#which was apparently the final straw that made me snap

[papermonkeyism]

The levels of nerd and warehouse worker have collided and made me geek out so bad about getting my own tape machine.

I've kinda wanted one of these for several years, and found out a local store that sells the same kind of tape machines that my work place uses, and for only 12€!

I... probably shouldn't be *quite* this excited about a packaging equipment, but hot dang, I have my own tape machine!

[yourdoorisunlocked]

Because You're Mine ~ Soul Owner Alastor Headcanons

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬: Possessiveness, infatuation, obsessive thoughts, power imbalance, slight jealousy, Alastor being creepy asf, and scent marking.

🎙️ The moment you'd arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor's eyes were always on you, sharp and scrutinizing your every move. At first, you'd believed that he hated you, that, if you ever made the grave mistake of being left alone with him, he'd practically eat you alive.

🎙️ But your sweet, confused little mind couldn't be farther from the truth. No, no, no, Alastor had spent weeks since your arrival was made apparent trying to figure out every little thing about you; the style of clothes that you wore, the foods you preferred, what you were looking for in a husband.

🎙️ You didn't need to know about all the strings that Alastor had pulled, just to have you fall into his waiting arms. And the hotel was the perfect place to lure you in to make you avoid the dangers of Hell, and seek out his help.

🎙️ Your soul for Alastor's protection seemed like a small price to pay to not end up being a gory stain on the side of the sizzling-hot road.

🎙️ And Alastor was more than happy to provide any kind of security for you, the demon almost immediately agreeing to your simple terms, an eager smile and waiting hand stretched out for you to shake.

🎙️ Although you'd always had the feeling of being constantly watched, ever since you'd sold your soul to Alastor, the sensation of eyes burning into you had gotten so much worse. Which, quite conveniently, led to his sweet little doe running straight into his comforting hold to run to, more than once.

🎙️ "Don't worry, my sweet little chérie," he'd coo softly into your ear, "I won't allow anything to harm you.”

🎙️ You'd thought that selling your soul to the Radio Demon would require you to do a great many tasks for him, but this? This was much worse than what you had anticipated.

🎙️ Alastor is usually very averse to touch, but when it comes to you, practically nothing is off-limits. He always has an arm around your shoulder or waist, squeezing you closer whenever others get too cozy with you. He just can’t keep his hands off you! 

🎙️ You'd attempted to set your boundaries with the clingy, feverish demon and his erratic impulses - especially when it came to touching you - but a quick tug of a burning-hot chain that linked your soul to him put you in your sweet little place quite easily.

🎙️ The final straw, however, was when Alastor insisted that the two of you share a bed. Soon, you'd started doing just about anything to avoid your Master, scurrying away at any sign of the Radio Demon lingering nearby.

🎙️ He noticed this, of course. But he bore it with an eyeroll and a twitching smile, allowing you your temper tantrum, for now. His darling wife just needed to blow off some steam.

🎙️Yes, Alastor would allow you time to become more used to your arrangements, for a time. But it wasn't until he caught you chatting - and laughing - with the goddamned Devil himself that he finally snapped, and quickly took you aside in private.

🎙️ "I'm getting quite fed up with your little attitude, darling..." he strung you along by a glowing green chain with gritted teeth, and you lurched forward onto your hands and knees. His gaze was dark yet adoring as he stared down at you, wrapping the end of your chain tightly around his claws.

🎙️ "I realize that I've been much too lenient with you, ma biche. Now, do allow me to demonstrate just who you belong to..."

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers

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@maggotzdilemma, @nonbinaryanarchist0013, @martinys-world, @introvertreader20, @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhha,

@a-small-tyrant, @roxxie-wolf, @crescentparadise, @blubugg13, @alastorthirsty,

@theperfectmangovoid, @jyoongim, @littlebluefishtail, @katlovestoread, @leonotlara,

@cimadreamer

[kittehbiscuits]

please tell me about your keatlejuice thoughts i am desperate for an analysis of him that isn’t just Evil

EDIT BC APPARENTLY PUTTING IT ALL OVER THE TAGS WASN'T ENOUGH: BEETLEBABES DNI!!!! HOLY SHIT DAWG PLEASE I'M BEGGING 🙏 😭

Omg haiiiii hiiii taps mic is this on yess hellow *shuffles with notes*

warning this will probably be a LONG post

enjoy :3

Ok. So. Keatlejuice. Movie Beetlejuice. 600 year old man. Alive during the 1300s AKA the black death in Europe (proved by the second movie). In the original script for the movie he is described as "vaguely middle-eastern" which is probably racist BUT I have decided to interpret that as a potential ancestry for him.

In the musical he is heavily implied to be Jewish so I was thinkinggg maybe his family is a Jewish family that originated in the Middle East and migrated to Europe.

Every time I've tried to find how he died (pre-sequel) I find the same result but NO source for it. EVEN ON THE WIKI THERE ISN'T A SOURCE

ANYWAY this kind of paints a picture on his life when he was alive, the movie says he was a grave robber so obviously a peasant scraping by to survive. Betelgeuse is not someone who I can imagine surviving in any society based on. social skills. he's kind of a goofy silly guy I don't think he can relate to most of the people around him especially with disease rampant I don't think he has many people in his life. With this need for survival I think he's adopted quite the antisocial personality.

People around you die, you go through their pockets for cash, thus is life. Definitely not a pleasant person to be around and so I don't think he ever tries to be, even long after his death. He knows something is fundamentally wrong with him and he embraces that for the sake of survival.

I'm gonna be so honest I cast him with the MOMMY ISSUES BEAM GRAHHHH I'm sure his mother passed during his life due to disease or tons of other mideival shit. (I will bring this up later just put a pin in it) Betelgeuse is suuuuper silly goofy in the brain (depression and BPD possibly) and I personally imagine him as surprisingly. Calm. As a human. Not kind, but not exactly the manic personality he embraces in the movies.

It's near the end of his life when he believes there isn't anything left for him in life, he never grew or got better he only fell deeper into the deep pit of depravity he dug himself into. I think near the end is when he acted the most like his movie self, erratic and selfish not afraid to draw attention hoping it would make him feel better somehow.

So. I have absolutely no idea how he bagged Delores to be honest but in MY interpretation (with a mix of the sequel's lore) Delores dies, and I think that's his final straw. Either by his own hand or unrelated events losing her as the only thing of value in his shitty mideival peasant life means he's done for (he's 30-something btw). He cuts off her ring finger and hangs himself.

Of course, that isn't the end, He wakes up, still hanging, and rips and tears at the rope, shredding his nails and skin until finally it snaps dropping him to the floor. In a delirious state he looks around. A woman stands above him, slit throat wafting smoke, and tosses him a striped uniform.

Some backstory on prison uniforms:

Using this article and just some research from my memory, prison uniforms are made to identify a man as a criminal, to emasculate them and take away individuality. The stripes can even represent the bars of a prison cell, making the person wearing the uniform feel like they have no escape from their criminal identity. ANYWAYYYYY (sorry I have beef with the justice system)

Suicidees in the Neitherworld are made civil servants. It's their debt to pay for the crime of killing themselves and in the movie both Juno and Betelgeuse are among those ranks.

In my interpretation, when Betelgeuse dies Juno isn't at the rank she's at in the movie and she guides suicidees to their new job. As she rised the ranks, she employed Betelgeuse as an assistant (I don't really think he could find any other purpose for himself in this strange new afterlife, and it's not like he has a choice.)

This is where the mommy issues come in wheroeowheh soo Juno is an older woman and authority figure so I think *PLATONICALLY* Betelgeuse has sort of an attachement to her because of that, she's the only anchor he's got in the Neitherworld after all.

As he gets a better handle on things, he does what he always does, he finds shifty places to lurk and loopholes to slip through. Now that he's dead, he doesn't need to worry about his personal safety anymore (not that he did before) and being dead has given him powers he's never had before. He starts his bio-exorcism business a hundred or two years after dying. It's not really about the money, but the control it gives him and something he's *meant* to do, that he made for himself and wasn't picking from the scraps of others.

After a while he starts slacking on his civil services. So far he's ridden on Juno's coattails and found his way around the legal system easily enough so he uses it to help his guide job instead. He gets cocky, Juno is pissed because he's not doing any work after all she gave him (oughh mother thinking moment) and fires him. It goes over very poorly, Betelgeuse gets his nose broken (300 something years after death) And becomes purely a bio-exorcist.

OKAY THAT IS ALL FOR NOW honestly I could ramble forever but it's late and I must go but if anyone has any questions please feel free to ask!!!

(Also he's pansexual and genderfluid on top of all of that but he doesn't figure that out until the 90's)

[spider-kitty23]

Toxicity 18+

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x afab! spider-reader

Summary; After a night of arguing about what to do about the M.I.A Miles Morales, your short-tempered boss finally snaps and reveals a side of him you've never seen, and you like it.

Tags/Warnings; Smut! Lots of plot! Rough sex, Arguing, Mentions of biting, Unprotected sex (oopsie), Blowjob after p in v ,Dirty talk, Pain kink, light power play, degradation/praise, Caught?.

WC; 3.6k

Some Spanish words so here are the translations :)

Dios mio = My god

Pendeja = Idiot

Princesa = Princess

Bebe = Baby

Cállate la boca = Shut your mouth

Ay coño = Oh fuck

Cállate = Shut up

Mi vida = My life

"This is your fault, Gwen." Miguel growled with anger in his eyes as he stared daggers into the young teen.

Moments had passed since the frightened Miles made his big escape from HQ and rather than take responsibility for attacking and scaring him off, Miguel was going on a rampage about who to blame.

Nobody, including you, dared to say a word as he stormed towards Gwen in an almost animalistic manner. Like the 'vampire' in him was taking over. He came to a stop directly in front of the heaving teen where he towered over her and continued to stare into her soul with his now reddened eyes.

"You were too hard on him! Let me talk to him- He's my friend!" she pleaded in a wobbling voice that betrayed the fire in her heart to stand up for Miles.

Miguel didn't respond at first.

Instead, he took a few short breaths and titled his head back to pinch the bridge of his nose before speaking, "We already tried that." he muttered in a strained voice, "And look where that got us."

You could tell he was resisting the urge to scream at your fellow spider-woman.

You just know him like that.

Of course as one of the first recruited spider people of the spider society, you two were closer than most.

Well, at least as close as Miguel would let you two get before shutting down his feelings and becoming the intimidating leader everyone knew him as.

And since you know him so well, usually you wouldn't protest against his decisions or actions. But considering this was the last straw for Gwen, who you had grown to look out for in an almost motherly way, you had to say something to stop him from kicking her out of the spider society.

"Miguel...go easy on her." you said from your spot on the ceiling, where you were calmly observing the situation.

The sound of your voice immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room because apparently nobody had noticed your presence thanks to your unique ability to turn invisible like Miles.

At the mention of his name, your boss/leader snapped his head in your direction and glared at you, "And where were you during all of this?!" He asked while placing his hands on his hips as he turned to face you.

"Right here." you shrugged with a small smile before using your webs to anchor a secure way to lower yourself down from the ceiling and onto ground level with everyone else.

Being one of the more organic spider people (besides turning invisible), it was in your nature to partake in spider-like behaviors, which was usually never a problem back in your home dimension. But here in Nueva York, aka Miguel's home dimension, he found it annoying that you were always hanging from ceilings and quietly crawling along the walls.

"Y/n! Thank god you're here." Gwen grinned while raising her sleeve to her face in an attempt to discreetly wipe the tears forming in her eyes. Just as you reached the ground and stablized yourself, she ran to you and wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug.

"Woah there!" You giggled softly before returning her embrace by cradling her waist and head.

She laughed along with you as she leaned back for a moment to look at you, "Please, you guys have to let me talk to him. He-He just doesn't understand." she pleaded, returning to her frantic state from moments ago.

You weren't sure how to handle this.

On one hand, Miles has every right to want to save his father. He's just a kid after all.

But on the other hand, Miguel knows better than anyone why the canon can never be disrupted, so it would be foolish to ignore what he says.

You thought about it for a moment and figured there was no way to please both your boss and Gwen. No matter what happened, one of them would be left upset.

And with that, you took a deep breath and took Gwen's hands in yours, "You're right, Gwen. You know him better than anyone here, so you have to be the one to bring him back." you announced with certainty that you were dead after this.

"So go. Bring him back. Go." is the last thing you said to Gwen before breaking the hug and giving her an approving nod.

In the blink of an eye she was gone.

Off to find Miles and return him to HQ where we could further explain the canon to him with the hopes of changing his mind about his father.

It was crazy and out of line of you but you didn't care.

You were ready for the heat.

"So. I'm in trouble, huh?" you sighed while glancing toward Miguel, allowing you to catch a glimpse of him that left you with a fear no villain could ever enlist in you.

"So much trouble." he growled and looked at you, his eyes so dark they triggered your spidey senses.

'+_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ +'

After kicking out every other spider person and ordering Lyla to work with spider-byte on tracking Miles in another room, it was just you and Miguel in his office.

"Dios mio, y/n. What were you thinking?!" he shouted at you as he paced the room back and forth in a short line with his hands on his hips. You had never seen him so mad before, but you weren't surprised considering you had gone against his direct orders of well, never giving out orders.

It wasn't your place.

But then again you never were really the type to follow rules, and he knew that.

He also knew you felt no remorse for your actions and would probably do it again. You were nothing but a disobedient spider-woman to him, and he hated it.

So imagine his annoyance as you sat there in HIS office chair rolling your eyes and messing around with your web slingers, not listening to a word he is saying.

"Do you even realize how bad this is for the canon?! Ay, pendeja?!" he continued cursing you in English and Spanish, something he did when he was particularly upset.

You couldn't help but scoff, he had been chewing you out the entire time without even stopping to hear your side and why you did what you did.

It was frustrating to say the least.

Finally having enough of it, you stood from your seat and crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to feel bigger in front of the ridiculously large man.

"You gonna let me explain myself or what?" You asked as you patiently waited for him to stop pacing, even though it was clear he wouldn't be doing so anytime soon.

"What is there to explain?!" Miguel raised his voice to the point that his words were echoing off the walls like booming lyrics being blasted out of speakers.

He came to a stop and turned his body toward yours to tower over you in his usual intimidating nature.

Staring up at him as his broad muscular shoulders heaved with every breath he took, you nearly forgot what the two of you were even arguing about.

Because no matter how many times he screamed at you or gave you nasty looks, you could never deny the fact that he was one of, if not the most attractive man you have ever seen.

With high cheekbones, narrowly seductive eyes, plump lips, and muscles for days, he was truly a work of art. Hand carved by god or whoever is running this shit show themselves.

It was normal for you to feel attracted to him.

So it was no surprise that your stomach became knotted and full of butterflies at the sight of him so riled up and angry.

Miguel knew by the sound of your pounding heart that you were either terrified or aroused by him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He couldn't know for sure that you wanted him the same way he so desperately wanted you, not without using his other senses of course.

Taking a few steps toward you, he watched and listened for your reaction and for any signs to confirm his suspicion.

"W-Well...you see," you began the start of your explanation, "Gwen was right. You were too hard on him, you should have let her do the talking." you attempted to make your point despite how close he was getting to you.

Miguel raised an eyebrow, his hands still on his hips as he took yet another step in your direction. You retaliated by backing away.

"Is that so?" he tilted his head with forced amusement on his handsome face, "And what makes you so sure of that? Hm, Princesa?" he finally has you cornered with your back against the wall.

Your heart fluttered at the pet name.

You knew he was taunting you but something about the way it rolled off his tongue so smoothly made your stomach begin to coil. It also didn't help that he had you pinned up against a wall with his hot breath fanning your face as he used one arm to hold himself up and leaned down to your level.

Gulping, you had no response for him which caused a smirk to spread across his face and reveal a glimmer of his fangs. "Don't get quiet now, Bebe. You started this conversation, so finish it." Miguel continued with his tactics, loving the effect he had on you.

Using his free hand, he gently caressed your jaw and placed his finger below your chin. This allowed him to tilt your head back and force you to look up at him with sultry eyes.

"Miguel..." you whispered in defeat as you gave in to the attraction and tension between the two of you.

In a matter of seconds, his lips came crashing down against yours so roughly it nearly knocked you over. But he caught you immediately by wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you close to his broad chest.

It took a moment for your tongues to find a rhythm because of his fangs occasionally bumping into your more-so-normal teeth. Despite the hassle, the two of you never broke the intimate kiss, no matter how many tooth-to-fang collisions you had.

As his lips and tongue worked their magic with yours, his hands explored your body desperately and darted from place to place as if he were too excited to focus on one part to touch.

Miguel felt along the curve of your waist and hips where he could grip onto the softness of your love handles. He loved the way you writhed under his fingertips due to how sensitive to touch you had become.

But if we're being completely honest he was the same tense mess in the palm of your hands while your lips moved together in sync. "Jump for me, Princesa." he muttered breathlessly after placing his large hands on the backs of your thighs to support you.

Without any hesitation, you did as he said. This allowed him to carry you over to his desk where his lips met with yours once again, leading to another make-out session.

And even though Miguel was slowly falling in love with the way you tasted, he couldn't help but want more as the bulge in his suit grew tighter and tighter to the point of being uncomfortable. I mean it wasn't his suit's fault.

It's not like they're made for getting hard on's during battle.

You knew how he felt though, just in a different way.

You yourself were squirming at the slickness building between your thighs and the tight black and pink suit you were wearing wasn't helping with the friction at all.

Growing impatient, Miguel lowered you to your feet and broke the kiss, "What're you-" before you could finish your question he was bending you over the desk.

"Don't get mad at me for this." His words were followed by the sound of his claws extending and then, rip!

In the blink of an eye, he tore open the back of your suit effortlessly, your leggings and underwear facing the same fate soon after.

"Miguel!" You let out a frustrated groan. What were you supposed to tell your Aunt May who made that suit for you? Or any of the other spider people out those doors when you walk out with a Miguel-sized tear on your behind?

"¡Cállate la boca." he cursed while disassembling his suit so that he is left in nothing but the pair of grey sweatpants and black boxers he always wore underneath.

No shirt though just because.

You hated the fact he continued to insult you in Spanish but made little to no protests because of how badly you wanted him right now. At the sound of his shuffling clothing, you turned your head back to get a glance at his glory since you have never seen him without his suit on.

The sight alone was nearly enough to make you orgasm on the spot.

His entire torso is covered in muscles and his skin is glistening due to the thin layer of sweat building upon it. He is even more beautiful under that tech-ridden suit of his.

But as your eyes lingered lower and lower, you couldn't help but gulp at the length and thickness of his erect cock in his hand being loosely pumped and prepped.

Miguel's eyes meet yours, allowing you to watch as they flicker between their usual shade of brown and deep blood red as if he's fighting to stay composed.

Struggling to maintain patience yourself, you squeezed your thighs together and pushed your hips back towards his. With a low growl of desperation, Miguel glided the veiny shaft of his cock between your folds and against your pulsating clit to collect the slick wetness.

"Tell me what you want, Princesa." he ordered as he repeated the teasing motion and caused you to whimper into the palm of your hand.

You both knew any and all noise made would echo off the walls and out into the rest of the building, but that didn't stop Miguel from milking every sound he could out of you while taunting your needy cunt.

Holding back a moan, you lifted your head and looked back to him, "I want you to-" you halted to let out a gasp of pleasure as the tip of his manhood rubbed your sensitive clit just right.

"I want you to fuck me." You finished your request in a whine soft enough to resemble a whisper, your face flushing to a shade of red from embarrassment.

You didn't have much time to dwell on it because in just one second, Miguel had lined his cock up with your throbbing entrance and snapped his hips forward to shove his length into the heat of your pussy.

The two of you moaned in sync at the tight and hot feeling of your plush walls clenching around him, you nearly screamed at the stinging stretch of your body adjusting to his girth.

"Ay, coño..." Miguel growled deeply enough to trigger your spidey senses once again, but for some reason, this only aroused you even more.

The idea of pure bliss sending him into such an animalistic state made your stomach knot and coil as he placed his hands on both sides of your hips with his claws now out and digging into your soft skin.

"Miguel~" you whined his name eagerly, the pain of his nails stabbing you and the pleasure of his cock roughly slamming in and out of your burning cunt melding together.

At this point, your brain was mush from the sheer overwhelming feeling of being fucked by this man, so much so that you didn't even notice him leaning onto you and resting his chest on your arched back.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his plump lips peppered kisses along your shoulder and neck in sync with the movement of his hips, "You feel so good, y/n." Miguel grunted while his mouth fell agape, "I can't control myself." he murmured before suddenly clamping his fangs into the smooth skin of your shoulder.

You winced in pain and felt yourself becoming woozy from the multiple sensations. He was truly marking you as his own, something he had never felt inquired to do before when being intimate with someone.

You were different though, and the moment his lips met yours he turned feral.

He was no longer your boss Miguel O'Hara or Spiderman 2099. He was a wild animal with one goal in mind.

And that was to make you his.

"Mi...Miguel..." All you could do was moan out incoherent versions of his name as he pounded into you like his life depended on it and his wandering hands made their way around your body, savoring every second of you.

"You're being so good for me, Princesa. S'good~" he trailed off while removing his fangs from your shoulder and directing his focus to your breasts in his hands. He kneaded them roughly as his palms pressed against your sensitive nubs, adding a new sensation to the experience.

The desk beneath the two of you wobbled and shook aggressively, making enough noise to cover up your whines and his growls but not well enough to stop a passing Spiderman from hearing the commotion and triggering your spidey senses.

This was a different trigger than Miguel's behavior, so you knew you had to think quickly.

"Is everything okay in there?" A voice calls out just as you shoot a web to the door's lock and successfully stop the man from entering and catching the two of you.

Miguel's red eyes snap towards the door, a sinister smirk spreading across his devious face. You could practically see the light bulb go on over his head, he was planning something.

"Everything's fine...in here." he cleared his throat while slowing his hips to a more calm pace.

You let out a sigh of relief thinking you were in the clear, until you feel one of his hands linger away from your breast and down to your soaked pussy.

With wide eyes you grab his wrist, "Stop you're gonna get us caught." you whispered.

"Didn't I tell you to cállate?" Miguel took both of your hands and pinned them to your back at your wrists, "Hey!" you called out only to be interrupted from further complaints by a plaster of webs being shot over your mouth.

"Any updates on the Morales kid?" he spoke to the Spiderman through the door as if everything were normal while returning his fingers to your cunt and directing two of them to your throbbing clit.

Your brain nearly melted when he slammed his hips into you at the same pace as earlier. You couldn't even hear what they were talking about due to the bliss you were in.

The coil that had been building in your stomach was unraveling at a rapid speed causing your spongey walls to clench around Miguel's manhood so tightly he couldn't help but hiss.

Your body tensed and trembled as you reached your climax with a scream barely muffled by the webs of the makeshift gag Miguel had shot onto your lips. But you didn't care. You were in so much euphoria you forgot where you were, who you were, and what you were doing.

Miguel chuckled and continued his actions to guide you through your high until you returned to your senses, "Holy fuck, Miguel that was..." you panted, still incoherent through the web muzzle.

Little did you know, he wasn't done with you just yet.

He still hadn't finished, and there was something he had been wanting to do since you joined the spider society.

In one swift motion, Miguel pulled you up by your arm and pushed you onto the floor on your knees for him.

"I've been wanting to put that dirty mouth of yours to use for a while now, mi vida." he said while caressing your cheek, "Never had the chance until now." he continued before using his fingers to remove the web plaster from your soft lips.

Staring up at him you take his twitching and dripping wet cock into your trembling hands. "Go on, you got me like this so finish the job." he coaxed you with his gentle words and cunning smirk.

Opening your mouth as wide as you can, you wrap your lips around his shaft and curl your tongue under his tip. The second you do so, Miguel's knees buckle and his hand finds its way to the top of your head where his fingers entangle themselves in your hair.

Keeping your mouth in this position, you move your head in a slow and torturous rhythm, attempting to savor every minute of Miguel's groans and grunts. It doesn't take long before he is taking control of the situation like always and thrusting himself into your mouth at a more suitable pace.

Within seconds he is painting the back of your throat with his climax, a trail of muttered obscenities leaving his parted lips.

As the two of you are cleaning up and getting your stories straight, Miguel looks at you and offers you a genuine smile, the first you've ever seen out of him.

"So is now a bad time to ask you out for dinner?"

"You usually do that BEFORE what we just did. But sure, dinner sounds nice."

[cooganbegs-blog]

Everyone gets a second chance apparently. A first and final warning has been administered as well as disciplinary action.

- Mandated 4 day work week to sort shit and life out

- must seek help for apparent mental issues on a weekly or fortnightly basis

- must undergo bullying and sexual harassment training

- is not allowed to consume alcohol at all with employees or customers in any circumstance

The final straw was the recent industry event we hosted where the disgusting and quite frankly sackable behaviour was exhibited. The execs tried to make it out as an alcohol fuelled one-off aberration…..this denial was the spark that lit the bushfire.

I considered leaving. Another hive, another fucking pig of a white, entitled and power drunk male (and one female to be true). Something snapped in me when I heard the raft of stories that started to leak out across the leadership team level and the exec level. But everyone was too scared to speak up. The unpredictable, bullying and aggressive behaviour has left everyone running scared of his retribution if they made a complaint.

It was time. Time to stop running, time to start to to rewire my brain which has been conditioned since birth to be terrified of entitled men and let them have their way. Enough.

And so, I made the initial report. A landslide followed. Years of pent up fear and rage and disgust and frustration. This they could not ignore.

A female exec who had refused to have a 1:1 for over 6 months and has resigned and made no secret of the reasons why she is resigning

An exec who was made redundant after years of bullying

The account director who was physically stood over and threatened and regularly abused for being “stupid”

The head of marketing who had her personal life dissected and advise on her sex life administered loudly and publically at a industry function

The technical sales manager who had her HR record pulled up on his phone at an industry event and read out in front of other staff and customers

The list was exhaustive, enormous, crossed genders and levels of the business: bullying, sexual harassment and aggression.

I’m tired. So tired.

A report was compiled and anonymised, sent to the owner, the board and the person in question. It’s done and apparently over now. Everyone is shocked bla bla bla.

There’s some part of me that acknowledges that everyone deserves a second chance. But the rest of me is tired of these people getting away with this shit. Do I think for one fucking second that anyone else in the company would have lasted years behaving like this in any other role?? Abso-fucking-lutely NOT. And they definitely would have been sacked, not given a fucking warning.

There’s one other niggle. I report to the CTO and so went to home with my concerns and his response, on reflection is concerning. He was of course horrified but also mentioned that he’d seen some poor treatment for some members of the exec team but nothing to the extent that I was talking about, and he had never been treated with anything but respect. Why didn’t he call out this behaviour? His silence enabled this shit to go on. His silence made it ok for it to continue. What the fuck is going on at the exec level that they aren’t holding each other to account?? Seriously. His silence makes him complicit .

Justice has to be seen to be done, not worked around because of a job title.

[chenziee]

Cigars, smoke, you, and I

This story was brought to you by @/ritsukotheloner on twitter! Thank you so much for the trust with this commission 🤍

If you'd like to have your own story written by me, check out my commission info right here! 😊

[ Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi ]

—————

Punk Hazard was a mess. It wasn’t like Smoker had expected any less; when he had followed the emergency call to the supposedly deserted island, he knew he would find something akin to a burning shipwreck of a situation, but this really was something else. 

Truly the kind of mess that only happened when Straw Hat was involved.

Smoker knew he should have locked that kid up all the way back in Logue Town.

“You look like you’re about to blow up like a pressure pot, White Chase-ya,” an amused voice said. “You really need to relax once in a while.”

Closing his eyes, Smoker took a deep breath as he prayed for patience. This asshole…

Smoker sighed as he turned around to glare at the young pirate. He was lounging on the couch that took up most of the small room—one of the last few intact ones in the remains of Caesar’s laboratory. The room that Smoker had claimed for his own just to get a damn break.

A break which he was apparently not going to ever get.

“What are you still doing here, Law?” Smoker asked in annoyance. “Get the hell off the island already.”

“Then tell your girl to take the kids and leave. Straw Hat-ya’s refusing to set sail before then.” Law shrugged, leaning further back into the couch as if he belonged there.

Smoker rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Why did he suffer this guy? As if Straw Hat wasn’t bad enough…

“I’m going to kick you out,” Smoker growled.

Law snorted, his lips curling into that insufferable smirk of his. “You’re welcome to try.”

Clicking his tongue, Smoker looked away. There was no point to this; Law made it perfectly clear he wasn’t about to leave and if Smoker were to be honest… he didn’t really want him to leave either. He would sooner tell Straw Hat he believed he would become the Pirate King than admit it but something in Law’s demeanour, his eyes, the way he talked—not to mention the whole thing with Vergo… it worried Smoker.

Something was going on, something deeper than Law was letting on, and Smoker wasn’t sure what to do about it.

How ridiculous; it wasn’t like they were dating or anything. Sure, they may have fucked a few times since Law became a Warlord, maybe got drunk together a few times more, and maybe Tashigi got a bit confused about it all, but Law was a pirate. Warlord or not, he was still an outlaw, and he certainly didn’t need Smoker to worry about him.

He was likely to lose his Warlord status within the week anyway; then Smoker was finally free to arrest him like he deserved.

“Are you done doing mental gymnastics over there?” Law asked, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

“Fuck off,” Smoker groaned, before taking his jacket off and tossing it on the coffee table next to the couch.

Smoker heaved a sigh, walking over to loom over Law; the pirate simply looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, the goddamned cocky smirk still on his face. It was making Smoker’s blood boil, stirring something up inside him—and he was sure that was exactly what Law was trying to do. To piss him off, to rile him up, to manipulate him into finally snapping. Smoker hated it… and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

Instead, he was drawn to the man, to the pirate, the scum of the world. Like a damn fool.

He hated Law for it. He hated himself for it.

But even so…

“You’re going to drive me insane,” Smoker muttered as he leaned over the couch, placing one of his knees in between Law’s legs, forcing them apart.

Law didn’t say anything; only his smirk widened as tattooed fingers danced over the naked skin of Smoker’s chest, making goosebumps rise wherever they touched, a shiver running up Smoker’s spine.

Clicking his tongue once more, Smoker grabbed Law’s chin, forcing him to look at him. There was a cheeky, victorious spark in Law’s gaze, one that pissed Smoker off to no end. He narrowed his eyes at him, his expression twisting into a scowl.

That only seemed to amuse Law even more. “You seem a bit frustrated, White Chase-ya. Something wrong?”

How Smoker wanted to just snap his neck…

A growl escaping him, Smoker finally moved in—their lips crashing together.

The kiss was far from sweet; it was rough, full of energy and conflicting emotions. Lips moving with practised ease but not gentle, with teeth nipping painfully, hair being pulled. It was a kiss of passion, of lust—a physical thing. Feelings meant nothing—they were something Smoker refused to let enter this strange relationship of theirs.

After all, there was nothing here. He was a marine, Law was a pirate.

What use were feelings for?

Law would laugh in his face if he said that out loud. He would tease him mercilessly with an irritating smirk on his face, even while his eyes would have this stupidly soft look in them. Then he would tell Smoker to stop lying to himself.

Maybe he would be right. But Smoker knew better than to entertain those thoughts. He was already in too deep. Letting himself fall any deeper…

That would be plain insanity.

—————

Taking a long drag of his cigars, Smoker sighed. Once again, he found himself in this situation. How many times had it been until now? How many times had he ended up lying in a bed—or a couch in this case—, smoking his cigars with a warm body curled up against him?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

It didn’t really matter at this point anymore either. He could only give up and resign himself to his fate of having a giant goddamned cat sprawled in between his legs and using his chest like a fucking pillow.

“What are you thinking about?” said cat asked quietly.

Smoker blew out the smoke from his lungs, taking a moment to reply. What was he thinking about? “Wondering how the fuck I got here, I guess.”

“Chasing after Straw Hat-ya, I imagine,” Law noted with amusement and Smoker just knew that fucking smirk was back on his face.

“You know damn well that’s not what I meant,” Smoker sighed. He didn’t even have the energy to get angry anymore.

He had expected Law would jump on the opportunity to tease him but when he only hummed noncommittally, Smoker couldn’t help but frown, looking at him questioningly. But of course, he couldn’t see his face; only the mess of dark blue hair resting against Smoker’s chest was visible. Smoker wondered what kind of expression Law was wearing right then. And what he was thinking about in that moment.

“Oi, Law—” Smoker started, but then stopped himself. He wasn’t even sure what he was about to ask, or what he was going to say.

Law didn’t acknowledge Smoker’s words, didn’t ask what they were supposed to mean. He didn’t say anything, nor did he move at all—not until he craned his head back, gazing up at Smoker with an unreadable look in his eyes before he reached out with his hand…

And then, Smoker could only watch, completely stunned, as Law grabbed one of his cigars, taking it straight out of Smokers mouth and bringing it to his own lips, taking a drag. As he exhaled, the smoke slowly rolled past his lips, swirling in the air gently, almost beautifully.

It felt like with the smoke, Law was letting something else out.

“Since when do you smoke?” Smoker asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t,” Law replied simply, only to take yet another drag.

Smoker was silent for a moment, considering Law who suddenly seemed so small against him. There were a million things Smoker wanted to ask, like ‘Are you okay?’ or something equally stupid. But he couldn’t say that. Didn’t know how.

And so, he said the next best thing. “Shouldn’t you be choking then?”

Law snorted, his hand that wasn’t holding the cigar rising to casually give Smoker the finger. Truly an asshole in every situation…

“‘I don’t! doesn’t mean ‘I never tried’. Nor does it mean I don’t know how to,” Law said.

His voice was full of sarcastic amusement, teasing Smoker… but it felt empty, heavy. Like Law was somewhere else and not here and now, in this room with Smoker. He was somewhere far away, out of Smoker’s reach, even though he was making himself perfectly comfortable in his arms. Somehow… he was slipping away from Smoker’s grasp despite his warmth being everything Smoker could feel.

Without even realising it, Smoker wrapped his arms around Law’s stomach, pulling him close. He could feel his chest rising; when he placed his hand over his heart, he could feel it beating. And yet, it still didn’t feel like Law was there.

“Just what are you planning?” Smoker asked, barely audible.

Law huffed, shooting a quick look at Smoker. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Vice-Admiral?”

Smoker rolled his eyes. Now the asshole remembered Smoker’s position—even if it were simply to deflect the issue. “You know damn well I can’t arrest you, Warlord.”

Law laughed at that, the small movement shaking Smoker to the core. “Touche. But how long will I still have that status, hm?” Law asked, even though it didn’t sound like he was waiting for an answer.

“Seems like that bit doesn’t matter to you,” Smoker muttered.

“I got what I wanted.” Law shrugged as he brought Smoker’s cigar back to his lips. “I broke the cogs.”

“Don’t lie.” Smoker knew there was no point to this conversation. He knew Law wouldn’t explain, wouldn’t give him any more to go on than he already did. But that didn’t stop Smoker from continuing even so. “It might be a cog for Straw Hat’s purpose but not for you. You just wanted to piss Doflamingo off. What is it you want from the guy?”

Law didn’t answer him. Nor did Smoker expect him to.

They sat together in silence, Smoker’s arms tightening around Law, as if he was scared he would slip away for real—and Law let him. He took a deep breath, holding it in for a second… then exhaled slowly, his whole body relaxing into Smoker.

For a moment… nothing else mattered.

They sat in silence until their cigars burned out.

—————

“Where are they?!”

Smoker barely moved a muscle at the enraged shout. Somehow, it was really damn satisfying seeing Doflamingo of all people losing his composure, letting his emotions show. Smoker was used to seeing the Warlord with that unreadable, everpreset grin—as if nothing mattered to him, as if he was above it all; as if he was controlling everything like the world itself was tied to his stupid strings.

But now, nothing was going as he wanted it to and Smoker had to silently commend Law for driving this man into a corner like this.

“Where the hell did those damned kids go? Smoker!”

Meeting Doflamingo’s gaze, Smoker’s mind flashed to his conversation with Law earlier. SAD. Green Bit. Dressrosa. Joker. Cigars. Smoke.

None of it made any sense but Smoker did know one thing.

“I have no idea… Joker. They slipped away. I’ll have to answer to Vice Admiral Vergo for that one.”

Law told him where he was going for a reason. Even if he were simply using Smoker for his own purpose that way, he trusted that Smoker would do something with that information.

The least Smoker could do right now was to not disappoint that trust.

[officialleehadan]

Glass Temper

C

ity on Cliff

+++

Meira did not think much of the noble ladies of the north.

Oh, her soon-to-be mother-in-law was a delight, but she was an elf, not a human, and a queen to boot. That meant something rather different where behavior was concerned. The rest of the ladies were, in a word, frankly absurd.

For one, they seemed to shy away from doing anything for themselves. Meira always had maids of course, but her dresses didn’t require three people to get them on. She drew her own bath, accustomed to the ever-hot baths of Glassbyrn. She went down to the kitchen when she wanted a snack, rather than wasting a servant’s time.

All of that seemed to make her profoundly scandalous.

Then of course there was the way she talked to the tradesmen who came to the castle, often accompanied by Anseraen, who was madly in love with glassmaking. He was already planning to make more of the memory-bubbles for his parents and brothers. With Meira to help with the glass, he could pull memories from his family and give them their own eternal reminders of Haeleri. There were portraits of her around, but the memories were better.

Meira’s willingness to work the glass herself was apparently the final straw for the ladies, who had already been whispering about her behind her back. The princes did their best to stifle the rumors of course, but there was nothing for it. The court would have their gossip, and Meira was presently the most interesting thing going on.

Mostly it was manageable. Cut glass was as valuable as jewels, and her gowns were in the style of her own people, but were more than ornate enough to keep anyone from turning their noses up at her. Her hair styled well, her skin and teeth were good. All in all, it was hard to find a flaw with her appearance, except for her glass-scarred hands, which Meira simply wasn’t bothered by.

But the barbs still hurt.

“Yes,” she said, out of patience when she passed the latest, scandalized bunch of whisperers. She was dressed for the workshop today, because that was where she had been, helping Anseraen with his project for his family. The undyed cotton was very soft, but it was marked with the stains and holes. She carried her leather apron in one hand, and her hair curled out of her braid. “I am dirty, and my hands are scarred,. They got that way by making beautiful things.”

There was a wave of horrified silence following her words and Meira just glared around her indiscriminately. The ladies around her stared, apparently utterly shocked that she had bothered to notice their whispers, let alone that she had brought it up in public. Meira didn’t care if it was inappropriate. She was tired of being the target of their small-minded mockery.

“I am not the same kind of lady as you,” she continued, irate enough to make something of a spectacle of herself. Anseraen appeared in a doorway, but stayed quiet. Like her, he was in his work clothes. He raised a brow to ask if she needed help, and she shook her head a little. This was for her to handle or they would never respect her. “and amid my people, it is not fashionable to be useless. Would you care to demonstrate skill, just one, that is not purely ornamental No? I didn’t think so.”

She was snapping a bit. That was alright. It was time they saw she had some teeth.

“Moreover,” she said, gaining steam. Anseraen was starting to smile, so she assumed she wasn’t going to have problems with his family over her outburst. “Glassmaking is complicated, and takes years of study. That I am good at it speaks for my dedication to my craft. The glass of my city made my family royal, and we hold with the traditions of our home. So, if any of you squalling chickadees care to show an ounce of value amongst the lot of you, you can make your apologies to me in private. Until then, I am certain you can keep your tongues from wagging where I can hear them!”

With that, she resumed her path through the castle, and determinedly ignored the whispers that sprang up in her wake. Whispers that got much louder when Anseraen joined her from his hidden doorway. Before she could greet him, or indeed say anything at all, he bent and kissed her, slow and thorough. Meira’s knees went weak and she looped an arm around his shoulders to stay upright.

“Gracious,” she gasped when he pulled away, entirely smug with himself. “What was that all about?”

The court around them had gone utterly silent again, no doubt torn between astonishment and confusion. It wasn’t common to show such open affection in this court, nor was his open, and very apparent approval of her outburst. The court might think what it wanted, but Anseraen wasn’t about to say a word about it.

“I am not allowed to kiss my betrothed?” he asked with the kind of smile that threatened to make Meira’s knees go weak again, all on its own. He and his brothers took after their father’s eyes, but they took their fine features from their elvish mother. “Particularly when she is reminding my parents’ court of the fine traits that made me fall in love with her in the first place?

“I should have known you would be a wicked flirt, once you stopped looking so sad,” Meira told him and smiled. It was a joke between them, from when they had first started courting. It hadn’t been that long ago, but it felt like an age already. “Stop scandalizing your courtiers, my love, and let me change for dinner. I don’t want to eat with your family reeking of the workshops.”

+++

City on a Cliff:

Glass Shadow

Glass Heart 

Glass Fire  (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Light

Glass Wishes (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Bubbles

Glass Moon (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Question (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Water

Glass Cascade

Glass Welcome

Glass Whispers

Glass Temper (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[nehswritesstuffs]

Inherited Will, Destiny of the Age, Graveyard of Ambition and Dreams - Part 5

Sorry for sitting on this for so long. In other fic news, I should be getting together the final parts of stuff not-this soon, since I want to do another semi-rush for the year-end holidays. I mean, who doesn’t want to decompress with some fic?

Part 1 on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3] 

Prior chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Hoist the Colors; with Arlong out of the way, the Straw Hats decide to do some acquiring of things. [bad future!One Piece AU]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After finding the kitchens and making sure Rika had a snack and the beginnings of the main food prep had been started, Chabo and Kappa left their… neither were entirely certain what to call the pirates, but they left them in order to search the compound to check to see if there were any other Fish-Men straggling behind. When they were confident there wasn’t, they went into the inner sanctum and began to rifle through their former oppressors’ things, searching for anything that could be useful before any of them returned to claim them. Seemingly endless pieces of abandoned navigation equipment were getting wrapped up in paper and put into carryall bags, while varying maps, books, and cartography supplies were getting snatched as well.

“I’m still having trouble reconciling the cheerful woman with a straw hat as someone who now has two Bosses under her belt,” Chabo said idly. He picked up a book and casually flipped through it—nothing they needed. “She’s… something else.”

⌠⌠That’s an understatement if I’ve heard one,⌡⌡ Kappa scoffed. He was lining up a series of Eternal Poses on the table and comparing them with a sea chart, seeing which ones he wanted to take. ⌠⌠You saying anything I need to know…?⌡⌡

“Kakkun…”

⌠⌠You want her, go ahead; I don’t make moves on women whose sanity is liable to snap while she puppeteers my own suicide.⌡⌡

⌠⌠She just saved our home, ending what we’ve been trying to topple for most of our lives in a matter of minutes. Doesn’t that… unnerve you…?⌡⌡

⌠⌠It does, but I’m trying to be as logical as possible right now, because passion at this stage is liable to get us into trouble.⌡⌡ He switched languages as he made his decision, taking all but a couple of the Poses. “You’d think that they would take all this with them.”

“Chances are that they don’t need them as firmly as we do, or they have another cache somewhere else.”

Kappa shrugged at that and they kept rummaging about, knowing exactly what it was they needed. The sounds of shuffled papers and softly clinking glass was only broken when Grand Line native shivered at the sight of a photo.

“Oh, kalyv, I think I found her,” he said, voice quiet. Chabo looked at the other man, seeing that he was staring at a framed photo on the wall.

“Found who…?”

“Nami.”

Chabo abandoned the pile of maps to look at the photo. Sure enough, there was a picture of the Arlong Pirates from decades prior, all Fish-Men with exception of a sullen-looking Human girl with red hair. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen, her discomfort apparent to the two men.

“You know, I spent so much time thinking that she was a monster, that when I finally learned what she was doing with the Fish-Men, I cried for an entire night,” Chabo explained solemnly. “She tried to save up enough to buy Cocoyasi’s freedom, and when she didn’t return that one day, Arlong took her savings for himself and razed the village. She’d have to be almost forty now, if we ever find her. Uncle held out hope this entire time but I think all that’s left of her is these maps.”

“You know… you never told me how you and Genzo escaped.”

“Her sister,” Chabo tapped the portion of the photo with the child, “sent me to find Uncle. He was at their adoptive mother’s grave. I think he had been in love with her at one point. It’s the one on the cliff, where the Fish-Men never went. By the time we returned, everyone was dead.”

“Then let’s find everything we can and make sure none of that was in vain,” Kappa nodded. He and Chabo continued to gather up papers and charts, filling a couple large bags with things they deemed necessary to sail to and on the Grand Line, along with the little bit of money that was left behind in the Fish-Men’s mad scramble to leave. They then went back down to the kitchen, where Rika and Ninjin were already devouring a large meal, much to Tamanegi and Piiman’s horror.

“Good, you’re back,” Tamanegi noticed. “Did you find what you need?”

“We did,” Kappa said. He held up what looked like a bulbous wristwatch, which contained a fidgety compass inside instead of a timepiece. “This is a Log Pose—we’ll need this in order to sail the Grand Line.”

“Why’s that?” Rika asked, mouth full of food. The others tried not to think of how scary she had been just earlier in the day, with the way she dispatched Arlong easily.

“Each island has a unique magnetic field; when traveling, you have to sail to whichever island the Log Pose picks up next, then wait for it to reset. It takes anywhere from a couple hours to a couple years, which make these necessary as well.” He took what appeared to be another twitchy compass in a single-bulbed hourglass out of his bag and set it on the table. Rika picked it up and examined it—the words ST. POPLAR was engraved on the wood. “This is an Eternal Pose, or: a work-around to the Log Pose’s reset system. To get off some islands in a timely manner, you need these. There were dozens of them in the offices.”

“That’s it…?” Rika questioned, raising an eyebrow. Kappa scoffed.

“Have any of the rest of you been on the Grand Line?” No one else moved. “It’s a place with crazy weather and an even crazier time navigating. We need to go and find the best ship we can here and then take it to a place where we can get a decent one, Grand Line capable. Only then can we go gallivanting around as you please.”

“Where do you suppose we do that?” Tamanegi asked.

“I have some ideas, but considering it’s been over fifteen years, I’d need to do some digging first before I decide on a course and destination.” He stared at the food on the table and his mouth began to water, tempted to sit down and start eating his fill. “I… am going to tell Genzo that we’re safe and start getting word out to the rest of the Resistance.”

“We’ll stay here, Kakkun, and see what the Fish-Men have left us in terms of usable boats,” Chabo said.

“Remember: something that can at least make it to Logue Town, possibly even part of the Grand Line,” he warned. “Save some food for me, alright?”

The rest of them were in agreement—it was the least they could do, after all.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a long time before Kappa returned to Arlong Park, with the sun having almost set by the time he made it back. The others were already attempting to make dinner, though it didn’t mean that he was going to get by unnoticed.

“Kappa! I’m making my special onigiri!” Rika cheered as she saw him walk past the kitchen. He didn’t stop, instead keeping his head down and continuing on down the corridor. “Huh… do you think he heard me?”

“He might be headed towards the docks,” Piiman frowned. “The compound is a good shortcut.”

“Then I’ll go see what’s wrong,” Chabo said.

He put down the rice he was balling and followed Kappa outside. He eventually found the other man by the harbor, sitting on one of the docks with his legs dangling over the side. There weren’t many ships that had been left behind, but the way he was positioned, he was looking across the wharf at a potential craft to get to the Grand Line.

“Hey,” he said. Kappa did not move, allowing Chabo to sit down next to him, their bodies barely making contact. “Did it… did it happen…?”

“I got there and he was already cold,” Kappa admitted. A long silence passed, with crickets chirping and frogs croaking. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“He raised us.”

“We’re not brothers, or cousins…”

“He made sure we were taken care of, so in a weird way, yeah, he raised us. People feel sad when the people who raise them pass away.” Tears began to form in Chabo’s eyes, threatening to develop into an out-right sob. “He didn’t even get to see Cocoyasi again…”

“Come here.” Kappa put his arm around the other man’s shoulders and let him lean into his side, resting his head against Chabo’s as the tears began to flow. There was nothing left for him to cry, Kappa knew, as he already got it all out on the walk back.

⌠⌠It’s not fair…⌡⌡

⌠⌠Of course it’s not, but we know that.⌡⌡

⌠⌠I don’t want to be the only one left… not again…⌡⌡

⌠⌠Then come with us.⌡⌡ Chabo pushed away gently, his eyes still glassy with tears. “I am going to need all the fucking sanity I can get, and if Rika is as insane as I think she is, I’m also going to need backup in case she goes off the deep end.”

“I thought a captain has to invite crew members, and although she’s been nice, she hasn’t said a word about me…”

“I’ll just make it a term of my joining.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re dumber than a lone traveler in the desert, but I’m not going to abandon you.”

They stayed quiet for a while, simply staring at the wharf ahead.

“Kakkun…?”

“Kalyv…?”

Chabo paused and, decided on something else to say. “I really hope Terragram is out there somewhere for you. Do you think he’s still alive?”

“I’m certain of it.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It took a couple days to convince the other members of the Conomi Resistance to head over to Cocoyasi, but when they did, there was much for them to catch up on. There was a large party to celebrate the ousting of their former oppressors, with plenty of food and drink and toasts towards the Straw Hat Pirates. It lasted for an entire week. Not many could remember the entire thing, if they were being honest, and they didn’t mind—the Fish-Men were gone and that was what mattered.

The pirates stayed in-port long enough for Chabo and Kappa to erect a proper memorial to the man who took them in, right next to the one for the woman he had reminisced about so much, before gathering enough supplies to last them until the next populated island. Over a month had passed since the Straw Hat Pirates had climbed ashore, and it seemed as though they were leaving with heavy hearts. The residents of the Conomi Islands were both ready to see the end of the era of pirates in their midst, but didn’t necessarily want to get rid of these particular pirates.

“What is the flag you fly?” the new mayor of Cocoyasi asked. She tilted her head as she watched the entire crew look at Rika, who chuckled awkwardly. They were all at the wharf as the pirates were finishing loading their ship for their journey in the morning.

“Here’s the thing—I don’t have one yet,” she admitted. The mayor shook her head.

“That won’t do,” she claimed. “We want to know what we can fly, so that we can properly be under your protection. Do any of you have a steady hand?”

“I do,” Tamanegi offered. He and Rika were led away by the mayor, leaving the rest of the crew to continue loading the ship.

“Why do I get a bad feeling about this?” Kappa frowned. He picked up a small crate and carried it up the gangplank, setting it in front of Piiman and Chabo, who were lowering the supplies into the inner hold for Ninjin to sort and put away.

“It could be worse,” Piiman shrugged. “One of them could be a teenager with horrid penmanship. Even if Rika’s shit at drawing, at least there’s not much Tam will let fly before taking over.”

“That’s less assuring than it needs to be.”

“Kakkun, be nice,” Chabo teased. He then looked down the hatch, seeing Ninjin shoving a crate off to the side. “How much room we got left?”

“Enough,” he replied. He then popped his head up above deck, looking about. “Yeah, we can fit that.”

“The big question is though: how much of this will actually make it to the Grand Line and what won’t?” Kappa said. “It’s been too long.”

“Don’t worry; you’ve got this,” Ninjin grinned. He then noticed Rika and Tamanegi running back to the ship, a large black cloth carried between them. “That’s fast!”

“Yeah! You’re gonna love this!” Rika shouted.

“It was pretty easy once we got going,” Tamanegi added. The men watched as Rika climbed up the mast with a rope in-hand, which she used to pull up the cloth once she got high enough to use the yardam as leverage. She brought it with her into the crow’s nest and strung it up, letting the fabric unfurl in the wind.

There it was: a grinning skull and crossbones wearing pigtails and a straw hat, just like her.

“How’s that?!” she shouted down, her smile brighter than the sun.

It was nothing less than perfect.

[aezuria]

uptown girl!

"she's been living in her uptown world, i bet she's never had a backstreet guy" —billy joel

content: mortal au!leo valdez x reader

╰┈▸ info: stuck-up reader (she gets character development later), cursing, reader is ~18, early 2000s core

notes: stella finally posted a fic !? (pls tell me if u enjoy i need validation 😔)

this has got to be the worst way to start summer ever. first, your morning was ruined by a bird shitting all over your car window—not a mess you had the time nor the patience to clean. then, on your way to pick up your friends for some much needed girl time, your car had the fun idea of breaking down. great. it left you on the side of the road, dialing up your father. which, when you think about it, really wasn't your fault! your precious ride just spontaneously combusted or something. nothing to do with the fact that you've crashed the front about seven times since january. after all, you'd gotten them fixed! it should be the mechanic's fault. or maybe, this car was cursed!

but of course, your dad just had to disagree. apparently it was his "last straw."

you winced away from the phone's speaker as his voice burst through. "you have been so ungrateful lately! when you asked for that car, i bought it for you! i looked over the fact that you don't even have your license yet! all i asked was for you to take care of your things!" he cried. from the tone of his voice, you could imagine the creases dug into his forehead. okay, now you felt bad. just a little.

before you could apologize, he finished with, "you just wait until i get there, young lady."

leave it to him to take away your guiltiness.

"dad!" you watched in horror as the truck towed your sleek red baby to god knows where. you turned your stricken expression on him, hoping to elicit at least a little bit of sympathy. but it seemed like his mind was made up on this one. dammit.

he crossed his arms sternly, putting his foot down. "let's go. we'll talk more in the house."

"-so you want to ship me away to some place crawling with bugs and creeps for the rest of the summer!?" you screeched along with the chair as its legs slid across the kitchen's tile floor.

your dad raised his hand in a placating gesture. "now, now, just until your car is fixed. it might not even be a whole month." he shrugged. yeah, real comforting. "and the city's a nice place. we lived there when you were young, remember?"

"no, i don't remember." you snapped. you did remember, but that brought on memories you'd rather not have right now.

he sucked in a breath. "alright then. it won't be so bad. we still have that apartment, and i got it cleaned up recently. it'll teach you some responsibility and independence." he nodded, satisfied with his decision.

you opened your mouth to snark at him again, but he continued, "and you won't be completely alone. there's a nice young man who will be fixing up your car, just down the street from the apartment building. i asked him to show you around when he has the time. and you'll have your phone, so make sure to call me, okay?" his strict behavior gave way to the soft spot you knew he had for you.

"...okay," you agreed reluctantly. once he really made up his mind about something, there was no changing it, so there was no use in arguing.

he smiled, patting your shoulder gently. "great. now pack your bags."

"be sure to buy groceries, and do the laundry, and clean every so often-" your father rambled on and on. if he was this worried, why wouldn't he just not go through with it? and why was he acting like you couldn't do basic chores!? it's not like you ever did them, but they couldn't be too hard, right?

"i get it dad." you rolled your eyes, staring out the car window. the buildings were all drab, painted in browns and grays, without a single bright color in sight, save for the red stop signs.

he pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the building. your insides recoiled. you swore it didn't look this... dilapidated all those years ago. or maybe you just had better taste now.

"we're here! looks like it's got a lot of.. character." he tried to cheer you up, but even you could tell he didn't think to check how it looked. it would've hurt too much to do so.

your lip scrunched in distaste. "i can't spend a single second in there."

"don't worry, it'll be over before you know it." with one last reassuring smile, he turned and left.

the apartment itself wasn't too bad, it was all cleaned up, just as your father had said. it smelled faintly of lemon cleaner, pillows fluffed and spritzed. your room was cold despite the warmth that came with summer. the pristine sheets were unfamiliar against your skin, as if you were tucked into a hotel bed. the sound of tire rolling against pavement never ceased, people had places to go, places to be even in the dead of night. a draft through your window made you shiver. you should close that in the morning. you curled in on yourself like you did when you were little, only this time there was only the unfeeling fabric to hold you, instead of the warm, long forgotten embrace no one could quite replicate.

you cringed at the shoddy place your phone had led you to, and looked up at the peeling paint sign that read: valdez mechanics. how charming. you even debated touching the rusty doorknob, but it swung open before you could turn it. which would be nice, if it didn't almost smack you in the face.

"watch it!" you hissed, side-stepping in time to see a boy your age walking through. his hair was a mess, and there were grease stains all over his face and clothes. his fingers were tap, tap, tapping away at his leg, to the rhythm of the song blaring inside. you think he'd be cute if he wasn't so dirty.

“sorry ‘bout that!” he laughed sheepishly. he stared at you for a moment too long before asking, “you here for the thunderbird?”

“yes,” you said shortly.

he chose to ignore your clipped tone, flashing you a smile. “come on in then, yeah?”

you followed him into the tiny shop, already wanting to leave. the place smelled of oil, and you could barely find a clean place to sit on. there were tools thrown everywhere, the floor sticky with dried up grease.

“i’m leo, by the way.” his voice snapped you out of your judging thoughts as he led you to the back. you finally saw your car, propped up with the hood open.

“y/n.” you barely glanced at him as you rushed over, examining the damage. “so? what’s wrong with her?”

he gestured with the wrench in his hand—when’d he get that?—and pointed to the engine. “well that’s all busted up, so i’m gonna have to build a new one for ya. i’ll do you an oil change too and-“

“yeah um, how long will it take?” you interrupted, giving him a smile you did not want to have on.

“i’d say three to five weeks? depends if i have any other stuff that comes in so…”

three to five weeks of your summer wasted away here? when you’re supposed to be having the best time of your life before college!?

“are you serious? can you get it done sooner? i can pay you some more-“ you reached into your purse.

“whoa!” he caught your wrist. his hands were clean now, must’ve wiped them on a rag. “money won’t make me work faster, honey.” he let go and shrugged. “sorry.”

honey? “well then what will? cause i need to leave as soon as-“

“some help, maybe?”

you blinked at him, utterly flabbergasted. “you want me to help you? the person who’s paying for all this?”

“technically, your father’s the one paying,” leo pointed out. “and y’know. you don’t have to help, of course. it just might make it go a bit quicker…” he trailed off, dimples poking through as he tried to hide a cheeky smile.

you huffed. “what do i have to do?”

”i am not sticking my hands in those.” you defied, shaking your head firmly.

leo scoffed, flapping the gloves around. “come on! this is the cleanest pair i have!”

"put this here?" you asked, shoving a part that you forgot the name of into an empty space.

"hm?" leo looked up from his fiddling, jaw dropping in horror. "no no no!"

"oh i know how to do this!" you exclaimed as he gave you a screwdriver. "my dad always said 'lefty loosey, righty tighty.'"

the boy nodded. "yeah! try it out." he pointed to a loose screw.

you successfully tightened it (to the right), giving him a proud smirk. "see?"

"yup." leo grinned at your enthusiasm, even though it was the most basic thing ever. "try and tighten the rest. i'll be right back."

a loud clatter made leo jump from across the repair shop. he rushed over to you, finding the parts that were supposed to be screwed together in complete disarray. "uh, maybe you shouldn't help..."

"really?" you deadpanned. "i hadn't noticed."

"sorry." he laughed. "scooch."

you pursed your lips. no one told you to "scooch" before. but you moved over anyway.

"wanna keep me company?" leo slid his gloves on and began putting the contraption back together.

no, you thought. but you didn't have anything better to do other than wander the city like a clueless idiot. and you hated looking like an idiot. "fine."

the shop was quiet, save for the occasional clanging as leo worked on the engine. his rambling was cut short as he focused on his work, something you didn't know he could do.

"nice car you got here. i've always wanted to drive one of these." he patted its side appreciatively. "where'd you buy this?"

scratch that. maybe he could only shut up in two minute increments.

"don't know. my dad bought it for me." you looked around, not even bothering to hide your boredom.

"right." leo laughed. you found he did that a lot. "must be nice."

your eyebrows knitted in confusion. "i guess?" what did he mean by that?

"i hate it here. it's so boring!" you complained over the phone. cooking dinner had been an absolute mess. “and that leo guy is so weird.”

"give him a chance, will you? he could show you around town, maybe teach you some manners…” you father muttered the last bit.

"what?"

"nothing! all i'm saying is give that boy a chance. who knows, he could be a great friend."

“‘great friend’ my… foot.”

[storms-path]

Day 30 - Sojourn

Arashi awoke to three things. Firstly, a deep, sweltering heat that gave her the strong urge to cast off the blankets she was entangled in. Secondly, a familiar weight sprawled mostly on top of her, rising and falling with her every breath. Thirdly, very loud snoring.

Lyse was asleep, still. Not particularly surprising. The pair had been all over the island the previous day, gathering and combing whatever they could find. Tataru had given them a task, and the commanding mammet several more, and despite everything they were both adventurers at heart. And neither of them had any idea of when to stop until their bodies forcefully reminded them to do so.

Arashi craned her neck to gaze at the curtained window. From the brightness outside, likely late morning. Rare for her to sleep so well and so easily. Minus all the unfortunate incidents which had left her confined to bed and mostly unconscious, of course. Reflexively Arashi touched the latest of her scars, a thick line running down her face and across an eyelid. One of Zenos’s final gifts. She was lucky to be able to see at all from the affected eye, apparently. Still, it would heal in time. All things did. And, she had to admit, it was a hell of a tale to tell when asked about it. Oh, this old thing? I got it at the end of the universe when I fought the last Galvus alive.

Lyse was stirring now, a mess of blonde hair slowly dislodging itself from Arashi’s chest. “Mrnin” it mumbled, before a hand swept away the mess and revealed the bleary-eyed Ala Mhigan beneath. Arashi chuckled, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Lyse’s lips. Well, it was meant to be a soft kiss. The best laid plans and all that. Eventually the pair parted, though Arashi was seriously considering spending the rest of the day in bed afterwards. But then Lyse was disengaging, crawling out of bed with all the grace of a half-drunk goobbue and eliminating most of the hazy thoughts running through Arashi’s mind.

Their makeshift lodge wasn’t the fanciest, but it had enough walls and windows to keep the elements out, and just enough room for the pair to rest and relax in. Usually the mammets would be getting underfoot as well, crafting and cleaning and generally looking after the hazy chaos of two adventurers given their own private island. But Arashi had made quite clear that she expected privacy and peace at night, particularly from the head mammet who seemed entirely too hands-on for its own good. Under Tataru’s orders it may be, but that thing had its own agenda. Besides, boundaries had to be set. The only person Arashi wanted to see her naked was currently pawing around for the jug of water on their makeshift table.

There was a mammet-sized knock on the door, followed by a gently synthetic voice. “Pardon me, ma’ams, but a ship has been sighted coming into bay! Looks to be Tataru, if I don’t miss my guess!” Well, there went Arashi’s plans. Lyse was immediately making for the door, grasping her hair and pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. Only…

“Lyse.”

“Mm?”

“Clothes.”

“Oh!” Lyse turned a rather brilliant shade of crimson before scrambling to collect the scattered clothes from the night before. Arashi, still working up the energy to sit up, had a shirt flung at high speed against her face. By the time she had managed to dislodge it from her horns, Lyse was already mostly clothed and looking expectantly at her. “Come on, let’s go!” Arashi desperately envied Lyse’s ability to snap herself into lucidity. Would have made her life as an adventurer so much less stressful.

Several minutes later and Arashi was mostly presentable, dressed in an easily-buttoned dark green shirt and a pair of shorts. A sturdy set of boots and her favourite straw hat completed the look. Lyse was dressed similarly sparsely, having repurposed her old shorts for island exploration rather than frantic combat. Her shirt was a ruby mirror to Arashi’s own, minus a few buttons lost to wear, tear and tumble. Together the pair pushed open the door and stepped into the glorious heat and sunshine of the island.

The mammets were already hard at work, likely haven risen with the dawn. Outside of the surprisingly well-insulated lodge, base camp was alive with tiny hammers, shears axes and more as the hired mammet teams laboured to clear out more and more of the undergrowth halting further expansion. The workshops were also hard at work, creating items for export in the La Noscean markets. Arashi had mostly glazed over when the stock market was explained to her, so they were making whatever they had the materials for without much regard for supply or demand. It suited Arashi just fine.

The pair set off down the dusty, makeshift path leading down to the shoreline. Even from the lodge the large ship was visible out in the open waters, along with a steadily growing dot. Treading carefully so as not to disturb the various minions and pets strewn along the beach, Arashi and Lyse made their way to meet their new visitors. Closer still it was easy enough to make out the Lominsan colours blowing proudly in the wind. Not pirates, at the very least. And as the rowboat drew closer, Tataru’s signature pinks became clearer, particularly as she near jumped out of her seat to wave at her shorebound friends. Much to the irritation of the poor sailor actually rowing the boat, Arashi noted.

Soon enough the boat was close enough to pull to shore. Arashi was most thankful she’d chosen the shorts as she waded into the wonderfully warm waters and fought the tides to drag the boat into the sands. Then Tataru was leaping out of the boat, rushing to embrace Lyse and then Arashi in turn. “Happy honeymoon!” she declared, grinning with glee. Arashi could only laugh at her enthusiasm.

“You already said that when you brought us here, Tataru.”

“And I will say it as often as I want, thank you very much!” Tataru was already on her way up the path, leaving the sailor and boat to their own devices. “Now, let’s take a look at how things are coming along, shall we?” She didn’t want for an answer before rocketing off to base camp. With a shared shrug and smile, Arashi and Lyse followed dutifully behind her.

What good was an island paradise without friends to share it with, after all?

[accihoe]

how about an arranged marriage where reader likes draco but apparently draco is still in love with his ex. reader tries to make it work(like cuddling into him at night and trying to start convos) but draco doesnt show any interest. one day he lashes out and reader stops trying like coming late from work and not cuddling blah blah. he notices and regrets...and then a couple days later they get visited by draco's bf(blaise or theo)whos still single and he gets jelly..? also guess who i am👀

Hi love, thank you so much for this idea! I have been meaning to write angst, but I couldn't come up with anything. And if I'm correct you're @simp4dracosstuff , if not please let me know and I'll change the tag.

Draco x fem!reader arranged marriage

Summary: Draco and Y/N are in a servile marriage, Y/N tries to make the marriage work but Draco is still in love with his previous lover.

Warnings: Angst, cussing, jealousy

A/n: this is my first time writing a request therefore I apologize if it is not the idea you were going for, but I hope you like it!

I decided to write this in past tense as past tense is more angsty.

...

The evening their parents declared the betrothal was a brutal evening for both Draco and Y/N. Their whole future had been taken away and planned by their parents. Not only were Draco and Y/N barely comrades, but they were in love with different people- well Draco was. They had tried talking it out with their parents, but their efforts were to no avail. Both of their parents’ final words were “We have made our choice and that is final. You are to be married by November first or Sooner.”. To which Draco responded with a glare and a harsh nudge with his shoulder against Y/N’s as he left the room.

Both the wedding and the bride were beautiful. Y/N wore an astounding white dress that fit her frame perfectly. Her hair was neatly done by a professional and her face had professional makeup done too, a light shade to accentuate her naturally beautiful features. Draco, as usual, looked divine in his black tuxedo with his white-blonde, almost silver hair neatly slicked into place.

As Y/N walked down the isle with her beautiful dress dragging on the floor Draco’s eyes were sharp and cold, an interesting contrast to her her warm, gentle gaze. When the pair had to kiss Draco simply refused. Despite the agonising hurt and embarrassment Y/N felt she put on a brave face for the sake of her dignity and maiden name. The evening was perfect, except for the newly weds that didn’t love each other a stitch. Many arguments broke out within the first few nights, regarding the fact that they were forced to share a bedroom. But as time went on they slowly grew used to it- and Y/N started longing for Draco’s company. So she did what any partner is supposed to do; she tried to make the marriage work...

...

Y/N Y/L/N was a pretty girl, she had a perfectly sculpted face and a body every girl dreamed of having, yet Draco treated her as if she were dirt beneath his shoe. If she’d cook him a meal, he’d eat it with a sour look on his face and leave her with the dishes to clean. When she did his washing for him he’d complain about a shirt with a single crease that was most likely caused by him. If she’d greet him after work he’d wave her off with a harsh comment tossed in her direction. However, Y/N was determined to make their marriage work. So when night time came, she’d shift closer every night when Draco was asleep. Until this very particular night, just as he was falling asleep Y/N  shifted against him and wrapped an arm around his waist muttering a sweet “goodnight”. And that was the final straw for Draco. He hadn’t been asleep the other nights when she shifted closer, he just bit down on his tongue to hold himself back from snapping. But that was the final straw.

”What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?! Get off of me!” Draco dramatically snapped shoving her arm off of him and sitting upright. Y/N sat upright as well, suddenly no longer tired. “I’m sorry, it’s cold outside so I-” Y/N  started but was rudely interrupted by her husband “Brilliant observation, Y/N.”. Y/N would never admit it but hearing her name leave his lips made her heart flutter, even if it was venomous and filled with hatred. “Draco I’m your wife, please treat me with some respect.” Y/N meekly requested. “Don’t you get it?! I’m still seeing her! You have never been able to be as good as her and will never hold the place that she holds in my life! You’re pathetic, annoying, useless, hideous, every horrid thing I can think of is what you are! You’re just a subordinate in my life and nothing more!” Draco spat at his wife. Just as the words left his lips and the room fell silent Draco realised what he said. His previously raised brows dropped as well as his scowl. The window left open by Y/N for ventilation in the room made the wind thrust her hair around, her brows were furrowed together tightly, mouth slightly parted from disgust and hurt, eyes showing all the hurt and more he’d put her through their entire marriage.

Draco could see all the times he shoved her out of his way, all the times he’d insulted her body, all the times he’d made a rude remark over something she did, all the times he told her her love for him would never be reciprocated, all the times he told her he wish she’d just get lost, all the times he told her she wasn’t up to his standards and therefore wasn’t allowed to accompany him to a work event, all the times he’d told her to bugger off when she asked something, all the times he told her he’d have to be Imperiused (under the imperius curse) to even for a moment consider her as something more than an object. Every single hurtful thing he’s said or done to her practically flashed before his eyes. 

The fact that he admitted to still seeing his ex hurt more than anything. Not necessarily in a sexual way, even just going out to lunch with her, or smiling at her. 

“If this stupid marriage wasn’t servile I would’ve divorced you the night of our wedding. Or not even have said yes.” Y/N spat back, trying to inflict as much hurt on Draco as he had inflicted on her. And it worked. Only a simple statement such as that hurt Draco more than he could ever put together, and it wasn’t nearly as grating as his words to her. Draco was snapped out of his shocked and hurt state when a pillow and the bed’s throw was tossed at him. Y/N simply fluffed up her pillow and turned her back to Draco as she laid down again. With his shoulders heavy and a prominent frown Draco picked up his pillow and throw and went to the nearest guest room. Pillow and throw tucked against his chest as he slept because her scent lingered. 

....

Fin. THERE WILL BE A PART 2 TO THIS!

Forgive me for taking an eternity to write this. I have decided to divide this into two parts to get it done sooner.

Lots of love x!

[editorandchief]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a Black Noir x reader where the reader is apart of The Seven and the two are dating? The reader has been secretly helping The Boys and giving them the information to take down Vought and Homelander, and when Noir is fight Starlight, the reader comes in to try to stop him and for Starlight to flee. But like, he finds out what the reader has been doing and feels betrayed but doesn’t tell anyone. Then they make up at some point? Maybe when Soilder Boy comes back? Hope that makes sense!

Warning: Violence

Requested: Yes

You don't know what is was or when it was. Your final straw. When you finally decided to cut the strings that Vought had been using to control you for three years.

Maybe it was Noir...Seeing his reaction after the news about Compound V came out and realizing that this wasn't just something that happened to you, not genetics, that someone injected babies without a care of who or what that child would grow up to be, of course not all Supes were psychotic maniacs, Nazis, rapists or just all around assholes but there were enough of them to outweigh any of the good that others were attempting to do.

After eavesdropping on Homelander telling Madilyn about 'The Boys' killing transparent, you realized that you didn't feel bad for him, you realized that it was about time that someone made him pay for all the shit that he had done. Did he deserve to die? Maybe not, but at least something was being done about it. 

Surprisingly it wasn't hard to find the leader, Butcher. Unsurprisingly he attempted to kill you promptly after meeting, luckily he calmed down a bit after you handed him one of the files on a B-lister Supe that had more that a few cases of 'collateral damage'. 

It was supposed to be a one time thing, that was until you got a call from Butcher weeks later 'asking' (demanding) more files on other supes, finding out he had received it from Hughie, who got it from Starlight. And it didn't stop there apparently considering you had just received a call from Frenchie, informing you that he and Kimiko were in desperate need of help.

Arriving in the Alley you see Noir walking menacingly towards Frenchie before he is slammed into the wall my Kimiko. Rushing over you pulled the super powered female behind you, pushing her towards Frenchie. 

"Get out of here." You instructed.

"What about yo-." 

"Now!" You snapped as you watched Noir pull himself from the ground before freezing up upon seeing you there. "Noir, I know your confused but, I can let you hurt them." 

Shaking his head at you, Noir attempted to pass you to go after the couple. Stepping in his path you place you hand on his chest. Noir slapped you hand off of him before you raised you other one and pushed him back causing him to stumble backwards. 

"Noir please listen to me, you know that I would never let anyone do anything that would ever hurt you bu-." You were cut off as Noir rushed at you out of instinct you swung only to have him grab your arm, twisting it behind your back before pushing you to the ground.

In terms of strength and durability you and Noir were pretty evenly matched though when you first joined Vought you depended mostly on you powers which is why Noir wanted to teach you hand to hand combat.

Stepping over you he once again tried to go after Frenchie and Kimiko, You rushed up grabbing his shoulder, turning him around and landed a punch on his face. 

Swinging again he dodges before pushing you back, going at him again he dodges all of your attacks pushing you once again. 

"Come on fight me, you think I betrayed you then fight me." You said approaching him again, as you get into arms reach Noir wrapped his hand around your neck pushing you against the wall. You felt your powers attempting to push forward to protect you, you pushed it back down. You would never use your powers against Noir.

"Because you know that I'm right, Vought needs to pay for all the shit that they have caused. They did this to us not for us. Homelander, The Deep, all those other fuckers that they need to be stopped, just like Soldier Boy needed to be stopped." You struggle out as his hand tightens at the mention of his ex-leader. "Noir please." You groaned out as you felt your powers once again reaching out. Suddenly he pulls his hand from your neck backing away as you slid to the ground. 

Looking down at you for a while you both knew it was too late for him to try to find Kimiko and Frenchie but her could definitely find them if he tried, though part of him didn't want to go after them.

You didn't know what would happen next, you were unsure is Noir ever wanted to see you again or if he would tell anyone more specifically Homelander what you had been doing. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you walked into 'The Seven' meeting room taking your usual seat next you Noir. 

"Lately some of you have been a little out of sorts," Homelander starts "Erratic, unreliable, down right sloppy. Not you Noir and Y/N you guys are doing great, though...Y/N I haven't seen you much not that that's a bad thing." 

"And usually I really wouldn't give a fuck but given recent events you will all be needing to tighten the fuck up." He stated clapping his hands together. "Now being the generous and considerate leader I will now give you the chance to come clean on any of your less than publicly acceptable behavior before to see it on the six o'clock news, so..." Looking around the table at the five of you. 

You kept you eyes locked with the table in front of you only occasionally glancing at Noir only to see his eyes glued to the side of your face. 

"No? Okay meeting over." The blonde male smiled. "You can all get the fuck out." 

No one wastes time vacating the room each going there separate ways as you followed closely behind Noir, once you far enough away from the meeting room(Homelander) you reached you hand to grab his shoulder causing him to halt in his step and turn to face you.

"So is this how it's going to be?" You asked. "I know your upset with way I did and I'm sorry about the fight but that's the only part I'm sorry for, they hurt people hell killed people and it wasn't right that they got away with it." You explained yourself only for him to continue staring at you. 

"Fine, then I'll go tell Homelander what I've been doing." You said turning and walking back to the meeting room only for Noir to reach out and grab your arm. "What that's what you want isn't it, you think what I'm doing is wrong but I don't and I'm not gonna sit around waiting to see if you sell me out to Homelander. If I have to die for what's right I will." 

Reaching behind him Noir pulls a notebook fro  m his pocket, write something and hands it to you. 

"Danger." 

"Yeah, I know." You sighed. "But its even more dangerous for the humans going against people they could never hope to beat, I can't stop now."

"I can't lose you." 

Placing you hand on his arm you attempt to comfort him, after a few moments pulling him into your arms resting your head on his chest. 

"Your not gonna lose me Noir," You assured. "but these past few days have felt like I've already lost you and I just...I want it to be us against the world again, please." 

Slowly you feel his arms circle around you closer to him. You both just stood there in each others arms. 

"Okay, I love you both, but maybe take it to the room you guys." You hear Homelander's voice as he walks past the two of you, his cape drifting behind him.

[diavolosthots]

Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!

You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things

Warning: uh.... Angst?

Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)

“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess. 

And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help. 

Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed. 

However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!” 

Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”

Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this. 

“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.” 

Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”

“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.” 

You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.” 

[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

[flusteredloser]

sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter. 

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets. 

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.” 

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?” 

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal. 

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.”  “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?”  she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair. 

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry. 

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling. 

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed. 

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.” 

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence. 

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.” 

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...” 

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends. 

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan). 

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...” 

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.” 

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening. 

“i- no. that was it.”  

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right? 

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous. 

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his. 

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red. 

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud. 

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face. 

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say. 

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face.  fuck.  “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent. 

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze. 

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?” 

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

[five-rivers]

Beltane

Written for Ectober 2021 Day 1: Trick vs Treat. This is part of the Exhumed series.

.

Danny Fenton walked into the precinct. As often happened when he did this, all attention slowly turned to him. “Hi, Detective Patterson. Have you ever heard of Beltane?”

Patterson took a long swig of coffee through the plastic stir straw, because she felt the need to be at least a little drugged before dealing with whatever this was, and then said, “Is this the kind of thing the whole precinct needs to know about, or is it more specific to me?”

“Mm, not specific to you, but I’m not sure if everyone needs to know about it, yet.”

Despite only select members of the Amity Park police force knowing Danny Fenton had another identity, he’d become a sort of ‘ghost liaison’ for the precinct. Better him than the adult Fentons, who tended to break things even (especially) when they were being careful.

“Actually,” continued Danny, “you might have already noticed some things about it. I mean, it’s seasonal, and Mom and Dad were detecting ectoenergy and ghost activity spikes for events like this before they got the portal up and running. Although, the portal was supposed to stabilize and reduce those spikes… I guess reducing one isn’t bad?”

“Okay,” said Patterson. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about. Do you want me to go find Collins?”

“Oh, that might be a good idea.”

“Great,” said Patterson. She turned her head to shout across the room. “McGee. Go find Collins.”

“Still the new guy?” asked Danny, sympathetically.

“It isn’t like we’re a popular posting,” said Patterson, “and, thanks to the ghosts, we don’t really need new people.”

Danny nodded placidly. “I know. But it must be hard for him, don’t you think?”

.

McGee had done his job. He’d discovered the corruption in the Amity Park Police Department and plumbed its depths. The problem was that he could never, ever, report it. Even if they didn’t have a perfectly good cause for it all, what they were ‘hiding’ (and they were only barely doing that) was so ridiculous that McGee had thought he’d gone crazy at first.

Ghosts.

The whole of Amity Park was haunted. Just like it said in those touristy brochures at the front of the local diners.

He stuck his head into the break room. “Collins, Patterson and Fenton want you,” he said.

“In the normal room?” Collins asked, shoving a sugary monstrosity of a donut into his mouth.

“I have no idea. She didn’t say.”

“Normal room then. Great job, McGee.”

McGee rolled his eyes. Great job, he said. As if he’d done anything.

God. What would Halloween be like?

.

“So, it’s like, reverse Halloween?” asked Patterson.

“Well, not exactly,” said Danny. He patted Daisy, the department mascot slash corpse sniffing dog who had followed them into the small interview room, gently on the head. “Actually, there are more similarities than differences. Basically, like Halloween, we’re going to get a spike in ectoenergy. Maybe even some ectoplasmic storms. More portals. That kind of thing.” He shrugged. “Most holidays and seasonal divisions have them, you know.”

“So… we’re getting Halloween round two?” asked Collins.

“What do you bet that this is what gets McGee to snap?”

“He’s been here since December,” said Collins. “I think he’s too stubborn to leave.”

“Is he still spying?” asked Danny.

“No,” said Patterson, waving a hand. “He gave up on that, after a while. But there’s a new office bet about whether or not he’ll stay stay, or if he’ll decide to quit. We’re not allowed to join in because we know him too well.”

“Mm,” said Danny.

“I don’t actually know if I feel like I know him that well,” said Collins.

“Well,” said Danny, “it shouldn’t be as extreme as Halloween. Since, I mean, there aren’t as many religious holidays directly associated with death and stuff happening on or around May first. So. Yeah. But the thing is, there are some traditional, er, activities. Spirited activities.”

Collins suppressed a groan, and was glad that Captain Jones wasn’t available today. He and Danny could sling puns at each other for obscenely long periods of time.

“I’ve never noticed ghosts doing anything on May Day,” said Patterson.

“This is only the third year anyone’s even acknowledged that ghosts exist,” said Danny, “so I’m not really all that surprised. But the reason that I came to talk to you guys is that some of the ghosts want to do Beltane stuff. Like the fire blessings. Also, I’ve been told that some of the trees in town are secretly ghost trees, and if we don’t want to deal with another tree army, we need to do some stuff to appease them.”

“Secret ghost trees.”

“My source is very reliable,” said Danny. “Also, while I say ‘we don’t want to deal with it,’ I think we all know who’d be dealing with most of it.”

“You would,” said Patterson.

“Got it in one. Like, I can convince most of the ghosts to either do their Beltane stuff in the Ghost Zone, or somewhere out of the way. They’ll be disappointed, but I can do it. The ghost tree thing, though…”

“Can’t we just, I don’t know,” said Collins, “get rid of the ghost trees?”

“Well, they aren’t really evil ghost trees. Or even really ghost trees. They’re more… ghosts that live in trees?”

“What, like dryads?” asked Collins, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s what I said, but they’re different species, apparently.”

“Okay,” said Patterson, “so. Appeasing the trees. How many trees are we talking about here, and how are we going to appease them?”

.

“Okay, so, this is definitely a whole precinct kind of thing,” said Patterson.

“And possibly an ‘all civil servants’ type of thing,” added Collins. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where are we going to get the funding for this?”

“Oh, don’t worry about money,” said Danny. “I’ll just blackmail Vlad, and if that doesn’t work, I can get Mom and Dad to pay for it.”

“What,” said Collins.

“I think this might be a bit beyond your parents’ budget,” said Patterson, “but knock yourself out as far as Masters goes.”

“Well, I guess if it is,” he allowed, dubiously, “I could get the cults to pitch in?”

.

“This is nice,” said Danny. The sky was a bit overcast, which was a shame, but the hundreds of bright flowers and cheerful music more than made up for that.

The May Day celebration was, in Danny’s opinion, a success. At least, this half of it was turning out to be. He’d have to wait and see how the Spirit Bonfires went tonight before he could really make a judgement.

He’d only had to blackmail Vlad a little, too. It turned out that the ‘ruthless businessman’ in Vlad was ludicrously easy to manipulate, and once Danny brought up how a celebration like this one could revitalize local businesses and bring in tourism, he’d caved.

Although, that might have been the threat of an angry tree army. Vlad had definitely come off worse for wear in the last one, on all fronts.

Then, publically putting the Phantom Stamp of Approval (and Necessity Given The Potential Angry Tree Army) on the event had gotten buy-in from his fans and (sigh) the cults. The cults were, in fact, very enthusiastic about their new Holy Day. Danny had made a map of all the places they’d set up booths, and was studiously avoiding them.

Sam and Tucker were doing a walkthrough of that area, now, to check for problems and unadorned thorn trees. They’d arranged to meet up soon.

So, Amity Park was decked out in ribbons and flowers. All of the schools had gotten Maypoles and the day off of classes. Several bands, both human and ghostly, were playing in different parts of town.

It was chaotic, but great.

Danny briefly cut into the street to dodge a pair of college-age men play-fighting with tree branches (a genuinely important tradition symbolizing the battle between winter and summer), then walked through a wall to avoid two ghosts doing the same thing.

Finally, he reached Madame Babazita’s table.

“Hi,” he said, “three readings, please.”

“Three?” she asked. “Just for you?”

“My friends should get here before mine’s done,” said Danny. Was he channeling some predictive powers? Maybe. Holidays did make his powers weird.

.

“I have no idea what your reading is saying,” said Madame Babazita, after fifteen full minutes. “The cards simply aren’t speaking to me today. Also,” she held up an Uno card, “I’m not sure how this even got here.”

“That’s okay,” said Danny, “I just wanted to make sure it was the same as last time.”

.

“Hey! Phantom!” called Ember across the crowd of ghosts that had gathered in the cemetery. Most of them were fire or nature themed. “You’re in for a treat!”

Danny, who had been examining the flowers left on his grave, looked up. “I am?”

Ember draped her arm around Danny’s shoulder. She’d been a lot more friendly with him since the corpse incident. “Sure are.” She stepped up onto the surface of his memorial, pulling him up behind her. Danny shook off a brief chill and looked around.

Ghosts were streaming into the cemetery from various directions, bringing armfuls of flowers with them. Danny could see two, huge bonfire piles of flowers growing near the cemetery gates.

“Are there going to be cows?” asked Danny, who was still fuzzy on the details of the ghostly side of the celebrations.

“I don’t know,” said Ember. “When I’ve seen this done in the GZ there are. Here? Who knows. Maybe we’ll just walk through.”

Danny nodded, unworried. Beltane sure was an interesting holiday.

The last armful of flowers was placed, and every flower in the cemetery caught on fire at once. Including the ones on Danny’s grave. Danny yelped, jumping into flight. As an ice core ghost, he vastly preferred cold to heat.

This went without saying, but fire was very hot.

Ember grabbed his foot, and he almost kicked her. “You knew that was going to happen,” he accused.

“Sure did, babypop,” said Ember, grinning. “Come on, don’t you want to pass through the bonfires?”

Danny eyed the very large bonfires on either side of the cemetery gates. They were lit up with sparks like fireworks, shifting like flowers blooming and withering and blooming again. They were beautiful and impressive, and Danny felt like melting just by looking at them.

“I don’t know…” He wanted to, but… melting…

“Well, if you want to go out the other way and be horribly unlucky for the next year…”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Is that another trick?” he asked.

Ember’s grin grew wider, and she took off towards the gates. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Danny sighed and followed her.

.

“Unbelievable,” said McGee. “Absolutely unbelievable.” He gave the elderly cultist a boost into the wagon.

“I know, right?” said Patterson. “All this property damage and a low-key kidnapping,” she gestured to the hapless late night partier who had called the police when the cult got too insistent about their message, “and they didn’t even have the good drugs?” She shook her head. “Not that we ever arrest anyone just for drugs in this town.”

“I did not just hear you say that,” muttered McGee.

“We’ll make an Amity Parker out of you yet,” said Collins, heartily, slamming the back door of the wagon. He thumbed the button on his radio. “Any other disturbances?” he asked.

“No, you’re good to come back,” said the dispatcher.

“What I don’t get,” said McGee, leaning against a nearby wall in a moment of weakness, “is why we aren’t breaking up whatever cult thing is happening in the cemetery.” They’d seen it quite clearly on their way here.

“Because those are ghosts,” said Patterson.

McGee took a deep breath. “The ghosts are having some kind of ritual in the cemetery, and you aren’t worried.”

“Not really, no.”

“I hate it here,” said McGee.

“Do you, though?” asked Collins, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

McGee opened his mouth to snap back that, yes, he did. But…

Hm. Huh.

Collins patted him on the back.