji stutters out as he removes his hands from the sink.

“No need.” You came up behind him and snaked your hand into the front pocket of his dress slacks.  In doing this you pressed your breasts against his back. You fished around in his pocket as you brought your other hand to grab his hip. You felt the wine key immediately but you moved your hand past it, feeling around pretending to still look for it. You moved you hand over inside his pocket and softly placed it over his cock and you felt it twitch in his briefs through the thin fabric of the pocket. 

“Y/n!” Sanji was turning bright red and a single drop of blood spilled from his nose. 

“Is that a bottle opener in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” You smiled wickedly up at him peeking around his shoulder. You softly squeezed his hardening dick. Sanji had gone into shock, your hand was feeling him up through his pants and he could barely think anymore. 

You continued, “Sanji you do so much for us. You work so hard every day to keep us fed and safe. You make so many hard choices and spend all day taking care of everyone except for yourself. Don’t you think you deserve a break? A break from everything? A time for you just to let your mind go completely blank?” 

You purred into his ear as you continued to very slightly stroke him and squeeze him through his pants pocket. Sanji was breathing heavily and couldn’t get out any words, his mind short circuiting. 

“You don't have to answer right this second, but if you’ll let me help you, come to my room in an hour.” You pulled your hand back out of his pocket and brought the wine key with you on your way out. You give him a seductive eyebrow raise before you left the kitchen and brought your wine bottle with the newly acquired opener down to your room. 

You stripped your clothes off upon entering your room and started opening up the wine bottle. You took a swig straight from the perfectly chilled bottle and giggled to yourself. This would be fun. You knew he would show up, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind he could resist you after the little show you put on in the kitchen. You head over to your walk in closet and grabbed a black silk robe with lace dripped off the sleeves and slipped it on. You walked even further into your closet into your favorite section. All of your favorite toys and naughty items were hung neatly on the walls and packed into shelves. You smiled, finally getting back to your old self again. You wanted to give Sanji the night of his life, especially after how well he takes care of you and the rest of the crew. 

You ghost your hands over various bondage items before grabbed old reliable, some simple red rope. You decided to get your softest crop, knowing that Sanji probably wasn’t used to this type of sexual encounter. You didn’t want to really hurt him… not tonight at least. 

You laid both items out on your bed and you sat down against the cushions and settled in with your bottle of wine. You couldn’t help but feel warm all over, electric with the excitement of taking a new lover. You unconsciously rubbed your thighs together, your cunt starting to get wet. 

*knock knock* 

“Come in.” You shout as you get off the bed and walk towards the door. Sanji opens it and shyly steps inside. 

“Y/n… I.. don’t know what to say… I just… I guess… I need it.” Sanji stumbled horribly over his  words, eyes glued to where your robe dipped low into your cleavage. 

“Need what, Sanji?” You needed to hear him say it. 

“I need your help, Y/n. I had all these grand plans to impress you and make our first time together perfect and romantic but I just… I’ve been so exhausted… I’m so burnt out…” He sighed out, clearly so stressed. 

“I know you are… That’s why I’m going to help you relax. You don’t have to think about a thing… Or lift a single finger… Do you trust me, Sanji?” You approach him and start wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your face close to nuzzle his nose with yours. “Let me relieve your stress tonight.” 

He answers you with a passionate kiss grabbing the sides of your face with both hands. He continues to kiss you with fervor as he pushes you back towards the bed. He pulls away, there’s so much lust in his eyes, but you can tell he’s exhausted. 

“Yes, I want that. Please." He pleaded for you. 

You smiled at him. This was going to be fun. 

“Ok. Strip, then. Completely naked on the bed. Spread eagle. Quickly.” Your voice turned commanding as soon as you heard his consent. He stared at you for a moment dumbfounded before he started loosening his tie and stripping off his clothes. Once his dress socks were off he practically jumped onto your bed. His cock was already standing at attention from your teasing earlier in the galley. 

*pretty…* you thought. 

You grabbed your rope from the corner of the bed and started tying each of his limbs to your bedframe. It wasn’t tight, or stretching him at all, he had plenty of slack rope for movement, but he certainly wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Now sweet boy… You’re going to do everything I say… no matter what… Understand? And if you need a break, you say “strawberry”. Got it?” You ask him as you tighten each knot. Sanji nods excitedly. 

“No no,” You smack his naked thigh with 2 fingers. He winced.  “You tell me out loud.”

“Yes, y/n. I understand. I will do anything you say.” 

“Hm… Good.” You smirk to yourself as you bring an armchair to sit directly in front of the bed in Sanji’s line of sight. His chest was heaving, he was feeling so many things. Excitement. Nervousness. Everything. His cock was already stating to leak and you had done nothing more than tie him to the bed. You met his gaze. You slipped your robe to the floor revealing your full naked body to him without breaking eye contact. He falters and drops his eyes to your gorgeous, bare body. His mouth drops open. 

You grab his suit jacket off the floor and reach into the inner pocket grabbing his smokes and his lighter before dropping the jacket back down. You saunter slowly over to the chair and sit down, crossing your legs and leaning back. You slide a cigarette out of the pack and light it. 

“Ohhhh Black-leg…” Your blow out with a puff of smoke. “Look at you now… So sweet and willing… Can you imagine if people saw you like this?” You smiled as you took another drag. “Even that swordsman?”

“Have you had him?” Sanji was burst out of his lust filled haze at the mention of his rival. 

You laughed “Oh sweetheart no. He’s so clueless, I don’t even think he knows what I’m here for. I haven’t had anyone on the crew yet. You’re going to be my first.”

You blow out a cloud of smoke as you lean back further and spread your legs for him. Sanji could see the glistening slick on the lips of your perfect cunt. You take a last drag of the cigarette and snuffed it out in the ashtray on your side table.  You continue,

“And they say you always remember your first…” Sanji audibly whimpers at your words. His cock was leaking precum down his veiny shaft. He tugged lightly at his restraints, thinking maybe he could get free and grab you. He couldn’t. You were a professional, after all. 

You grab your breasts and begin to toy with your nipples, breathing out an airy sigh. After kneading and playing with your tits for awhile, you snake your left hand down your body. You use your pointer and middle finger to spread your pussy wide open for Sanji to see your swollen clit and leaking hole. 

Sanji lurches his body forward instinctively, desperately trying to get closer to your dripping cunt that was putting on a show for him. He groans loudly. 

“Please, Y/n… Let me touch you please… I can make you feel good I promise!” 

You tut at him while bringing your right hand down to your pussy and using 3 fingers to slowly rub your clit, “no no sweet boy, you do so much already. You need to rest.” Your smile was evil.

Soft little sighs leave your mouth as you pleasure yourself. Sanji’s chest was heaving dramatically as he watched you, no more words leaving his mouth, only heavy breaths. You bring down your fingers and push them inside of yourself, moaning and throwing your head back in the process. You immediately pushed them up towards your spot and rubbed it forcefully. Your pussy was so slick that the heel of your palm slipped effortlessly across your clit as you pumped your fingers inside of yourself. The pressure in your lower belly starting building as you moaned louder. 

You pick your head up and look at the gorgeous blonde submissive in front of you. God, you missed this. Fully bringing a man to his sexual limits. He looked so sad but so turned on, beads of sweat running down his forehead. You continued fucking yourself to orgasm as his eyes were locked onto your stuffed cunt. 

“Do you wanna watch me cum, sweet boy? Would that make you happy?” You breathed out at him as you brought yourself right to the edge of climax. 

“GOD FUCK yes, please God yes y/n please I want to see it so badly! You’re so beautiful!” Sanji was so desperate he was shouting as you. His cock twitched painfully against his belly, leaking precum onto his abs. The sight allowed you to shudder forward into a powerful orgasm. “Fuck!” You shriek out as you squirt out warm liquid over your hand. You shake and spasm as your orgasm finished wreaking havoc on your body. 

You pull out your fingers and sit up in your chair as you regain strength. You rise up and walk towards Sanji’s head laying on one of your pillows. “Open.”

He turns towards you to meet your eyes, he obliges. You shove your cum covered fingers into his open mouth. He immediately wraps his tongue around your fingers, trying desperately to taste the flavors of your delicious cunt. His eyes roll back in his head, he closes his mouth around your fingers and sucks them needing to get every last drop down his throat. 

“Oh what a good boy you are, taking your reward so well!” You praise him as he sucks your fingers. He lets out a massive groan around your hand and his body lurches forward. You turn your head to look down his body. 

He had just cum. From sucking on your fingers. There was a massive trail of semen across his abdomen. You gasp. You reach to your left and grab the smooth riding crop laying on the bed. A disastrous smile spreads across your face. 

“You! little! slut!” You smack his left thigh with your crop. Sanji winces and gasps. “Look at you! I didn’t know you were such a desperate little thing!” You punctuate your teasing with more slaps to his thighs and chest as you circle the bed, like a hyena stalking its prey. 

“Just… Just for you… my love… Please…” Sanji was breathing so hard, after cumming untouched he still felt unsatisfied. The leather cracking on his thighs was providing him the perfect amount of pain for his dick to perk up again. He needed your body on him now…. Your mouth, your hands, your pussy ANYTHING, he needed more. 

“Please what, greedy boy? It seems you’ve already gotten a reward. What else could you possibly need, hmm?” You giggled wickedly as you give him more light smacks with your crop. 

“Please fuck me y/n! Please fuck me! Anything you want, just please touch me!” Sanji shouts at you. He tugs violently at his restraints, needing to grab your body and ravish it like you deserve. 

“shhhh.. relax honey.. you’ve done so good.. I’ll help you now… just relax, okay?” You kiss his forehead before dropping your crop and hopping up to straddle him on the bed. You begin kissing his neck and sucking dark red hickeys onto it so that he could prove to his rival that he was the one to take you first. You knew he’d love that. Sanji moans out under your deep kisses on his collar bone. He jerks his hips upwards towards your core, trying to feel some wetness or pressure on his hard cock. 

You reach down and line his leaking dick up with your entrance. It was so velvety and thick, you swipe it through your wetness a few times, gasping at the feeling of it’s mushroom tip pressing on your clit. 

“Goooood baby boy, so good.” You coo to him as you sink down on his length. Your dominant persona faltered for only a brief moment as he stretched your hole so deliciously. 

“Fuck…” You gasped out. 

“Miss y/n please… I need more… please… want you to fuck me so bad, need to feel you so bad…” Sanji was nearly crying as he tried to lift his hips off the bed to drill into you, but wasn’t able to due to his restraints. 

“Oh don’t worry my sweet boy, once I get off from your big cock I’ll let you fill me up so good okay? You just have to wait until I’m finished, you can do that for me, right baby?”

“YES yes please I want to fill you! Yes, I’ll do anything!” 

You smile at him and hold the side of his face in your hands. You start to grind yourself onto his fat cock, bringing yourself towards another orgasm. You pushed your thumb into his mouth, Sanji immediately wrapped his lips around it and sucked at it desperately. Continuing to ride Sanji, you leaned back so that you could rub your clit as his member rubbed back and forth against that perfect spot inside of you. Your moans became louder and louder as you used his gorgeous body for your own pleasure.

He released your thumb with a wet pop. “My l-love… it’s too much… you’re too tight and wet, I’m going to-“

You stopped moving and leaned forward to wrap your hand gently around his throat. Your fingers were wet on his skin from rubbing your clit. 

“No. No you’re not. You haven’t asked and I haven’t given you permission. I am not finished. You haven’t earned your reward.”

Sanji gulped loudly and nodded his head. “O-of course love, I-I only want your pleasure.” 

“Good.” You smiled down at him as you resumed your actions to bring yourself to climax. It was only a few more moments before you found yourself being close to that edge again. You grinded your pelvis so deeply into his, burying his cock into you and rubbing your clit against the skin at his base. 

“YES, fuck!” You threw your head back as your cunt came all over Sanji’s cock. Squeezing and creaming all over his shaft, Sanji was in sensory overload. 

“Please miss! I need to-! Fuck! Now, please!” Sanji pleaded with you.

Your voice came out hoarse and tired, still wrecked from your powerful orgasm. “Yes sweet boy, fill me up all the way baby. You’ve been so good honey, cum inside of me.” You softly breath out to him as you try to come down. You feel a hard thrust from below and Sanji screams out, 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” A tear spills past his lash line as he unloads his cum deep inside of you. Feeling the stress and pressure of his day leave his body, he shudders. 

You feel the final pulses of his orgasm fade out and you move yourself gently off of his softening cock. You begin untying the rope knots around his limbs as he tries to collect himself, brain broken from cumming so hard. You finish untying him and you run your hand over the marks left by your riding crop. You hobble over to your side table and pour out a glass of water. You bring the blanket at the foot of the bed and spread it out over Sanji’s sweaty body, tucking it in at the sides. 

“hey.. sit up baby. Have a little water before you sleep, okay?” You coo in his ear softly as you stroke his hair. Sanji sits up on his elbows weakly and grabs the glass you offered him. He gulps down the water and hands it back to you. You place the glass on the side table and curl up by his side in bed. 

“So… How are you feeling?” You asked him, eager to provide him of any aftercare he needed. 

“Y/n I… It was perfect…” He turns to look at you in the eyes. “It was more perfect than I could have ever imagined. I feel so much better, like a weight is lifted off my chest. Thank you, y/n.” Sanji leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your lips. 

“Good. I like when you’re happy. Foods better.” You smiled at him. He laughed. 

As you fell asleep in his arms he couldn’t help but to grin and think to himself, 

“Wait until fucking moss head finds out I was first…” 

[xlovedrug]

HOW YOU MET !!

❝ how you meet the members of stray kids !! ❞

genre: fluff

word count: 1.1k

pairing: ot8 x reader

warnings: felix goes through iz*one withdrawls ( me )

❪ ❥ . bang chan, 방찬 ❫

— you initially met bang chan in the grocery store.

— the second he saw you, i tell you bro was entranced. eyes scanning your figure as you looked down at the list your roommate ( and best friend ) had given to you before you left.

— as you went to grab the shampoo bottle from one of the shelves, a younger kid comes running past you, knocking into you as he ran from what you assumed was his brother.

— the impact of the child caused your leg to push into the shelve and knock some of the other hair products to the floor.

— you visually cringe at the sound of the bottles and containers clattering to the ground, before quickly bending down to pick them up.

— witnessing the entire ordeal, chan rushes over helping you put back the products.

— you thank him for helping you and he only smiles in return, you'd both end up running into each other multiple times after the incident.

❪ ❥ . lee minho, 이민호 ❫

— you and lee minho met in highschool.

— you were jet focused on studying and kids that went to your highschool claimed that there was never a moment when your face wasnt stuck into a book.

— minho on the other hand was not so much of a workaholic as you.

— he took pride in his academics, yes, no doubt. but unlike you he didn't have his head in a book 10 hours a day.

— you both were assigned to be seat mates in chemistry, much to his dismay. it wasnt because he didnt like you or because you were bad, you were just quiet and he didnt want to sit in silence for a whole year

— the first couple of weeks were awkward and the pair of you struggled to properly work together. by the mid year the two of you worked together so well, even teachers complimented your performance.

— you and minho were then on study buddies

❪ ❥ . seo changbin, 서창빈 ❫

— seo changbin met you during your shift at a coffeehouse.

— you were a well known member of the team who worked as a cashier at billy's coffeehouse. your welcoming smile and wonderful customer service made you a favourite

— you served regulars and newcomers alike, memorising orders in case the newcomers would come back, which usually they did.

— changbin was no different, he was forced by the other members to order the coffees and drinks and although at first he was cursing under his breath, the minute he met your dreamy eyes and contagious smile, all anger was gone.

— you took the order for all eight people and gently places them into holders of four.

— "let me help you takes these out." you say, handing him one of the containers and walking with him to the car.

— "nice to meet you... y/n!" he says as he takes the holder from your hands, "you too!" you smile before running off inside to take more orders and make more coffees.

— "if we ever come to this café again, i'm on coffee duty."

❪ ❥ . hwang hyunjin, 황현진 ❫

— hwang hyunjin is your best friend's older ( by two weeks ) cousin.

— you and yujin had been friends since you were three years old and met in pre-school. and since then had been inseparable.

— yujin was invited to all your family events and the same went for her family events.

— yujin was well aware of your crush on hyunjin, no matter how much you denied it, nothing slipped past yujin.

— she'd shove you into hyunjin, race to sit down so you were forced between her and hyunjin, she'd relentlessly tease you so hyunjin would defend you.

— you had to say though, without yujin and her being the way she was, youd never have as much confidence as you do today.

❪ ❥ . han jisung, 한지성 ❫

— you were a very talented art student at your high school. that's why han jisung knew your name and wanted to be your friend.

— at first you were apprehensive, i mean... this was han jisung, the guy who had just debuted in a k-pop boy band who wanted to befriend you.

— despite it all, you guys got close and in the end he'd willingly end up being the centrepiece in most of your artworks.

— and you'd be the reason behind his surge in songwriting.

— you both supported one another endlessly and when rumours spread on online forums about jisung being in a relationship with a non-idol, it spooked you both

— all was fine though.

❪ ❥ . lee felix, 이펠릭스 ❫

— you debuted in a iz*one, ranking first place, which caught lee felix's attention.

— you had a lovely singing voice, could hold highnotes, had amazing dance moves and excellent stage presence, the only down fall was you weren't good at rapping.

— when you performed on stage, felix was no doubt your number one fan. you inspired him to dance to more girl group songs.

— felix cried so hard when he watched iz*one disband, and when you redebuted as a member of nmixx he was so ecstatic.

— he had no idea you were training under jyp entertainment, so you debut was a shock to him.

— when he congratulated nmixx on their debut his hands shook as you embraced him after bowing politely.

— during your collaboration stage with nmixx, skz and itzy, felix couldn't keep his eyes off you.

— #celebritycrushconfirmed

❪ ❥ . kim seungmin, 김승민 ❫

— kim seungmin was your opp.

— you honestly had no idea why seungmin despised your guts as much as he did, he did not like the fact you were friends with his friends.

— chan introduced you to the group and seungmin was immediately cold to you, you thought it was just his personality, but then it showed it was only you he was treating like that.

— not even shy innie was treating you with such disrespect as seungmin.

— everytime you spoke he rolled his eyes, groaned, ignored you and would cut you off. he only stopped after chan scolded him for behaving poorly to a guest.

— you were not on the top of his hate-list because chan never once scolded him for his behaviour ( simply because he never acted out like this ).

❪ ❥ . yang jeongin, 양정인 ❫

— your older brother was bang chan, you were the second eldest bahng sibling, and yang jeongin liked you because you complimented his braces.

— you met when jeongin was rocking his braces, so when he decided to change the bracket colour to dark blue for awhile and you noticed, bro was smitten

— you were his bestest best friend.

— possibly even his bestestest bestest best friend

— jeongin did everything to have chan bring you to the dorms or to the company.

— cried when you had to go back to australia and made chan give him your number

— y'all texted a lot, mainly consisting of childish banter and jeongin spamming dementia memes.

taken from my wattpad: @ -quintessence__

[obeyme-and-myfics]

Hi!can I ask a general hc about the bros w/ a really short MC?thx(Idk if your requests are still open if not ignore this)!

Of course! I'm on the shorter side of 5'5 and I get bullied(/pos /Playful) all the time for being on the shorter side I feel bad for people who are undeniably short lmfao Thank you for the request I hope you enjoy this <3

most of this isn't necessarily romantic but I simp for them so I am gonna add a few of them

Part 1(Here)| Part 2

Prompt: Y/N is short

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

🖤🤍Headcanon list🤍🖤

CW: Teasing, slight NSFW stuff in Mammon's(It's really just a dick joke)

Lucifer

Nicer than most of his other brothers about your height

Makes sly comments about your height

"I'm unsure a human of their... stature, would be able to accomplish such a task," or something like that

He doesn't make these comments often though

Leans down to your level

That's mostly so he doesn't hurt his neck looking down at you and so you don't break your neck looking up at him

Will physically pick you up and move you if you refuse to leave a restricted area(Like the stairs to the attic)

Purposely asks you to get things off higher shelves that are just barely within reach to watch you struggle

He wouldn't readily admit that, that's what he's doing tho

On a more wholesome note he happily gets things off the top shelf for you

He's extra protective over you since he worries other demons may take advantage of how small you are

He doesn't doubt your capabilities its just that these are DEMONS they're a lot stronger than humans despite your or their height

The height thing 100% makes him more concerned however

He does make jokes about carrying you around in his pocket

He's a very private person but when you two are alone he very much enjoys holding you in his arms.

He thinks its cute and funny that your feet don't touch the ground when he hugs you

Mammon

This was the first thing he pointed out about you

“Woah you couldn’t have picked one that wasn’t so tiny”

It was all fun and games(Short jokes) until you had his ass in a pact by the end of day 1

He definitely respected you 100% more after that

He's never gonna admit it tho so he still says dumb shit

Stuff like "How am I supposed to take ya seriously when you're that close to the ground?"

and "Ya know maybe you ended up here BECAUSE you're short. Short people are closer to hell ya know."

Whoop his ass

He'd also joke that you're dick sucking height(even if you're not) if your relationship progresses to something more serious

Uses you as an arm rest

Holds stuff above you and just out of your reach

Puts your belongings on the top shelf when he gets mad at you

Crouches/leans down to your level in a demeaning kind of way

Most importantly he loves to kiss your forehead since its the easiest part of your face to smooch

If you ask him to lift you up to see something better he'd do it no hesitations or questions asked

He is however going to try to play it off like he was just trying to shut you up and not actually being a sweet and loving partner

"It's not like I actually cared if you could see the damn show or anything... Don't look at me like that! I just wanted ya to shut up is all..."

Leviathan

He is staring so hard lmfao

Not in judgmental way but more of a "could I convince you to cosplay with me" type of way

He's making you cosplay every short ass character he can think of

He's definitely more careful with you than he would be if you were taller

If you bitch at him to stop he will tho

Doesn't really care that you're short he just wants to be a nerd(/Affectionate) with you

Will still make short jokes at your expense to a slightly lesser extent than Mammon

Likes it when you sit in his lap while he's playing games so he can rest his chin on the top of your head

Encourages you to climb shit cuz he's not willing to grab stuff that's too high for you to grab

I'm getting my chancla and yeeting it at him for you

He's a little too preoccupied with his games/shows to help

If he's really excited to tell you about something and you're doing something he just grabs you and carries you off

He's not gonna potato sack you tho, no, he's holding you in some weird ass position.

Asmo 100% got a picture of it at least once and sent it to the group chat

He also enjoys holding you close while watching shows

He's red in the face the whole time tho ngl

Satan

Another one of the nicer brothers about you being short

He's happy to help with most things your height prevents you from doing with ease

He doesn't make shorts jokes to your face but he's definitely thinking that shit

Scolds/threatens Mammon when he makes excessive short jokes

Doesn't bend/crouch down to your level

He respects you as a person enough not to demean you like that

He might make comments on your height but he's not trying to be an asshole

If you tell him he's being rude he'd apologize and try to rephrase his statement

"Oh. Sorry I meant..."

He'd be more curious on why Diavolo and Lucifer brought such a small human to devildom

He wouldn't dwell on it for long though

He's more concerned about whether or not you'd be interested in indulging his latest book obsession

Definitely enjoys teasing you by making you look up at him

He likes sitting down or picking you up for kisses

Its mostly sitting down cuz he's a book nerd and reads on his bed/couch a lot

Also he doesn't wanna make you hurt you neck or hurt his own back

Asmodeus

Unintentionally the worst about your height

Comments about it constantly

He just thinks its cute how much shorter you are than him

It doesn't happen often that he has to look so far down at someone I apologize for my transgressions since he's one of the shorter brothers(5'9)

He's 100% taking full advantage of this to try everything to fluster you.

Gently grabbing your chin to make you look up at him, hugging you in the most sensual way possible, shoving you into his mitties(Man titties), etc

Calls you pet names related to being small (i.e. little sugar plum or some shit like that idk)

Has the audacity to mention your height any chance he gets

God forbid he catches you climbing/getting a step ladder or something to grab something higher up

Has commented on the height difference between you and Diavolo VERY loudly before

If you confront him about it he's not gonna stop because he doesn't mean anything by it so why should you care

That's how he thinks about it anyway

If he finds out its an insecurity (if it is) he's gonna do everything in his power to make you love your height

Cuz he loves it why shouldn't you???

Beelzebub

The best brother about your height

He doesn't care

Like he literally could not give less of a fuck

He's the tallest brother and is used to most people being tiny compared to him

He definitely just carries you around sometimes cuz he wants to hang out

Man is carrying you like an American football

That or you're being potato sacked

If you need help getting stuff from high places he's either gonna lift you up or grab it for you

The worst he's ever said to you about your height is asking if you wanna bulk up a little with him to make up for your lack thereof

If you tell him that was fucked up he'll immediately apologize and be careful not to say anything like that again

He is a bit more careful than he would be with you if you weren't short

Will either sit down or lift you up to talk to you eye to eye

He just does wanna hurt his or your neck

How else are y'all gonna lift together??? Can't lift if you hurt yourselves!

He likes hugging you the most

There's just something about it that makes him feel peaceful

Belphegor

He's a bitch about it

Or at least he was at first

Compared you to an ant, shrimp or krill many MANY times

When he was insulting you in the attic he definitely called you puny

After all of that mess was over and done with he lightened up

He's still making fun of your height but to a lesser degree

Drags you away to skip school and take naps

Too lazy to get shit off higher places but will definitely help you down if you get stuck on the counter

Will then make fun of you for having to climb on top of shit to get what you're looking for

Pats your head and uses it as an arm rest

If he falls asleep next to you he's using you as a body pillow and a head rest

He's one of those "I can bully you but if anyone else bullies you I'm whooping their asses" type of person

So if any lower demons or his brothers(Mammon) are being too harsh about it he's gonna do something about it

If you tell him to ease up on the teasing he'll try but no promises

He actually really enjoys watching you stand up for yourself

There's a sense of pride there when you really give someone a piece of your mind

He's NOT more careful with you because of your height

[cometapollo]

SHAKING YOU /POS YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT

Lovestruck Derek comin right up under the cut!!!

Gender neutral reader, Derek is a clingy lowkey obsesed idiot

Derek hated this time of year.

He didn't hate it because it was Christmas, or because he would rather be anywhere else but here; he hated it because of the giant Christmas parties his father would throw every year. He hated formal social events-- social events in general, really.

He stood leaning against the far wall, holding a canteen of "water" in his left hand and his phone in his right as he watched the festivities go on without him. Perfect. It didn't seem like anyone noticed he was here, and he knew he could easily slip away and escape if he was willing to risk a beating from daddy dearest. Which he was not. So there he stood, checking his phone every thirty seconds for a text from his partner.

You hadn't texted him in a few hours, and being the helicopter boyfriend he was prone to being (which he's been trying his damndest to stop doing after you brought it up), he was starting to worry. He tapped in the lockscreen combination and pulled up your most recent text.

My Tesoro♡: I'm gonna get ready, see you at the gala! Mwah!

He felt his anxiety fade a bit as he read through your text messages, though the relief was short lived as he remembered you were riding alone. He'd offered to pick you up like those cheesy romcom movie boyfriends, but you'd declined with an adorable giggle, saying you wanted to surprise him.

He was definately going to be surprised if you stood him up or got hurt somehow. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought, which caused him to clench his jaw and divert his attention from your lack of presence. He allowed himself a minute or two of calm down. You're okay, you're just making sure everything's perfect.

Almost as if on cue, the huge doors to the rented ballroom opened, grabbing Derek's attention like a toddler swiping candy from candy store shelves. He nearly dropped his phone as he instantly relaxed at the sight of you. You had shown up like you promised, you-- holy shit, you are fucking gorgeous...

He suddenly understood why you had taken so long; he had to remind himself you weren't the deity he could've sworn you appeared to be. He found himself unable to move as he stared, heart racing and eyes tracing every movement you made towards him.

You made your way to him and laughed upon seeing his awestruck expression.

God, you loved this idiot.

[asuyaka]

SHUT THE FLIPPING FRONT DOOR-

I JUST SAW DLSK ON UR LIST AND NOW I FEEL OBLIGATED TO REQUEST

How about some general HCS for Saiki(we all saw that coming), Aiura and Teruhashi(all separately) for Reader spending quality time with them during the weekend or holidays, just some good fluff for this wacky and over-the-top anime(/pos ofc). Could be platonic or romantic, I don't mind either!

Also if you don't write for multiple characters then just quality time spending one-shot with Saiki is fine too.

- Sincerely, 🌈 Anon.

★ - aaaa!!! DLSK 's literally 'm comfort anime— m soso normal rn!!

☆ - Saiki Kusuo, Aiura Mikoto, & Teruhashi Kokomi x Male Reader! (Platonic !! :3 )

He’s honestly so confused because… why do you wanna spend time with him??

It isn’t like you’re all hanging out in your group (of friends he didn’t want) it’s just the two of you. 

He’s read your mind, maybe you had some sort of ulterior motive? Like maybe you wanted to hang out because of his… smarts or something? He’s made sure to be average in all forms of school, average enough for him not to fail and at the same time not be too noticeable.

But no. You want to hang out with him because he’s fun to hang out with.

It isn’t that he hates your company, you aren’t as dumb as the people he regularly hangs out with (Bless him and his ability to keep up with Nendou Riki of all people) and you know when to keep a comfortable silence if the situation calls for it.

Well… since you insist on spending the holidays, he has to let you, right?

“Ooh! What about these, Saiki?” You ask excitedly, holding up two pairs of matching heart-shaped glasses. 

There was a Christmas sale going on, and you decided it would be fun to go glasses shopping for no real reason, you just thought it would be fun.

Saiki, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care what you get. He’s just here because you forced asked him to come. 

A soft smile adorns your face anyway. It doesn’t matter that Saiki is barely adding any input, you know him well enough— at least you hope so— to pick up the small details in his body language. 

“Can I take off your glasses for a second?” You know how protective Saiki is of his glasses and you assume it’s because his eyes are sensitive to light. 

Saiki takes the glasses from your hands, turns around, making sure to close his eyes the second he takes his glasses off, and puts on the Hello Kitty pair you gave him.

“Aww! You look adorable!” You coo, a pair of Kuromi glasses on your face. You assumed they were a matching pair, they were close enough on the shelves for it anyway. 

Saiki didn’t point out the fact that they were beach glasses, not because he wanted to keep the smile on your face— no, no, no, he’s psychic, he doesn’t care about anyone else’s feelings! 

…Though he can’t lie that the smile on your face makes him content in a way.

You pull him in, holding up your phone in a selfie position. Your hands making bunny ears behind Saiki’s head. “Merry Christmas!” You say happily as Saiki holds up a peace sign, his signature RBF never leaving.

You don’t mind though. RBF or not, Saiki’s face is very pleasing to look at. Saving the picture and saving it as your wallpaper, you look back at Saiki who still had the Hello Kitty glasses on, surprisingly.

“There’s a cafe nearby, and they’re having a Christmas sale. We can go there, or head back to your place?” 

“Cafe.” 

You nod, paying for the items and making your way to fill Saiki’s love for pastries.

Saiki’s lips curl upwards, a small— tiny– minuscule amount. 

Whatever this is, it’s nice. Just the two of you and the soft snowflakes of the winter. 

It’s a calming feeling. One he really enjoys.

 Yes, yes, yes, yes, and did I already say… yes?

She loves loves loves loves (!) spending time with people she cares about, so of course you aren’t any different!

 Her fortune-telling gig is always a bit busy during Christmas, but you don’t mind waiting!

When she finally gets off work, you two decide to go shopping, because… Christmas sales, hello???

Literally, the best and worst are crafted during that time together.

You two spend so much money, it really—seriously— isn’t funny.

“Mikoto! Here, try these!” You say excitedly, gaining some odd stares from other people who are shopping, but you two couldn’t care less.

It’s Christmas, you two have a shit ton of money saved up, and you’re planning to go broke.

Mikoto grins, holding up the outfit you got for her. It’s a black crop top with a small heart at the top that was bound to show some cleavage with how big her chest was, paired with denim shorts white legs, and hand warmers.

She takes it into the changing room and you go looking for more outfits, or some jewelry. You needed more earrings anyway. 

A few minutes later, Mikoto walks out and your expectations are immediately met. She looks nothing short of beautiful. 

“I like this one a lot! Think we can get a matching pair for you?” You shrug, but begin looking in the same area where you got the clothes for her.

It took a bit of time and a bit of accessory confusion, but your matching outfits were assembled. Your shorts were a bit longer because the store, unfortunately, didn’t have short shorts like the ones Mikoto had in the men's section.

Other than that, everything else matched to a T. From the shirt—which showed the slightest bit of your pectorals— to the shoes, to the rings and necklaces. 

Mikoto holds up her phone, a bright smile on her face. “Cheese!!” The two of you say, both of your hands together to make a heart. 

She sends it to you and Saiki because she wants him to be ‘jealous’ or whatever. 

“What do you say we go get bubble tea and dango?” 

You gasp. “I’m totally on board with that.”

The two of you laugh softly, take the clothes off, and go pay. Expensive? Hell yes, but working more shifts than you normally did paid off—literally.

Of course, you want to spend time with her! She’s the most perfect, quintessential pretty girl after all!

She won’t tell you that she’s surprised a guy just wants to hang out with her just to hang out. 

No funny business, not because you have a crush on her, but because you thought it would be fun to spend the holidays together.

(Un)Fortunately, she is God’s favorite so you two really can’t go outside unless you want to get stared at the entire time.

If you don’t mind, then she doesn’t mind either. She’s used to it anyway.

It’s odd at first, she thought you wanted to use her to boost your popularity, or impress your friends, but later into the sleepover(?) she realized you just wanted to spend time together, as friends.

As odd as it is—Saiki is the only man who seems to be weak to her charms, and it looks like you are too— it’s a… welcome feeling, to say the least.

You and Teruhashi are in your room, watching an old Christmas movie you found in your closet a few weeks ago. Both of you had hot cocoa in your laps, paired with a plate of gingerbread cookies and graham crackers.

“Teruhashi…” You start, keeping your eyes on the screen. “Do you want to make cinnamon rolls?”

Her eyes widen, having to push down the excitement so you don’t think she’s childish. “Yeah, of course!”

The two of you smile and rush downstairs, you make a quick pit stop to tell your mother what you two were planning to do and all she tells you is to not burn the house down.

You grab all the ingredients needed and Teruhashi grabs all the bowls, whisks, and whatever baking equipment you two may need.

“Alright! Now, let’s get started!” You say in confidence and Teruhashi nods.

A beat of silence stretches out between you two as you aimlessly stare at the glare in the mixing bowls. “...I can’t bake.” 

“...I can’t either.”

You two stare at each other with blank expressions before starting to laugh. It’s a nice, playful sound that you two share together. Teruhashi thinks it’s alright that she’s able to have fun without someone trying to impress her 24/7, but she’s not going to tell you that!

“You know what they say, right Teru?” 

She cocks her head confusedly. “Fake it ‘till you make it?”

You finger-gun at her. “Exactly! And if we do burn the house down, this was my brother’s idea, not mine!”

She rolls her eyes but takes out the flour, sugar, eggs, and milk. The two of you silently decide that you’re going to do all the mixing, and Teruhashi will do all the measuring/putting it in the bowl.

As the two of you work in tandem, you’re also singing Christmas songs along with her. From old to new, slight romantic undertones or not, it’s fun.

And that only gets better when you have to leave the dough to rise. Straight Karaoke the entire time. You’re sure your throat is going to hurt later from all the mild yelling you’re doing, but who cares? 

If you’re having fun with someone you care about, you’ll worry about pain later.

Surprisingly, you two didn’t burn the house down.

The cinnamon rolls do come out a tad, just slightly dry, but they taste amazing.

You and Teruhashi high-five. “We should do this again next year, but invite everyone else. What do you think?” You ask, taking a sip of your now slightly lukewarm hot cocoa.

Teruhashi is a bit conflicted. It would be nice if you invited the girls and Saiki over because she knows she can kind of be herself around them, but everyone else? 

You notice her nervousness because you immediately say: “Or it can just be the both of us. No worries.” You shrug, taking a bite of the cinnamon roll that is 100% too hot to be in your mouth at the moment.

Teruhashi smiles at that. “Just the two of us is fine.”

You bump hips with her, carrying the plate of cinnamon rolls upstairs and to your room. 

Teruhashi follows shortly after. The type of friendship you two have is something she would never give up. 

Not even to make Saiki say ‘Oh wow!’ to her face.

[somerandomdudelmao]

Hey there im a HUGE fan of your apocalypse comic like another thousands out there. I followed you for you tiny sensei silly drawings when they first started and i didnt really excpect full emotional obliteration /pos

I was wondering if maybe you were considering making physical copies of this heartbreaking masterpiece? Maybe sell them? I just love having pieces of fandoms im hyperfixating on on my shelves where I can remember them all

Anw this is not meant to be pushing at all cause I get that there are a lot of pages and producing merch is expensive, but I thought i would ask anw to at least let you know someone loves your work SO much they would go crazy over that.

I hope youre taking breaks and drinking enough water and taking care <3

~S

Can I do this? Can I print (and sell?) this comic and not be destroyed by Nickelodeon for copyright infringement?

I don't think I can haha

[sparklingsin]

could i request a netflix and chill for peter with the prompt delay? maybe he’s going on patrol? 😏

-cutetomholland <3

delay

— peter x gn!reader | blurb, smut 18+ MDNI | @cutetomholland behold, god tier prompt, SLIGHTLY pervy!reader and mediocre writing

Peter stepping out of the shower is a mesmerizing scene; something straight out of a soft-core erotica.

A crisp, white towel, feather soft, sits snugly around his waist— a corner tucked right into his Adonis belt to hold it together. He's wet, very much so, only half dried and radiant. Freshly beefed from his morning workout, and as he runs his nimble fingers through his shampoed hair, you feel your eyes glaze over, jaw go slack.

Peter is mostly busy with Avenger duties these days and the little free time he gets, he spends with you, in your arms. Of course, this time is hardly enough— an eternity would fall short— and his dazzling, sun-kissed skin only makes everything harder.

A sheen of water encases the freckles dotting his skin, the tiny droplets pebbling like little shingles of glitter reflecting the sunlight. As he turns towards his wardrobe, shoulder muscles rippling, droplets from his drenched hair slide down his back triggering a twitch of your tongue and somewhere down south.

He pulls on a pair of boxers under his towel, but gets it on without much struggle. Some, wicked part of you wishes he'd have turned around to give you a little show. Oh, well. You watch, captivated, as he pulls his Spiderman suit from the depths of one of the shelves. He begins to pull on the suit; stepping into the spandex and pulls it right upto his waist.

Maybe it's the straining biceps that get you as he slides one arm into one sleeve, or maybe it's the perfect curvature of his butt stretching the red and blue spandex, but before you know it, you're leaping towards him, hands turning him around to face you on their own accord.

"Babe - wha-," comes his surprised squeak as you press a heated kiss onto his lips, pushing him up against the wardrobe with your weight.

He tastes like mint and warmth— fucking heavenly— and the smell of fresh soap lingering around him only riles you further.

Peter sags against you, melting into the kiss. He's not one to shy away from surprises, but then soon, too soon, he's wrenching himself away from you, as every fibre of your being screams for more.

"Babe... I have to get to work," he says, a pout gracing his plush lips but his voice comes out throaty.

"It's been a week since I last saw you," you grumble, pushing closer still. There's an intentional whine in your voice, a calculated pucker that might be Peter's fatal weakness.

Peter's eyes widen, the pit of black in his baby browns darkening.

"Don't," he reprimands, but you grin cheekily, biting your lip and trailing your finger across the skin above where the suit hangs around his waist.

"You're insatiable," he mutters, shaking his head. But there's a slight blush blooming across his cheeks and you know you can win this. You deploy your second attack. You let your hands wander, thumbs trailing over his abs and up his front.

"I miss you. There's a difference," you shoot back.

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," he mumbles and moves to push you away again.

You don't budge.

"Y/N, seriously," he says, somewhat sternly, "I will have to use force."

There's a slight tremor to his voice, like he's fighting himself. Good.

You tilt your head to the side and pout exaggeratedly. "Oh baby, please. Please use force," you murmur, tugging his arm out from the sleeve of the suit and putting it around your waist. You push up against his chest.

The red across Peter's cheeks darkens.

"You're making this so hard," he mumbles, as you move up to kiss his chin, gently at first and then suck slowly. A third attack.

"Believe me, I'm trying to make a lot of things hard," you whisper, kissing up the length of his jaw and towards his ear. You dart your tongue out to lick the shell, a ghost touch at best, as your other hand dips into his suit and brushes against the base of his cock.

The final offense.

Peter lets out a strangled moan at that, his fingers digging into your back. His grip on your other arm loosens, and he angles all of his body towards you. His breathing deepens.

You know you've got him.

"I just wanted to show up at the HQ, before patrol, on time for once," he grumbles as you drag him towards the bed and push him gently onto it.

He plops onto it with a little oomph, the drying curls of his hair bouncing. You smile at his genuinity, before climbing into his lap.

Ah, home.

Victory.

"Don't worry," you muse, lip curling, as Peter settles back onto the bed.

"I'll make your sacrifice worth it."

valentine's day celebration

[us-costco-official]

(im confessing something anon)

you're really cool and nice and funny and I think you're very pretty :3

!!! thank you :33

[wildbluesorbit]

London: Holiday Prelude || JTK

18+MDNI

Paring: Jakexreader(f)

LONDON SERIES MATERPOST

A/N: Howdy! Here to interrupt your regularly scheduled programming with twist on the London menu: A TIME JUMP! This is how I envision the first meeting between Jake and the reader unraveled. This one is very fluff (which is a bit off brand for this series) and is my gift to all readers who have remained loyal amongst the endless angst. I'm aware, holiday editions are normally posted before the holidays, but I have chronically delayed holiday spirit that doesn’t spark until about a week before Christmas which is when I started this. My holidays got a bit more hectic than I expected so I didn’t finish till just now, but I figured I’d pos. Also, know that my particular style of writing is shaped by an editing process of which requires time I did not have, so baby this is ROUGH. Anyways, I am very open to criticism so pretty please let me know what you think.

Summary || Before the storm, there was a calm. Your first interaction with Jake is less than ideal, but you give him a redeeming chance only to spark something more.

Content Warnings || holiday [stress], workload stress, slight verbal aggression, holiday party setting, depictions of affectionate displays

Word Count || 6.6k

– December 24th, London, UK –

Your arduous typing is disrupted by the groan of your office door as it’s hesitantly eased open. You rigorously resume your work, not even averting your eyes to make note of who has disturbed you. You already know it's your colleague. You know they have trouble for you. And you know it's a problem you don’t currently have the attention span nor time for. 

Eyes still pinned to the numbers on your computer screen, you address the damsel in distress dawdling in the doorway behind you, “Is it urgent? I’m on a deadline.”

“Um- There’s a customer out here who I have tried my best to help with the knowledge I have,” she remorsefully squeaks.

You mellow your tone as you can hear desperation shrouding her every word, “Tell them I’m unavailable.” 

“I did- He insisted he speak to some form of management,” she huffs exasperatedly.

You come to a stopping point in your numbers game and begrudgingly pry your hands from your keyboard. You spring from your chair and propel yourself through the doorway, already eager to crawl back to the stillness of your office. Your footsteps echo against the hallway of dark offices and storage rooms in a unison stride to your coworker a pace behind you; two valiant knights on their quest to the front of the store. 

Preparing yourself for battle, you dig for your finest customer service armor as it's buried beneath all the enervating adversities and blows of running the shop; a duty you normally carry so effortlessly and gracefully, but this year you had been the only manager who volunteered to work the holiday week. Your workload alone is enough to spook the average person, but the extra weight you foolishly decided to take on this year is a different beast. You have half a heart to gift yourself hair dye this Christmas as you’re already convinced the New Year would find you prematurely gray. 

“Alright, let’s see the prick who is harassing my-,” your finishing thought never arrives as you swing the door open to reveal the store.

Any and all resentment is momentarily tamed by the endless sight of musical paraphernalia. Every last inch of the walls are shrine to the greats; posters, pins, buttons, stickers, clothing, books, CDs, tapes, cassettes, and of course aisles and aisles of record vinyl LPs; all seem to celebrate your great escape from the confinement of your office. 

Your eyes adjust to the warm lighting that coats everything and everyone bustling about isles, faces beaming with joy as they discover new treasures to call their own; treasures you ordered and stocked the shelves with yourself. 

You take a deep inhale of the healing sight in front of you. You never tire of walking through this door after a long day; a portal to your favorite realm. Your spirit beams as you recognize the classic rock sonic of The Dire Straits pouring through the speakers at way too loud a volume. You find it almost impossible to be upset within these walls. Almost.

Though you want nothing more than to idly wander around the store, you redirect your focus to the task at hand; eyes scouring the floor for the customer that so desperately needs your attention. Within an instant, you undoubtedly deem a man within your gaze responsible for your unnecessary ordeals; no guidance from your coworker is required to know exactly who summoned you from your hideaway. 

He is an ornate scene; one that confiscates and pleases your attention all at once. He stands, bare chest proud and puffed, fingers fidgeting with the facial hair that roofs his protruding pout as he devoutly scans through titles of the nearby books. His narrow shoulders are cloaked by long chestnut waves that frame delicate facial features and a prominent nose. He’s rather small in stature, yet strong in physique. 

The pretty man is bewitching in the way he seems to have just hopped out of some antecedent reality; a walking, talking antique. Doused in all black, he wears a blazer and waistcoat with nothing underneath to properly clothe his tan skin except chunky chains weighed down by a ridiculous amount of pendants; all silver to match his oversized hoop earrings, reflectively gleaming as he saunters through trespassing sunlight. His torso is paired with black pleated trousers and seasoned black boots. This man looks as if he woke up and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be a pirate or a rockstar. 

“You know, Halloween was almost two months ago,” you heedlessly blurt as soon as his golden brown eyes collect yours.

“Real original,” the customer retorts with a smirk and a slight shake of his head, “definitely never heard that one before.”  

His American accent nearly startles you; his features certainly tell an origin story of Central Europe, yet his phrasing is not harsh enough to miss the hint of something not quite American in his raspy tone.

You quickly steer away from your cheeky dig and towards a more professional rapport.

“What can I help you with today Mr.?”

“Jacob Kiszka,” he extends his hand to shake yours, “but you can call me Jake.”

The Jake Kiszka. You have definitely heard his name before. A guitarist whose discography is infamously compared to and even deemed gross appropriation of classic rock legends; and whose romantic track record has an even worse stench. 

You prematurely take the sincere offer of his hand before weakly falling back to your satirical ways, “Wow, lucky me- I’ve only heard stories of The Illustrious Jake Kiszka.”

He is not oblivious to your sarcasm but decides to take the cocky route anyway, “Oh- A fan, huh? Glad to know my reputation precedes me.”

“I never said they were good stories,” your hand repels from the guitarist’s calloused grasp and attaches to your hip, “but what brings you to my store?”

“This is the only place in town not playing Christmas music,” his eyes flit around the store trying to commit every last detail to memory as if his knowledge might be tested later and questions you with an intimacy he hasn’t yet earned, “So this is your kingdom, huh?”

“I don’t own it, just run it, but yes- this place is my baby and I’m its sales manager,” you briefly answer out of the scarce supply of decorum you currently possess and efficiently reroute to the reason for his visit, “but I doubt you came all this way just to escape the holiday spirit.” 

“Well, I am currently in town and in dire need of a last-minute Christmas gift, and you came highly recommended as far as rare LP sets go,” his features stretch into a ponderous tightlipped smile. 

The musician either isn’t receiving your assertion of pace or blatantly holds no regard for it as he digresses once again.

You aren’t certain whether his narrative is spoken to you, himself, or some unseen force, “But this really is some marvelous little store you run here. I have to admit I'm a bit envious. Somedays, I swear I would trade it all in for a simple quiet life like this.”

Simple? Quiet? Who the hell does this man think he is to come in the day before Christmas and casually spend your time and patience, only to then reduce your entire world to simple and quiet?!

Your fists discreetly curl behind the secrecy of your back as you scrupulously monitor your highly explosive tone, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Kiszka, but maybe we can hurry this along. I have lots of work in my simple quiet life to return to.”

Instantly, his entire physique cowers to a posture of mortification and regret. If your composure hadn’t already been so far spent, you might have even felt a strand of empathy or reprieve for him.

His face takes on a shameful shade of pink as fragments of an apology trip over one another, “No- No- That’s definitely not what I meant- Of course, the work you do here is very important. The responsibility of granting access-”

You wave him off, bestowing him clemency in hopes of ending this interaction as fast as possible, “It’s fine, but I really do have lots of work to return to, so just follow me.”

You hastily string him to the glass cases in the back of the store, a stream of clicking and clacking trails behind you with every heavy-footed step of his boots. His footsteps gradually sound less and less, his pace a relaxed rhythm compared to yours. You impatiently arrive at your destination of high-valued items and turn to see he is only leisurely tracing your path, still gazing about the store as if he is in an art gallery.  

You inhale. You’ve dealt with worse. Today would not be the day you lose your patience with a customer. 

Once he finally rejoins you at the display case, you begin the tour of each LP, explaining its contents, history, value, rarity, and your favorite details about it. Showmanly, you set a scene of necessity for each set as to speed his decision process along by targeting his obvious lack of impulse control. 

You’re about done appraising almost five sets when a lack of opinions, theories, and questions registers from his silence. You transfer your vision to learn your audience had not at all been concentrating on your dissertation, those amber eyes studying you right back; eyes reflecting not a strand of cognizance for your vain words, pronouncing your breath wasted.

Your abrupt eye contact seems to burst his trance, clearly not expecting you to break from your sale. 

“Are you hearing a word I’m saying or-,” you fuss, condemning any remaining attempts at professionalism. 

His features reveal comprehension, your confrontation certainly registers but his ample lips only vacillate in a dumbfounded silence.

You flatly attempt to jumpstart his verbal reflexes, “Mr. Kiszka?”

Pressure-buildup from every imprisoned word rattling around his head with no escape, erupts all at once, “I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I heard you- It's just- When I asked for help today- I didn’t expect someone so-”

A brittle tone emerges before you can even take the time to contemplate what he is trying to articulate, “Young? A woman? A different stigma that probably has nothing to do with my knowledge of music or ability to manage a business?”

“No it's not that- It's just- you-,” he hesitates to catch the breath he forgot to take and decidedly abandons his current thought to expedite his next, as if they might trample over each other if he doesn’t, “This is very inappropriate but I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth and I would appreciate it if you let me make it up to you over drinks tonight. Also, please call me Jake.”

His unanticipated proposition hitches your breath and widens your eyes, “You’re right, that is very inappropriate.”    

He quickly shrinks yet doesn’t withdraw his offer, “My brothers will be there too if that makes you feel a bit better, but your expertise so far fascinates me, and I would love to discuss more with you.”

Asking you out. After insults. After disrespect. After no regard for your time-poor schedule. He is asking you out.

You take it back. You have not dealt with worse. This is definitely the worst. 

Panic and indignation concoct a bitter climb in pitch, “Unfortunately, Mr. Kiszka, there’s still so much that requires my attention before the year’s end. I’m as busy as someone with a simple and quiet life can possibly be. That leaves no time for idle pints with random guys in pubs. So will you be purchasing anything today?”

“No- of course- you’re right- I’m terribly sorry- I do need to get something,” his attention finally converts to the vinyl with an oncoming frown, “but nothing here stands out to me. I know you certainly don’t owe me any favors but is there any way you can show me anything else? You know- the good stuff?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you blatantly feed him a white lie, “Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

You know exactly what he’s referring to. However, the thought of sharing another second with this infuriating stranger threatens to ignite fire to your dwindling composure. So, you tuck away all opportunities that would admit him to take any step that isn’t towards the door. 

He drives his agenda one last time, “You know? The treasures that never see the shelf? Surely, you have a secret stash. Every great store has one.”

“I guess we’re just not that great of a store then,” the shit-eating grin that smears across your face wards off any other inquiries he might probe for, “I can assure you this is the best we have. Maybe next time, do all your Christmas shopping before Christmas Eve.”

You are immediately pricked by a pang of guilt. Even you can admit you are being impudently cruel; for which you expect at least a return of assailment. Yet it never arrives. 

Instead, his eyebrows turned upwards just above a sheepish smirk and a diffident man takes the place of the obnoxiously charismatic rockstar once before you. He just might genuinely grieve the score of your transaction. As if he knows something you don’t. As if he knows in some other time or place this narrative was supposed to take a different course and he is now mourning a great failure.

“Okay- well, I can take a hint,” he meekly forfeits, “I apologize for wasting your time. Thank you so much for your help.”

You can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any response, lost somewhere amongst the spate of regret that you might have misjudged him based on presumptions. Your mouth runs dry and you’re only able to blankly stare back at him.

In your silence, he impulsively shoves his hand into his coat pocket and shimmies out some small notebook. He flips through pages and pages of scattered notes and highlights and even some light sketches before he finds the first blank sheet. He materializes a pen from the same pocket that had been sheltering the notebook and quickly scribbles before tearing out the page, folding it in quarters, and gifting it to you. 

You’re not sure why, but you find your hand an open landing for the paper. Unconvincingly, you reassure yourself it's because you know little resistance will only usher him out of your store sooner. 

As soon as he successfully rids himself of the note, you witness a bashful movement emerge upon his face in what you swear is the biggest and prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. You aren’t allotted time to admire or commit it to memory as its life spans less than a second, quickly shrinking till it's gone.

He bids you a rushed, “Take care, Merry Christmas,” before he turns on his heels and rapidly weaves his way through the isles till he disappears past the glass doors without so much as another word or last glance. 

Your eyes gravitate back towards the paper in your hand. You inspect the folded thing before you decide reading its contents would hold no worthwhile benefit and absentmindedly place it in your own pocket. 

— December 26th —

You mentally file through your checklist: The doors are locked, the drawer counted, and the lights turned off. Your colleague took care of the floor prep portion of closing duties before she left; you stayed way too late to finish your end-of-year reports. But you can’t seem to shake the feeling that you are forgetting something.

Your phone! You realize as you pat down your pockets you don’t have your phone. 

You race to your office through the dark void store to see your abandoned device sitting on top of your desk. As you grab your phone, the little forsaken folded paper you forgot you had placed on the work area earns your attention. Whether you set it aside for two days in a veto or for safekeeping is beyond you.

Now having endured your irrationally aggravated haze that always shrouds end-of-year stress, the only thing that remains is a flare of burning curiosity. 

You resist your own inquisitive demands and desert the mysterious note once more to hesitate towards the door, each step becoming more burdensome the further you trudge from your office.

Did you misconstrue him, seduced by mere whispers floating in the wind? Did you indignantly vilify him deceived by your own occupational duress? Despite being verbally clumsy, he was endearingly unconventional, and he clearly carried some remorse for your interaction.

You’re even baffled by the rumination this small piece of paper has conjured. Customers come and go, but you can’t seem to justify why he has become an unwelcome stowaway in your mind.

For the past two days, you’ve been choking on the bitter taste of rueful pining that you can’t seem to wash down. Suffocating under abrasive waves of what might have been if you’d only had patience to spare, till you can no longer deny your craving. 

You find your limbs and retrace the progress you’ve just made. You restively unfold the note to read confirmation of the exact information you imagined was inked into the little white sheet.  

Please, please, call me Jake.  And pretty please reconsider those drinks. (248)434.5508

You are alarmed by the giggle that sounds past your giddy smile, penetrating the silence of an otherwise lifeless building. Your chest is ambushed by an aching weight as your sight darts across the hall to the storage housing the “secret stash” as he put it.

You suddenly have no idea why you’d been so hard on him; just that you’re now certain of your looming resentment. You’re not sure if it’s this reasoning, or the way he looked stunned by you, or even the shape of his giant childish smile you can’t seem to recall, that drives your thumb as you dubiously dial the phone number on the paper. 

Each ring of another number entered descends you further on your fall from professionalism and floods your head with panic. As soon as the dial tone begins to ring against your ear you’re immersed into a fit of denial, convincing yourself his answer is an unlikely outcome; despite this being his phone number and you are, in fact, calling it. 

“Hello,” his vaguely familiar rasp becomes one of undeniable recognition.

Neglecting to even consider what you might say if he did answer, you awkwardly blurt, “Hey, Mr.- Jake-,” it occurs to you that you never properly introduced yourself, “It’s the girl with a simple quiet life.”

You possess no control over your hand as it impulsively smacks against your forehead amid your poor choice of words.

You’re mortified he might have heard your reflex as he giggles through the line, “Hey, pretty girl. I was hoping you might call.”

— December 31st —

You aimlessly pace about the bathroom, your platform loafers suctioning with every sticky step on the tile. You survey the sting of your angry nail plates, red and visible from an anxious nail-biting fit. 

A jiggle of the doorknob and a harsh knock on the door interrupts your examination. 

“Just a minute,” your voice shakes trying to overpower the blaring music.

You possess no concept of how long you’ve been hiding out from the party just beyond the bathroom door. You had been wading through a sea of strangers for almost an hour looking for Jake before you finally became overwhelmed, retreating to a random bedroom and locking yourself inside its bathroom. You’re beginning to question Jake’s attendance at the very party he invited you to.

Another bang at the door.

You squeak in panic, “One second!”

You run your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them as you shuffle over to the mirror to perform a last-second evaluation. You straighten the collar of your little black button-down dress and readjust your pantyhose so the hem isn’t visible from your dress’s high-thigh split. You quickly retrieve your wine-red lipstick to featherly dap it over your lips in reapplication and sloppily attempt to recoil any broken curls before you're startled by another thud on the door.

You growl as you stomp over to the entryway, “Who the fuck?! I said hold-”

You swing the door open to gather those wide honey eyes framed by pretty chestnut waves.

The weight lifted from your chest is quickly chased by the embarrassment of your reaction, “Jake?!” 

The both of you, relieved to see the other, spill your words out in unison, “Where have you been? I was looking for you!” 

You aren’t sure whether the uncontrollable giggle you let out is induced by amusement or nerves. Jake only gives you a peculiar smirk while scanning you up and down. 

He slightly tilts his head and tries to interrogate you through a chuckle, “How long have you been hiding in here?”

You’re only able to bat your eyes at him, clueless as to how to save yourself. The way he reads the situation with such accuracy makes you question whether you have the words “socially celibate” written on your forehead; which isn’t true about you at all. You are usually a social butterfly but something about Jake makes you want to gasp for air. 

“I’m not hiding,” you blurt the lie straight through your teeth. 

“It's blatantly obvious you're hiding,” he playfully rolls his eyes and leans against the doorway, listing the factors that clue him in, “this is not the most accessible bathroom. There’s a bit of wandering you have to do in order to end up here.”

You attempt to redirect his heat back on him, “Well, what are you doing in here?”

His brows draw together in confusion, “You mean…in my bedroom?”

If your face wasn’t beaming pink before it certainly is now.

That night on the phone he had apologized profusely. After you reciprocated the remorse, he insisted on making up for the misunderstanding in person and invited you to a New Year’s Eve party. You spent the hours of that night learning bits and pieces about each other over the phone, yet not once did he make you aware it was his party. 

“I mean you invited me, but you failed to mention you own the place,” you shake your head and light-heartedly chide.

There’s a lot of attention that comes with being the host; attention you couldn’t compete with being that you have known Jake for all of five minutes. You have half a mind to make up some excuse to escape now and be done with this. 

Jake’s words soothe your storming thoughts, “I’m just glad you’re here and I found you. It's almost midnight and I was starting to think you flaked.”

From where your abrupt banter appears you’re not certain, just that you’re pleased with its arrival, “Wow, all these guests and those pretty eyes were searching for little old me? I’m flattered.”

“I was only concerned you might be hiding in a bathroom somewhere,” he teases back.

You roll your eyes and exit the bathroom. Only now do your inhibitions hush, admitting you to espy Jake dressed essentially in the same ensemble as your first meeting, the sore difference being the color palette. However, this single change is not one of subtlety, as you discover navy blue is certainly Jake’s color.

Jake instructs you to reenter the party and he’ll come find you in a few before disappearing into his own bathroom. 

You almost scoff out loud. There is no way you are subjecting yourself back to that lion's den alone. You instead idle about his room. 

You presume this bedroom is the master due to its excessive space and height. Two walls of a deep timber green meet one of exposed cobblestone, where the head of the bed is positioned, and another wall that is made completely of bookshelves. Mounted on these walls are frames of various historic maps and sketches and what you assume to be sailing routes. The decor is accented by espresso wooden floors and leather furniture; everything within your line of sight could certainly tell stories of a life dating well before your own. 

You wonder how it hadn’t occurred to you before, this room might belong to him; Jake is almost the room personified in its rustic aesthetic.

You saunter over to the wall of books, extending your reach to them. The pads of your fingers ridge against the embroidered spines of various vintage books as you skim through their titles; from which you determine the wall displays are most likely of a piratical lore. 

As you scale the bookshelf you run into a bar cart. Surely, he won’t miss a sip of liquor as much as you’re in need of one. You grab a cocktail glass from its rack and start with an easy pour of sparkling water. You aren’t sure which liquor to choose as they are all top shelf but land on tequila, mixing in an extra shot to take off the edge. You dress your drink with the squeeze of a lime and drop it in with a plop of ice, the residual juice left on your fingers begins to sting at your bitten fingernails. You take a moment to admire the symphony of each bubble fizzing its way to the top while ice chimes against your glass; the mere song of a tequila soda already easing your nerves. 

As you sip on your elixir and further snoop, you notice there are not many pictures in the room. The few you do find tell the story of four siblings. Although, you struggle to pick Jake out amongst the bunch, having it narrowed down between two in every photo. 

A whisper from somewhere just beyond your shoulder shatters your sleuthing trance, “Nosy little thing, aren’t you?”

Your drink nearly escapes your glass from the jolt his ambush sends through you.

He further teases you, “Ah, now you’re going to spill stolen liquor on my floors too?”

“It’s not stolen if you owe me a drink, sir,” you quip, referring to his offer of your first encounter. 

He playfully reclaims your drink from you while declaring, “Let’s see how good of a cocktail you can mix-,” he takes a swig and speaks through a stifled cough, “whoa, bit stiff there! I suppose you may just be able to keep up with me.”

You are on the verge of investigating the family pictures when his phone rings. He frowns, yet still retrieves the device from his pocket to read the notification. However, his eyes break from their summon within a second, elated to receive yours once again. 

Jake almost pounces on you, giddy to usher you back to the party, “Come on, I want to introduce you to some people!” 

You tail him down the hall to the main part of the house until you reach the outskirts of crowd congestion. He shifts his lead to your side, his arm still extended to precede you, parting the way through traffic. 

Parading through the guests, almost everyone attempts to greet their beloved host, stepping in front of or trying to walk between you. 

You feel Jake’s broad hand lightly rest against the small of your back in an attempt to stay tethered, your skin waking to the sudden warmth and weight of his touch. 

As you travel deeper into the heart of the crowd, it only multiplies in its density. Jake's fingers delicately travel from your back, over your hip, and wrap into your waist. He tugs you into his side, practically walking hip to hip; a measure taken to make certain you remain by his side.

Ordinarily, touch from any stranger is an unbearable concept you desperately flee from, but Jake’s hands are ones you’ve never known. He grabs you like he is certain your skin is his to touch. Simultaneously, it's assertive and amenable and affectionate. It grants status in a house full of strangers. You know you’ll only grieve its absence. Yet, you fear how you already crave more. 

Your buffer’s escort sees you into the kitchen and immediately draws towards a group of three men: two of a tall lean stature and the other petite like Jake. He walks before you and seizes their attention from whatever concentration previously held it.

You shadow Jake, shifting behind him so there is as little space as possible without physically touching him; weary of your new appetite. 

Even inches away from the men’s huddle, you can barely hear over the roar of the overcrowded house and the blaring music; your only indication of Jake speaking is the wave of his hands and the three boys’ responding laughter. 

You lean as an attempt to hear their conversation when someone stumbles past you, knocking you straight into Jake’s backside and sending him into a light stumble. 

Like some bashful toddler hiding from scary stranger danger, you stand straight and peek over Jake’s shoulder to see three wide-eyed men gaping at you. Jake loops his hand around your arm and casts you dead front and center as if you are a surprise gift he’d been concealing behind his back this whole time. 

He lightly rests his hands on your shoulders and leans towards your ear, you gauge he’s close not by sight, but by the warm sensation of his words tickling your skin, “These are my brothers,” then reverts his attention to the other men, “guys, this is who I was telling you about.”

You formally introduce yourself and one by one they do the same: Sam, whom you recognize from the pictures and assume is related to Jake, Danny, whom you’ve never seen before but seems to possess the same familial chemistry, and finally Josh, who you now identify as the other face you couldn’t differentiate from Jake’s in the photos; you know they must be brothers. 

You turn to confirm your suspicions with Jake and find he is no longer behind you. Eyes apprehensively detailing the scene, you scour till you recover him at the bar topping off your drink. You know he means well but the last thing you want is to be stranded.

As if he can access your thought flow, the man who earlier introduced himself as Josh is standing next to you now and gingerly places his fingers on your bicep to reassure you, “Don’t worry, you're in good hands.”

As your insecurity is driven away, curiosity remains, “So, what has Jake told you exactly?”

“Well- really, only that he came into your store and bugged the shit out of you-,” across from you,  a slightly tipsy and loose-lipped Sam is silenced by Josh nudging him, “ow?!”

“He told us that you hold an interesting perspective and a vast knowledge in the world of music,” Josh earns the title of damage control, “in addition to your immunity to his charms.”

When Josh laughs, it is a grand thing, his whole body participating in his colossal giddy smile. You can’t help but receive the glee he is emitting.

Only now does it occur to you, that pretty smile has graced you once before. It's the same one Jake wore for a mere second, of which the imageless memory has been bugging you for a week. Their wide smile seems to exist in exactly the same shape yet live in different lights: Josh’s a bit more generous and Jake’s a bit more significant.

It isn’t until now that you’re able to delineate all the same features about their face, noting now that they aren’t similarities at all but replicas. Only now can you see they’re twins. 

“Stop scaring her,” Jake’s voice rasps from behind you as a fresh drink is placed in your hand. 

“If you haven’t done that already, I’m not sure what will,” Josh collects Jake’s warning with a banter of his own. 

Suddenly, the boys’ are uprooted by a slow bluesy ballad sounding throughout the house; not a conventional party tune but after all it’s not your party. One after another, each brother’s face lights with recognition of a happening and disappears from the kitchen to the heart of the house, dragging along a someone as their chosen company. You witness every bystander in the kitchen mimic the strange migration. You never imagined a change of song could so dramatically alter the behavior of a room. 

Immediately, consciousness of an unknown tenses in your muscles. Your eyes storm Jake for clarification, yet the coy grin that he produces does nothing to soothe your skies. 

“So it's kind of a Kiszka New Year’s Eve party tradition,” his hand finds the back of his neck as if he is trying to thread together bad news, “to have a last dance just before midnight.”

“Oh,” your chest drops at a much less severe diagnosis than you anticipated. 

Jake distances himself a step from you to offer his hand and bashfully beams, “Care to be my final dance in these last fleeting moments of a year’s dying life?”

“I- um- actually,” you panic grasping for any declination, only to find a confession in reach, “I can’t dance. Well, not slowly anyway.”

He feigns shock, “A beautiful girl of your musical knowledge and you don’t know how to dance?!”

Despite the urge to run far and fast the moment Jake calls you beautiful, you charge to your own rescue, “No one ever taught me!”

He raises an interrogative eyebrow, “You promise that’s the only reason?”

You give Jake a confused nod while also averting your eyes in shame, so you aren’t aware when he lunges to snatch your hand from its comfort zone by your side. 

“It’s never too late to learn,” Jake chimes while tugging you from the kitchen.

The unforeseen tow renders you almost tripping over your own feet, docking your sweating glass courage on the nearest counter. 

You’re dragged into a tempest of strangers waltzing about until Jake decides your destination in the eye, a center spectacle accessible for anyone to gawk at. 

Jake plants you in position by steading your shoulders. You pay him no mind as your consciousness is currently employed by the surrounding cloud of people. He lifts your arms by the wrists, resting them around his shoulders before drawing in close to place his hands on your waist. You’re once again consumed by the warm weight of his heavy hands that spell you starving for more. 

“Jake-,” you begin to fret, suddenly feeling like you might burst into tears. 

“Shh- It’s okay- Look- Look, it’s simple,” he consoles you like an eager child. 

Jak motions your sight to follow his to the floor as he steps out with his left foot. Paralyzed by your own nerves, Jake doesn’t give up when you completely miss his cue to mimic his movement. You barely process the light chuckle that leaves him as he retraces his step back to starting stance.

Nimbly, his palm delineates your pelvis as his grip runs from your waist to your hip. Jake then replicates his previous action, this time firmly swatting your right side to follow; the slight impact sends an unsolicited shudder down your spine that you pray goes unnoticed. 

Hesitantly, you pursue his step. Then again with your left. Retrace. Repeat. Again. Then again. And again. Until you are swaying along with the rhythm.

Jake's eyes have since left the floor, amused at the sight of concentration you are. He allows you a moment of beginner’s peace before disturbing your count.

“I think you’ve pretty much got it,” his finger lands under your chin to lift your hanging head back to eye level again, rejoining his honey-brown gaze, “you can look at me now.”

You recognize something perennial in his tired eyes and all at once you’re aware the road to unwind is undoubtedly a long one, but whether it routes through pleasure or pain is beyond your discernment; the only thing of which you're certain, is at this moment he became ineradicably and irrevocably undeniable. 

After a few confident strides, you courageously let your head fall to Jake’s shoulder, only tripping over your instructor’s feet a few times but he doesn’t appear to mind. If you were rhythmically inclined you suppose you might even enjoy slow dancing, swaying about solely to remain blissfully close to your pretty dance partner as the rest of the reality seems to wane from existence. 

You swear hours pass before the melody finally fades out, yet Jake and you take your time to rejoin the rest of the world, lingering in your bubble; a countdown to midnight being the hammer that eventually breaks your glass.

TEN! NINE!

You hastily revert back to your own, excusing yourself from any rejection or inquiry by joining the chant. 

EIGHT! SEVEN!

Rather than dwell, your abrupt modesty strikes Jake endeared. He simply restructures himself, respecting your space, with a regaling smirk as he now jumps into the sequence. 

SIX! FIVE!  

Achingly aware that you’re the one who broke it, you’re assailed by a twinge of loss, fighting the appetite to feel him pressed against you once more. 

FOUR! 

That is until you feel Jake’s slight caress against your wrist. At first, you assume it’s an accident. The remaining life of the current year dwindling provokes the roaring crowd to compact, dancing and hugging, in hopes for a better year. 

THREE!

Yet, Jake’s touch doesn’t retract. His fingers dawdle about your skin, dancing down till he climbs into your palm. 

TWO!

His vast hand is extensively more than you’re able to hold, so his calluses tickle as he swiftly rakes them against your skin to interlock his fingers in yours; the bond devoted and interminable.

ONE!

You expect a confession from Jake as he cranes his head to fall in close to yours, but instead, feel a pink blaze rise to your cheeks as he delicately places his pretty plump pout just before the corner of your mouth; the sensation of his facial hair, prickly against your skin, being one you’d like to know further. 

As he pulls back to revel in your bemusement, you’re finally caught in that beautiful beaming smile for the second time. Your ache to witness the entrancing sight again hadn’t registered until it surfaced long for you to savor this time; your hope for the year to come instantly blossoms from Jake’s smile. 

“Happy New Year,” his blessing is barely audible over the cheers of a new era.

Some unseen and unfamiliar force greater than lust, commandeers your limbs diminishing all conscious control as you impulsively cling onto his lapel and yank him back into your orbit. Recklessly, you devour those pompous pink lips into your own. Jake doesn’t hesitate to consume the small of your back and dip of your waist within the swallowing grip of his palms. His mouth emulates your hunger, letting your kiss flourish and thrive against your lips. You give into your need for an air supply only when you feel the shape of that giant ass smile break the seal of your embrace. Nimbly, you press a small pucker to Jake’s dimples while they exist. 

You remain within the gravity of your shared breaths, giggling your wish against his smile, “Happy New Year, Mr. Kiszka!”

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[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 37: Alexander's Housekeeper

Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, mentions of abuse and murder

Just as Oliver had feared on his first night, it was far too easy to get used to living in a vampire's manor.

He'd spent the past few nights utterly engrossed in the books Alexander had picked out for him, primers on the supernatural world and its history. Oliver had always had a fascination for material like this, for horror stories and medieval descriptions of witchcraft and pictures of fairies at the bottoms of gardens, but he'd logically seen it all as just entertaining curiosities. Now he wanted to devour everything related to the strange new world he'd found himself in.

Naturally, he was focusing on information about vampires -- their strengths and weaknesses, their culture and habits. He learned that only blood taken fresh from live humans could truly sustain them -- bottled blood of the sort found in his master's icebox was at best a temporary salve to hunger, and animal blood did very little. It also was clear that very few vampires held moral objections to taking thralls. At least according to the vampiric author of the book he was reading, any vampire of means would have a handful of them in the household, usually taking the roles of servants and pets.

He remembered what Alexander had said in the auction house, that it had been months since he'd had a fresh human. If he were speaking the truth, he must have been starving and weak. That did track -- he had looked so utterly exhausted and spent when Oliver had arrived, and acted so much like a starving man when he'd fed. And now that he had fed, he was very obviously healthier and in better spirits.

The strange part was that a vampire that clearly had so much wealth went so long without sufficient blood.  His master had remarked several times now that he hadn't been prepared to take a thrall, and that Oliver's situation had forced his hand. Why not, though? If moral considerations and money were clearly no object, what reason did he have for depriving himself? Given his power, why hadn't he taken Oliver from his bookshop the moment he decided he wanted him?

And what had happened to his previous thralls?

Perhaps he might get a chance to ask his master himself.

"Well, now, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Oliver whipped around to see a complete stranger, a curly-haired man with a dusty blouse and a curious expression. He was grinning and baring her fangs. Oliver's heart raced -- what was another vampire doing here? Did his master know? He must, or so Oliver hoped, but he couldn't help but shrink himself against the shelves in fear.

"What a rich morsel Lord Alexander's found. Not every day I come across a thrall like you," he said, putting an arm on the shelves next to Oliver, blocking his means of escape. "Wonder if the lord of the house would mind me taking a taste."

"Please don't, sir," he said. Being fed on by his master was one thing, being fed on by a strange vampire with unknown intentions was quite another. "I think my Master -- I don't think you should --"

He laughed, loud and long, and backed off. "You know I'm just yanking your chain, right? I'm not going to eat you. Lord Alexander would fire me on the spot, if he didn't ram a stake straight through my heart."

Oliver let out his anxious breath as he remembered who this person must be, the vampire housekeeper that Alexander had mentioned. "So -- you're not going to --"

"I'm Kenny. I keep the place tidy and do the lord's laundry and such. And it looks like I'll be cleaning up for his pretty little thrall, now," he said, and Oliver wasn't sure how he felt about that designation. "Honestly, it's about time he got a new one. Whoever heard of a vampire lord who doesn't have any thrall? I think he was even drinking bottled blood."

"That's... bad, right, sir?"

"I mean... I drink bottled blood a lot, yeah, but that's because I've only been a vampire for a few years and I'm poor as dirt. Can't afford a fancy thrall, too much of a coward to go get my own and risk hunters. At least bottled blood sates the urge for a little bit," he said. "If I were a rich lord, I'd have a whole mansion full of thralls at my beck and call. A different flavor of blood for every day of the week, and they'd all be attractive, too."

"So do you know what happened to Master's last thrall, sir?" Oliver asked, before Kenny lost himself in his fantasy world, seizing on the opportunity to get some of his questions answered.

"Oh, yeah, Henry? Awful thing. Got killed by a jealous vampire, from what I heard." He leaned in a little too close to Oliver. "I assume that vampire's dead now. Lord Alexander's not a vampire I'd like to cross. Not a bad boss, though."

"How long have you --"

"I see you've met my new thrall," said a deep voice from behind Kenny.  "I hope you understand that his blood is not part of your compensation."

Alexander was barely taller than Kenny, and significantly scrawnier, but Kenny still was immediately cowed. "I'm not harming a hair on his delicious little head, sir," he said, bowing meekly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"See that you don't. And refrain from terrorizing him as well, in the future."

"Yes, sir."

"And make sure you do a thorough job of cleaning the main bed and bath on the second floor from now on, and do any laundry left out for you. I won't have my thrall living in squalor."

"Yes, sir, understood."

"...I'll increase your pay, to compensate for the additional time."

"Oh, thank you, sir," said Kenny, his face lighting up. "Between rent and saving up for a thrall of my own, I can always use the money. I'll go clean the new thrall's quarters right away, sir." 

He scurried away, and Alexander fell sideways into an overstuffed leather couch. "Are you doing well this evening, Oliver?"

Any of Oliver's unease melted away in his master's comforting presence. "I feel very well, sir. How are you? Is there any way I can be of service?" 

His master's smile was relaxed, and he looked so much more at ease than Oliver had ever remembered, even when he was patronizing the bookshop. "Not at all, you're doing quite enough, and I hate to interrupt your reading," he said. "But if you don't mind, I would appreciate your company by the fire. The nights are starting to grow chill, and it's quite agreeable to have one's thrall near."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver eagerly, sitting next to Alexander on the couch, and feeling a soft thrill as his master beckoned him closer, close enough that they were brushing up against each other. His master gently pet his hair before cracking open a book and settling in to read.

Oliver picked up his own book, relaxing with the warm fire and the proximity of his master. A perfect scene of contentment. 

Except for the one thing that had been worrying him and stealing his focus...

His master did seem like he was in a good mood. This might be a good time to press him.

"Excuse me, sir," said Oliver, "I don't mean to interrupt your reading, but could I ask you a question?"

Alexander's eyebrows raised, and the look on his face suggested that Oliver's request was about to be denied. "Very well," he said, after a long moment. "But I might advise against asking questions if you suspect you won't like the answers."

Oliver felt a small twist, a spark. "With all respect, Master, I prefer to know the truth regardless."

"That's admirable. Truly," said Alexander, looking surprised. "Lily really did do a fine job with you -- I appreciate that you can push back. I've been lacking that, lately. Too far up in my own head. She'd put it in much more vulgar terms, of course." He sat up. "Ask, then, but understand that many things are better kept private."

Oliver felt relieved that they had an understanding of sorts. "What happened to your last thrall, sir?" he said bluntly.

Alexander let out a sharp laugh. "Of course that's the first thing you'd ask. I can't say I blame you. I'd want to know the same in your shoes." He sat in silent thought for a moment. "He was killed by a vampire."

His heart pounded. "Why, sir?"

"It was the doing of my sire. Most of the misfortune that befalls me is," Alexander said. "I haven't been eager to have this conversation, but you should know about him."

Despite his curiosity, Oliver was getting the feeling once more that he was in over his head.

Previous >> Masterlist >> Next

The Bookseller parts have been getting longer and longer, so I've been splitting them up so I can return to a more regular posting schedule. 1-2K words a week was possible, 3-4K words a week was pushing it. Hopefully I'll be able to post a part a week along with asks and side stories!

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader

[lets-try-some-writing]

Whims of the Fae Chapter 2

The fae always have little schemes to set in motion. Megatron is no exception. However even he couldn’t predict the outcome of Orion’s plan. Evidently the Head Archivist had not seen fit to make it clear that their attempt to make a puppet Prime to get in and work with the Council involved parenthood. 

This was not part of the plan. But there wasn’t exactly much to do about it now.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The prototype melting in the prepared pool of energon wasn’t exactly… a comforting sight. Still, Megatron had seen worse in the pits. Mecha being disemboweled was infinitely worse than watching Optronix slowly turn into a strange glowing white goo. Still, he wasn’t exactly the most patient when it came to these sorts of things. They needed a puppet to carry the Matrix, and they needed that puppet as soon as possible. Megatron wasn’t familiar with enchanting or the finer details of being fae born, not after having been raised in the pits by prototypes. Despite that, he was fairly certain that turning their potential puppet into goo wasn’t the right way to go about converting the puppet into one of their Court.

“Orion, what did you mean when you called him our ‘little sprite’?” He questioned as the goo in the pool began to clump up, wires and other strange things resembling bones forming amidst the mess. It was somewhat disturbing to watch if he was honest.

“Why I thought I made myself rather clear. He is now of our line, the heir of our domain, and the ones from which we hail.” Orion smiled his regular eerie smile, his denta sharp as blades and on full display in that wicked manner Megatron took vorns to fully come to terms with. His Conjunx grinned, a gleeful undertone to his field as he hurried about collecting items Megatron personally found strange. 

“My love, watch the pool and do alert me the moment it begins to pulse.” Orion merrily went about his business, vanishing deep into the sea of shelves and leaving Megatron to watch the pool. He grimaced as he watched wires and cables begin to slither within, connecting to mass in the center of the pool which was rapidly developing. He could make out a vague shape within, something almost akin to a sparkling in size. 

His spark flared in momentary concern as the wires connected to the developing frame within the pool, but he dismissed those growing fears easily. Surely this was all part of the process. The prototype would finish his reconstruction and emerge ready to be taught the ways of the fae. Just like Megatron, he would struggle. But under their dutiful care, he would flourish and be the perfect puppet. Already Optronix had shown strength of character, and for that reason alone, Megatron allowed himself a faint smile.

He was going to be a fantastic ally once he adjusted to the horrors of the realm of the fae. Megatron would stand with him all the way, offering comfort and guidance for a mech brought into the fold. 

The pleasant image of companionship with a fellow low caste mech had Megatron smiling wider and left his thoughts to drift toward plans for the future. He could already see the future ahead of him. Optronix would learn the ways of the fae and grow into a warrior Megatron could count on. Perhaps even one cycle they could even be friends in the manner of prototypes rather than the transactional ways of the fair folk. It was a pleasant thought to consider.

He almost didn’t notice as the wires and cables grew larger, pulsing and transferring energon from the pool into the body growing within a strange translucent sac. But any and all wistful musing faded entirely when the entire thing began to thrum, the wires pulsing and the walls of the sac threatening to tear. 

Was this part of the process? Surely this couldn’t be right. The frame within the sac wasn’t nearly large enough to match a grown mech. Something must have gone horribly wrong.

“ORION!” He called out vocally and across their bond, urging his Conjunx to return as swiftly as possible as light began to filter into the strange pod, swirling around the tiny frame within and seemingly imbuing it. Then, within a nanoklik, Orion was beside him.

“Calm yourself, beloved. All is well. The sprite is doing just fine. We need only give him his birthright.” Orion’s servo lingered on his shoulder as Megatron stood at the edge of the pool, looking between the sac and his Conjunx in confusion. Perhaps there was a part of the process yet to be completed, a finalization of sorts that would give Optronix the boost he needed to complete his transformation. Yes, that had to be it. Megatron trusted Orion far more than he trusted his own judgment when it came to these things. 

“What must we do?” He questioned cautiously as the sac continued to pulse. Orion’s field shifted momentarily, a sign that he was calling upon his gifts for power. He tried not to look too closely as Orion’s smile grew beyond the confines of his face and his vistage changed, his frame growing until it began a mess of wires, pixels, and optics. He did all he could to keep his optics on the sac as Orion stepped into the now very shallow pool and hovered above the tiny frame growing there.

“Awaken sprite.”

Orion’s voice rang out clearly in the Archives, his vocalizer still producing clear and symphonic words despite the state of his frame. In response, the sac pulsed again, a crack running along its surface. Orion then called out to Megatron silently, his intention clear as one of many optics settled on him. Megatron swiftly complied and joined him in the pool.

“I, Orion Pax, creation of Codexa and student of Alpha Trion, accept this sprite into my line as my heir. My gifts are his to obtain and my power his to harvest from.”

Orion reached out to the pod, one of his many limbs resting upon its surface and his wires wrapping around it in a fond manner. The being within spasmed, small and hazy limbs flailing as Optronix endured a wave of what Megatron could only assume was Orion’s influence. Blue light almost as bright as fresh energon flowed from Orion’s wires and digits, trickling down to the pod and turning a deep abyssal black as it reached the developing being within. Optronix almost appeared to be in pain based on how his small frame twitched in time with the black creeping along him.

“Speak Megatronus. Accept him as your own.”

Orion’s voice broke Megatron from his thoughts, and he quickly met his beloved’s gaze. A dozen optics glanced at him and then to the pod, a silent order. Megatron hesitated, confusion running rampant in his mind as he struggled to figure out what he was even supposed to be doing.

“Quickly beloved. The time draws near. He does not have much left to accept.” 

It was a warning Megatron did not understand, but one he took to spark without hesitation. He ran through what Orion had said as he approached the pod, and adjusting a few words, Megatron repeated it and laid a servo on the pod.

“I, Megatronus of Kaon, sprite of the mines and Champion of the pits, accept this sprite into my line as my heir. My gifts are his to obtain and my power his to harvest from.”

Megatron waited for a nanoklik, feeling nothing had happened despite having uttered the words. However, just as he prepared to pull away, instinct tore at his rational mind and took control. Without his direct consent, his influence spread throughout his frame, forcing him to grow larger, more intimidating. Runes and glyphs of power came into being all around him and his Conjunx as his influence joined the black that crawled along Optronix’s frame. Red turned to white and fought against the creeping gloom that was his Conjunx’s influence.

Again, Optronix spasmed, his frame shifting within the goo that held him. The black of Orion’s influence held sway over most of Optronix’s form, but Megatron’s influence was still prominent. The instincts that guided him told him that this meant he had been successful. In what, he had no idea.

“Perfect. He is ready.” Orion pulled away, his frame returning to its normal state after a series of unsettling clicks and a hiss of static. Megatron followed his Conjunx’s lead, his instincts settling into the back of his processor where they belonged. He was not given time to contemplate what in the name of the thirteen had come over him before Orion’s monstrous grin grew to a disproportionate size, and he stabbed his servo directly into the pod. 

Megatron could feel his expression shift into one of absolute horror as Orion reached in, groped around in the goo, and then grabbed one of Optronix’s still underdeveloped limbs to rip him free. Wires and cables snapped in a spray of energon and the sac collapsed in on itself with little fanfare. Distantly, Megatron was grateful this whole affair had occurred within the energon pool, otherwise he would be left to clean up the mess for likely the next few deca-cycles.

“There you are, little sprite!” Orion practically cooed as he held the… thing up by its leg. Megatron took a step back as he observed the creature and promptly came to the conclusion that whatever it was, it was no longer Optronix the dock worker. 

“Oh dear, you poor thing. You must be chilled.” Orion hurriedly moved toward the table a few feet away. Megatron for his part couldn’t tear his optics off the creature as he followed on instinct. As it was laid on the table, he felt the urge to purge.

The thing had the general shape of a sparkling. It had what looked like some sort of helm, a torso, legs, and two arms. But that was where any familiarity ended on a biological scale. The thing, whatever it was, looked horribly malformed. Its limbs were too long, and it had an extra arm for no apparent reason. Holes ran along its helm, giving a clear view of where its processor fired, exposed and delicate. Transformation seams crawled along its face, meeting around the two largest holes where Megatron assumed optics were.

Spines grew along its arms and back in no particular pattern or size, each varying and differing from one another in formation. Its internal components were all but exposed, guarded only by structures akin to calipers that held everything in place. Megatron could see its tanks and various other organs pulsing and squirming enough to make him sick. He wouldn’t have believed the thing was even Cybertronian if not for the spark chamber that was clear to see, flaring openly as the source of life that it guarded glowed powerfully within.

“Orion, what in the pits is this thing?” Megatron questioned in disbelief as the thing squirmed, its small clawed servos grasping at nothing. The thing must have been blind for the most part. It had optics, small pinpricks within the dual voids that served as its optical sockets. However those small optics flickered, only coming online in swift bursts. What a strange and disgusting creature. This couldn’t have been right.

“This is our sprite. He is still very young yet, and he will take time to develop, but he is ours. Already he has accepted a great deal of our influence. I believe he may have even inherited your shoulders!” Megatron was sure he was making quite the expression as he struggled to hold back a gag. The thing didn’t look anything like either of them in Megatron’s opinion, but he wasn’t given the chance to get much of a word in before Orion was rubbing the little monster down with a soft towel.

“That thing… its-” Megatron began before a digit was pressed against his derma, stopping him from speaking. How Orion moved so quickly was beyond him, but Megatron remained silent as Orion pulled back slowly with an expression that practically embodied the concept of a warning.

“It is bad luck to speak poorly of a sprite my love. It weakens them, shifting them into something darker that must be destroyed.” Orion reached out to the thing, the sprite, Megatron reminded himself. The sprite flailed but did not fight back, or perhaps was unable to do so as Orion wrapped its torso in an embroidered blanket, leaving only its back still exposed. That much Megatron could endure looking at without wanting to throw the sprite out the nearest window.

“You mean it could become a demon?” Megatron found himself questioning as Orion propped the sprite up on a pillow. The little thing was laid out flat on its stomach, its helm and most of its upper body resting on the pillow. It didn’t so much as murmur as its optics flickered on and offline. 

“Do not speak in such a manner around him. You will harm his development. But to answer your question, yes. All young sprites can become demons if they are not tended to properly, especially those turned as he was.” A soft clang echoed in the space as Orion picked up a needle-like tool Megatron was unfamiliar with. The Archfae made a contemplative click and traced his digits over the sprite’s back, most likely coming up with something terrifying based on what Megatron knew of his Conjunx. 

“I give you the wings of the wood. May they carry you to safety and the wind favor you in your journeys.”

The Archivist’s words came in a whisper that was uttered like a prayer. As he spoke, his digits moved with delicateness Megatron usually found were reserved for when Orion handled him. The needle dug into the sprite’s back, prompting the thing to squirm up until Orion began to sing a soft song, his influence wrapping around the little creature lovingly. If it weren’t for how hideous the thing was, Megatron would have found the scene lovely.

Before long, Orion had etched a strange swirling design onto the sprite’s back. It was vaguely in the shape of insect wings and covered in all sorts of runes and symbols Megatron did not recognize, but as soon as it was done, the lines began to glow. The whole etching pulsed with the sprite’s spark, flaring softly in the relative gloom of the archive. The sprite squirmed again, and Orion was quick to collect the little thing and wrap it, him, up properly. 

“Do we give him his name now?” Megatron found himself questioning as Orion began to walk through the archives, leaving Megatron to follow behind him. Orion made a sound that bordered on an outraged huff before he gave Megatron that look, the one he reserved for when Megatron was missing something most fae found obvious.

“Of course not! He’s a sprite! Giving him his full name now would kill him! No, no, he will be given a placeholder name until he is old enough to bear the burden.” Orion cradled the sprite as if the little creature would turn into smoke in his arms if he so much as loosed his hold. Megatron shrank in on himself internally, but otherwise said nothing as he followed his Conjunx down the ever shifting halls of the Archives. 

Eventually, they made their way down one hall Megatron knew well. It was one of the few that rarely changed, and it led directly to his and Orion’s room. Megatron had long ago come to the conclusion that Orion had pulled some strings to keep this part of the archives stables just so that Megatron wouldn't get lost. He did that a lot when they were first Conjunxed.

“Here we are!” Orion sounded so very proud when he finally stopped in front of a door that had absolutely not been there a cycle ago. Megatron wasn’t given much time to gawk before Orion pushed the door open and stepped in. The room beyond was strange even to Megatron. Plants he didn’t recognize covered almost every single surface and the walls were covered from top to bottom in various articles and images, more than a few of which seemed to be of Optronix. 

Strange vines grew along the walls, pulsing with lights and draping down in places to wrap around objects in the general shape of shelves. Roots grew along the floor, smooth and yet undeniably there. They shifted as Orion walked in, moving away to give him an easier path to tread. Long branches hung from the center of the room above what looked like a hollowed out stump of some ancient and malevolent plant. The branches grew odd looking fruits, some in blue and purple, others in red and white. All in different shapes.

Megatron was immediately met with hissing the moment his pedes touched the ground.

“Hush now! He is the sprite’s Sire!” Orion flicked one of the plants closest to him and it visibly shrank back a degree. The whole room thrummed with life. There was no natural light, but the ceiling glittered like stars as the flowers growing from the vines bloomed all at once, as if sensing Orion’s presence. 

“There we are my dear. I do believe you need a temporary name, don’t you?” Orion leaned down, placing the sprite into the vicious looking cradle. The stump shifted as Orion laid the sprite down. The sharp upper edges smoothed and curved inward, creating a partial cover over the top of where the sprite lay. Orion gazed down lovingly at the little monster, his smile so content that it no longer held any of his usual cunning.

Megatron may have despised looking at the sprite, but if it made Orion this happy-

He was willing to put up with it.

“What shall we call him for now my love?” Orion asked as he reached into the cradle with a single digit. Megatron approached and watched as Orion prodded at the sprite until it instinctively held onto his digit. The little thing’s clawed servos were tiny, so small in fact that he could barely get a grip on Orion’s digit at all. 

So very small… it couldn’t have been healthy. Even normal sparklings were far larger upon their creation. For this one to be at its current size, it indicated potential problems later. However, he wanted to have faith in Orion’s judgment. This was all going according to plan, it had to be. 

“He is rather small. So why not call him the Little One for now?” Megatron suggested as the sprite shifted, revealing more of its exposed innards than Megatron would have liked. Orion tisked as Megatron held back a gag, but before either could say more, a new voice spoke up. 

“I second that name. It will help him avoid prying optics until he is strong enough to stand a chance against the lower fae.” Megatron startled as Ravage of all mechs sauntered out of the shadows as if he hadn’t just been absent a moment prior. Orion hummed in agreement, oblivious or perhaps uncaring of Megatron’s momentary distress.

“I agree. It is a good name for him.” Orion’s smile widened again, all but splitting his face in two as he rested his arms on the edge of the cradle, his helm placed on his forearms as if nothing were wrong with the situation by any other standard.

“Our little one…” Orion hummed, and it was a soothing sound that eased all of Megatron’s concerns. If Orion wasn’t worried, Megatron had no need to concern himself. 

“I trust you will tend to him when I cannot?” Orion raised an optical ridge over in Ravage’s direction. The symbiote merely huffed and nodded.

“Of course. Soundwave wouldn’t let me return in one piece if I failed you, Grand Archfae.” Ravage bowed as much as a mech of his station was able. Orion merely maintained his grin before he took Megatron’s servo in his own. Those wide and oh so cunning optics were all but glued to him as Orion spoke again.

“Ravage shall tend to the little one for a while. But I suspect it has been a startling cycle for you my love. Come rest with me in berth and soothe your anxious spark.” Megatron didn’t have much time to reply before the plants hissed and Orion all but dragged him out. 

He had become a Sire in less than a cycle and as it was, he didn’t want to think about that or anything it implied, not when Orion was offering a pleasant evening.

[bedoballoons]

Can I get some more of their “ ideal diets date” with Childe, Ayato, zhongli, toma, Al Haitham, Cyno, and Tighnari pls? Ty

Of course! Thank you so much for your request and I hope you enjoy!! Sorry this took so long!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Their dream date with you~༺}

CW: Super sweet fluff!! Requests open!

(Includes: Thoma, Zhongli, Alhaitham, Tighnari, Childe, Ayato, and Cyno!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Thoma:

Thomas dream date with you would start in the afternoon, the sun high in the sky as the two of you explored inazuma together and learned new things about eachother along the way. He'd buy you your favourite flower, putting it gently behind your hair as he complimented your beauty and told you how much he loved you for what seemed like the 10th time that day.

Then as it started getting dark he'd capture your hand in his, your fingers intertwining softly as he lead you to a special place. A gazebo, not far from the city, covered in vines and flowers that left a subtle floral scent in the air, around the top were hanging glass jars with candles in them, their outsides foggy white in colour and painted with butterflies. He'd sway with you gently, slow dancing as the sun began to set and end the night with a kiss full of every emotion he'd felt the entire night.

𑁍༄Zhongli:

Zhongli would arrive with a simple gift for you, something sentimental and full of meaning, before showing you the most delicious restaurant in Liyue, mora not a concern as he bought you everything you looked at along the way. He'd pull the chair out for you as you sat down at the table and he'd tell you to order whatever you'd like, then you'd share a meal together where you chatted about everything under the sun.

As the night started to fall, he'd show you to a bench that was out looking the piers, the ships looking majestic and beautiful under the soft glow of the moon. His arms would wrap around you as he held you close to him and the two of you watched the reflections in the water swirl with each soft breeze. It would be calming, loving...and perfect.

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

Alhaitham wouldn't want to go anywhere crowded, in fact he'd prefer to stay home and cook you a romantic dinner, something he didn't do often but he knew you enjoyed. He'd even light candles he'd stolen from Kavehs stache, setting the mood with their light airy smell and letting a quiet melody play in the background.

After you two had finished eating, you'd pick out a book off his shelves and snuggle up on one of the large couches, his arm wrapped around you as he read out loud to you. His voice calming, relieving you of any stress you'd previously had and his gentle touch making you feel sleepy, he'd rub soft circles into your skin as you started to drift off.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnaris ears would twitch slightly with nervousness, his face slightly blushed as he helped you into the small boat he'd rented. Normally he wasn't a fan of the water, but there's something he's always wanted to try and you gave him the courage to actually follow through. After the two of you had found your seats, he'd carefully start rowing the boat down the small stream.

Along the way he'd tell you about different flora you saw along the way, about how fish swimming along the side of the boat were integral to the aquatic plant life. Then behind him you'd see what you thought was a rock with water flowing down it, you'd tell him to stop but he'd shake his head and just when you thought you were about to crash, you enter into a cave. The inside of it shiny with crystals, different colours sparkling on every surface and reflecting on the water...it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

𑁍༄Childe:

Childes perfect date would take place in a quiet town in Snezhnaya, a gentle snowfall decorating the ground with a nice thick blanket of white and the air cold, enough to make your breath visible and your cheeks red, but not so cold you couldn't go out in it. He'd show you a pond that had frozen over, the ice unbreakable at this point, perfect for what he'd planned just for the two of you.

He'd drop the bag he'd been carrying onto the ground, reaching into it to retrieve two sets of ice skates and then he'd help you get yours on before carefully leading you onto the ice. His arms tight around you to keep you upright as he taught you how to skate, explaining that he'd done the same thing with his siblings and that this used to be his favourite activity whenever he was home. You'd share a special moment where his face would be close to yours, the gentle snowflakes in his hair as he looked into your eyes and then placed a soft kiss on your lips.

𑁍༄Ayato:

𑁍༄Cyno:

Ayato would dress in a suit, his hair slicked back except for a single light blue strand and he'd have the kitchen maids make a incredibly fancy dinner, lanterns hung up around the roof of a out door eating area. A nice breeze blowing through, making the sakura wind chimes play a soft tune and to add to it all, after the dinner he'd ask for your hand, dancing with you gracefully.

Your heart would race as he dipped you, his face having a sly smile as he pulled you back up, even closer to him, his hands sliding down to your waist and his forehead resting against yours. His voice would be soft as he said he loved you and then to confirm it again he'd kiss you deeply, your face bright red by the end.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

At first you'd think Cynos dream date would only consist of TCG or..."interesting" jokes, but he's actually far more romantic than that, taking a whole day to plan out the perfect date. It would begin with him showing up at your door, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and cringy pickup line he'd know you'd like. He'd take you out to eat at a place Tighnari had recommended and along the way he'd stop by a store to pick you up a gift.

Then he'd tell you a couple of jokes as you made your way to a field, a few wildflowers standing out against the green grass. He'd sit down in it, you sitting next to him and then to your surprise you'd see butterflies all around you, no not butterflies...but mechanical butterflies? The same ones Kaveh and Faruzan had created...but these ones were painted in your favourite colours...

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ Have a nice day!*⁠.⁠✧

[panandinpain0]

Reader and Edward (twilight) watching a horror movie together!!

Reader likes them, but also gets easily scared also could it be a gn reader please?

Tough-Exterior-Ed

Of course! Thank you for requesting <3

(Yes I'm fully aware the title is not actually a word.)

Fluff/Comfort Edward Cullen x GN!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, hugging (Alice is in it, ofc there's hugging), mentions of axe murderers (in the horror movie)

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In the Cullen family kitchen, currently hosting all of the Cullen's, Edward sighed and hung his head.

"They're here."

"You seem disappointed?" Rosalie said it as a question, her iconic scowl settling into place as she looked Edward over.

If only they could hear what was going on inside his head.

"Eddy. Eddy, Eddy, Eddy, Eddy, Eddy. Guess what? I'm here! I'm at your door. Do I need to knock? Edward- I know you can hear me."

With an amused smile Edward just shook his head at Rosalie, the family sharing looks of confusion as Edward made to leave the room.

"Don't embarrass me, please," Edward quietly begged of his family before continuing on his way.

"No promises," Emmett snickered, sharing a look with Jasper and Alice as he wrapped his arm around Rosalie's waist.

As Edward opened the door a very dramatic sigh echoed through the entryway.

"God, I thought you'd never come!"

Edward just rolled his eyes good naturedly and helped (Y/N) out of their coat, trying not to snicker when they muttered "that's what she said" under their breath.

"My family's in the kitchen, if you'd like to meet them," Edward offered, knowing it was their first opportunity to- but not wanting to force them.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I want to meet your super awesome vampire family!" (Y/N) shot Edward an incredulous look and grabbed his hand, pulling him in the direction they assumed was the kitchen.

What Edward liked about (Y/N) was that he didn't have to read their mind to know what they were thinking- mostly because they lacked a social filter and said anything the second it entered their mind. But it made up for some interesting conversations.

"Aha!" (Y/N) cheered as they found the kitchen without Edward's guidance, looking around the kitchen at the vampires. "Hi!" they said, waving.

Alice let out a barely concealed squeal as she dove at (Y/N), wrapping them in a hug. (Y/N) barely got time to reciprocate when Edward pulled them away.

"That's my fault, I shouldn't have offered," Edward somewhat laughed as he led them to the lounge. Yes, this place was a lounge- how could it be a "living room" when (Y/N) was probably the first living person to actually enter it?

"So, what do you want to watc-" (Y/N) was cut off by their own gasp as they saw the shelves holding all the movies the Cullen's had collected.

"Whatever you want is fine by me," Edward said complacently, sitting down on the couch and preparing blankets for when (Y/N) sat next to him.

"Horror- for sure," (Y/N) commented as they dragged their finger across the DVD cases. They pulled a random one out and skimmed the back before popping it out of its case and putting it into the DVD player.

Sliding into the couch (and accompanying burrow of blankets) next to Edward, (Y/N) took the remote and pressed play. The lights in the room dimmed until they turned off completely, the only light shining on their faces from the TV.

Edward sat with his arm over (Y/N)'s shoulder, (Y/N) basically in his lap as their legs were thrown over his.

"No, no- don't go in there!" (Y/N) quietly begged the character on the TV, knowing he couldn't actually hear them.

"You do this every time, you know," Edward mumbled.

"Yeah, but it goes the same way every-" they were cut off as they flinched back into Edward, gripping his hand as the axe murderer on the TV jump scared them.

The night went on like that, only pausing for (Y/N) to select a different horror movie to slip in.

Edward couldn't help but marvel at the fact that (Y/N) found comfort in him, no matter how cold or tough-exterior-ed he might be.

At some point (Y/N) had fallen asleep against his chest, blankets wrapped around their shoulders as they snored. Edward was taking in their face, wanting to reach up and caress their cheek but not wanting to disturb them with his temperature.

That's when he heard the giggles, turning his head to find Alice, Jasper, and Emmett peeking through the doorway. Edward glared in warning and Alice just smiled and dragged the boys off.

End

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Don't really know where I went with that- I felt that this one was oddly paced. Hoped you liked it though!

-Author Max <3