#wiggling in my chair... my arts and crafts...

[captorcorp]

you already know what's going on!!!

[mediumgayitalian]

Will wakes up sometime around two, stumbling over to Arts & Crafts. He looks so incredibly, adorably sleepy, face creased with pillow marks and hair sticking out everywhere even worse than usual, that Nico can’t help his smile.

“Morning,” he says quietly, shifting over in the bench to make room. “Or, well, afternoon.”

“Mmfh,” Will responds. He sways on his feet, eyes still closed, so Nico has reach back and take his hand, guiding him to the seat Nico cleared for him.

“Still sleepy?”

Instead of answering, Will slumps onto his shoulder. Nico tenses for a moment, but quickly relaxes — Will is out of it. He’s a heavy weight on Nico’s side, and his breath comes out in little puffs; he’s halfway to snoring. He sets aside the clay sculpture he was making, wiping off his hands, and shifts slightly to make his shoulder more comfortable, sliding his hands in Will’s hair. After a quick glance to double check that no one’s around, he cards through the matted curls, carefully untangling the birds nest that sits currently upon his head.

“Night shift was long?”

Will groans, nuzzling deeper into Nico’s neck. Nico huffs, allowing it, turning his half-limp body so he’s practically sitting on top of him. It’s kind of a nice weight, actually. And Will is warm, slumped and half-sprawled in his lap like a freckly blanket.

“Got thrown up on three times.”

It takes Nico a second to decipher the words, mumbled as they are. His finger gets caught in a strand of Will’s hair as he winces, tugging a touch too hard. Will shivers.

“Oof.”

“Mhm. Shouldn’t complain, though. Not Cecil’s fault.” He pauses. “Well, it’s a little his fault. I told him not to mess with Billie’s garden.”

Nico smiles. “You know, it’s not the first time a Hermes kid has been poisoned for their dumbassery. You could’ve left his cabin to handle him.”

“They would do a horrible job. They might actually make him worse.”

“Yep.”

“…I can’t leave him to suffer, Neeks.”

“Hero complex,” Nico teases. “Sounds like a natural consequence to me.”

“Shhhh. I’m sleeping.”

“It’s two thirty in the afternoon, Solace.”

“Pot, kettle, et cetera.”

Nico smiles. “Only dorky people say et cetera when they’re half asleep.” He shifts, accepting that he has a lapful of head medic, now, no refunds or exchanges. It’s still, somehow, very comfortable — he feels as if he’s laying in a sun patch, under a warm, heavy blanket. Plus, Will smells like strawberries and lavender and his sandalwood shampoo. Nico could get used to it.

He does, however, subtly raise a couple skeleton to stand guard outside the gazebo — no need to get anyone gossiping. As cute as a sleepy Solace is, Nico can and will shove him to the ground the second anyone gets too close. He has a Reputation.

(He is a liar.)

“Did I miss the strawberry coffee cake this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Aw.”

Nico hums, untangling the last of his hair. Without anything for his hands to do, he slides them under Will’s hoodie, resting them in his stomach, ignoring his whining and exaggerated shiver at Nico’s ice-cold hands.

If Nico is going to function as his personal bean-bag chair, Will is going to function as his space heater. Fair’s fair.

“Saved a piece for you, though.”

He feels Will’s grin more than sees it, twisted up as they are. He feels his happy little wiggle, too, arms flailing before wrapping around Nico’s waist, thighs shifting before re-bracketing his hips.

“You’re my actual favourite.”

“Hm. I think you say that to all the boys you save you strawberry cake and let you nap on them.”

“Nah.” Will’s breathing starts to slow, body stilling as he rests his head right about Nico’s heart. He can feel his puffs of breath in his collarbone, tickling the skin under his thin t-shirt. “Just you.”

Nico flushes, more pleased than he’s willing to admit, and rests his chin on his head, watching over the strawberry fields. He checks that Will is actually asleep, and when he is, he presses a quick, darting kiss to his still-creased cheek, and smiles.

“You’re my favourite, too.”

[star-going-supernova]

SB prompt for ya since it’s almost Halloween!

Gregory for Halloween goes as Freddy and Freddy absolutely goes loses it. I’m just imagining Gregory in the full outfit with shoulder pads, a cute little headband with ears, and face makeup quoting Freddy saying “way to go superstar!” with a huge grin and Freddy just melts.

The mental image of Freddy walking beside a small mini him around the plex is so cute. You can’t tell me Freddy wouldn’t scoop him up and get as many pictures of the two of them as possible.

Also the others would be good natured and jokingly talk about how it’s favoritism and Gregory would just go “well he is my favorite” and cause Freddy’s system to crash.

Here’s tumblr generated prompt number 13! I’m so glad this one got picked, so I can at least say I wrote a belated Halloween ficlet! This is pure fluff! 

Double Trouble

“Hold still!” Cassie complained, not for the first time. Gregory, prone to wiggling, gripped the chair tightly to keep from fidgeting too much. He didn’t actually want to cause problems, for once. 

He desperately wanted to ask if she was done yet, or at least close, but talking would mean moving, and he really was trying to be on his best behavior. He’d asked for this, after all. 

After another few agonizingly long minutes, Cassie leaned back with a pleased smile. “Done! And looking fabulous, if I do say so myself.” 

Gregory leapt from his chair and skidded to look in the mirror. “Cassie!” he cried, beaming. “It looks amazing!” He turned his face this way and that, admiring her work. “I’d ask if you want any help with yours, but…” 

She snickered, tucking herself close to a smaller mirror on her desk to start on her own makeup for her Halloween costume. “You’d mean well,” she allowed, “but I’ll pass, thanks.” 

As she preformed some witchcraft to keep her lines straight and even and symmetrical, Gregory finished getting dressed. He was overly careful not to smudge the Freddy makeup—the blue was a perfect match, honestly, he didn’t know how Cassie did it—thankful that he at least had already put on his shirt. He snapped on the bracelets and slid on the headband with the fuzzy ears and little black top hat hot-glued at a subtle angle. The bowtie was carefully safety-pinned to his shirt, nice and straight. 

The shoulder pads—and Cassie had agreed with him on this—were actually the hardest part of their costumes. They were a little too big and heavy to be clipped, pinned, or glued to their shirt shoulders without them slipping or tugging on the fabric in a way that just didn’t look good. 

Cassie’s dad had solved their problem: backpacks. The shoulder straps were much sturdier and could easily support the foam shoulder pads’ weight. Plus, it made it super easy to take them off without damaging the rest of their costumes. 

Their backpacks were waiting by the front door with their boots. Gregory’s were snow boots covered with foam to mimic Freddy’s feet and the red part of his legs. Cassie’s were just the same, only with Roxy’s purple and black animal print. 

Another bit of practicality, curtesy of Cassie’s dad, who was pretty good at arts and crafts. Gregory’s costume wouldn’t look half as awesome without his help. 

Cassie finished her own makeup (much faster than she’d done Gregory’s, and that wasn’t only because he needed more) and hopped up to finish putting on her own costume. Arm bands, wolf ears—complete with earrings, just like Gregory’s—and fuzzy wolf tail. She blew her green lock of hair out of her eyes. 

“That’s gonna annoy you all night,” Gregory half teased, half warned her. 

She conceded with a disgruntled huff and went to stuff a few spare bobby-pins in her pocket. Pushing him over to the tall mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door, Cassie squished them together so both their reflections fit. “How do we look?” 

“Awesome. Duh.” 

“Are we missing anything?” 

They each critically examined each other’s costume. Luckily, they weren’t too complicated. 

“Yours looks good to me,” he said. 

“Yours too.” She grinned widely. “They’re gonna freak.” 

Gregory snickered. “This’ll knock ’em both out, for sure.” 

“Perfect,” Cassie said, eyes glinting mischievously. And people thought Gregory was the only troublemaker between them. 

Cassie’s dad took a few pictures once they finished getting dressed up before driving them over to the pizzaplex. The Halloween party was in full swing by the time they got there, and thanks to their special VIP wristbands, they got to skip past all the lines. And bless Mr. King for never asking any questions about how or where they got the wristbands. He just followed along behind them with his own average VIP pass until he split off from them with a reminder to be good, stay together, and text him if they needed anything. 

Unleashed, Gregory and Cassie meandered through the festivities for a while, accepting donuts and cider from one of the many treat tables set up in the building. There were some games scattered around, a few face-painting booths, and reminders for the evening’s activities plastered on every other corner. Almost everyone was in costume, even the employees and some of the STAFF bots roaming around. 

“Oooh,” Cassie said, tugging at Gregory’s arm. “They turned the Fazer Blast arena into a haunted house!” She gave him a pleading look, cheering when he obligingly set off in that direction.

• • •

The annual Halloween party was, at the very least, a pleasant change of pace. It was one of the busiest nights of the year, but Freddy could not bring himself to mind how exhausting it was, not when all the children were in such high spirits. 

The costumes were perhaps his favorite part, though the pizzaplex’s decorations were a close second. They were all so creative and fun to look at. There were costume contests scattered throughout the event, separated by age groups or themes or group costumes. The animatronics were not judges of the contests—they did not have opinions as robots, obviously—but they were expected to attend each one and give out the prizes once the judges had deliberated. 

There was even a contest specifically for all the children who came dressed up as members of the band (with a few of Sun or Moon, or even more rarely, the DJ). One particularly memorable past winner had been accompanied by a service dog wearing a simple homemade wet floor sign bot costume. 

Freddy became increasingly distracted as the night carried on. Gregory had promised to visit during the party, but there had been no sign of the boy yet. It was a large building, and there were many activities to participate in, and so it was most likely that Gregory was having fun elsewhere—he was logically aware of that, of course. 

But that wasn’t helping his patience. 

Gregory had mused about what he wanted to do for a costume since before October had even begun. Freddy had tried to veto all the gory suggestions, though he was still not sure if Gregory had meant them sincerely or was simply messing with him. Last he had heard, Gregory was mostly settled on a character from his favorite video game. 

This was necessary information to better explain the way he short-circuited from surprise when he saw Gregory cross the stage during a costume contest. Specifically the one for kids dressed as them. 

A warning flashed on his HUD that he was in danger of overheating, though he hardly noticed. His friends were all snickering around him, less subtle than normal, as they were safely at the back of the room. 

Gregory did a jaunty spin to show off his Freddy costume—more than one system in Freddy’s body had to reboot, stalling out from pleased shock. 

Roxy elbowed him in the side, grinning, some pointed remark surely on the tip of her tongue, when her jaw dropped open as if the hinge had suddenly broken. 

On stage, Cassie, in a similarly styled Roxy costume, joined Gregory. The announcer was saying something about them being a pair, and both of them were smiling widely as Gregory twirled Cassie under his arm. 

Roxy’s body visibly locked up, and her the lights of her eyes flickered wildly. Beneath his frantically whirring fans, Freddy felt a bit appreciative of karma’s quick turnabout. 

You were saying? he asked pointedly over a private channel. 

Shut—shut up, she sent back. 

They had seen dozens, hundreds, of children dressed as them over the years. They had gotten used to it, and though it was sweet, they did not really feel anything from it anymore. It was nearly comical, then, how these two particular children made him and Roxy feel so much. 

Distracted with trying to regain his composure and stop being on the verge of involuntary shut down, he failed to notice Gregory and Cassie’s approach until the two of them were standing right in front of him and Roxy. 

Given Roxy’s choked little sound of surprise, she had similarly been caught off guard. Curse Monty and Chica for sidling away and not warning them. 

Gregory and Cassie grinned up at them knowingly. “Like our costumes?” Gregory asked, his eyes nearly glowing with mischief. 

“I know you probably see tons just like them,” Cassie said, faux shyly, tugging at the crop top layered over her gray shirt. “Or even better ones. But we did our best!” 

Roxy twitched. Freddy’s attempts at internal damage control were not going well. 

“Yeah,” Gregory said, not nearly as good at playing bashfully innocent when the slant of his smile warned of the one-hit knock-out verbal punch he was about to deliver. “You’re our favorites, after all, and we wanted to be just like you.” 

The punch landed. Freddy’s systems flashed a brief warning before he went into a soft reset. The last thing he registered was Roxy crashing simultaneously with him, which made him feel only marginally better. 

[grimowled]

STOLAS KEPT HIS COMPOSURE IMPECCABLE as he listened, his blood-red gaze flickering with a quiet intensity; beneath that polished mien was a mind moving at a thousand paces, dissecting every word, every inflection in his infernal regent's tone. and that grin - the sharp edge of power woven into the fabric of hell - even the king's smile carried the quality of an unbreakable contract.

the prince nodded his crowned head slightly, his beak curving into a gracious, deferential smile, voice a masterfully sultry composition of silk and shadow.

"--of course, my lord. it is, after all, the greatest HONOUR to assist in preserving your undisputed supremacy."

(a leash must remain taut, lest the hound forget its master.)

every word was deliberate, carefully crafted to tread the razor-thin line between reverence and subtle wit without the cloying aftertaste of sycophancy. as he shifted in his seat, his star-dappled cloak pooled around him in silken folds, a galaxy brought to heel; talons came together in an elegant clasp as his gaze fell upon the precarious, towering stack before him. his outward demeanour was one of poised enthusiasm, yet beneath it, his mind churned.

the binding of souls was an ART older than time itself - each contract a thread in the vast web of hell’s sovereignty, a tapestry of suffering and servitude. and lucifer? its great weaver, the grand architect. four crimson crescents flitted briefly to the devil himself, studying him as one might study a master artisan, RESPLENDENT with celestial echoes even in repose; the unfathomable scale of his collection, the droves upon droves bound to his name - it wasn't mere power - it was the very essence of hell’s existence - for without these souls, all would collapse, starved of purpose. lucifer did not merely rule hell - he owned it, its every corner, every flame, every lost and damned soul; and it was not simply control - it is the very transformation of being: to be owned was to become part of its machinery - to feed it, and to be reshaped by it.

the demon prince reached out, almost transfixed, talons brushing lightly against the nearest stack of parchment, feeling the dirge of the bound souls encoded in their ink.

"I must admit, sire ... "

he began, his tone taking on the air of a scholar marvelling at a masterpiece;

"the sheer volume of souls pledged to your name is nothing short of awe-inspiring. a testament to your unparalleled DOMINION, of course."

his thoughts kept whispering as he traced the elegant script of one contract’s opening clauses, immediately noting that the bindings themselves were unrefined, lacking - hastily crafted by overeager infernal scribes, no doubt seeking to please the king with quantity over quality.

(always the same old adage: messy stipulations lead to loopholes ripe for exploitation.)

the prince’s expression curled in wry amusement. what these sinners who signed in blood failed to understand, when they thought themselves clever, leaving wiggle room for their tethered souls to escape, was that they were playing a game whose rules were written eons before their conception.

"though I daresay, some of these oversights, could serve as quite the liability if left unchecked. I shall endeavour to weave these frayed threads into an impenetrable tapestry of legal perfection, and ensure that any ambitions to freedom and salvation remain unattainable."

leaning back slightly into the dark ironwood chair, his glossy talons lightly drummed against the armrest in an idle rhythm, the only hint of the restless energy simmering beneath his regally composed exterior; the faintest chuckle escaped him, low and melodic, a hint of relish tugging at the edges of his beak.

"a delightful challenge, truly, that I am most grateful for. tightening a contract requires a certain … ARTISTRY."

(there is nothing quite as satisfying as unravelling the sloppy handiwork of lesser minds, and weaving it into something… exquisite.)

his mind drifted briefly to the nature of hell itself - an empire sustained by promises and bargains. every soul bound was a note in a symphony of DAMNATION, each contract a chord in the first fallen's music; and stolas, prince of the ars goetia, was not merely an observer of this system, but had been granted the fallen's dark baptism to be his deathly instrument within it - a glorified secretary, perhaps - yet what a task it was, to refine the tools that upheld an entire plane of existence.

(how many mortals had he seen brought to their knees by contracts far simpler than these?)

ruby eyes met hell's ringmaster slitted gaze, a flicker of amusement glinting beneath layers of feigned humility. straightening, the owl prince folded his hands neatly before him - the picture of readiness to serve.

"--rest assured, my lord, I am at your complete disposal. consider this mountain conquered."

Lucifer grinned baring his sharpened teeth, snake like eyes into slits , a warning , a promise , he was the snake, the dragon , his vast army of souls fueling both him and hell, without him there would be no Hell— and yet even a Dragonic king could not escape the clutches of .. paperwork .

He had looked over some of the contracts and amended what needed to be amended . But he had .. well he had a lot and he had needed help

And who better then Paimon’s somewhat infamous son, after all Paimon was his most loyal follower and it was Lucifer’s knowledge and Grimores that helped them gain the knowledge they needed .. so of course his son would be delighted no Honored to help him out.

He had the prince moved in and settled in his palace at once such was the power of the King, whatever he wanted he got.

“Good I’m glad hard to do work when your not comfortable .. well it’s doable but still~ “ he chuckled and leaned against his cane .

“There’s a few contracts I need tightened it seems some idiots forget their on my leash ~”

[thelaundrybitch]

TMNT Trick or Kink: The Halloween Extravaganza - Prologue

Turtle Doves.

It's time to get freaky.

Welcome to my prologue.

18+ content - for mature audiences only

The Halloween Extravaganza

You gaze around the huge party hall while sitting at the single round table that's set up closest to the stage, waiting for the little blue-skinned man to come back from getting his surprise.

You can only imagine what Job has in mind for his annual Halloween Extravaganza - as he likes to call it.

You lift your fancy cup of coffee and take a long sip, appreciating that Job's full-time barista knows exactly how you like your freshly-brewed hazelnut beverage. It might just be the best coffee you've ever had, and the muffins he had his chef make for you?! To die for. You put your mug down and trade it for said deliciousness and just as you take a hearty bite of the gourmet muffin in front of you, Job bursts through a door from the side of the large room, his bodyguards in tow. Job is wearing a huge shit-eating grin on his face and carrying a large tablet. Derek and Hector also have their hands full.

While you're busy wiping your hands on a cloth napkin, Job replaces your plate with the tablet. You watch as the large mutant wolf-man, named Derek, places a printer on the table and then plugs it into a hidden outlet in the floorboards.

At the same time, Hector is juggling a box of supplies as he struggles to move the other plates and such to make room for his box.

“Hector, you can just put that here, beside me,” Job instructs the part-shark-part-human mutant, pointing to the floor between the two of you.

“Halloween arts and crafts?” you ask with a smirk.

“More like Hallows Eve Trick or Kink,” he smiles, wiggling his brows.

You look down just as his fingerprint brings the screen to life.

And boy-oh-boy, did it bring the screen to life.

Your jaw drops open as Job slowly scrolls through the many saved photos of hot-ass costumes for men.

“Uh…” You aren’t sure what to say. “Do you need my help picking out a costume?” You ask nervously.

“It’s for the guys!” He exclaims, his voice comically reminding you of a helium-induced Harvey Fierstein. 

Hearing this news, your jaw suddenly rehinges itself, and a Grinch-like smile adorns your face.

"Well, if that's not a sign of huge trouble, I don't know what is," comes a voice from behind you and Job.

"Hey! Sean!" Job exclaims upon spinning around and seeing his good friend enter the room.

Sean gives both Derek and Hector a fist bump and a smile, before grabbing a chair and dragging it to sit next to Job.

"Hey there, darlin'," he says with a wink, nodding to you and sitting in his seat. 

"Hey Sean," you greet the small, more-strawberry-than-blonde man with a kind smile.

"What are you two scheming over here, anyway?" He asks, peering over at the tablet.

"You got here right on time!" Job says with a mischievous grin. "We're just about to pick out a whole bunch of the hottest, sluttiest, most provocative men's costumes the internet has to offer," he snickers.

Poor Derek chokes on a piece of muffin across the table. 

"I already have my costume," Hector says quickly, a look of horror flashing across his face as Derek nods his head frantically, pointing to himself in agreement, trying not to die on his gourmet pastry.

"Aww, you guys are no fun," Job pouts.

"So… How are we doing this?" you ask with a giggle.

"First, we find and pick out 10 of the sexiest costumes that would look fabulous on any of them," he starts. "Second, we print out the pictures and cut them up. And Finally we fold them, put them in a blind box, and have them each pick out one randomly," he finishes, a proud smile settling across his face.

"And you think those giant mutant men are going to willingly make these costumes?" Sean asks, his eyes bulging out of his head as Job chooses the first costume and prints it out.

"Oh hell no! That's why they'll pick it out, and I take it back from them," he states. "I'm making those babies," he grins.

"And how will you ensure they attend the party and wear them?" You inquire.

"I know those guys well, and I know for a fact, that none of those lovely gentlemen would ever leave you to the wolves in the spicy little number I'm making for you," he says with a wink.

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

You show up to the lair later that evening with your homemade pizza in hand, just as promised, and greet the lot of them with a huge smile as you struggle to push open the double glass doors of the lab, "Hey guys!"

The bro circle is in full swing - Derek, Hector, Job, Sean, Leo, J, Don, Raph, and Mike.

In that order.

J jumps up and runs to help you with the stack of food you're balancing in one hand while you try to maneuver your phone and the glass doors with the other.

"Let me take those, Buttercup," he says softly, giving you a flirty little smirk.

"Thanks, J," you beam back at him.

He takes the pizzas and sets them up on the cleared and cleaned lab table. He and Mike then cut up and divvy out pieces for everyone's enjoyment.

Once the pizza has been demolished, you are given a round of praises and thanked for the delicious meal.

Raph then teasingly asks, "Alright, who brought dessert?"

"ME!" Says Job without missing a beat, a devious grin on his face as he hops down from where he was perched on a stool.

He grabs the blind-grab box from under the lab table and shakes it up, coming back.

"What…" starts Leo.

"Oh no…" says Donnie.

"Ya had to ask," says Mike, accusingly.

Job walks right over to Raph and gives his sparkly pink box a little shake, wiggling his eyebrows at the brute.

"Oh don't worry," says J, clapping Raph on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Oh no. It's WAY worse," Sean warns, pulling snickers from both Hector and Derek.

"Alright, boyzz," Job says, emphasizing the z. "The Halloween Extravaganza is right around the corner, and tonight you will be picking out your costumes from this box," he tells them, showing them the box like Vanna White. "Once you choose your picture, I will be taking the papers back with me and making said costumes," he tells them.

"And since Red here was so kind to bring it up, he gets to go first!" Job says excitedly with an evil smile.

Raph shrugs and pulls out a small folded piece of paper and opens it, his eyes flashing wide.

"Ya kiddin'. Right?" He asks.

Job snatches the paper and chuckles as he looks at it.

"I'm as serious as a heart attack," he says, stuffing the paper in his pants pocket.

At this point the other four turtle-men have made a small circle around Job, all of them taking turns reaching in, and their reactions are equally amusing.

Mike gets a big smile and nods. 

J lets out a, "Hell yeah!" 

Leo's face drops.

And if Donnie had eyebrows, they would've flown off his face toward the ceiling.

As Donnie and Leo attempt to barter and bargain their way out of their costume picks, Raph sasses, "Like you can make us wear them," letting out a small huff accompanied by a smug smirk.

Sean lets out a bellowing laugh as Hector stands and unrolls a poster sized picture.

"That's all good and fine," says Job, "But that leaves that pretty little lady over there," he says pointing behind himself in your direction, "wearing this," he sticks his thumb over his shoulder at Hector who's holding up what is presumably going to be your costume. "She'll be all alone. With all those single beings walking around at an open bar event," he drawls dramatically as he presents the poster.

All five guys go silent, looking around at one another, slightly panicked but also amused.

You get up to take a peek at the poster but feel Derek's hand on your shoulder, "Nuh-uh," he says with a sorrowful smirk, pushing you back down into your seat.

You look at the guys and they're all nodding their heads now, agreeing to Job's ingenious persuasion.

"You're an extortionist," pouts Leo.

"I'm an opportunist, sweet cheeks," Job says with a smile as Hector puts away the poster.

He turns to you and his smile gets even bigger.

"You, my dear, will need to come by this weekend. I need to see how tight I can squeeze you."

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

Please stay tuned for the main event...

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[fourseasonsfigs]

I Didn't Know How or When you Would Come...

This "hairpin" fig set is of course directly inspired by this scene in Episode 31 of Word of Honor.

The set comes with the two figures, the table, chair, and the mirror. It's made of resin, which always worries me due to the fragile nature of the material. I have the warehouse bubble wrap any resin figure, but you just never know how aggressive carriers might get, or if there were any hairline fractures to start with.

In my experience, all resin figures come in this type of carved plastic cushioning, and I've had (cross my fingers, knock on wood, etc etc) good luck so far.

Only the hairpin appeared broken in transit, so while I was sad, I felt that overall I had gotten lucky.

However! I realized that the hairpin was not actually broken, but shipped in two pieces to avoid breakage, and they included a tube of glue in order to glue each side to A-Xu's little hairbun.

Normally the warehouse removes glue from shipping, but in this case the tiny little tube seems to have accidentally slipped down the side of the box. I already have a 2-part resin glue of my own that I bought locally that is a bit of a hassle to mix and deal with, but is pretty rock solid. This nail glue? is softer and the hairpin is already wiggling loose a bit.

This is a beautiful set for a beautiful scene. I love it.

The figures are very stable. A-Xu sits squarely back in his chair and I don't worry at all he'll fall out. As I say this, of course, I upload this picture...

He is laying very gently down on his perfect face to illustrate. Sorry, A-Xu! You can see he's crafted to fit quite securely with his robes and his sleeves. You can also see his little bun here and the hairpin holes pre-glue.

I love the long elegant sweep and train of Lao Wen's red rescue robes.

A-Xu looks adorable sitting there. These figs have quite a bit of glorious hair but their heads seem a bit smaller and more delicately sculpted than typical.

I never get tired of their beautiful long hair. You can see my wobbly-glue hairpin creation here.

Here's an angle of Lao Wen in full hair brushing action.

A view of the mirror here. I'm quite tempted to decorate the table with little jars and a runner like the screenshot.

The seller also sold this beautiful standee. This was originally a fig / diorama design, but demand wasn't high enough to offset enough of the cost. A huge bummer because this would have been incredible.

The box the fig set shipped in is also beautiful! I love this seller's whole design aesthetic:

Two sides of the box have spicy sets of artwork in a non-chibi style. There was also a pin-up style piece of art that I believe came with the early bird/first-in purchases, but I wasn't early to this, so unfortunately I didn't receive it.

Unlike the (mild and sweet) spice level of the art on the New Year Wenzhou armory magnet (which you can read here), this definitely is kicking it up a notch. I'll post it past the ***** line as usual.

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 57

Diorama Count: 5 (I'm not counting the diorama in the header post quite yet! I'll do another post on that)

Snowglobe Count: 1

Rating: ...but I knew that you would come

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

*****************************************************************

Alright, I'm going to ramble on for a bit so anyone scrolling down to read the bulleted list has a substantial buffer of space before the pics.

I really hope this fig creator makes more figs. Their work is fantastic and I love their vision they had for the swing figs / diorama - full credit to them for shooting for the moon on a large dramatic glorious piece.

Plus there simply just isn't enough Wenzhou figs out there - fig makers could literally make figs for every scene of every episode they're in, and I would buy them all. Can you imagine? That would be amazing.

Alright my patient fig friends! Here's the artwork. I will admit it took me a while to get what the fig maker was riffing off of here, but I did eventually get it.

[hiddendrabbles]

Heyo!

Im the "-🎂 'anon' " from your inbox and I thought it was better if I resubmitted the request as a real anon lol. But anyways.

I wanted to request a (platonic) glamrock crew x male!animatronic!reader hc when its reader's birthday and the group try to make something special for him. Just pure fluff:)

It's my birthday tomorrow and the idea of spending the day at the PizzaPlex lives rent free on my head. Love those animatronics sm😭😭

- really 🎂 anon

glitter glue w/ glamrock crew

(oh mah gawd it rhymes) oh ho ho!!!! today!! its hereee!! i hope u have a wonderful day muah

(i also noticed after i finished writing u said hc😦 srry ASLO i added sunny in there bc…..) going back to my roots were all fluff must have AT LEAST. a hint of sad

Today! The day was finally here! Sun was wiggling happily from their place on one of the kiddie chairs. Small giggles filled the air around them as well as the sound of paper being cut and folded. They’d managed to wrangle the kids into some arts and crafts by telling them they needed their help making party decorations. It was someone’s birthday today. Sun carefully poured some glitter onto their paper, it had to be perfect after all!

In Freddy’s dressing room four animatronics lounged around, duties over for the day. The lead singer of the band had a tablet in his hand and was carefully picking colors for the birthday cake. Humming thoughtfully, he turned the screen to show Chica who nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh that’s the one! Looks so yummy.”

“That’s what you’ve been say about every single color combination Freddy shows you.”

Roxy complained from her place on the couch where she was carefully wrapping the present they’d all put together. Monty, from his place near her feet, grunted in agreement.

“See Chica? Even the lizard agrees.”

“What did you just call me? Better watch your mouth you washed up-”

“Friends, please.”

They settled down, and while their faces did not have the ability to, they all gave the distinct feeling of pouting. Freddy had stood up, hands on his hips, as he looked at all of them.

“Remember, we have to work together. Today is not for us!”

With some more quiet grumbles everyone got back to work.

You were quietly standing by the entrance of your attraction, waving to everyone who was leaving with a big smile on your face. It had been a fun but busy day since it was the one year anniversary of you joining the Pizzaplex. There was merch of you everywhere it seemed. As the lights started turning off you looked around with a small frown. You hadn’t seen any of the glamrocks today. Maybe they had forgotten?

With a sigh, you adjusted your roller skate accessories and started towards the rink. Going around a few times, you let your head hang a little. You thought the glamrocks were your friends. Spending the night talking to them was what you were looking forwards to most of the day, eager to share some of the gifts you’d gotten. Everything was safely packed in a bag already. Cool glasses for Monty, bracelets for Roxy, snacks for Chica, a vintage Bonnie plush for Freddy, and even some art supplies for Sun and Moon.

Slowing to a stop in the center of the rink, you let out another sigh. The gifts were packed and ready. You could maybe just drop them off at their respective dressing rooms and leave if they didn’t want to see you. Maybe the night guard could even hand them out for you. Stomping caused your ear to twitch as you quickly looked over your shoulder to the entrance of the roller skating rink. There stood your fellow animatronics with Freddy eagerly waving at you. Skating towards them slowly and picking up your duffle back you eyed them carefully.

“Hey guys…what’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s up?! It’s your birthday! Or did you not notice?”

Chica waved a tiny plush version of you holding a balloon in your signature in her hand. A warm feeling started to bloom in your chest. They had remembered? Before you could say anything Chica spoke again.

“Come on! Sun is waiting for us at your surprise pa-oops.”

Her words were met with groans from Roxy and Monty. Freddy shook his head fondly and lead the way. A surprise party? Just for you? Slinging an arm around the dejected looking animatronic you laughed happily. On the way there you spoke with Roxy who was eager to learn to skate. That lead to some friendly banter on who would be faster between her and Monty.

At the entrance of the daycare Sun was waiting, bouncing on the balls of their feet. When they finally saw you approach, they sprinted towards you and wrapped you in a hug.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here! Ohhh we got everything ready! By ourselves too! There’s so much glitter and starts and stickers! You’re going to love, love, love it!”

You laughed at their enthusiasm and hugged them back tightly. With one arm you managed to dislodge the duffle bag from your shoulder and called out before the glamrocks could enter without you.

“Before we go in, I have gifts for everyone.”

“Gifts? For us? But it’s your day, sunshine. About you, just you!”

Squeezing Sun one more time you took your arm back to start digging through the bag for everyone’s gifts.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that Sunny? Isn’t one of the rules ��sharing is caring’?”

The sun animatronic was stumped. You were right of course. Sharing was caring! But did that apply to birthdays? Before they could overthink it too much, you patted their cheek lightly and handed them their new box of art supplies. The rest of the gifts were quickly handed out.

Before you knew it, you were in the middle of a big animatronic group hug. Words of thanks were overlapping and that warm, happy feeling was in your chest again. Freddy spoke, his voice loud and clear over the rest.

“We’re lucky to have you here with us, superstar. You help us fit together like never before.”

“Like glitter glue!”

Sun chimed in and you couldn’t help but laugh again. You liked the sound of that. You were their glitter glue.

[gyllenhaalstories]

VALENTINE’S DAY WITH JAKE —  HEADCANONS.🌹🧸💝

summary: i’m soft

warnings: smut, consensual somnophilia, food, jake NOT being my boyfriend (which is a crime).

word count: 800

notes: i haven’t written anything creatively in forever, so please, be kind. i know this is messy and all but i needed some lovey dovey action to celebrate the day! i love you all and i’m sending heart shaped chocolates and roses and kisses to all of you! <3

Jake plays it all cool like pff, Valentine’s Day? That’s overrated. Why do you have to wait for this random day in February to pull out a nice bottle of wine (or juice, or water even you do you) and go out to a restaurant and buy roses? That’s for all the Thursdays of the year.

See, here’s the thing. He thinks he’s above V Day, he finds it borderline childish and meaningless, since nobody really celebrates love, they celebrate buying chocolate and other I <3 You teddy bears. He prefers meaningful gestures, like taking you to an art gallery, paying you an extra special spa day, taking you out for the weekend in a cabin outside of town. Valentine’s days are for losers.

Why is there always a box of chocolates, too many bouquet of roses to count and then one teddy bear per year/months of your relationship waiting for you in the living room when you wake up on February 14th? Jake is one mystery you hope you never solve, it’d take some of his magic away.

Let’s rewind a little bit.

You don’t just “wake up”.

He’s between your legs, nose deep in your folds and lapping at your sensitive skin like you are the most delicate thing in this world, much more delicate than the petals of roses he scattered on the floor of your bedroom. He’s got your legs on his shoulders, after he carefully fliiped you on your back and pulled the covers over himself so you’d still be warm. He can feel you slowly wiggle and come back to your senses as he presses soft kisses on your inner thighs.

You have a slight grin on your lips when you realize what he’s doing. Your eyes remain shut while he switches between poking his tongue in and out of your entrance and sucking on your clit, to which he gives all of the attention. “Good morning to you, too.”

He laughs against your pussy, happy that you remembered he liked to spell words with his tongue when he ate you out.

The day starts in the most beautiful way, with Jake making love to you until you both agree to spend a few more hours in bed cuddling or watching your favourite rom-com.

You both take a shower, and he uses a new bodywash he bought that smells so nice he pushes on the bottle to blow some bubbles and enjoy the scent longer. The seen makes you laugh. He helps you wash your hair and rinse the shampoo off. He helps you with everything, just to have an excuse to be close to you at all times. He’s hugging you from behind and guiding you towards the living room, where your collection of stuffed animals wait you.

You don’t even need to talk, he already knows he’s on pancakes duty this morning. He even has a cookie cutter in a heart shape, so all the pancakes look like hearts.

You bring some of the teddy bears to the table and make them sit on the chairs, mimicking the family you both have been secretly dreaming of.

After breafast, he plays his favourite records and you’re dancing in the kitchen. Your face is pressed against his chest and you listen to his soothing heartbeat while he just holds you a tiny bit tighter. He whispers so many I love yous, you lost count. You reciprocate them all, though.

He insists on going out to the restaurant. He rolls his eyes at the “lovers’ special menu”, but he orders everything from it so you two can stay longer and make this date even more special.

He takes you to a park where there’s a fountain, and insist you both toss a coin and make a wish.

You wishes for more moments like this, and he wishes for even more.

Valentine’s is for losers.

And being a loser is not that bad. Especially when you’re baking cupcakes and he’s sitting on the counter watching you get all excited about the sprinkles you two bought on your way home. He dips his finger in the frosting and pokes your nose, melting at the sound of your laugh.

It’s not that bad when he gets to see your eyes sparkle at the sight of the heart shaped earrings he bought you. It’s not that bad when he wasted a good thirty minutes of the store employee’s life by explaining just how perfect you were and just how much he loved you.

It’s not that bad when you gifted him a Valentine’s day card you crafted with his nieces with glitter glue and gel pens and fancy scissors.

Maybe he loved Valentine’s day, he just didn’t want to admit it. He was a mystery. And you loved him that way.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: i

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 2   ||   chapter 3 ||  chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You serve Hawks a lavender, oat milk latte. Not only is he hooked on your drinks, but he's also hooked on you as well.

a fluffy multi-chaptered piece i’ll release when i’m feeling it :’^) enjoy y’all. coffee shop au hell

||||||||||||||||||

You and Keigo met each other on the coldest, snowiest day of the year.

The temperature was near glacial. The air stung and bit like hell, wind kicking and spitting powdery snow as it fell in sheets from the grey sky.

The weather, horribly, prevented two of your coworkers from working the morning shift at the tea shop. Half of the trains were shut down across the city in addition to power outages. But, your cheap ass owner forced you to open. Alone. In a blizzard.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn’t be getting many customers.

Opening at the tea shop on a normal day was a hellish amount of work. As you unlocked the door and walked into your humble establishment of employment, you grimaced at the thought of all of the work you were to do.

After disrobing from your thick winter jacket, scarf, and mittens and throwing on your apron, it was time to begin. You made yourself a simple, oat milk latte and then started to get to work setting up for the day. 

It was hardly dawn. 

  Keigo was on early morning patrol. It wasn’t his favorite shift, oh, hardly, but he did enjoy watching the sunrise. And, while his wings were powerful, the snowstorm did force him to fly much lower in the grey haze of the day than he normally would. Stepping out of his apartment around just before 5:30 AM, Keigo almost moaned in anguish at the cold. He was infinitely glad he had worn a thermal bodysuit under his uniform.

His quirk afforded him much in terms of battle prowess, in addition to a few avian mutations. Most notably at that moment was his difficulty conserving heat. As Keigo stood on his balcony, frowning at the can of coffee in his hand, he made the prompt decision to fly to his area of patrol and grab a hot drink. The thought of downing something cold made his stomach turn.

Gracefully, Keigo turned and flew, letting himself be carried across town. The area he was patrolling was relatively quiet, mostly small businesses and lower-middle-class apartments. As he touched down, shivering and sleepy, he padded through the empty streets with his wings folded to his back.

  The wind was wild, wiping between buildings, making snowdrifts that blocked some of the doors of shops nearby. Part of you cursed, shaking your head. You desperately wanted to be warm, curled in bed with your cats, and watching cartoons.

You set up the shop, moving chairs and turning on machines. Though you were a tea shop, you sold more coffee than any sort. On a normal, fully-staffed day, you’d be in the back, crafting tea blends. But, that day was, in fact, a very abnormal day and it was about to get weirder.

  Keigo meandered around the streets, strangely at genuine ease. There were no civilians and very few stores open allowing him to walk freely, albeit coldly. Part of him wondered if he would even find a coffee shop.

But lo and behold, he did. 

Keigo opened the door, a cute bell ringing. The shop was themed warmly with yellow-toned wood counters and furnishings. There was a smattering of local art on the walls and jewel-toned accents. All in all, it was a cozy reprieve from the icy nature of outside. Keigo relished the heat.

It seemed only one person was working, you. 

  When you heard the bell sounding at the entrance of a customer, you piped up from behind the counter, “Just one sec!”

A kind laugh, “Take your time.”

You were struggling to reach a tea blend. It was high on the many shelves behind the counter. You clamored on top of the counter, rising on your knees to try and reach it. Your hands stretched to grip it with an arch of your back. You grinned in victory as you managed to grab it. You pulled back, miscalculating in your pride—

And then you were losing balance.

And then you were falling.

(How fucking cliche).

You would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for some unknown force, pushing you back onto the counter, steadying you. The sensation, new, perked you up, causing you to let out a high noise of surprise. You turned, your eyes going wide.

Several beautiful, scarlet feathers caught your fall.

Your eyes flickered up to your patron savior.

  Number two hero, Hawks, smiling at you and giving you a bit of cheshire grin, stifling a laugh.

You slowly descended from the counter, turning to face him at the register, “Well, I really have to say thank you. I nearly ate shit there.”

“All in a day's work,” Hawks winked at you. You beamed easily. Local heroes came and drank at the shop fairly regularly, but never anyone particularly famous, let alone the top ten. Never the incredibly stunning, wind-whipped bachelor hero that was Hawks.

“What can I get for you today?” You asked, going for a notepad.

Hawks eyes scanned the menu behind you. He hummed, pretty, amber eyes settling back on you, “Surprise me.”

Your eyes widened, but you nodded. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Alright, let me ask a few questions, just to make your drink the best it can.” You told him. “First off, hot or iced?”

“Oh, definitely hot,” Hawks almost wiggled a feathered eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

“Okay, how much caffeine? Any allergies?” You asked, scribbling an idea down on the notepad. “Milk preference?”

“As much as you can legally supply me with, no preferred milk, and no allergies. Though, I do like things sweet,” Hawks was removing his gloves as he spoke. “Go crazy, give me the best thing you got, angel. Something that gives me the warm and fuzzies.”

Oh, that was a move. 

Hawks was notoriously (in the media) shamelessly flirtatious with fans and other heroes. It was always painted as something that was in good fun, never sexual, and just part of his brand. This was just common knowledge, but god you never expected it to be directed at you with a cute pet name.

  “On it,” You smiled back at him, face hot. You smoothed yourself down before beginning to craft his drink. 

It wasn’t often that you worked the front counter, and there was a good reason for it. Most of the time, you got too into making drinks, customizing them frivolously (often due to your quirk). Though you were skilled, it took a lot of time that people didn’t have for a coffee run.

But, on the day of a momentous snowstorm, you and Hawks had all the time in the world.

  Keigo was a bit stunned by you.  

You were cute, one. 

You were wearing a soft-looking turtleneck sweater, and high-waisted, wide-leg pants. They were fashionable but obviously aged. But it worked. A cute, embroidered apron was tied over you snuggly around your waist. It was adorned with buttons and pins, brightly colored.

 You spoke so frankly to him. You didn’t gawk at him for even a second, even when his feathers propped you up from falling. You blushed at his pet name but didn’t seem any more fazed than a bit of embarrassment. He liked it. It felt normal.

Keigo rested his hands on the counter, watching you flit about behind the counter. 

“I gotta ask, why are you open in this blizzard??” Keigo tilted his head as your gaze flickered to him. You were still smiling, just a bit, even hard at work. 

  You snorted, “Cheap boss who won’t close, and my coworkers are stranded without the trains running. I live close by and work hourly, so I might as well come in, ya’ know?”

Hawks laughed, something warm and full, so juxtaposed to the storm of flurries outside. 

It was odd, talking to the number two fucking hero so casually, but it felt good. There was a sense of awe and idleness, but it dimmed. There were no flashy heroics, just one person wanting a drink and the other making it.

Your quirk activated on its own as you stared at the syrups. Your quirk’s tell was so small and normal, no one ever caught it. A heavy dilation of the eyes was not something most people were tuned into. Yet there you were, submerged in sensation. Touch, sight, smell, taste, even sound, all blending together. They elicited something deeper in you, creating something abstract you could make tangible.

To make a feeling into a physical reality was a gift, but it came with drawbacks of course.

You poured a few syrups into the bottom of the cup, carefully selecting them.

“I can’t imagine how cold it is up in the sky,” You mused to yourself just before steaming some oat milk. 

“Oh, you have no idea, ” Hawks lamented to you with a groan. “I feel like I’m gonna lose a few toes whenever I work in this weather.”

“Just toes? I’d be worried about a whole foot,” You grinned back at him as you poured more things into the cup, stirring every few moments. 

The feeling in your mind was so tangible to you, and you could perfectly translate it to reality. Something warm, to beat away the frost of the world beyond the tea shop. 

You sprinkled the top with a few dashes of cinnamon, setting it on the counter in front of him. 

  Keigo looked down at the drink you made him, raising an eyebrow. He went to take a sip, but you stopped him, “I’d give that a few minutes if you don’t want to burn your tongue, tailfeathers.”

  Hawks nearly fucking squawked as he set down the drink, giving you a look of false anger, “ Tailfeathers? That’s not a kind name to call me. I don’t even have those.”

Keigo huffed, pouting at you. 

  “You call me, a stranger barista, angel, I call you tailfeathers. Easy trade.” You shrugged at him, tapping into the register system. “I’m not charging you until you try it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to upcharge if I don’t like it?” Hawks continued to pout, jokingly so, pulling out a wad of bills that was undoubtedly much more than any drink would cost. 

Your eyes widened, leaving you sputtering, “Oh, never— it’s on the house if it bangs as much as I think it will.”

Hawks laughed, out loud, bending back a bit. You watched his pretty red wings shudder and reflect the warm light of the coffee house. Keigo collected himself, over-dramatically straightening himself. 

You watched with anticipation as he took his sip.

  Keigo was a man of poor taste. Sure, dropping an unholy amount of money on frivolities was one of his small pleasures, after so much of the ascetic bullshit that the Commission put him through, it only seemed fair. But, caffeine was a necessity with his fucked up schedule and he’d be damned waiting in a line or making it at home. Canned coffee was saccharine and speedy and that’s all he fucking wanted. 

But, when the first drops of that stupid oat milk latte hit his tongue, Keigo was beyond enamored. 

Yeah, he wanted coffee to feel warm in this storm, but he didn’t expect to feel warm. With just one gulp, he could feel the heat, like the flames of a steady hearth, drift around his body. 

He brought the cup down from his lips, looking at you with awe. 

You had the smuggest grin spread across your face, arms crossed over your chest.

“Thoughts?” God, you were so cheeky. He loved it. You were so subtly bold.

“This,” Keigo took another greedy swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his ungloved hand, “is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my damn life.”

Your smile just got wider. 

“Glad I could meet your tastes, tailfeathers. No charge,” You gave him a cheeky little wink. You swore you saw his face get redder, but you dismissed it a moment later.

“Oh no, nu-uh,” Keigo pushed the bills towards you. “Take it as a tip then. Seriously. How did you make this?”

You stared down at the bills and Hawks’s hand. His hands weren’t particularly large, but they were scarred plenty. Veins and bone were accented by the dryness of his skin. 

You looked back up at him, still not taking the money, “Can you keep a secret? It’s a big one, especially considering you’re a hero.”

Hawks tilted his head, “If you say you used your quirk to mess with this drink, I don’t know if I’m legally able to keep it a secret.”

“Nah, nah. I didn’t ‘mess with your drink’,” You shook your head, nodding down to it. “Do you know what synesthesia is?”

(He did, surely. But he just wanted to listen to you talk more.)

“Enlighten me?” Hawks ask, stooping to rest his elbows on the counter, chin cradled in his hands.

  For being a man who could kill you in a split second, Hawks was remarkably cute. You understood his sex appeal long before he entered the shop. His hair looked unnaturally fluffy, wind-ruffled, and honey blonde. His eyes had a few cute bird-like markings ringing the sweet, amber irises. He had a delicate but defined jaw. 

He raised a sculpted, feathered eyebrow at you. 

(He’d caught you staring).

You cleared your throat, laughing it off easily (though you were mentally kicking yourself), “Synesthesia, broadly, is like senses overlapping in your brain. Like... The common example is seeing colors when you hear a month of the year.”

“Now, what does this have to do with my lovely drink?” Hawks batted his eyelashes at you. You could tell he was definitely flirting with you, but you brushed it off the best you could. 

He’s a hot guy you made coffee for. Happens all the time. 

“Well, you had me a little bit, I did use my quirk, but it doesn’t mess with your drink physically at all. Not even close,” You laugh. “My quirk allows me to conceptualize abstract ideas into tangible ideas.”

“That really makes it sound like you used your quirk to make my drink,” Keigo watched your eyes dilate as he spoke.

You blinked, and they went back to normal.

“No, no. It’s like for your drink,” Both of your eyes looked towards the steaming cup. “I took your request for ‘warm and fuzzies’ to heart.”

Keigo blinked at you. 

Your pupils expanded again, “I figured ‘ you know, this guy has to fly around in the cold all day, right? Probably is freezing and far away from home ’— and there was my inspiration.

“I used my quirk to conceptualize... the idea of being warm and safe into a tangible concept. A nice, easy coffee drink. Four shots of espresso, oat milk, homemade lavender honey syrup, two of my own, specially made tea extracts, and a bit of cinnamon for good measure.”

Hawks blinked at you, “Your quirk gives you the... blueprints, to turn ideas, literal feelings, into reality and these blueprints just work?” 

You nodded and shrugged, “Most of the time. The less I’m focused on it, the more likely it is that the feeling won’t be able to manifest. I just get more exact with my construction with the fewer stimuli.”

“Drawback?” Hawks quirked an eyebrow, already having a good idea as to it.

You gestured lazily to the empty coffee shop, “I get overstimulated easily, quirk activated or not. Makes a lot of shit hard, but I like my quirk. I mean, it’s nothing like having a crazy strong pair of wings, but it services me well.”

“Did you really ‘manifest’ ‘warm and fuzzies’ into a drink, or did you make it a bit deeper than that?” Keigo sipped again, relishing how it warmed him all over once more. The taste that was dancing over his palette seemed a little more complex than what they were saying. 

“To be frank and to have a bit of an ego, yeah, I went for my go-to feeling when making drinks for myself,” You averted your eyes from him. “A good drink should feel like you’re getting hugged from the inside out, you know? Comforted. It’s hard enough to get that tangibly without a quirk. I just try to help where I can.”

  Keigo blinked at you.

You had turned suddenly, shy, eyes anxiously darting and a hand tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. A cute flush was spreading over your cheekbones when you finally looked at him again, “Kinda corny, right?”

Despite the fact that Keigo’s heart was fucking pounding, he shook his head, voice steady and sure, “Nah, I think it’s cool. You’re doing a lot more than just making coffee for folks.”

Your face got even redder as you rubbed the back of your head,

“I usually work in the back, so I don’t tend to make a lot of coffee for people. I make the tea blends that we sell. I don’t always use my quirk, but sometimes I do.”

Keigo watched you nervously pull at your apron, giving him an oddly desperate deadpan, “Please don’t turn me in.”

That made Keigo bust out laughing again. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him in shock, and then join him. You covered your mouth at first, but finally, just let yourself laugh with him. All it seemed like that there was in the world was you, Keigo, the lavender latte, and the snowdrifts outside.

  Hawks’s pager beeped, almost instantly pulling him from his laughing fit. He glanced at it, giving a dull grimace, “Duty calls, it seems.”

“You’d think villains would take snow days?” You told him as he re-gloved his hands. 

“It would really make my job easier,” He chuckled. Hawks pushed the forgotten money on the counter. “That’s all for you, ya hear me? Keep it or I will actually turn you in.”

Oh, you were feeling bold. 

Before Hawks could pull his hand away, you placed your own on his, stopping his movement.

“Only,” You somehow, one-handed, managed to pull a bit of receipt paper from its machine. Still one-handed you grabbed a pen and scribbled onto the paper. You pushed it towards Keigo. “If you take this very conveniently small piece of paper that totally doesn’t have my name and number on it. Just in case you’d like another lavender latte like that.”

  Oh, Keigo was floored.

He had rapid fucking fans. They were feral. He’d had fans drop their entire life stories on him, gush to him, stalk him— one time, a fan dropped to their knees and licked his boots. And he’d certainly received many phone numbers in his day, so many, but never like this. 

This felt a little different.

“Well, I was gonna say, I might need some contact to know when you work next. Just so I can grab one of your lovely drinks,” Hawks winked at you, all smitten.  He walked backwards towards the door, still meeting your eyes

“Feel free to.” You were just as starry-eyed as he was. “I have a lot to show you!”

And with that, Hawks whisked himself out of the door, fast as ever.

And you both simmered, full of intangible feelings. 

[yourloveissmydrug]

could you do a sfw readerxbubba fic where the two of you decorate a new mask for him??

Okay funny thing I want to mention first. I started typing and having a layout for what I wanted to write, and had the story down. During the whole process of writing the fic, I was getting my nails done, and grocery shopping. And when I got home I was gonna sit down and fully write it but then I CLOSED ALL THE TABS ON ACCIDENT. And now the first original story is gone but don’t worry💀 I know I know LMFAO but don’t worry I know how the story goes! It’s my first request, and I just wanted to point that out, cuz thought that it was hilarious. Sorry I took so long!!!

——————————————————————————

It was a typical Friday afternoon, you were laying on Bubba’s bed reading a seventeen magazine on the hot and humid Texas summer day. You were bored out of your mind and all you could do was stare at the wall or read some magazines Drayton brought home from time to time.

Your boredom grew and grew quicker. Bubba was always busy with his chores and victims. So you spent mostly everyday by yourself until his chores were done.

To make it even worse the heat didn’t exactly help. The fan that gave no to little cool air helped a bit but you still were sweating. You laid there in bed, sweating while reading your magazine, you thought to yourself, could this get any worse? But your saving grace came.

You heard the door knob wiggle and jiggle open, your body perked up in hopes for Bubba. Walking through the door was Bubba! Your whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. Bubba was excited to see you too. But this time it was different. He was more ecstatic than usual, and it made you curious. He held out one of his victim’s face with jazz hands. You giggled at his quirky humor, while he snorted along with you.

You were quite confused on why he had one of his victim’s faces with you, but it’s Bubba. He’s unique and not like everybody else, which is why you are very fond of him.

You take a good look at the face and realize it’s a female’s face. Being a newly member of the family, you were still getting use to Bubba’s mannerisms, sometimes it left you confused but you’d followed along with whatever he does.

“So, is this for me?” You question softly with baby doll eyes.

He shook his head no, he took the mask away from you. He grabbed your hand, and walked you towards his crafts table where he works on all of his little gadgets and fine arts he makes.

“You want me to decorate the mask for you?”

Again, Bubba shook his head no. He pointed to you and himself. You finally understood what he meant. It’s hard to understand Bubba, he doesn’t speak words exactly. He mumbles, squeals and says gibberish where nobody can understand except for his brothers.

“You want to decorate the face together?” You asked while trying to hide your blushy cheeks from him.

He nods his head in excitement as you guess right. Now that you had agreed to decorate the face with him, he squeals in pure joy.

He pulls out a chair for you like a gentleman would at his table. He hovers over your whole body to see what will you do first. He’s very eager to do this with you.

“I really love your pretty fancy mask, but it’s been used for so long, hasn’t it?” You ask him.

He nods his head while he puts his hands on your shoulders to give him support while watching you.

“Let’s make you a new one, how about that?”

Bubba couldn’t agree more! Anything you do he loves, and is down for. Bubba wears his fancy pretty masks when he is either eating dinner with the family or going on a very special hunt for a victim. He needs to look his best, and looking his best is a main priority to him.

Looking at the blank canvas of the face that could be filled with creative designs and makeup, you questioned what to start with, but it immediately popped in your mind, blush! You grab a vibrant pinky blush. You dab lightly on the cheeks to not have such a bright pink that looks cakey and awkward. Bubba is amazed at how you applied the blush so subtly that looked so soft and airbrushed.

Then next is lipstick. You grab a bright red lipstick to go with the blush. You knew exactly what color would work well. You finely apply the lipstick around the lining of the mouth of the mask. It looked like an actual woman’s lips.

But now Bubba wanted to take a bit of control. He grabbed one of the deepest dusky blue eyeshadow he has but before he started, you stopped him and insisted he used a brush instead. You dip lightly in the blue eyeshadow, and started to do slow motions to blend out the beautiful blue. Bubba was intrigued by your technique, he then proceeds to overlap your hand that’s on the brush. He wants to blend the eyeshadow together. Your eyes met and you couldn’t control the smile that was beaming off of your face. You let him take control for a bit.

“Slowly Bubba..” You softly advise him.

Bubba blends in slower and softer motions blending the dark blue eyeshadow on the upper eye. You praise him for his contribution on the eyeshadow, you thought he did beautifully. He lets out a happy squeal for making him feel proud of his work.

You both were proud of what you designed together, but both of you knew something was missing. You both wanted to add something extra! You knew exactly! You wanted to add something edgy yet feminine and feisty to the look. Bubba had a stamper collection full of different patterns and designs. Bubba’s personality is quirky, and sweet. You wanted to showcase his personality on this mask that both of you designed together.

“Let’s put this on the cheek bone of the mask, give it some more pizzazz!” You suggest.

Anything that you do, Bubba is happy and pleased with it.

But this time, you want Bubba to add the finally touch to it. It was a tiny heart stamp that would give the look some sweetness to it. Bubba dipped the stamper in black ink, and you directed towards where he should put it. He then prints the stamper on the cheek bone of the mask. You both are proud of your master piece you both designed.

Bubba twirls your hair in appreciation and talks his gibberish. You have no idea what he is saying, but you find it very charming. You give him a kiss on the cheek when he’s not noticing. This was a moment that you both will remember and cherish forever. He just couldn’t wait to show off his new mask to everybody and tell them that the both of you made it!

——————————————————————————

AHHHH, I hope you liked it. I very much enjoyed writing this! Sorry I took like 10 million yearsss, I had a busy day, and accidentally closed all tabs erasing the whole story, but for future requests gonna do them on a Google doc first 💀

[laurenairay]

Pumpkin Carving - A. Burakovsky

Summary: carving pumpkins with your boyfriend Andre and your nieces gets a little competitive.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: minor injury (nothing serious, but a little blood), super cuteness

A/N: Burky is such an adorable goofball, I love him  💚 

“Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?” - prompt is from this list - one of the autumn/fall stories I promised myself I would write. Written after encouragement from @jamiedrysdales​ - and thank you to @itsbadgerbadgermushroom​ for hyping me up with this one! 💖

~~~

Any time you could spend with your nieces was a blessing. Now that you’d graduated college and were working full time, the amount you saw them had massively decreased, so the weekends that you were able to, you definitely took advantage of being the best aunt you could be. This weekend was only a few days before Halloween, meaning it was time for your annual pumpkin carving competition – every year your two nieces would each draw a design in marker pen on their pumpkin and you plus another adult would do the actual carving for them (usually their mom). Whoever had the ‘best’ design would ‘win’ (of course they both got a prize) – it was just a silly little bit of fun but you treasured the family tradition.

This year you’d roped your boyfriend Andre into helping.

He’d only met your nieces a few times in the year that you’d been dating, the schedules not really having worked out, but as soon as you’d suggested the pumpkin carving he was all in. He’d arrived at your apartment nearly an hour before your nieces were due to arrive, buzzing with excitement (and maybe a little too much caffeine), to help you set up the carving stations.

Oh yes, you took things that seriously.

Either side of your dining table you set up old newspapers, 2 medium sized pumpkins, 2 thick markers and 2 thin markers, as well as the small pumpkin carving knives that you and Andre would use.

“Will this bowl do?”

You whipped your head around, smiling at the plastic bowl your boyfriend had brought in from the kitchen. That size would be just about right, good job Andre.

“Yes, perfect for the guts,” you nodded.

“Guts?!” Andre yelped.

You couldn’t help but giggle, making him blush deeply.

“The insides of the pumpkins – the stringy, gooey, seedy bits that need to be scooped out before we can draw and carve. I like to separate the seeds out later and roast them for snacks,” you grinned.

“Sounds disgusting. I’m in,” Andre grinned back.

You dug out the kids-size aprons you kept for arts and crafts activities and draped them over the back of the chairs, before putting your hands on your hips. Yes, this would do nicely. You jumped slightly as Andre slid his arms around you from behind, but melted into his embrace as his hands settled on your waist.

“You really put so much thought into this, don’t you?” he murmured.

You bit your lip, but nodded. “Yeah, it’s one of my favourite times of year and the girls love it too. It’s messy, silly and fun – we always have a good time,”

Andre smiled into your neck, pressing a light kiss behind your ear, making the skin tingle slightly. “I’m excited to share it with you,”

You spun around in his arms, smiling up at him as your slid your hands up his chest, his hands moving to rest on your ass.

“I’m excited to share it with you too,” you said softly.

Andre just smiled a little wider, before leaning down to kiss you.

You lost time exchanging slow sweet kisses, tongues light and teasing, never building to anything raunchy but just a gradual swell of intensity that had your body buzzing. You could feel Andre half hard against your stomach, but you knew it wasn’t going anywhere before your nieces arrived – that just wasn’t the vibe at all. Just being close to him, running your fingers through his curls, touching him, tasting him, that was all that you needed right now. Eventually your kisses slow down to a few gentle pecks, until you were breathing heavily. Andre’s lips were lightly swollen and pink, his eyes a little wide, and you knew you looked the same way. Damn he looked good.

“I’m going to, uh, get some drinks ready?” you said, a little breathless.

Andre just nodded, licking his bottom lip. Damn. You quickly turned and walked away, unable to stop the stupid smile on your face. You really did feel so giddy around him sometimes.

It was only a few minutes later when your doorbell rang, so placed the glasses of juice on the table before heading to let your nieces in.

“Aunt Y/N!”

You grinned at their squeals, laughing as they threw their arms around you. “Are you two ready to have fun carving pumpkins with Andre and I?”

“Yes! Is he here already?” your oldest niece asked, clearly excited.

You nodded, smiling down at her. “Yeah he’s here – why don’t you two go wash your hands and put your aprons on,”

They ran past you with happy cheers, making you laugh again as you bid goodbye to their mom. How they had that much energy was beyond you. By the time you reached them at the carving stations, they were both already sat down with their aprons, wiggling in their seats in anticipation. Andre winked at you, making you blush a little.

“Alright, who wants to be paired with Andre?” you asked, rolling your eyes playfully at him.

“Me please!” your youngest niece said immediately.

You could see the relief in Andre’s eyes that he hadn’t been a reluctant choice – you’d told him he wouldn’t be, but you were glad that you were able to prove yourself right. He sat down next to her, big smile on his face, and you sat down opposite him next to your oldest niece, who beamed at you.

“So, rules,” you said firmly.

“Rules?” Andre asked, pouting.

Your nieces giggled. “Squishy guts out first. No peaking at the other drawing. And only adults use the knives,” your youngest niece said simply.

You saw Andre make a face again at ‘squishy guts’ and grinned at him. This was going to be fun.

It took a little while for your nieces to scoop out the pumpkin guts and seeds, Andre more than happy to just pass the bowl back and forth, and after they’d washed their hands again, the drawing began. Your oldest niece had decided on having a cat face on hers this year, which looked pretty cute, but you had no idea what Andre and your youngest niece were drawing – all you could see was them whispering to each other every now and again, pointing at their pumpkin.

You didn’t think you could love this man any more than you already did, but seeing him so sweet with your niece just made your heart so happy and full. You honestly didn’t know what you’d done to deserve such a genuinely kind guy. He was so cute with your niece - what more could you ask for?

“I think we’re ready,” Andre announced.

You looked down at your oldest niece who nodded back to you. Ready it was then.

“Be careful with the pumpkin knife, Andre. It’s small but it’s sharp,” your youngest niece said suddenly, frown on her face.

Andre nodded solemnly. “I will do my very best to be careful,”

Well at least he was honest. You grinned at him, picking up your own knife, earning a grin and a wink back, his foot pressing against yours under the table. So sweet. You set to work with your pumpkin, carefully cutting out the pieces of the drawing that needed to go to achieve your niece’s desired design. You could see her smile growing wider as her drawing came to life – that was exactly why you did this every year, encouraging her creativity in such a fun way.

You were nearly finished with your carving with you heard Andre yelp, his knife clattering to the floor. “Blood!” your youngest niece whimpered.

“Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?” you mused, carefully putting down your own knife.

Andre bit his bottom lip, nodding as he clutched his hand to his chest, shielding the injury from your niece. Oh damn. It wasn’t just his pride that was hurt then. You smiled down at your oldest niece to reassure her, before walking round the table to where Andre was.

“Close your eyes,” you told your youngest niece, waiting until she did so to hold out your hand to your boyfriend. He winced but uncurled his fist, a smear of blood masking a small shallow cut to the side of his finger. Okay, not as bad as you thought.

“It won’t need stitches, but it will need cleaning out and a bandaid,” you said softly, letting go of his hand.

“I didn’t think it was bad. It was just…”

“The shock?” you offered.

“Yeah,” he nodded, blushing a little. Bless him.

You beckoned him to stand up, pressing a little kiss to your niece’s head, murmuring that she could open her eyes now. “Stay here girls – I’ll just clean up Andre’s little cut and then we can finish, yeah?”

They both nodded, so you walked out to the bathroom, Andre trailing behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted as soon as the door closed.

What? “What are you sorry for?” you frowned.

“I ruined pumpkin carving by getting hurt,” he mumbled, seeming to shrink in on himself a little.

Oh no. That wouldn’t do.

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly, cupping his face with your hands, making him look at you, “my nieces are having so much fun and that hasn’t changed. We just need to clean you up and wash the knife, that’s all,”

“You’re not mad at me?” he asked quietly.

Your heart broke a little at the sadness on his pretty face, and you shook your head.

“I promise I’m not mad,” you insisted.

He bit his lip, unsure, so you leant up to kiss him, waiting until he’d relaxed enough to kiss you back to tug on that bottom lip with your teeth, making him whimper softly as you broke away.

“I mean it. It’s all going so well, so let’s clean up and get back out there,”

“Okay,” he nodded, a little breathless.

“Unless you’d rather stop the pumpkin carving?” you teased.

Andre shook his head quickly, making you laugh. “No! We have a competition to win!”

That’s the spirit.

[majesticbrownjawn]

Delicate Part Three

Part One

Part Two

They rode quietly back to their side of town, Violet in a contemplative state of awe the whole way.

How'd he know her name? Maybe it was a freaky, weird coincidence.

She was completely taken by E. How'd he will her to give herself to him so quickly? She hadn't done anything like since her 20's. Her entire being wanted to stay there in Oakland, which let her brain know she had to do the opposite.

She had to stay away from him.

"You have to stay away from him," Trina said as she was climbing out of Violet's car. It was like her best friend had heard her thoughts and repeated them to make sure your got the picture.

"What?"

"He's no good, Vi," she asserted.

"How would you know? You just met him yourself." Violet's tone was defensive and she didn't know why, but Trina was absolutely right.

"I-I just know his type...AND know he had you with your drawers hanging around your ankles when I found you," she answered with an air of satisfaction in her voice. "God knows how many other women he's had like looking that."

Violet's eyes bulged in horror. She was always the more level-headed of the two. Sensible and practical were her middle names. Her role in their relationship was the responsible one. Violet relished in being the wise friend who always seemed to have it together and just a few hours with E was already tarnishing her image.

"Did you see him though?" Violet was trying her best to appeal to Trina's weakness for attractive men. She couldn't pick a guy with character to save her life, but they were almost always fine, and Violet was an eyewitness to Trina's inventory of E when she introduced them at the party.

Trina huffed and folded her arms at Violet disapprovingly.

"Fine. I already decided I would stay away from him. That's why I ran out of there so fast."

****

Violet loved food.

It was no wonder, though. She didn't just magically wake up one day in her pillowy-soft body.

But she turned that love for food into a craft, and studied culinary arts in Paris. Chef V's years of experience working under the best chefs in Europe made her a shoe-in for one of the few Michelin-starred restaurants in the States. She was the only Black woman executive chef of a restaurant of this caliber, which was both an honor and a shame to her. She wanted nothing more than to help other Black women in the her industry come up, but found the balance of trying to stay on top of her game and making time to give back a challenge. Doing anything other than working was a challenge for her. Maybe that was why she was so easily swayed by someone like E.

Her thoughts briefly went back to that day, now two months in the past—and she shuttered a bit at the thought of him. She would have been lying if she said she was glad he never contacted her. But she knew not hearing from him was for the best.

The sound of clanking fine china and sizzling kobe beef buzzed around her as she stood in the center of an upscale kitchen barking out orders like Gordon Ramsey. This kind of power gave her a high that was as exhilarating as it was exhausting. Everyone looked to her for direction and approval, a position she was quite familiar with.

Her younger siblings looked to her for guidance after her parents' death as a teenager and from then on, people kind of just sensed the leader in her. She was forced into being this person at a young age—maybe too young – but eventually embraced it. The consequence was that she came off as a snobby, slightly controlling bitch who thought she was smarter than everyone else.

Almost everyone.

Violet ran a tight ship and mistakes were not tolerated, so when her sous chef Suzie ran into the kitchen with beet-red cheeks and a half-eaten plate, she was curious as to what the flustered woman would say.

"There's a man out there," Suzie whispered.

"Speak up, Suzie. I can barely hear you."

"He said his steak is undercooked."

A collective silence fell over the kitchen as everyone stopped to see what Chef V would do next. She jerked her head back and studied the steak on the returned plate.

It was cooked to perfection.

She smacked her teeth before heading to the kitchen doors to peer out of its circular windows. She scanned the restaurant briefly, trying to pick up on who she thought the picky customer might be. She usually had an eye for patrons who liked to complain in hopes of a free meal, but she couldn't quite figure it out tonight.

"Who sent it back?"

"Him...over there at table 46."

Table 46 was the best table in the house. You could see the entire city skyline from its positioning and it was purposefully tucked away for the sake of privacy. Violet had served numerous celebrities and wealthy diners at table 46. She didn't think to look over there initially. When she did, the silhouette of strong, broad shoulders caught her eye. She pushed the doors open with frustration, ready to take on this tasteless customer, but as she marched forward, more of the man's physique came into focus. And the man's physique was familiar.

His hair—locs – specifically, was finally what caused her to stop dead in her tracks. Suzie, following a bit too closely, crashed into Violet, sending the returned plate cascading to the floor. The commotion caused half the restaurant to look in their direction and had Violet not been so caught up in the man, she would have been embarrassed.

But she was caught up.

Violet audibly gasped when he turned to face her. But it wasn't him. It wasn't E. As she dismissed herself back to the kitchen, she felt a bit of sadness that the picky customer wasn't the man who so easily made her feel open enough to do things she'd never done, but always dreamed of doing—especially as it pertained to sex. Unfortunately, there was a side of her that she'd never explored. She'd never found the right person she felt safe enough to do those things with, so she fantasized about them instead. That is, until she met him.

"Just cook him another one," she flatly told Suzie, completely defeated. Her sous chef quickly got to work on a replacement steak, while Violet slipped away to her small office in the rear of the kitchen.

"You would work at a bougie ass place like this, wouldn’t you?”

His voice caused an immediate reaction from her body, though she refused to let him know it. Part of her was angry, seeing him after all this time, smiling smugly at her in her office. She stared at him sternly before speaking.

"How'd you get back here?"

"You thought that nigga was me, didn't you?"

"Ye—you didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine, babygirl." Her stomach fluttered at that name. Then she thought about him figuring out her real name.

"How'd you know my name?"

"Lucky guess," he smirked. "Your name is really Violet?" He said sarcastically.

She huffed and pointed to the embroidered script of her name and title on her chef coat.

"Lucky guess, my ass. How'd you get back here, E?"

He took a seat in front of her, as confident and fine as ever. The fitted turtleneck he wore had her feeling vulnerable. A bearded gentleman in a turtleneck was something she could hardly ever resist. So this man, though far from what she considered a gentleman, would certainly be a challenge to overcome. She'd already succumb to his charm once and she couldn't blame that time on piece of clothing.

She remained standing in between his obnoxiously widespread legs. He leaned back into the cushiony chair, totally relaxed.

And in control.

"One of my girls—" he cleared his throat unnecessarily. "I know one of the hostesses."

"Why are you here? Did you know I worked here?"

"Why you asking all these questions? You not happy to see me?" He leaned forward and rested an elbow to his knee.

"I don't have time for this. You come up in here playing games on the busiest night of the week. You can see yourself out, E."

She quickly side-stepped his legs on a mission to make it to the door, but he caught her hand just before she was out of reach.

"Where are you going, Violet." His question wasn't a question at all.

"What do you want from me?" She was sincere in her query. Why'd he show up here, two months later?

"I wanna fuck you, girl. Make them pretty ass eyes roll to the back of your head again."

Them eyes—her eyes, broke contact with his and drifted to his crotch. His dick print was visible on his inner thigh. She wanted to touch it so badly. She hadn't gotten the chance to the first time.

"You see it," he smirked.

It was hard to miss.

"Got me hard as fuck watching you do your thing, Chef V," he teased.

His hand led her back in front of him.

"Maybe I'll let you boss me around one day like you do these peons in yo kitchen."

She gulped loudly when he stood up, his physical presence looming over her making her feel small again, just how she liked.

E kissed her with enough power to topple her over, but the desk was there to catch her.

He didn't stop when her position suddenly lowered under him, he just readjusted and leaned down into her. She moaned shamefully when his tongue wiggled into her mouth and his hand groped her breast. The thick chambray material of her chef jacket was getting in the way of her feeling the full sensation of his hands and it frustrated her. The way his adept fingers teased her nipples the day they met was all she could think about when she moved his hand under her top.

"I guess you did miss me, Chef V."

"Shut up," she groaned. She didn't need him reminding her of the obvious. Reminding her what she was doing was uncharacteristic and stupid.

"I missed you."

Did he really just try that playa shit on her? I missed you? The sirens she heard when she met him at his house party had officially made their return.

"I said shut up."

"Aye," his voice was calm but his eyes were ablaze.

There was a passion in them that quickly reminded her of E choking her in his workroom. She was terrified at first, but when he realized it was her and his hands loosened around her neck, she realized she very much liked the way they felt. Warm and firm.

Invigorating.

"I said you could boss me around one day, not

TO-day."

His hands roughly gripped the back of her knees and pulled her closer. Their middles met and she couldn't help but grind up against his erection as he nibbled and sucked on her lips.

"You really just came here to fuck me, E?" She managed to get out.

"Yea."

Violet didn't expect such a direct answer. She kind of wished he'd lied to her. That he told her she was special and that he wanted to get to know her.

But who was she kidding?

She didn't really want to get to know him. He was dangerous and not the type of man she could settle down with. This was all they could ever have.

Good sex.

No—great, amazing, superb sex.

Top two, not two sex.

The best sex she'd ever had.

She prayed it wouldn't be the best she would ever have. But was fantastic sex worth the space he took up in her head the last few months?

E started kissing her again, successfully distracting her from overthinking. He'd started unbuttoning her jacket when a loud knock on the door startled her. She stared at him like she was looking for him to tell her what to do. He shrugged and kissed her again.

"They'll go away," he whispered.

Another knock.

"Hold on!" She yelled, trying her best to quickly button herself back up. E rolled his eyes as he watched her frantically try to gather herself.

"...Stay," he said, calmly unbuttoning each button right after she'd fasten them. He hoped a kiss to her temple would convince her to remain in his presence a while longer. She contemplated it until she saw the handle of her office door turning.

She yanked herself loose from his grasp and stormed out of her office. She didn't even look at the person who'd been knocking. All she saw was a blur of someone in black. Violet didn't even get mad that they'd opened her door without her permission. She was grateful in a way. Grateful for an escape. God knows how long and how loud they would have been in there hunching.

She took a moment to compose herself before returning to her duties. Violet was literally hot all over. She stealthily grabbed a cup of ice from a machine towards the back of the kitchen. There was a spot just past her office that was a hideaway for her when she didn't want to be found by the few people brave enough to knock on her door, which made her wonder who knocked on her door tonight. It wasn't someone from the kitchen. All of her staff wore white. The thoughts of what the mystery person had interrupted with E quickly flooded her thoughts.

The few top buttons of her jacket were still unfastened thanks to E. She slid a piece of ice up and down her neck and across the top of her chest. Her mind raced back to him. His hot hands grazing her flesh, inching closer to her breasts. Her mind was gone and her hands, with the ice in them, were making circles over her sensitive, hardened tips. She wanted to cum so badly. She focused on him. The way his turtleneck clung to his muscular arms, hinting at the wonder that was his scar-laden body. His scent was still on her from being so close moments ago.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

The way his tongue explored her mouth. The way he grabbed her like she belonged to him. The ice between her fingers soon melted and her digits quickly found their way into her panties, hungrily applying pressure to her clit. It didn't take much effort to make herself cum after being deprived of him for eight weeks. The thrill of seeing him was more than enough to excite her in ways she'd never felt before.

But why?

She chuckled to herself as she washed her hands before heading back to the main area of the kitchen. He had her acting totally different and part of her liked it.

The look of relief on her sous chef Suzie's face was comical as he drew close to her.

"Thank God you're back, Chef V."

"Everything okay?"

"Yea, I guess. You know I just get nervous without you here. I just don't want anything bad to happen when you leave me in charge."

Suzie was a young woman in her mid-twenties. Violet took her under her wing because she had great potential and because she was Black. Mentoring her was the least she could do to give back to the next generation, but sometimes Suzie was a worrywart and annoyed Violet to no end. She could already feel the high of her orgasm wearing off.

"Did you remake table 46's steak?"

"Yes. He loved it."

"Okay and did the kitchen catch on fire while I was gone?" She looked around in an extra manner for added effect.

Suzie shook her head no.

"See? Everything is fine. You need to relax."

Violet took her place back at the center of the kitchen, putting finishing touches on plates in the special way she's been gifted to, and even took moments to praise or constructively critique the work of her staff. She could see how pleased they were to have her working side-by-side with them and made a mental note to have more nights in the kitchen like tonight.

Minus the part with E.

And her private moment with the ice.

***

The restaurant was not only heralded for some of the best dishes in the world, but it was also home to one of the country's most expensive delicacies—a chocolate cake covered in gold leaves. It was rare someone ordered it, because despite the wealthy clientele they served, a $15,000 dessert wasn't something people ordered every day. When Suzie told Violet table 46 had ordered the expensive ass cake, she gave her an impressed look and headed for the refrigerated safe where they kept the golden flecks.

She made her way to the back of the kitchen, just past her office and private corner. As she strolled back by her office with the gold leaves in hand, she thought she heard something — a voice — on the other side of her office door. She brushed it off and kept walking, but then remembered she never saw him leave. But to be fair, she never saw his creepy ass enter the kitchen in the first place, so whatever she thought she heard had to be her mind playing with her.

Violet dropped the leaves off with her pastry chef and tried to busy herself with work that did nothing to keep her brain from thinking about who may or may not be still in her office. Finally frustrated enough with herself and him for making her crazy, she marched back to her office, her chest filled with air and ready to go off of need be.

She flung the door open but was quickly deflated by the sight in front of her. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on E standing in the corner of her office with a woman on her knees in front of him. His brows were knitted together tightly and the intense look of pleasure on his face made her pussy throb with want. E slowly brought his eyes to Violet standing at the door watching him getting his dick sucked. She knew that he knew she had been there a few moments before giving her his attention. It felt like he knew she'd arrive at the exact time she did. Just in time for his show.

Violet stood there frozen, mouth slightly agape in a mixture of shock, jealousy and desire.

The woman on her knees wore all black and was sporting hair extensions that trailed down her back. Violet concluded she was the woman who knocked on her office door earlier, likely the hostess E slipped up and called one of his "girls." Violet could see why she was. She could suck a mean dick. The woman's mouth slowly trailed up his shaft, saliva dripping down her chin. The chef looked in awe at his cock, seeing him fully hard from this vantage point had her wondering how she took him so easily. E's dick disappeared into the hostesses' throat and it was enough to make him groan.

"Yea. Just like that." He was staring at Violet when he said it, like she was the one on her knees in front of him. The hostesses moaned at his praise, but he wasn't talking to her.

Violet had quietly closed the door behind her and was palming her sensitive breasts. Her eyes closed as she listened to the sounds in the room.

His labored breathing.

The hostesses' lude slurping and gagging.

Her own barely audible mewls.

"Look at me."

Violet knew he was talking to her without opening her eyes. Somehow, the hostess was still unaware of a third party in the room with her and E, stealing his attention from the good work she was doing on his dick.

Violet's eyes remained closed.

"Open your eyes." His command was surprisingly sweet, but laced with urgency.

"Iljshfhro," the hostess garbled. Violet assumed the woman was trying to tell E was indeed looking at him, but the hot dick in her mouth was prohibiting her from being fully understood.

Violet's eyes opened involuntarily from quietly laughing at how ridiculous the woman on her knees sounded. E smirked at Violet, unable to control his smile as he looked at her amused expression.

"C'mere, baby."

The smile had widened across his face, making the caps on his bottom row gleam against the soft lighting in the office. Perhaps the warm smile he gave her was the trick to getting her close to him. He felt relieved when she took a step forward, he was growing impatient and was dangerously close to begging her to come to him. E's desire for her had ballooned over the course of eight weeks and was on the verge of exploding. After meeting and subsequently fucking her that day, his mind frequently revisited their dalliance, sometimes in the most inopportune moments, like when he was blowing the backs out of other women. The most recent time it happened, he went fully soft inside one of his favorites when he looked down and realized she wasn't Violet.

He thought not only of the way her ample backside bounced beautifully against his scarred flesh, but of her wit and bold personality. Then there was the way he naturally felt possessive of her. E's teeth gritted together when he thought of how his homeboy looked at her gripping onto his bannister as they had sex. He came to the conclusion that he had to have her again, despite the nagging voice in his head telling him otherwise. At the least, he hoped sexing her again would get her out of his system. But in the moments when he was honest with himself, he knew the opposite was a more likely outcome.The hostess' head shifted in the direction of the door, but E's voice stopped her before she saw Violet approaching them.

"Don't look at her," he told the woman. Her head snapped back to its original positioning. E said it like he wanted to protect Violet. Like he knew Violet wouldn't be ok with the thirsty hostess knowing she was just as parched and needy for him.

E looked back at V with more tender eyes than he'd just had with the other woman. Violet was unsure if she was okay with his tone with hostess, even if it was to her advantage. Nevertheless, she moved until she was standing in front of him, the hostess wedged between them on the floor and looking to E for permission to do anything.Violet was captivated once again by his masculine beauty. And she didn't know it, but he was just as taken by her. He licked his lips as he stared at her plump ones, longing to tug and taste them again. He broke eye contact with her to look down at the pitiful soul under him. Waiting for direction on what she should do next.

"Get back to sucking my dick. Now," he commanded.

He shoved the woman's head into his groin and she happily continued gagging on him. Violet stepped even closer to him. Close enough that her stance called for her to straddle each of her feet just outside the hostesses' legs. Ever the obedient sub, the woman never looked behind her to see the woman hovering over her. She only did want he wanted, and E wanted her servicing his dick at the moment.

E reached out to grab the back of Violet's neck and kissed her feverishly. Her hands instantly found a place on his pebbled chest. The sensation of his scars against her palms sent tingles throughout her body and she fleetingly wondered again just what they meant and how he got them. She watched as he painfully pulled himself away from her and took a long look at his dick making its way in and out of the hostesses' mouth. He watched it like he didn't recognize it as an extension of himself.

"You see how fat my shit is for you?"

Violet didn't answer. She only continued staring with her lip wedged between her teeth at the scene she'd now become a part of. Her eyes struggled to keep focus on just his dick, though. E was too entrancing just to focus on one thing, even if that thing was his long, thick and currently, sinfully shiny dick.

Violet watched the way his fingers massaged the hostess' scalp while she swallowed him, making his biceps flex in a way that made Violet want to snatch the other woman off of him and take her place on her knees—mouth open and tongue out.

"You wanna suck it, don't you?"

"Yes," Violet squeaked before she realized what she was doing. E really had her caught up. She covered her mouth in shame.

He shook his head at her, laughing at her slip up. "Not yet, babygirl. Sit your cute ass over there."

Violet quickly plopped down in an upholstered chair a few feet behind her.

"Pull them titties out for me. I want to see you play with them while I cum for you."

V felt an uncontrollable shiver come over her that literally rattled every muscle in her body. It felt eerily similar to the feeling she got right before she orgasmed. She unbuttoned her chef coat and just barely touched herself. The light passes over her nipples were sending her in a way that felt as intense as squeezing them normally would. The sight before him was too much for him to hold on to any longer. E's mouth curled into the shape of an 'O' before his eyes briefly fluttered shut.

"I'm bout to cuuum...Gotdamn, shit baby."

His eyes opened to look at Violet and he pulled himself out of the hostess' mouth, preferring to use his hand to finish himself off. He tugged at his dick while looking at her gently rolling her fingertips across her engorged nipples. The waitress knew him well enough to calculate the exact moment he would cum. She stuck her tongue out in excitement and anticipation of his seed, admittedly in love with the feeling of his hot cum plastered across her face and tits. It was always her reward for being a good girl for him.

But she wouldn't enjoy one of her favorite parts of sex with him today. Instead of painting her with his orgasm, E shot his cum over her shoulder and in the direction of the woman sitting in the chair behind her. It shot out of him like nothing Violet had ever seen, so much so that some of it landed on the hem of her top. She stared down at the creamy substance and licked her lips, tempted to taste it.

"Get out." E's voice was low and void of energy. That nut took a lot out of him.

Violet remained in place, fixated on the jizz on her jacket.

"Babygirl," he called again. Violet looked up at him. His eyelids were heavy, but the look was sexy on him. He tilted his head and looked at her for a moment before shifting his head in the direction of the door. "You should leave."

"But I—," she started. He shook his head at her, silently telling her not to speak. In this moment, Violet didn't care about the waitress knowing who she was. All she cared about was staying with him. She knew what eight weeks without him was like and the yearning she felt for a man she'd only been around for a few hours was agonizing. And pitiful. She stood her ground—silently–for a few moments, hoping he'd demand the other woman to leave instead.

"Go," he told Violet once more. This time she finally turned to make her way to the door, but not before giving him a pout that she was completely oblivious of. Her feet were going one way, but her head was turned and looking at E. He kept eye contact with her until the hostess tugged on him.

"Why didn't you give me your cum?" the woman whined. "Wasn't I good for you?"

E let out a sigh, but it didn't feel like a frustrated one.

"We need to talk," he told the hostess as Violet reluctantly left them alone in her office again.

————————

I low key have no idea where this is going lol. It was a supposed to be a one shot. We’ll see what happens. Thanks for all the love on this series so far🖤

Tags

@harleycativy @queenflaws @theogbadbitch @goddessofthundathighs @syndrlla97 @soufcakmistress @killmonger-fics

[missamyrisa2]

how about a ticklish girl who got a bit dirty and needs some help getting clean? especially on her breasts and nipples, and on/around her privates. but she's super ticklish, so she needs to be restrained so she doesn't squirm too much. thank you! -☺

"My, my, what a dirty silly girl! How lucky of you to be here when I'm testing out my new cleaning machine~ don't squirm now" I grin and turn, swishing my long lacey lab coat and sassy high ponytail. My fingers dance along a spherical control pad, which trembles and squirms to life. "Even my machines are ticklish, it seems~" I squeak and gaze at you lovingly, watching you writhe and squirm as the cool metal clamps spring forth first to tug away your top and skirt, then to capture your wrists and ankles. They swell with rubber padding along your skin and position you horizontally above a cavalcade of nozzels. "Now then, which wash will you be selecting today? Pink pillow puff, purple passion power, or super sapphire sequence?" I giggle and start to bring the sphere to you, but stumble in a most clumsy fashion. The machine reacts with quaking klaxons, shifting you as the sprayer devices randomly emerge and shake furiously. "Whoopsie-poodle! I think I activated all three. And something called Extraneous Energy Endgasm. Do you like alliteration? I dunno, this might be stretching it, I should really workshop these names." I plop onto a nearby chair and spin absent-mindedly, watching as focused jets of water begin soaking your underarms, trailing every rib, working down to each hip, up into your bellybutton. The clamps rotate you like a spit, allowing the water to coat and rinse your inner legs, up your thighs, between each and every toe with focused bursts of cool water. At the same time, tingly pink beams begin scanning from all directions. They monitor the progress of the wash. When they reach your royal parts, the room warbles. "Ooh hunny bunny. You have got to keep your little cradle cleaner!" I exclaim, wiggling my nails on the sphere as a Hyper Jet emerges from the collection of sprayers. The multi headed tool chimes and beeps, moving around your girly parts, and with a happy 'ping!' it rumbles and begins spraying tiny jets at targeted zones. From either side of your body, tiny vacuum tubes appear and attach to your lips gently, opening you to allow the Hyper Jet access~ another sprayer head glides its small cold metal tendril inside and ensures you are thoroughly cleaned inside, vibrating the imperfections and polishing with gentle streams of water. "Now, now, what's all that squeaking and laughing. It can't possibly tickle that much. Whoa!" I spin my chair and look over the readings from your body, which are lighting up like a christmas tree. "Holy noodle doodles! You're so cute! My gosh would you just look at these readings! Tickle, tickle cutie. I mean, just wow, look!" I try to catch your attention, bringing the display over even as the Hyper Jet has now added another sprayer and similar vacuum tubes to your backside. "Hey, are you paying attention! This is remarkable stuff silly pie! Oooh! You're turned on aren't ya! Aren't youuuu. I see those toes curling. Aww cuuuute! But that just means it's gonna clean your girlyhood even moooore!" I playfully spank your rear as the trembling cleanser tool glides along to clean between your cheeks - and I'm afraid I can't get your attention especially when the machine decides to deploy an ultra soft scrubber brush to merrily work up and down your rear. The clamps keep you completely held in place, not affording any movement or struggles so the machine is free to work its craft. "My, my, this is realllly pushing your buttons huh? Yeahhh, I heard that moan. Don't try to hide it now. You luuuuuuv your washy tickles huh? Really pushes those girly buttons mmm? Oooh!! Girl buttons!!" I hurry back to the sphere and tickle it wildly, making the whole machine shiver, the jets stuttering along your body randomly in a wild tickly attack. When the machine recalibrates, a new tool emerges: a pair of domes, heading right for your heaving bosom. "Gotta make up for lost time. Hold still now. Not that you have a choice goosebump!" I pinch your cheek playfuly as the domes settle onto your nipples, sealing firmly. Each one has a tube attached to the top, and from the distance, you can see the

tubes filling up with bubbly suds and the stream is heading right for you~ "We call these the power washer buds!" The domes wiggle and suction, filling with the bubbly solution designed to excite your sensations, the cups shaking and buzzing to agitate the mixture like little washing machines. "Coochie coochie cleans!" I admire the work of my machine, seeing your skin starting to glisten, your body beautifully squirming.

"But oohhhh. Don't think we're done yet. I haven't shown you the bessssst part! Time for...giggle foam!" The spraying tools immediately slide back, the domes popping comically from your nipples. In their place, a rainbow of canons appear, clicking and beeping into place. In an instant your body is painted with fuzzy airy sensation, settling into all your nooks and crannies as the canons pivot and curve, blasting their tickly tickly foam onto your body. Elegant patterns of colors swirl down your back, up your legs, over your arms, crisscrossing down your midsection and painting a tickly flower over your girl parts and one over each breast. I simply admire the handiwork, a hand on my hip, giggling with you endlessly. "That's stilllll not the best part!!" I exclaim, letting you enjoy the artful foamy cleansing tickles on your body for a moment. The tickly foam invades between your legs, like an army of wiggly fingers going in to probe your inner walls, up your button, swirling on each nipple. It focuses perfectly on those dirty zones, and gives attention to your bouncy navel too. But it can't all stay on your body... "Time for the final cleanup!!" I snicker and tap all over the sphere, activating portals all around you. From all angles, you hear shuffling whooshing sounds. An adorable horde of pink cleanser bots appear, like miniature hovering roombas. Each one has a smiling cutesey face lovingly painted, right down to girly eyelashes and big plush lips. One lands on your arm. Another settles at a foot. One at your belly. And one at the thigh, with the final landing on your chest. "...mmmh" you hear them hum. They attune their routines to your gyrations and reactions, scanning to find all the tickly foam. "mmmmmuaahhh" their soft bristles and suction tubes deploy. "muah muah muah muuah!" They begin working, making their adorable kissing sounds on your body as they work to clean up every last bit of that bubbly foam. Their tools simulate lips almost too perfectly, you can feel the soft pressing, the sensual brushing, and the silly zerbert sensation. Again and again they kiss relentlessly over your body. "Squirm alllll you like cutie. They can't be deterred. You will be cleaned to perfection by my lovely Lippies." I take my seat once again, twirling the sphere, enjoying the show, and queuing up the scan because I'm sure all that arousal is going to require more cleansing~

[missbunnycarrot]

K I S S & T E L L

C H A P T E R O N E

1 new message

from: bestie

y/n~!! good luck! i am so excited for you babe. you are finally living your dream. i hope everything turns out well for you, and i know it will. although.. i am gonna miss you big time.. i love you babe. see you when i see you 😘😘😘

you let out a long sigh after reading your best friend's message. you lowered your phone then glanced back to your plane ticket to check your flight's departure time.

🔔📢🎶

KE flight number 17 bound to incheon, south korean has finally arrived. please proceed to the departure area, thank you.

"this is it y/n," you told yourself "i am finally living my dream as a dancer in south korea!!" you clutched your things close to you then strutted your way to the departure area.

dancing is a huge part of your existence. it is something you love to do and everyone knows it. dancing is your ultimate skill, your art of choice and your mode of therapy. then just after your dance teacher posted your video up on the internet, an email addressed to you changed everything. the email was sent by an agency looking for a specific dancer, well a short dancer that is.

see, you never really thought of hitting it big. yeah you are pretty and very experienced in a lot of style of dances but you lack in the height department. beauty standards nowadays just made you feel not too special to be casted at all. but hey, you certainly enjoyed underground dance battles and backing up local artists at your place.

that's why being contacted by a south korean entertainment industry came as a huge shock to you. the thought of the possibilities of meeting k-pop idols made you giddy as a schoolgirl. it is too soon the name names, isn't? you smiled to yourself getting comfortable in your seat. you looked out the window as the plane is about to take off south korea here i come.

you just need to take in the view, high glass ceiling, the place well lighted by glass walls and the modern architecture which made you realize you don't need to pinch yourself to reality.

you walked past the arrival sign and immediately saw a man holding a paper with your name on it. "안녕하세요 (hello)" you bowed to the man. he bowed back "you must be miss y/n, welcome to south korea. my name is jeon young hwan and i will be your chauffeur. shall i grab your luggages for you miss?" you slightly bowed again "sure young hwan씨. 감사합니다 (thank you)" such a gentleman and he is kinda cute. everything is going quite well for you so far.

it seemed like an hour drive when you finally arrived at the company building. it was huge. it made you even more excited when you saw nu'est and members of after school exit the building "kahi!!" you exclaimed unable to take your eyes off of her. "so, you are a fan of after school miss y/n," young hwan's words snapped you back to reality. "oh. 죄송합니다 (sorry) was i too loud?" your cheeks blushing from embarassment. "아니 (no). i think it is just natural for someone to react like that when they are starstrucked," young hwan smile at you through the rear mirror. "by the way miss y/n, as you can tell the builing on the left is the company building and here on the right will be your accomodation," young hwan swerved the van to the right and entered the parking area of the building.

he slid the door open and help you out of the van "now miss y/n, i will take you to your dorm" after reaching the seventh floor and walking past several doors from the elevator you finally reached your dorm "so this is it miss y/n, inside you will find a planner with your working schedules. as well as names of important people you should know working in the company and room numbers, floors you should be at during you schedule," young hwan stated like a pro. "감사합니다 (thank you)" you bowed then he returned you the gesture.

you open the door, not expecting too much. it was a very tiny room. but it still had its own bathroom, mini kitchen and a space for a small bed so it was still much better than you would have thought. you settled your bags inside, locked the door, went straight to the window and pulled the curtains aside. taking in the warmth of the sun and inhaling the korean air now, the adventure begins.

you cooked yourself ramen for dinner with kimchi at the side and banana milk as your desert. you then remembered to go through you planner for your first day tomorrow:

okay, 7am..

3rd floor room number 13

3hours practice 1hour break

okay..

hmmm.. ceo, han sung soo

stylist, kim nayeon

choreographer, choi youngjun

okay..

oh, what's this? looks some kind of id..

okay..

hmmm.. you took a big bite of ramen

no mention of any artist..

"oh well," you sighed

🍜💳📑📒

the next day you were up very early. too early that you didn't really know how to kill the rest of the time before 7am. "hmmm.. i guess i could walk around a bit to check out new places," so you wore your hoodie over your tanktop, wrapped your waistbag around you sweatpants and slinged your water bottle around your wrist.

as you stepped out of your building you inhaled the chilly korean air once again, which in turn gave you this boost of positive energy, or is it just a placebo effect? there were small hangout places in each corners of the street, a pet grooming shop with the cutest clients you have ever seen, a public park nearby where you saw kids smiling and waving at you before they ran to the slide. you looked at your watch "oh, its already 6am could the building be open by now?" you went back your path direct to the company building. there were workers cleaning the windows and it didn't look like there were anybody else but the cleaning team. you waved your hand at one crew "안녕하세요 (hello)," you bowed "is the building open?" you showed her your id. "안녕하세요 (hello), you may come in, though there is no one around yet. you may stay at the lobby in the meantime." the crew said. "감사합니다 (thank you)" you gave her a smile and bowed.

the place was a masterpiece. no wonder idols here are inspired to be more creative with their craft. you then noticed a narrow hallway with large posters adorning the wall. you looked at the posters and noted that the posters were of the artists of the entertainment agency. you passed by headshots of after school, you stopped at kahi's photo wow, those abs then at nana's photo she is so gorgeous. next you passed by hello venus and while you are on your way to the next group you caught yourself singing "씰룩씰룩 엉덩일 좌우로~ Wiggle, wiggle 더 느낌 있게~ 빙글빙글 조심스럽게~ 흔들어봐 흐흔들어봐~". then you saw ren of nu'est he looks prettier than me, sulking thinking about it. lastly you met the faces of seventeen, one of south korea's international idol groups. you just couldn't close your mouth in awe they are only pictures, what more if i met them in personal?

"ehem, 안녕하세요 (hello), you look new," a voice interupted your daydream. you looked back to see it was choi youngjun, the choreographer. "ah 안녕하세요 youngjun씨, my name is y/n" you politely bowed. "you are the new dancer, welcome to pledis entertaiment miss y/n" youngjun said after he bowed at you. "hey, are you heading to the dance pactice room?" he asked. "네 (yes) actually i am," you answered. "well then, let's go together,"

youngjun reached for the door and opened it for you. wow, this practice room is huge the room was well lit and there were mirrors everywhere. you can't help but smile at the thought that your dream is finally coming into life. next thing you know music blasted from the speakers. you moved your head to look for youngjun. "so y/n, show me what you got," youngjun said as he sat on a chair to observe you. is he challenging me? you smiled then dropped your things aside, tossing your hoodie with it as well.

without hesitation, you faced the mirror and started to move your body to the music. making your movements as fluid as you could possibly get with a few body popping moves to show your versatility. as you were already vibing with the music, youngjun suddenly changed the music to a latin-sultry kind of song. of course you didn't back down. you showed off your ballroom dancing skills with a dash of belly dancing to make your performance a tad bit sexy to impress the choreographer. you glaced at youngjun behind you through the mirror giving you a satisfied nod. he stood up from his seat and applaud "대박 (awesome) y/n. i am very impressed. you are exactly what we need,"

oh geez, stop it 😆

[peralta-guaranteed]

Family day playing hooky hc

(this turned into another fic. Apparently I don't make the rules anymore)

Read on AO3

It's the beginning of a long summer. Both kids are home - well, not really, since Amy has signed them up for several activities all around the city. Today is arts & crafts time at the children's library wing, Jake notes as he checks their shared calendar before the morning meeting. But they are home, insofar as Mac's school is closed for the summer holidays, and so's Maya's kindergarten. They drop them off at their daily activity in the morning, and the rest of the time they're at his mom's, who's been happily overfeeding them and entertaining them as the proud grandma she is. Or they drop them off at Gramma Peralta’s first, and she drives them to whatever place they were signed up at. It's a pretty good routine, and he's proud of Amy having found so many things for them to do that seem right up their alley, judging from their excited stories during dinner and the ever growing collection of handmade gifts on their living room shelves.

But they're home for the summer, and Jake and Amy have to sit at the sweltering precinct, slogging through paperwork and a dull week of almost no new cases. It's really not fair, Jake thinks. He remembers his summer days with Gina, when Nana would hand them both a couple of dollars and tell them not to be home until sunset at least. They can’t do that, obviously - Mac and Maya are still too young, and Brooklyn has definitely not gotten any safer since his early teens, when it was already questionably sketchy for him and Gina to stalk around the neighbourhoods and buy cheap ice cream and soda at random bodegas. He also remembers those few rare days when his mom would get a day off that did not need to be spent on catching up on housework, or when his dad would finally show up for more than one day and they could plan a little trip (which would actually take place at least 50% of the time). He remembers the aquarium and the zoo and the natural history museum and Central Park and Coney Island.

And they could absolutely do that, he realises, so the decision is pretty much made before he’s even set his bag down at his desk. But he’s patient enough to wait through the morning meeting - blessedly short, because nothing new has come up anyway, and they’re all told to finish up the paperwork and start on re-organising the evidence room. Jake supposes it’s a generally good thing that crime seems to slow down in the summer heat a little, but that’s not really why he’s so happy right now hearing the captain tell them to ‘find something to do anywhere’. He certainly knows what he wants to do already.

Amy’s morning meeting must’ve been just as short, because she’s already at her desk when he jumps down the last steps of the stairwell to her floor. Her uniformed officers mostly give him a quick nod or smile as he passes - it’s not a rare thing to see Detective Peralta come by to visit his wife outside of break times.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.” He smiles at her, and she rolls her eyes with fondness. The title is still pretty new, and he loves to remind her of it any chance he gets.

“Hey babe. We’re not due for lunch for another 4 hours, you know that, right?”

“Yeah there’s no way I’m waiting that long.” He’s still smiling wide, and when she looks up from whatever paper she’s been filling out, she instantly recognises that mischievous glint in his eye.

“What are you planning?”

“Let’s bail the kids out of the library and go somewhere fun. Coney Island? It’s all open since last saturday I think.”

“We have to work, Jake.” Amy levels him with one of those ‘please be a grown-up’ looks, but she knows they seldom get results.

“Do we, Ames? Do we really? Because Holt has us organising the evidence room. I have literally zero open cases on my desk. And how far ahead are you with all your paperwork and organisation?”

She looks sheepishly at the very small stack of papers on her desk.

“About two weeks, I’d say.”

“And you’re saying we can’t take one day off? Just one day of family time? Getting cotton candy and taking Mac on an actual roller coaster now that he’s tall enough and winning a new teddy for Maya because you’re an ace at the fake shooting range?” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, and Amy stifles a snicker. It’s too bad her husband knows exactly how to win her over for most of his childish endeavours.

“I guess it wouldn’t be so bad to take some personal time right now. We’d still have to convince Holt-”

“On it.” Jake slaps her desk in excitement as he gets up, ready to race upstairs and sweet-talk Holt into giving them the day off (or rather, annoy him into it). Only Amy Santiago would request permission from her boss to play hooky, of course, but there’s no way he’s not going to indulge her.

It’s not even fifteen minutes later that he’s back downstairs, his bag already on his shoulder, almost pulling her out of her chair.

“Got the go-ahead, so let’s go!”

“Give me five minutes at least to brief Gary, and change out of my uniform before I leave.”

He sighs and thrums his fingers across his thigh, but obediently watches her talk to her ‘own Amy’, eagerly taking notes about the few things they actually have to remember to do. He refrains from pushing her forwards by the shoulders as she heads to the locker room, deciding to pack up her purse instead (he knows the layout perfectly by now - the calendar and pen goes next to the baby wipes, and the glasses case has to be by the little box of healthy, kid-friendly snacks). But the moment she returns in one of her signature flowery blouses, he grabs her hand and drags her out of the precinct so fast she can barely protest.

-+-

The drive to the library is equally as quick. Amy only manages to slow him down once they step into the actual building, reminding him of the library rules of being quiet and calm.

“Lieutenant Santiago!” The librarian behind the desk greets her - she’s well-known around these parts, obviously. “Back so early? Isn’t your mother-in-law picking up the kids later?”

He should probably call her to tell her about the change of plans, Jake thinks as Amy explains and asks if it’s possible to get Mac and Maya packed up and ready to leave already.

It’s absolutely possible, of course, and Maya proudly shows them the pipe cleaner and yarn figurine she’d just finished making as the kids librarian leads them out to the main floor. Mac, a few feet behind her, seems wary as he hugs them hello.

“Did something happen?” He asks into the hug, quietly, and Jake remembers with a twinge in his heart that the last time someone picked him up unexpectedly early from football practice, it was aunt Rosa, taking him and Maya to the precinct until Amy brought Jake back from hospital after getting knifed by a perp.

“No, buddy, this is a good surprise.” He hugs him back extra tight, ruffling his hair for good measure, and silently cursing his line of work being so shit sometimes.

Mac smiles back at him, luckily, but there is still a bit of hesitation in his eyes, and Jake’s excitement about his own idea of playing hooky falters for the first time. Maybe they should’ve just let the kids enjoy their crafts and grandma-time, and planned a proper day out for the weekend-

“Grandpa Holt gave us today off.” Amy explains as she steps up to the two of them with Maya by her side, and that title still sounds a little weird even years later. “So we thought we could all go out for a fun day at Coney Island!”

The squeal Maya lets out certainly changes Mac’s smile for the better, even as it is quickly shushed down (they’re still in the library after all!), and they’re soon dragged outside to the car by their kids the same way Jake had dragged Amy out of the precinct.

“C’n we get hotdogs?” Maya asks as she clicks her seatbelt closed and Amy smiles at her through the rearview mirror.

“We sure can!”

“Can we go on all the rides?” Mac joins in, and Jake is glad to see there’s absolutely no hesitation on his face anymore.

“All the ones you’re old enough for, sure.”

The questions and cheers and excited chatter keep up during the whole drive, even as Amy calls Karen and barely gets a word in, between the happy interruptions shouted from the backseat, and it takes a lot more to actually keep them together as they step on the boardwalk, Maya already running left to some game parlour while Mac races on ahead to the first ride he sees.

-+-

The rest of the day does not slow down in their whirlwind. Mac decides after three roller coasters that maybe he’s had enough (and Jake is glad they didn’t go through the food stalls before it), but he spins Maya around in the teacups ride like only an older brother could. The ice cream after is well deserved, seeing how sweaty and exhausted they are already, and gives them more than enough energy to hit literally every game they can see. Jake can watch Amy calculating the vast amount of money they’re spending in tokens, but she’s also the first one in line once they reach the toy-shooting range, winning Maya a unicorn plushie and Mac a knock-off superb-man figurine (his wife is a goddamn sharpshooter and he’d be lying if that wasn’t a turn-on). The third shot earns him a wacky pair of sunglasses that make both Amy and Maya giggle in that way he loves the most, and he refuses to take them off for any of the silly pictures they take in front of cutouts, wall art and weird statues.

He’s pushed them up into his hair by the time they get hotdogs (3 for him, 2 for Mac, one each for Amy and Maya), because the sun is already starting to set and he can barely see. Maya begins to shiver as they stroll down the quieter parts of the boardwalk, so he buys her one of those kitschy animal-hoodies all the stalls are touting (they know their clientele too well), and of course Mac immediately needs one too, so now there’s a tiny tiger and a slightly larger dragon running in front of them with cotton candy sticking all over their hands and faces.

Amy slides her arm around his waist as they slow their steps a little to let the kids go ahead, and he lays his across her shoulder as she leans into him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun playing hooky.” She mumbles, and Jake laughs for a second.

“Amy Santiago, are you telling me you’ve played hooky before? I am shocked. Here I thought I’d married an upstanding girl.”

He gets a soft punch to his side for that before she leans back and whispers.

“Actually, you’ve made me play hooky before, remember? But we didn’t exactly go to an ‘amusement park’…”

“And yet you’re saying this has been more fun. I see where I stand.” He pouts before grinning again, and leans down for a soft kiss. (He definitely remembers the last time they played hooky now.)

“Sorry, babe.” Amy smiles as she looks at Mac and Maya again, currently busy chasing each other and dueling with the sticks left over from their cotton candy. “But this has been such a great day.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna make for one hell of a memory, I hope.” He follows her eyes forward, thinking about that short moment with Mac at the library earlier today. Amy hadn’t heard it, he’s sure, but the look on her face as she pulls him to look at her with a hand on his cheek tells him she knows his thoughts well enough.

“Hey. No sad thinking allowed on such a fun day, okay? We had a great time today and we’re gonna have so many more great days in the future.” She’s still smiling, swiping her thumb across his bottom lip, where he’s sure some cotton candy is still left clinging. “We could take them to the zoo next week.”

“Santiago!” He gasps again. “Are you insinuating-”

“On the weekend.” She leans up to kiss away the last bit of sugar on his mouth. “Like the upstanding girl you married would do, obviously.”

He laughs into the kiss even as he pulls her closer, and it’s only Mac and Maya, running back to them with news of another stand they’ve discovered selling funnel cakes, that makes them break apart again.

-+-

Later, after Jake’s carried a sleepy Maya up to their apartment, and she and Mac have barely had enough energy left in them to brush their teeth and wash their faces free from all the grime and sugar that’s covering it, he falls down on the couch as Amy checks on them one more time to see both fast asleep before the lights are even out.

“Do you feel as tired as the kids?” She says in her deep, sing-song voice that sends goosebumps up his spine, just as much as her hand raking through his hair does as she stands behind the couch.

“Well, it’s been a pretty long day. But I do have more sugar in my system to keep me running, I guess.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but then she leans down to nip on his ear and ‘nonchalance’ is the last thing he’s thinking of.

“Then how about we save time between now and bed by showering together?” She whispers, and he lets his head drop back to actually look at her.

“We have never saved time in the shower together, babe.”

She only smiles at him while humming an M-hm before heading for the bathroom, and he definitely doesn’t waste any time following her.

[mamabear-elinor]

THE FORGING OF BITTER BONDS

V. Five Times Sorcha Flirted with Elinor...and one time Elinor flirted back. January 1993-June 1993

[cw -- some vomiting (from illness) that’s it for this one tho woo!]

→ → → January → → → “I got you something!” Sorcha’s arm appeared in front of Elinor’s nose, her bangles jangling loudly in the library, as she wiggled the little bag with colorful tissue paper sticking out of it. She moved into Elinor’s line of sight the next moment, plopping into the chair next to her.

“We’re in a library,” Elinor protested, but she took the bag from her. Sorcha just shrugged and lounged in the seat as if she was in her living room. She had a way of looking comfortable wherever she was. Elinor was jealous of it, considering she had spent the last few months of school not wanting to get comfortable anywhere. And, besides that, didn’t know how to be comfortable. Sometimes, she felt as if she was either five years older than her peers or had somehow grown up in a different universe. Their behaviors alien, their laughter loud, their words crass. Of course, Marigold took to it like a fish to water. Elinor had always felt stiff and awkward, like there was a tattoo on her forehead that branded her as a fish out of water. 

“How did you know it was my birthday?” Elinor asked suspiciously, keeping her voice low. It was the middle of the day, so there weren’t many people around. She liked to squirrel away in the darkest parts of the library, where no one could find her. A habit leftover from childhood, she suspected. 

“I asked Marigold, of course. I needed to know that I was right?” Sorcha replied with a smile, her voice the same volume it always was: loud.

“Right about what?”

“Your birth chart. And I was, by the way. You’re such a Capricorn.” She flicked a page of Elinor’s book, which earned her a scowl. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Elinor sniffed primly, pulling her book into her lap where it would be safe from further abuse. 

“I’m a Pisces, so don’t worry. We will get along.” 

Elinor didn’t know what to say to that. She blushed slightly and grabbed the bag, just for something to do. Pulling out the tissue paper, she reached in and grabbed something small, smooth. It was a keychain of a golden sun, its rays stretching outwards. The metal work was lovely and carefully crafted. Elinor knew how delicate such work would be. 

“Thank you,” Elinor told her, realizing that she had not received many gifts for her birthday. A new dress from her father and mother (though, Elinor had a feeling someone else had picked it out. Considering her mother could hardly look at her.) A set of hair pins from her sister. Wool for knitting from a few of the staff at the castle. Marigold had gotten the book for her that Elinor had mentioned she wanted, but that was as personalized as gifts got. “It’s lovely.” 

→ → → February → → → The weather was cold and damp. One of the worst months of the year, in Elinor’s opinion.

Of course, Sorcha did not think so. As they walked back from class, Elinor hurried along, only to notice that Sorcha was no longer next to her on the way back to the dorms. When she looked over her shoulder, she found her standing in the middle of the field, her hat off, snowflakes caught in the tight curls of her dark hair. 

“Sorcha!” Elinor hissed, backtracking and stomping toward her friend through the snow. 

“Let’s make snowmen!” She flopped back into the snow. 

“You’re going to catch your death,” Elinor told her matter-of-factly as she came up to her and peered down at her. 

“And what a glorious way to die!” Her hand, which had been moving back and forth to create her wings, reached out and grabbed Elinor’s ankle and swept it out from under her. 

Elinor yelped and lifted her foot up, trying to shake Sorcha off, but she just gave a tug, knocking Elinor off balance and sending her sprawling to the ground next to Sorcha. “Hey!” Elinor gasped as the cold snow started seeping into her trousers. She shivered but she reached behind her, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it right into Sorcha’s face. 

“Eghad! She fights back!” Sorcha laughed after her moment of shock wore off. She sat up so that they were facing each other, their hips nearly touching. Perhaps it was just because it was cold, but Elinor could feel the warmth of Sorcha’s body, even through her thick coat.

“Of course I do,” Elinor sniffed and couldn’t help but remember the Winter’s Ball. Of course I did. Something curled in her stomach, a tug that made her look away from Sorcha’s dark eyes, dancing with mirth. She swallowed, then stood up, brushing the snow from her clothes and holding out her gloved hand for Sorcha--whose hands were bare, because she was a bloody idiot. Sorcha let Elinor pull her to her feet, but then stayed, clutching to her hand, even as Elinor began to walk off.

When she stopped again, glancing down at their hands in confusion, Sorcha shrugged in that way she did. As if she wasn’t confined by gravity and barely staying on earth. That simple movement was an acknowledgement of how her body wanted to leave this earth. “My hands are cold.” 

They walked back to the dorm hand in hand, not talking. 

→ → → March → → → It’s Sorcha’s birthday this time.

“I want to spend the day with you,” Sorcha told Elinor as she laid, sprawled on Marigold and Elinor’s couch. She was looking at Elinor in that way that made her feel as if Sorcha could see exactly what Elinor was feeling.

Elinor’s arms crossed over her chest and she bit down on the inside of her cheek. Her heart felt as if it was going to beat out of her chest. The feeling made her even more nervous than Sorcha’s declaration. She wondered if she should, perhaps, stop seeing Sorcha so much. Something about her burned. After all, she was brightness incarnate, if names were to be believed. 

“Aw, I think that’s so cute!” Marigold says from her spot curled up in the arm chair. “I would totally come with you but it’s the women’s rugby match and I can’t let the team down.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Elinor asked Marigold, turning desperately to her friend. “I’ve never missed a match.” 

“And we’ve never won one!” Marigold laughed brightly. “Besides, Thomas is coming up from Oxford and we’re going to be spending the weekend together anyway. He will be my new lucky charm, so don’t worry about me.” 

That made the clawing in Elinor’s stomach worse. “Fine. I mean--yes. I’ll go.” 

“Oh, you’re the best, Ells.” 

Elinor wrinkled her nose. “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, sunshine.” 

Don’t call me that either. Elinor blushed. 

→ → → April → → → “You don’t look so good, sunshine,” Sorcha appeared in the mirror of the bathroom behind Elinor. She hadn’t even heard the door open, or a knock. 

“Ugh, get out,” Elinor mumbled from where her face was in the toilet. 

“You’re not pregnant are you?” Sorcha asked as she came and sat on the lip of the tub, leaning her elbows on her knees. Her brow was furrowed with uncharacteristic concern. 

“What? No!” Elinor used the rest of her energy to shout in alarm. Just the idea of something like that. Hilarious. Laughable. Her mother would kill her. “I must’ve eaten--” her words were cut off by another bout of sickness. She heard the water running in the sink and the next moment, there was a cool cloth on the back of her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed as she laid her cheek on the disgusting toilet seat and reached up to flush. 

It had been a long time since someone had taken care of her while she was sick. Her mother had never had the stomach for it and as soon as she’d outgrown her nanny, it was up to her. Thankfully, she did not get sick often. Which she credited to her great love of the outdoors. 

“Go away,” she croaked.

“And leave you to drown in chunder and toilet water? I don’t think so,” Sorcha chuckled. “Don’t worry. If I catch whatever you have, you can put a cool cloth on my neck whilst I vomit.” 

“Why are you doing this?”

There was a long pause. So long that Elinor thought maybe she’d imagined saying it. 

“You’re my friend.” 

“Marigold and she went to stay somewhere else so she didn’t catch it.” 

Sorcha didn’t say anything, she just got up from where she was sitting. “I’m going to go make you some ginger tea and then maybe we can move you to the couch and get you a pail. Maybe watch a movie.”

“Do not,” Elinor feebly protested.

“You’re lucky you look so helpless and cute right now,” Sorcha laughed at her before disappearing. 

→ → → May → → → “This is so cool,” Marigold giggled as they made their way down into the basement of the art history building, dragging Elinor by her sleeve. It was dark and cold and damp. The building was old, but it was not a castle. It had been built specifically as a university and not one that was supposed to have stood for four hundred years. Which meant that the basement leaked. It smelt of mold and the cold. 

They found the door that they had been directed to and stepped inside. There was not a single light except for candles that flickered off the wet walls of the little storage room. Elinor and Marigold crammed into the room, Elinor doing her best not to brush against the walls, unless she get some sort of slime on her fine wool sweater. A shiver ran down her spine and while she knew nothing nefarious had ever happened in these catacombs, she really also hoped that she wasn’t about to be part of one.

“Do you think Sorcha tricked us down here for a ritual sacrifice?”

Marigold barked a laugh, making several people turn and look at them. She did not get a chance to respond, however, for the next moment Sorcha appeared on the stage as if by magic. Her dark skin seemed to absorb the light from the candle around her, making it a warm brown, reminding Elinor of summertime, not a damp, dingy basement with grey walls and unnameable sludge. 

There was a smattering of clapping, Elinor followed along, not sure what the protocol is. (If you don’t know the etiquette, follow others. Always follow. Never lead.) It wasn’t until the sound of her own clapping, loud and harsh, reached her ears that she realized everyone else had been snapping gently. 

Elinor blushed, just as Sorcha’s eyes found her in the near darkness. “This poem is for my friend, who inspired it.” 

Another round of snapping. Elinor did not join in. Instead, her heart was clenched in her chest. 

Elinor had read all the greats of poetry, of course. Dickinson. Wordsworth. Yeats. Keats. Blake. She had, also indulged a bit in Maya Angelou. Hughes. Plath. Elinor loved poetry. She loved the stories that the lyrical words could tell. 

She did not know how she felt about this poem about dark, straight hair like a river at night or pale, rosy cheeks. Noses in books. Heads in toilets. Brightness. Illumination.

When Sorcha’s poem finished, Elinor turned on her heel and fled. 

→ → → June → → → Elinor was drunk.

Elinor never got drunk. Usually, at uni parties, she trailed behind Marigold to make sure she didn’t get in a fight or fall down a flight of stairs and break her neck. But Marigold was in London, visiting Thomas. Her exams had finished before Elinor’s and--Elinor didn’t want to go home. She didn’t have a sweet, handsome boyfriend to visit. 

All she had was her cold castle and her cold mother to return to. Her disappointed father and her judgemental sister. The only person she missed was Dawn. And Dawn, as her mother often reminded her, was not a person. 

“Hey there, sunshine.” It was Sorcha, having found her sitting on the back steps of whatever house this party was at. Elinor couldn’t remember.

“Of course you’d be here,” Elinor scoffed, gesturing at Sorcha. 

Sorcha just chuckled and shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.” She sat down on the steps next to Elinor.

Elinor scowled. “You aren’t disappointing me with your--” Elinor gestured again. 

“My--?” Sorcha’s eyebrows were lifted now. 

“Yes, your--the way you--how do you do that?” 

“Er, not sure I’m following there, sweetness.” 

“Do that thing where you make it seem like nothing bothers you.” 

“Nothing does bother me.” 

“How is that possible, how can it not bother you? Don’t you worry? Don’t you care?” 

Sorcha just glanced out into the dark. “Sure, I care. That’s not the same thing as being bothered.” 

It was to Elinor. She was bothered by everything, because she cared so much. She was bothered by the roundness of Sorcha’s shoulder, like a stone. She was bothered that she wanted to touch it. Feel Sorcha’s warm skin under her fingers. That Sorcha made her feel this way. Made her feel seen, understood. Elinor didn’t even understand herself half of the time, but Sorcha just seemed to know. What she needed. When she needed it. 

She turned to look at Elinor now, her chin resting on her bicep from where she’d wrapped her arms around her knees. She smiled. It was a soft smile. An inviting smile. Her lips looked smooth and inviting as they curled in the corners. Her eyes were two warm, dark pools like the lochs that Elinor had been warned about as a child. The ones she used to dip her toes in anyway, just to feel that shiver of daring. 

Before she could think about it, she dove in--pressing her lips against Sorcha’s. 

They were chillier than she expected and it made her draw back after just a moment, though she didn’t fully pull away. Sorcha’s breath ghosted over her lips and that was warm and tasted like honey, despite the cheap beer they’d been drinking. It was Sorcha who nudged her chin forward the second time and kissed Elinor. Her hand snaked around Elinor’s neck and drew her in. 

And Elinor was right: Sorcha was warm. She warmed Elinor. All the way down to her toes as their kiss deepened. Her own fingers curled against Sorcha’s bicep as if she needed to hold on, as if Sorcha had sucked the gravity out of Elinor and made her feel weightless.

When the kiss broke, Elinor felt like rain on a window pane, like falling snow. 

“I do care,” Sorcha repeated softly. “I care about you.”