#but clearly that worked out for her so not really surprising she's doing it again

[3amfanfiction]

It's Just Dinner pt 3

John needs another date and Kyle is very convincing. MDNI cw: gazlighting, manipulation, forced prostitution 2.8k First || Previous

Thankfully the next few weeks pass quietly. There's no surprise dates, no uncomfortable conversations. Just you and Kyle, like it used to be.

You're tentatively relaxing into the rhythm when the next bombshell goes off.

Kyle's running around, getting ready to head to base early in the morning, talking to you over his shoulder when you hear, "Price has an opera he needs to see with one of the brass this weekend and he needs a date. I told him you were free," finishing with his shoes he grabs a jacket, coming over to give you a dirty kiss complete with a healthy grasp of your ass. "We'll go shopping when I get back," —assured, nonchalant, just another day.

No. No! You're not doing this again!

"Kyle! You can't just volunteer me—"

"Bye, babe!" echos through the entryway as the door slams shut.

Conversation over.

///

You fumed for hours. How dare he? How DARE he? Did he think you were a child he could make decisions for? Absolutely not.

You were ready for him now.

You'd spent all day preparing and when Kyle got home tonight you were going to sit him down and you were going to be firm. You weren't going to let him talk over you, you were going to stand your ground tell him you wouldn't be going on any more dinner dates with John Price.

Simple.

But as with any battle plan, it only lasted through the first encounter.

"Why are you acting like this?" Kyle frowned, not understanding. You crossed your arms defensively where you were standing in the bedroom, having followed him in when he got home. Why did you feel defensive?

You watched him pause, holding his t shirt in one hand as he looked over to you, head tilted in confusion. "You said you'd go, I already told him you agreed." He stepped towards you, dropping his shirt back in the drawer before stopping a short distance away, "you can't back out now babe, he's already booked the reservations."

Stop. Take a breath. You're not going to lose your temper.

"I never said I'd go, Kyle."

"Yes you did!" he insisted, eyes wide in disbelief, rolling right over your moment of breathing, "I was standing next to the kitchen table this morning—putting on my shoes—and you said yes."

He took a small step, bridging the distance between the two of you.

"Are you feeling okay, love?" his concerned voice made annoyed pinpricks creep up your spine. "You've been awful stressed lately. Is something going on at work? Anything you want to talk about?"

For one moment you imagined dumping it all on his shoulders, hysterically yelling, I'm pretty sure your boss tried to kiss me! to see what he would do with the information.

Kyle lifted his hands to cup your face, rubbing your noses together gently before you could do anything hasty. "We're partners . . . you know I've always got you, right?"

And just like that, the annoyance dissipated.

"I know, Kyle. That isn't what this is about," you reassured, leaning into his warm calloused palms, taking strength from his presence. "I just don't want to go to an opera this weekend."

You never brought up the half-kiss John had pressed to the corner of your mouth. After your bathroom pep talk you had met back up with him and he behaved himself for the rest of the night—there was no reason to worry Kyle about it.

But it still festered in the back of your mind.

His brow furrowed while he looked disappointingly at you, "Love, it would look really bad if I had to go back to my superior officer and say, 'sorry sir, she changed her mind, we can't help you.' It puts me in a bad spot when he's counting on us, on you, for the night."

His expression turned sad, "I wish you wouldn't have agreed if you had reservations about this."

Did you agree? He seems so certain, remembers it so clearly, maybe you did indicate acceptance somehow this morning, unwittingly.

"No—no I didn't agree, or at least, that's not what I meant," you capitulate, giving ground, shoulders rounding ever so slightly.

You have been stressed lately.

Maybe he's right.

He pulled away to frown down at you, "why are you so against going to dinner this time? Last time you were excited to go."

"I wasn't excited Kyle," you stammered, "I told you I wasn't sure about all this."

"No babe, you told me you were nervous," he pauses to smile at you as if you were in on a secret together, "after all Price is a handsome man and anyone would be nervous to have his full attention on them," you firmly don't think about the swoop in your stomach when he had cupped the back of your neck, the static shock that skated up your spine when his lips brushed yours, ever so slightly.

"—but then you had a great time." you focus back on what Kyle is saying, pulling your wandering mind under control, "I don't understand why you're being so skittish about this now."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest before shuffling the both of you over to the bed. Sitting, he moved you into his lap, chest to chest so he could look into your eyes.

"Are you sure no one said or did anything?" His voice dripped with sincerity, looking for something to fix, some way to help, "You know you're my best girl, right? I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

Fuck. How do you keep messing this up? Now you're sitting here crying as Kyle promises to protect you. Should you just tell him? Get it over with, off your chest. Would that unlock the chain that was dragging you down? You wanted it to go back to how it was before.

No. You weren't a child and you didn't need to be babied. Nothing truly happened so there was nothing to tell Kyle.

But without telling him, you didn't have a valid reason for not going this time.

So you sat there in silence, unable to give ground any further. After a few moments of this, Kyle continued, tone lowered —assured, "Who's always looking out for you? Making sure that you're safe and you're happy, hmm?" he used his thumb to wipe away the tear tracks on your face.

"You," you assure quickly. This at least came easier, "but Kyle, this is—"

"Pet," stern, direct, "you're getting all twisted up in this when you don't need to be. You trust me right? You know I'm always doing whats best for us?" he holds your gaze, forehead pressed against yours, watching every flick of your eyes. "I love you more than I ever thought possible, but if you don't trust me . . . that's a hard thing to come back from, you know?"

"I do! I do trust you Kyle, I'm sorry. I don't know why I feel this way," rushed, pleading.

"I told you, even though you're my best girl, your head still gets in the way. We need to turn that pretty brain off, don't we?" He kisses you sweetly, as if you're everything he could ever want. "I've got us, baby. I wouldn't steer wrong."

Breathe.

"Okay," you give in after one more moment of resistance, tired of the pushing and pulling, the cyclical conversations, "okay, I'll go. But this is the last time, do you hear me Kyle Garrick?" You pulled back to show him your no nonsense face, "I'm not doing this again."

Kyle laughs as if you'd stomped your foot in assertion, something too cute to ever be taken seriously, "I hear you, babe. Thank you for coming around to see my side of things," he squeezes you to his chest, your face tucked into the warmth of his neck, "you're going to have a great time, you'll see."

He leans away to take you in, "How are you so wonderful? I feel like I must've saved an orphanage from a fire or something to have gotten you in my life."

Smiling at you as if he could see the universe in your eyes, "it's you and me, right sweetheart?" he questions, a child looking for benediction.

"You and me," you assure, disquiet bubbling softly in the back of your mind.

///

You saw John before he saw you.

He was standing in the foyer, looking at his phone, dressed to the nines.

His snug black suit emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, biceps bulging at the seams. His button down shirt tucked into his pants emphasized his thick waist, the muscles of his core covered by a healthy layer of fat.

His thick gold rings caught the light from above as he swiped through his phone—

Was that your living room on his screen?

The thought was derailed almost as soon as it formed due to John noticing you. He turned with a beaming smile as he locked his phone and slid it into a pocket. Holding his arms open he ushered you into a hug.

The smell of his cologne was earthy, loamy—it curled up in your nose and sunk its tendrils into your brain. How did he always smell so good?

Tensing slightly as his arms closed around you, he did no more than press a firm kiss high on your cheekbone. "You are a vision, my dear," John said in awe, pulling back slightly to take you in from head to toe. "Every time I see you, you end up more stunning. How is that possible?"

You laugh, charmed despite yourself. It's hard to keep up walls when John Price is looking at you like that, "You're too sweet, John," you demure, intending to have a good time tonight, "shall we find our seats?"

///

Several hours later, when the night was all but over while waiting for your car, you don't notice at first that John has taken a step closer. You're too distracted by the chill breeze that has sprung up, attempting to keep your skirt where it belongs.

You realize how close he had gotten when his hand comes up to brush against the skin of your jaw, fingers trailing softly as if dragging against spun gold.

Something precious. Something treasured.

You inhale shakily, unsure of where this was leading but wanting to stop. To take a step back onto stable ground.

"John—" is as far as he lets you get before his mouth covers yours, his other hand coming up to cradle your face in his palms while he devoured your mouth.

Because there was nothing timid or hesitant about this kiss. He claimed with it. His tongue pressing into your mouth at the first sign of weakness—the smallest gasp you couldn't control.

His fingers tightened against the side of your head as he groaned, angled down from above, making sure he was all you could see, all you could hear.

After what felt like years he pulled away, panting like he'd just ran a race, "Fuck me, sweetheart, but you taste even better than I'd hoped."

You stand there, eyes wide as you hold onto his wrists, one hand covering the smooth face of his watch. "You—you kissed me," you murmured, only just loud enough to be heard, "you can't kiss me, John."

He smiled as if you said something cute before pulling you back in. His lips had just brushed yours when you wrenched your head back, desperate to put space between the two of you.

"No, John," shaky but as determined as you could make it. You watch as something rises from the depths behind his eyes. A leviathan observing you, deciding where to bite first, where to grab as he pulls you into his depths, his maw closing around you . . .

Only for it to sink back below the surface, John's blue eyes clearing once more.

"Of course, of course, you're right doll, we shouldn't be doing that here." He continues talking over your spluttered here? as if you never said anything.

"There's your car anyways," the brakes squeak ever so lightly behind you, the thrum of the engine filling the night air, "you be good, sweetheart." A smile as John steps back, holding your door open for you. You climb in quickly, not wanting to spend any longer in his presence than needed.

John looms over the open doorway, forearms braced against the roof, "until next time." He winks at you before shutting the door, a soft double tap on the roof his notice to the driver.

As the car pulled away from the curb your thoughts began to spiral and you started to hyperventilate.

You had to tell Kyle now, you should've told him before but you can't go changing the past.

As soon as you get home you'll sit him down and talk to him. You'll tell him everything.

You ignore your slick thighs and the pressure of your underwear on your throbbing clit.

///

You made the car drive around the block—twice—before you worked up the courage to go inside.

Time to face the music.

"He kissed me, Kyle," you say, bracing for the explosion. You were still reeling from the evening, light tremors shaking your limbs, making your knees feel like they were knocking together.

You know you have to tell him everything, you can't keep something like this quiet. You have to lay it all out and hope he doesn't lose his mind.

Kyle froze. You watch him swallow, noticing his pupils expanding to eclipse the brown of his eyes. You hoped it wasn't in rage.

He quickly gathered himself as youlet out a broken sob and launched yourself at him, tears already streaming down your face.

You cried into his chest, latched onto him in search of strength. He pressed soft shh shh's against the top of your head, cradling you close to him, trying to coax you to breathe.

Eventually you were able to draw in a semi-steady breath without it immediately devolving into a sob and found yourself apologizing to Kyle, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why he kissed me—" breaking off into another wet hiccup.

"None of that now, you're making it a bigger deal than it needs to be," Kyle promised sternly, squeezing you tightly to him, "I know it's not your fault, you did nothing wrong." He soothes you when that causes another round of sobbing to begin.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," he announces quietly, with a somber air, once the tears began to peter off. "It might cause some . . . friction on the task force but if it's made you this upset then I'll handle it."

Why? Why does John have to be Kyle's boss?

It made everything so complicated.

If it were anyone else, you'd be able to trust Kyle to set them straight, no concerns about consequences. But with John . . . he had control over Kyle's life. Is a kiss worth it? Is anything worth risking Kyle's life?

No.

You'd decided before that you wouldn't risk bad blood between them. You held onto that decision even now, even as things have gotten heavier, more complicated.

You bury deeper into Kyle's chest, arms wrapped as tightly as possible around him, "No, I don't want to cause trouble for you at work."

"Doll, it's no-"

"No, you were right, I'm making it a bigger deal than needed. I was just worried, that's all."

He hunched down to rest his chin on top of your head, "worried about what?" he presses.

"Just that . . . that you're saying it's okay when it's really not. I don't want you to be upset with me." Your eyes started to well up again but you blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears from falling down your cheeks.

He slips an arm free to tilt your chin up, angling your face towards his, eyes locked so you have no way of hiding from him and what he's about to say.

"I'm not upset with you and you did absolutely nothing wrong," holding your gaze, chin firmly grasped. "Do you think I care about the captain kissing you?" —amused, placating almost— "I care because you care, love," he looked down to your lips, pursed slightly from the pressure of his grip.

"Here," quiet, sensual, "I'll show you."

When he pulled you into the kiss it was warm coffee on a cold morning, it was waking up to realize you have an hour left on your alarm, it was the house lights being on when you get home at night.

It was comfort.

You chase after him slightly when he pulls away, wanting to continue. He smiled and gives you another peck. "You taste," he murmurs, lips brushing yours with every word, "utterly delicious."

You pant softly, waiting for him to press into you again. He smiles and gives another soft kiss, "chapstick and cigar smoke taste perfect from your lips."

Next

Story Repository || Main Repository

[grayhyacinth]

Hey! Can I request a Dipper x reader where reader was actually with Ford in the portal. Like four years before the portal is reopened Ford finds this little girl in a dimension where nothing exists it's just a white void. No time passes, your body doesn't age, just nothing. He found her took her out and she basically became his apprentice. When the portal is reopened Ford isn't quite sure what it is so he tells her not to follow him and he'll check it out. She goes in anyways but ends but coming out of the portal in the basement if the shack four years in the past. So the portal is unfinished and no one's there except Stan in the other side of the glass like "wtf??".

Stand takes in reader and she ends up spending the whole summer with the twins and gets a little crush on Dipper. When he finds the journal and is talking about the author reader doesn't tell him anything she knows because she's like "I could literally destroy the space time continuum, I'm not even suppose to exist in this world". So when Ford finally comes through Dippers like "Why didn't you tell me anything???" And now Dipper has like a bigillion questions for her about the universe.

Mostly fluff if you can!

Sorry if that's like, waaayyyyyy to much backstory and not a lot of an actual prompt but I really like your writing!🩷 Keep up the good work and take care of yourself🩷🩷

Okay so, I had like no idea how to write this. But, I hope you like my attempt! I had a lot of fun envisioning scenes between Dipper and (Y/n), especially when she steals the book. I feel like this could be better written between 3-4 chapters, but a short story is also endearing. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request! I really appreciate your wishes and support <3!

“A… child?”

You tilt your head in curiosity. This is the first time you've encountered a creature so strikingly similar to yourself. You extend a cautious hand toward him, and then poked his cheek.

The man recoils, pushing you back with surprising force and inching away in the empty white abyss. “Wh– Who are you?!” His voice quivers with fear, but his eyes are resolute, filled with a determination that intrigues you.

You crouch low, mimicking the posture of a wary creature, wide eyes locked onto his. You give a soft, inquisitive chirp, the sound escaping your lips almost instinctively.

“What… are you doing?”

The foreign sounds coming from his mouth are almost incomprehensible to you. So instead of attempting to make sense of his speech, you focus on conveying your intent through gestures and expressions. You raises a hand, palm up, a universal gesture of peace, and then exhale as if to say, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

He seems to understand your intent. His eyes soften with relief.

You notice his body language betrays a lack of hostility. He continues to stare at you, clearly curious upon who or what you were. The cold, combined with the lack of cushioning beneath you, only adds to the sense of unease.

A low rumble interrupts the silence. The man’s stomach growls loudly, and he looks down with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness, instinctively hugging his stomach as if to silence it.

You rise unsteadily. With a slight wobble, you began walking towards him, curious as to what that sound was.

“What are you…?” He stammers again, confusion twisting in your chest. The man brushes off your curiosity, poking at his own stomach with a slight frown.

“Stop that!” He snaps, surprising even yourself. The command hangs in the air, making him pause.

For a moment, silence wraps around you both, and you study the contours of his face—strange, yet familiar. You notice the way the light catches in his hair, the softness in his expression.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asks, and the question feels heavy, filled with possibility.

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at you expectantly. You tilt your head, trying to grasp the meaning behind his movements. His hands move again, sweeping wide as if to show you a world beyond the void. He points to himself, then to you, and smiles, nodding as if to say, together. You feel a flutter of intrigue, but confusion lingers in your mind.

“Somewhere that isn’t here,” he replies, a hint of a smile flickering across his lips. “Somewhere with colors, and sounds… and maybe even a bit of adventure.”

You tilt your head, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. His eyes sparkle, filled with encouragement.

You nod.

His smile widens, and he reaches out, offering his hand. You grasp it, feeling the warmth radiate between you. With a gentle tug, he leads you forward, and the void begins to shimmer. Suddenly, a portal appears and at the other end is a wide horizon of the morning sun. You smile as the warm sun rays hit your skin.

As weeks go by, the man you met introduces himself as Stanford Pines. With each passing day, the bond between you grows stronger, and the initial awkwardness fades into a comfortable routine. Stanford, or Ford as he often prefers to be called, becomes a regular presence in your life.

Ford takes it upon himself to teach you the language of his universe. He is patient and persistent, using simple phrases and gestures to help you grasp the basics. Interestingly enough, he discovers that you lack a name. So he takes it upon himself to name you (Y/n) (L/n).

Each lesson is accompanied with lively stories from his travels across the multiverse. One evening, as the two of you sit by a makeshift fire you’ve managed to start with limited resources, Ford recounts a particularly thrilling tale. His voice takes on a dramatic tone as he describes a showdown with a mischievous entity that could control time itself.

“There we were,” Ford narrates, his hands illustrating the battle in the air, “Locked in a high-stakes chess game with a creature who could manipulate time. Every move we made, every strategy we devised, was countered by the whims of this trickster’s temporal powers. It was like trying to play chess while the board kept shifting!”

You listen with rapt attention, your eyes wide as you imagine the scene he’s painting. Ford’s expressive storytelling brings the experience to life, and you can almost see the strange creature and feel the tension of the game.

As the weeks turn into months, your role evolves from a mere helper to an apprentice in Ford's eyes. Under his guidance, you learn more than just his language; you become versed in the complexities of multiversal travel, and the nuances of interdimensional physics. Ford's teachings go beyond theory; you actively participate in his missions.

It’s during these missions that you begin to understand the true gravity of Ford’s work and the dangers that accompany it. One evening, as you both rest from a particularly challenging excursion, Ford opens up a piece from his past—Bill Cipher.

“Bill Cipher is no ordinary entity,” Ford explains, his tone grave. “He’s a being of pure chaos, a demon who thrives on destruction and disorder. He’s caused havoc across countless worlds, manipulating events and people to his advantage.” He takes a deep breath, a distant look in his eyes. “You have to be careful, (Y/n).”

As the stars gave away to the rays of the morning sun in Universe 323, you awoke to the soft hum of the portal generator filling the room. The familiar sound that usually signified exploration now felt ominous. A swirling vortex of colors began to materialize, casting an eerie, pulsating glow that illuminated the room in shifting hues. The light played across Ford’s face, and the warmth and affection you had grown accustomed to were replaced with a grim frown.

Ford abruptly stood up, his usually calm demeanor replaced with an urgent seriousness that made your heart sink. He turned to you, his expression a stark contrast to the warmth you were used to. “Listen, I… It’s been fun, (Y/n).” His hands grasped your shoulders tightly, his grip firm yet filled with concern. “This portal is almost identical to the one I made back in my universe. But, it could be dangerous. You need to stay here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he raised a hand, cutting you off. “No arguments. It’s too risky. I can’t afford to have you put yourself in harm’s way.”

His words were firm, yet the worry in his eyes was unmistakable. You could see how much he cared, how deeply he was troubled by the potential dangers. Despite his insistence, a stubborn resolve settled within you. You had faced countless challenges together, and the thought of being left behind while he ventured into potential danger was unbearable.

“No way, Ford,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “I’m not staying here. Whatever it is, whatever dangers lie ahead, I’m coming with you.”

Ford’s eyes widened in frustration and disbelief. “(Y/n), this isn’t a game. You don’t understand—”

“But I do understand,” you interrupted, stepping closer, your determination unwavering. “I understand that we’re a team. I’ve been with you through thick and thin, and I’m not going to let you face whatever’s out there alone.”

Ford takes a deep breath, and then he steps closer to the portal, the light reflecting off his face in strange, mesmerizing patterns. “Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He runs head first into the portal, leaving you behind.

You watch with horror as he steps forward, his silhouette dissolving into the swirling portal. The vortex’s colors shift and warp, pulling him into its depths. As the portal’s edge begins to close, you make a split-second decision.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you dart toward the portal. You hesitate only briefly, watching as the portal’s edges start to shrink. You can’t bear the thought of being left behind while Ford faces unknown dangers alone. Summoning every ounce of courage, you leap forward just as the portal starts to close.

In a rush of cold air and blinding light, you are pulled into the vortex. The world around you blurs into a whirl of colors and sensations. The portal swirls and twists, the reality bending and folding as you travel through the fabric of dimensions.

Suddenly, you find yourself stumbling onto solid ground, the portal closing behind you with a final, shimmering snap. You look around, disoriented.

As you regain your bearings, you find yourself in a basement. The room is dimly lit, with a musty smell of old wood and a clutter of odd contraptions. You glance around, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The walls are bare, and the floor is covered with intricate wires that lead to a fallen portal. A large glass-paneled door catches your eye, covered in grime but revealing a faint outline of movement on the other side.

You hear a muffled voice and a rustling sound from beyond the glass. Curiosity piqued, you move closer, wiping some of the dust away to get a better view. As the glass clears, you see a young man in his late teens on the other side, his face a picture of bewilderment and curiosity. He looks familiar, almost like… Ford?

“What the—?” The identical twin’s voice is muffled but clear, full of confusion. “Who are you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. This is a significant moment, and you can’t quite believe your situation. His gaze is locked on you, and he looks ready to bolt.

You raise your hands in a gesture of peace, trying to convey that you mean no harm. “I’m—”

“Hold on, who are you and where’s Poindexter?!” Stanley interrupts, his eyes darting around.

You hesitate, trying to figure out the best way to explain your presence. “Uh… Hi,” you begin, raising your hands in a calming gesture. “My name is (Y/n) (L/n), and I came in through that… portal.” You glance behind you and point to the triangle contraption.

He blinks, his confusion deepening as he studies the portal and then looks back at you. “No. That doesn’t make sense. I just… flicked a switch and my brother was suppose to come through. Not some… child?!”

You glance at the chaotic mess of wires and blinking lights surrounding the portal, noting the flaws that must have caused this unexpected shift in reality. “I think something went wrong,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Stanley’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean, ‘something went wrong’? You don’t even know what you’re doing here!” His tone is sharper, but beneath the surface, you can sense a flicker of worry.

You take a cautious step forward, keeping your hands raised to ease the tension. “I just… came through. I didn’t choose this.” You point back at the portal again, hoping he’ll see that you’re just as confused as he is. “I’m not… him, but maybe I’m connected to him somehow. I can help you figure this out.”

The identical twin’s skepticism is evident, but curiosity seems to win out. “Alright, let’s say I believe you’re not here to cause trouble. How are you going to help me?”

You take a deep breath, carefully choosing your words. “The portal, as you can see, is unstable. I need to fix it and recalibrate it so I can get back to where I came from. But to do that, I need some tools and parts—and a place to stay for the time being…”

You spot a familiar journal with six fingers and decide to use it to your advantage. ”That journal over there, for example—it looks like it could be significant.”

His eyes follow your gaze, and he approaches the journal with caution. “That’s my brother’s old journal. He’s got a bunch of weird notes and sketches in there.”

As he opens the journal, you can see the pages filled with cryptic notes and strange symbols. Your heart races, but you maintain your composure. This is your chance to gather information and possibly find a way back to your own time.

“Well,” He mumbles, “I guess I can show you around and see if we can find what you’re looking for. But remember, if you’re here on some wild goose chase, you’re going to have to explain yourself.”

You nod, relieved to have gained his trust, at least for now. “I understand. Thank you for your help.”

Four years have flown by in the blink of an eye. You’re now twelve years old, teetering on the brink of adolescence, and life at the Mystery Shack has become a second home. The young man who once introduced himself as Stanley Pines has taken on the identity of Stanford Pines—his brother’s name. Though you still call him Stanford, you’ve grown to understand the complexities of his dual life. Ford, the man you originally met, is still trapped somewhere in the multiverse, but you’re confident that your understanding of his research will eventually lead you to him.

The summer sun casts a warm glow over the Mystery Shack, and the air is filled with the usual hum of activity. You’re busy organizing some of the newer additions to the shop’s odd collection when the sound of laughter and excited voices reaches your ears. You look up and see a young boy and girl standing at the entrance, their faces lit with curiosity and excitement.

Stanford had an arm wrapped around each of their shoulders. “(Y/n)! I’d like for you to meet my great niece and nephew”

The young girl, with her bright purple sweater and an exuberant smile, bounces on her toes. “Hi! I’m Mabel, and this is my brother, Dipper. We’re here for the summer!”

The boy, slightly more reserved but with an inquisitive gaze, gives a polite nod. “I’m Dipper. We heard a lot about this place and thought we’d check it out.”

You watch from a distance, noting the genuine curiosity in their eyes. Mabel’s enthusiasm is infectious, and Dipper’s serious demeanor suggests a keen interest in the mysteries of the Shack.

Stanford’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Well, you’ve come to the right place! The Shack is full of oddities and secrets. How about a tour?”

As Stanford leads them around, you decide to introduce yourself, keen to make a good impression. You approach with a friendly wave. “Hi there! I’m (Y/n). I help out around here.”

Mabel’s eyes widened with interest. “Nice to meet you, (Y/n)! What’s your favorite part of the Shack?”

You think for a moment, remembering all the strange moments. “It’s hard to pick just one thing. But I’d say the most interesting part was the time Stanford tried to use a gadget from a TV ad to make his hair grow back? Let’s just say it ended up giving him a ‘special’ new look—like he was auditioning for a role in a Bigfoot documentary!”

Dipper chuckles lightly, his  eyes wide with curiosity. “What did you look like?”

You laugh, trying to contain your amusement. “Let’s just say, for a while there, Stanford had enough hair to start his own wig-making business. It was like someone mixed a Sasquatch with a tumbleweed.”

Stanford, catching your comment, coughs awkwardly and blushes slightly. He quickly grabs Mabel and Dipper by their shoulders and steers them out of the gift shop and through the door leading into the main part of the house. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now, let’s get back to showing you the real wonders of the Shack.”

As he leads the twins away, Stanford turns back towards you and shoots you a look, his two fingers making a playful pointing gesture. “And remember, no more jokes unless you want to end up as the next mess cleanup crew.”

Just like that, the entertaining summer began. You never thought you’d get attach to these people, but, it seems like they were slowly wiggling their way into your heart. It was then, during one lazy afternoon at the Mystery Shack, with the sun streaming through the windows, casting warm, golden rays across the cozy living room. Stanford was busy showing off some new exhibits to illicit cash from naive tourists, and Mabel had disappeared into one of her craft projects, leaving you and Dipper to your own activities.

You were lounging on the old, well-worn couch, flipping through a magazine. Dipper, on the other hand, was on the floor, surrounded by a mountain of books and notes. He had a stack of papers in front of him.

“Hey, Dipper,” you said softly, setting the magazine aside and stretching your arms above your head. “You look like you’re about to solve the mysteries of the universe over there.”

After a while, Dipper looked up and noticed you watching him. He sighed, rubbing his eyes before speaking. “Yeah, I might be trying to do just that. Do you think you could help me out with something? I’m trying to figure out this ancient code, and I could use a second set of eyes.”

You smiled and joined him on the floor, settling beside him. As you turned your attention to the sprawled-out notes and journal, you couldn’t help but notice the dark bags under his eyes and the ink stains on the side of his hand. “Rough night?”

Dipper gave a sheepish grin. “You could say that. I’ve been at this for hours…”

You glanced at the ancient code, then at Dipper. “ Is this important enough to look like a zombie? I’m starting to think the real mystery is how you manage to stay awake with those bags under your eyes.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Okay, okay, I get it! Maybe I should take a break… but only if you help me crack this code first!”

As you both leaned over the papers, you felt Dipper’s soft hair gently brush against your head. The scent of pine trees filled your senses. It was a subtle, intimate moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a warm flutter in your chest.

Dipper, oblivious to the effect he was having, was intently focused on the notes. He occasionally mumbled to himself, his brow furrowed in concentration. “If we align these symbols with the constellation map from the journal...”

You glanced at the stack of papers and noticed one of the journals—Journal 3. The sight made you freeze momentarily, as you recognized it from the work you had been doing to repair the portal. You realized that Dipper was working on a section related to the portal.

A sinking feeling washed over you. If you helped him decode the ancient symbols, it could potentially disrupt the space-time continuum, especially since you technically weren’t supposed to exist or intervene in this timeline.

You blink.

Suddenly struck with the idea that perhaps he could use a break to clear his mind. “Hey, Dipper,” you said softly, nudging him out of his intense focus. “We’ve been at this for a while. How about we take a break and do something fun? You know, just to clear our heads?”

Dipper looked up, surprised but visibly relieved. “A break? I guess that sounds like a good idea. I could use a breather.”

You smiled, feeling a bit adventurous. “Great! I was thinking we could go grab some ice cream. It’s a beautiful day outside, and I think it’d be nice to get some fresh air.”

Dipper’s eyes brightened, and he quickly started to gather up the notes and close the journal. “Umm.. okay. Ice cream sounds awesome.”

The walk to the nearby ice cream stand was filled with easy conversation and laughter. The sun-kissed air and the lively chatter of the small town around you created a relaxed, almost date-like atmosphere.

“I can’t resist,” you said, grinning. “I’m getting the triple scoop sundae.”

Dipper chuckled, his usual enthusiasm for adventure replaced with a casual ease. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll just get a cone. Can’t go wrong with classic vanilla.”

You waited while the vendor scooped your sundae, and then you both settled on a nearby bench. You took a bite of your ice cream, letting the rich, cold flavor melt on your tongue.

“Want a taste?” you asked, holding out the spoon to Dipper, who was licking his cone with a satisfied smile.

He hesitated, looking at the spoon as if it were some kind of test. “Uh, sure. I guess I could try some.”

You watched as he nervously leaned closer, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that matched the evening sky. He took a tiny lick, his eyes widening slightly at the burst of flavor.

“Not bad,” he admitted. A hint of pink highlights his cheeks.

A playful idea crossed your mind. You grinned, extending the spoon further toward him. “How about you give it a proper taste?”

Dipper’s face turned even redder in surprise and embarrassment. “You want me to…?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You nodded, trying to suppress a giggle. “Yeah, go ahead. It’s just ice cream.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the spoon, then back up to you. With a shy but determined look, he finally leaned in and gently took the spoon into his mouth. His lips brushed against the spoon, and you noticed the way his eyes fluttered shut for a split second, savoring the taste.

As he pulled back, he looked up at you, his nervous expression seeming a bit more relaxed in relief. “That’s actually really good,” he said, managing a small, shy smile.

You chuckled, the playful moment filling you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. But as you watched him, something else bubbled up inside you. It wasn’t just the sweetness of the ice cream that made your heart race—it was the way Dipper had looked at you.

Realization dawned on you. The way he smiled, the blush on his cheeks, and the way he seemed so genuine and kind—it all made you feel something deeper than just friendship. You liked him. Maybe more than just a little.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the flutter in your chest. “I’m glad you liked it,” you said softly, trying to sound nonchalant.

Dipper’s eyes met yours, and for a brief, electric moment, it felt like you were both on the edge of something new and exciting. “Thanks for sharing,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

This little moment shared between the two of you, became something you cherished deeply. Every time you hung out with Dipper, after this, you’d find ways to spend more time with him. Even as he began to idolize a special author close to his heart.

A couple weeks later, the Mystery Shack was quieter than usual, the kind of quiet that made every creak and rustle seem louder than it really was. Dipper was in the backyard, engrossed in a game with Mabel and Waddles. You, however, had a different plan in mind.

You’d noticed Dipper’s Journal 3 resting on the coffee table in the living room earlier—a tantalizing opportunity to steal it for yourself. You were almost done. You were so close to reuniting Stanford and Stanley, hopefully even introducing Stanford to Dipper. You just needed this last book.

Moving quietly, you crept towards the table, careful not to make a sound. Your heart raced with excitement as you reached out and gently lifted the journal. It was heavier than you expected, filled with the weight of countless adventures and Dipper’s personal notes.

Just as you were about to retreat with your prize, you heard a faint rustle. Dipper’s head poked through the open window, his eyes scanning the room. You froze, hiding the journal behind your back and holding your breath.

Dipper’s gaze landed on the coffee table, then slowly shifted around the room. “Hey, have you seen my journal? I could have sworn I left it here…”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “I haven’t seen it. Maybe you left it upstairs with the other stuff?”

Dipper looked skeptical but nodded, stepping inside.in that split second, you knew you had to act. You shuffled to the couch, tucking the journal away behind the cushions.

The moment he entered the room. His eyes wandered around the room, coming closer to where you were standing. You shifted slightly, trying to stay out of his line of sight. Every step he took, closer to you, you’d shuffle away. Your hands were tucked suspiciously behind you.

Your movements were far from graceful, and the effort made you giggle.

Dipper eyed you cautiously. “What’s so funny?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You tried to maintain your composure, but your voice wavered. “Nothing, nothing,” you managed to say, your smile widening despite your best efforts.

Dipper tilted his head in curiosity. “I’m going to find it,” he declared with a playful smirk, taking a few steps closer. The soft glow of the room’s light cast a warm hue on his cheeks, making his blush even more endearing.

Suddenly, he reached behind you, and you felt his fingers brush against yours as he grabbed your empty hands. The touch was brief but electric, sending a shiver up your spine. In the sudden motion, you stumbled, causing Dipper to lose his balance.

He tripped over your feet and went crashing to the ground, landing on top of you with a surprised yelp.

As you lay there, with Dipper on top of you, the room seemed to swirl around in a hazy mix of laughter and warmth. Dipper’s surprised yelp melted into an awkward chuckle, and his cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. You found yourself caught between bursts of laughter and the sweet fluttering in your chest.

Dipper tried to push himself up, but his hands were still resting on your sides, and every movement only further tangled up your limbs together. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, as well as the genuine concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, your laughter subsiding into a gentle smile. “I’m fine. Are you?” you teased.

He met your gaze, his eyes lingering on yours. There was a moment of silence, a suspended breath where the world outside seemed to pause. “Yeah, I’m good,” he replied, his tone laced with an affectionate warmth. “Hey, (Y/n)—”

The sound of voices and clumsy footsteps grew louder. Suddenly, Mabel and Waddles burst into the room, their energy a stark contrast to the cozy moment you had just shared.

“Dipper, Dipper!” Mabel called out excitedly. “Waddles and I are ready for the next round of our game! We need you out here!”

Waddles squealed happily, adding to the commotion. Dipper glanced at you, reluctance in his eyes. “Looks like I’m being summoned,” he said, chuckling as Mabel and Waddles dragged him towards the door.

“Don’t be long!” Mabel called over her shoulder, already heading back outside with Waddles trotting beside her. “We’ve got a big adventure planned!”

Dipper gave you a final, playful smile before being pulled out into the backyard. As the door closed behind them, you were left alone in the quiet room once more.

You took a deep breath, savoring the peaceful moment. It was go time. With the coast clear, you hurriedly moved back to the couch where you had hidden the journal. Your heart raced as you reached under the cushion and retrieved the book,

Carefully, you made your way to the basement, cradling the journal close. The soft thud of your footsteps was the only sound as you entered your sanctuary. With a mixture of triumph and nervous excitement, you placed the journal on your desk, feeling a surge of satisfaction.

Settling into your chair, you opened the journal, ready to dive into its pages. The room was quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of your lamp. As you began to read, you felt a sense of contentment and anticipation. You were close, so close.

The room's tranquility was abruptly shattered by the sound of loud, frantic yelling coming from upstairs. You jumped, the journal nearly slipping from your grasp. Before you could process what was happening, Stanley burst into the room, his face pale and drawn, breath ragged as if he'd been running for miles.

"(Y/n)!" he shouted, his voice urgent and tinged with panic. "Kid, look. I need you to hurry up. They’re here."

Confusion flashed across your face as you looked up at him. "Who’s here?" you asked, your heart racing at the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Grunkle Stan, usually so composed and gruff, now looked anything but. He clumsily raised his hands in the air, waving them wildly as if trying to shoo away an invisible threat. "The government! We’ve got to move fast if we want to bring back Poindexter!"

Your mind whirled, struggling to catch up with the gravity of the situation. You nodded grimly, setting the journal down on your desk with a quick, deliberate motion. "Okay, alright. Fine."

You began to scribble hurriedly onto a separate note, crunching the numbers and double-checking every task to make sure it all aligned. Stan had already dashed back upstairs, possibly to help stall for time before any raids happened.

Time passed quickly, and you found yourself pacing back and forth among cables and wires, blackboards covered in equations, and strewn papers scattered everywhere, scrambling to find your missing pencils. The numbers weren’t adding up; something was missing. You sprinted back to the battery that powered the portal. Attached to it was a large generator, and you tapped against the glass of the fuel gauge. The little pointer trembled up and then dropped down again, and a sinking feeling settled into the pit of your stomach.

Once again, the sounds of heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs. “How’s it going in here? Are we ready to go?” Stan called out, his voice slightly out of breath. He seemed to have tucked the twins into bed and was prepared to finish this.

You turned around, giving him one long, grave look. “Yeah…” You swallowed thickly. “But we only have one shot at this.”

“Of course we do. With the government knocking at our front door, we need to do this right.” Stan waved a dismissive hand, seemingly unaware of your trembling fingers. He walked toward the monitors and desk, pulling out the swivel chair and sitting down with a huff. He began flicking everything on.

The sounds of beeping and swirling energy filled the room. The light blue hue from the portal illuminated everything, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. Suddenly, gravity shifted, and objects began to float slowly upward. The floor shook beneath you, a deep rumble vibrating through the air.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. You and Stan walked toward the portal, standing directly under the imposing structure. You glanced at him. “Are you ready to bring your brother back home?”

He met your gaze, a grin spreading across his face. “Absolutely! Are you ready to go home?”

You hesitated, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. “I…”

Suddenly, Dipper and Mabel appeared behind you, their voices raised in alarm. “Stop! You have to explain what’s going on!” Mabel shouted, her eyes wide with concern, while Dipper looked equally frantic.

You turned, caught off guard. “Guys, we’re trying to save—”

“Save who?” Dipper interjected, stepping forward. “What’s happening?”

Stan interjected, urgency ringing in his voice. “Listen, kids. I’m sorry for not telling you this sooner—”

Just then, the portal began to tremble violently, and suddenly, you all felt yourselves lifting off the ground, floating upward toward the ceiling. It was almost time.

“Mabel! Stop the portal!” Dipper yelled at his sister, scrambling to reach something secure on the floor.

Mabel was gripping your hand for dear life, her eyes wide with fear, while you clutched onto the edge of the desk, trying to steady yourself amidst the chaos. “What do I do?!” she shouted, her voice strained against the growing hum of the portal.

“Press the red button!”

You and Stan both shouted in unison. “No! Mabel, please!”

Mabel’s eyes darted between the portal and the control panel, uncertainty flooding her face. “But —”

“Kids, look!” Stan’s voice was laced with desperation, the lines of age etched deeper into his features. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you some things in the past. I tried to tell you guys! But I just couldn’t.” His lips trembled as he continued, “I’ll tell you everything once all of this is over. Just please trust me!”

“Don’t listen to him!” Dipper urged, his voice rising above the chaotic hum of the portal. “We can’t lose this chance!”

“Dipper! Please!” You turned your attention to him, feeling your heart race. “I know that Stan and I seem suspicious right now, but you have to understand—we have to do this!”

Dipper shook his head, frustration mingling with concern. “Shut up!” He huffs out. “We can’t blindly trust you or Stan after everything!”

Mabel looked between you and Dipper, her expression filled with uncertainty. “What do I do, Dipper?”

You look at her, and say, “You know us, Mabel. You can trust us!”

“It’s like I don’t even know you guys anymore! Who even are you, Grunkle Stan… and you…” Mabel’s voice trembled as she looked at you, tears brimming in her eyes. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “I trusted you, (Y/n).”

You glanced at Dipper, and even he had tears streaming down his face. He looked at you as if you were a foreign enemy, and your heart sank under the weight of his feelings.

The seconds ticked down, and Mabel’s hesitation cost her the chance to press the glowing red button. Suddenly, gravity returned with a jolt, and you all crashed to the floor, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

As you tried to gather your thoughts, a man stepped out of the blue portal. He was imposing, holding a gun in one hand, dressed in a heavy trench coat that billowed slightly with the portal’s energy. A set of dark glasses sat high upon his nose, obscuring his eyes, but the air of authority around him was intimidating.

You could recognize him anywhere. Stan beat you to it, rushing forward and knocking you aside as he enveloped his brother, Stanford, in a fierce hug. “Ford! You’re back!” he exclaimed, relief washing over him.

But Ford, clearly not in the mood for celebrations, slapped Stan’s face away and yelled, “What were you thinking, Stan? Activating the portal like that could endanger all of humanity!”

While the brothers engaged in a heated argument, you stumbled to your feet and stepped forward, your heart racing at the sight of the man who had taught you so much. “Ford!” you called out, trying to break through the tension.

He turned, his expression softening slightly as he saw you. “(Y/n)!” Ford said, his voice a mix of surprise and warmth. “I’m glad to see you, but this isn’t the time—”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. “But we need your help. The government is here, and they want to take us in. We were trying to bring you back safely, but now it’s all gone sideways!”

The twins follow behind you, Dipper brushes against your arm, but his gaze is on the the identical twin of who he thought was Stanford Pines. “Who… are you?”

“Ford!” Stan rushes over and squeezes the kids by their shoulders. “These two are our great niece and nephews! Meet Dipper and Mabel.”

The twins followed closely behind you, and as you moved, Dipper brushed against your arm. His gaze was fixed on the man standing before them, who looked strikingly like the Stanford they had come to know. “Who… are you?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“Ford!” Stan rushed over, squeezing the kids by their shoulders with a grin. “These two are our great niece and nephew! Meet Dipper and Mabel.”

The real Ford raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to absorb the introduction. “Kids…?” He raises an arm out to shake hands with them.

Mabel, her initial shock wearing off, smiled brightly. She shakes hands first. “You look just like Grunkle Stan! But way cooler!” She giggled, her infectious energy breaking some of the tension.

Dipper reaches out, still skeptical. “What’s going on here?” He then glances down at his fingers and notices that there’s six of them. “You’re… the author?! No way!”

You giggle, pleased by his surprise reaction. “Stanford was my mentor in the past. I knew you’d be excited to see him.”

Dipper looks at you, then Stanford and then back to you. “I totally do not trust you at all anymore. But I have so many questions I want to ask!”

Your heart sank at Dipper's words, the weight of his distrust settling heavily in your chest. You’d worked hard to earn his trust, and now it felt like it was slipping away. “I understand,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just wanted to help.”

His expression softening slightly. “Okay, I’m willing to get to know you again. But promise me, no more secrets? You also have to answer all the questions I have!”

Your heart lifted a little at his willingness to try again. “I’d be happy to share,” you said, grateful for the opportunity. You reached out to grab his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

As you all moved forward, Dipper turned to you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “So, first question: Did the crush you have on me fake, or real?”

You blink. “My… what?!”

[jakeperalta]

also she doesn’t need the money…

tbh I think the money is only like a secondary perk, it's because she's just always gunning for the biggest first week sales possible (which is why we got all those folklore variants, but then after they changed the rule that preorders only count in the week they're dispatched she only bothered with one evermore variant because she couldn't get the extra first week sales from it). I don't really mind variants like different colours or cover art, those feel more like a case of picking your favourite or being a collector, but I hate when it involves exclusive tracks on different variants — it feels like it's turning the core of what the album is about (the music and specifically how this collection of songs is arranged to form a single work) into a business move which is :/

[heartual]

had such a good experience with surgery today i can’t even fully explain

[neo--queen--serenity]

This episode really highlighted how close Marcille, Laios, and Chilchuck actually are.

The viewer is used to seeing our main characters behave like coworkers up to this point—even friends—and they express normal, understandable levels of concern and fear when their other party members are in danger. But when the nightmare attacked Marcille, it brought out sides of Laios and Chilchuck that the viewer hadn’t seen before.

Laios immediately notices when something is wrong with Marcille, and he tells the others as soon as he’s sure of the problem. Chilchuck and Senshi then follow Laios’ lead as it becomes clear that he intends to make her get some rest.

We see Chilchuck’s hands lay out the bedroll and Senshi’s hands set up the pillow, working in almost perfect tandem as Laios physically wrangles Marcille into bed.

Senshi is in a similar perspective as the viewer, and mostly sits and watches the ordeal unfold. He doesn’t have a shared history, like these three do, so he helps in little ways, but mostly waits on standby for direction.

From here on out, it’s mostly Laios and Chilchuck who take over in planning how to help her.

It’s uncommon for Chilchuck to openly show such distress and worry for one of his party members. He’s used to Marcille being able to defend herself; he’s used to her being capable and strong. He immediately defers to Laios for instruction, (rightly) assuming he will know what to do.

This actually produces a reaction close to real fear from Chilchuck, who outright SMACKS her in a panic to wake her up before getting any further information.

Laios has to quickly stop him, explaining that he could truly hurt her if he interrupts the attack this way. He tells them how he’s going to wake her, and he doesn’t hesitate. He jumps straight in, explaining what he’s doing for the others so that they (Chilchuck) won’t be afraid.

Chilchuck doesn’t question him once. He just does what he can to hurry along the process. He tucks Laios in with his blanket as soon as he lays onto Marcille—an unnecessary action that betrays how much he cares for both of them.

And Laios succeeds in helping Marcille out of the nightmare’s grasp. While trapped in her mind, he reassures her, protects her, tells her how much she’s valued and appreciated. He isn’t embarrassed or sheepish about it, either; he openly declares these things like it’s the most normal and obvious thing in the world.

He gets her out, he saves her. He did the exact thing he set out to do, even though he’d never done it before, and only had Falin’s secondhand information to work with.

Once he wakes, Chilchuck immediately checks on him to see if he’s alright. Chilchuck is clearly still rattled, displeased with having to wait while both of his close friends were unconscious, fighting a battle neither he nor Senshi could see or help with.

Marcille wakes up shortly after Laios, but Chilchuck is still on edge, worrying that she’ll fall back asleep. Laios, too, has a moment of alarm when he makes sure she won’t close her eyes again.

Once he takes the subdued nightmares out of Marcille’s pillow, only then do Laios and Chilchuck relax.

Laios, for his part, remained calm and collected almost the entire time. He did not show panic or fear when it became clear that Marcille was being attacked, nor when he told the rest of the party what he’d be doing to help her. And once the nightmares had been collected from her bedroll, he gently explained what happened, to everyone else’s horror.

Seeing this, it’s not a huge surprise that the Touden party is so successful. We’ve seen Laios handle danger with a level head; we know he’s capable.

But it’s an entirely different kind of talent to face a threat that’s targeting one of your closest friends—which can make even the most competent fighter sloppy out of fear of losing them—one that requires a high-risk, specific rescue style that none of you have ever tried before. And then pull it off flawlessly. Like damn, these guys are lucky to have him.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC When You Are Suddenly Dating a Princess

This prompt is a variation of good!GIW AU (read here), but that's an excuse because I just wanted badass Jasmine Fenton and her good boy Jason Todd.

"Jason?"

The voice catches him off-guard. Not because he doesn't know it, no, quite on the opposite - he knows that voice very well, he's just heard it this morning when his beautiful girlfriend kissed him on the cheek and left for work.

It's just that he didn't expect to hear it at a closed auction full of magic artifacts, two states away from Gotham, and in a room full of rich-ass people from all around the world.

He turns around.

Jazz is looking at him with an expression of pleasant surprise, black off-shoulder silk dress with teal accents draping her figure all the way down to the floor - it's kind of reminiscent of Greek togas, with high waist and lots of folds on the skirt. It also makes his girlfriend look even taller than she is, which, Jason is fairly certain, was intentional.

She is also wearing a necklace on her neck, and just by one look at it, Jason knows that it costs at least five times more than the apartment they live in.

"Jazz?" He breathes out, astonished, but then catches himself and puts on a smile, "You look stunning." This is not the time to argue or ask questions; he is on a mission. And it's a time sensitive one, so no matter how curious he is, it can wait till later. They do live together, after all.

"Thank you," the girl smiles, and then briefly turns her head to a tall man in a very expensive dark blue suit standing beside her, "If you excuse me," she nods with an apologetic smile in the corner of her lips, and the man smiles back and takes a step away. Meanwhile, Jazz approaches Jason and casually places a hand on his elbow.

"Mind telling me what are you doing here?" She questions, and, wait, that was supposed to be his line! Jason blinks and shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor.

He can't exactly say, 'Constantine asked Batman for a favor because he knows the man is rich as fuck, so now Jason has to either buy or steal an ancient dagger for some bullshit magic ritual because he was the only one free tonight and John really needs that dagger and that ritual and Bruce owes him a favor, unfortunately'. Jazz doesn't know he is a vigilante/crime lord in redemption. She might suspect he is - that girl is perceptive on par with mind readers - but Jason never straightforwardly told her, and she never brought it up herself.

So, instead, he goes, "Sightseeing."

Jazz raises one eyebrow and pointedly looks around the dimly lit room full of magic users, rich collectors, socialites, and other shady individuals. Jason keeps smiling. Eventually, the redhead sighs and looks away, taking a step forward and guiding him through the auction at a leisurely pace.

"Looking for anything in particular?" She tries again, and Jason debates if he should answer her. On one hand, his head is buzzing with thousands of questions, starting with 'how did you even make it here when your shift at Arkham ended two hours ago' and finishing with 'to which group of shady individuals do you belong'. On the other hand, she clearly does belong here if her confident posture and outfit are taken into account.

And she is his girlfriend. Has been one for two years now. Maybe it's time to share some secrets.

"An obsidian knife with an owl on the handle," he finally says, and Jazz hums.

"A Tecpatl?" She clarifies, and Jason doesn't even feel that surprised by her sudden knowledge of Aztec culture. He nods. Jazz gives him a thoughtful glance, "And how important is it for you to have it?"

"To the point where I'm prepared to steal it if I have to," he laughs, but judging by the look on Jazz's face, she gets that he is only half-joking. She narrows her eyes at him:

"Is it for you, or for your, um, friends on the orbit?" She asks, briefly glancing up to the ceiling, and Jason feels very confused for a second there.

But then it hits him: she is talking about the Watchtower. She is implying the League.

Jason doesn't hold back a quiet curse, "Damn it, I should have hidden the guns better, shouldn't I?"

Jazz laughs softly, but it's a warm, affectionate laugh, "Well, yes, but you also shouldn't leave bloody bandages in the bathroom. And your helmet on the kitchen counter," she tells him, amusement lacing her voice, and Jason rubs his face with his free hand.

"Fuck," he mutters. And then, "Sorry."

Jazz waves her hand it the air, brushing his apology off, "Don't worry. I'm not in a place to blame you for having secrets, am I?" She muses, and, okay, fair. But before Jason can try to make her elaborate on the topic, she returns to her previous question, "So is it for a friend?"

The knife, right. Jason makes an annoyed face, scrunching his nose.

"Yeah. Bruce owes someone a favor, but he couldn't make it. Other stuff came up," he huffs. 'Other stuff' in question includes some off-world mission, so he really couldn't make it, but that doesn't make Jason any less mad about it.

"Let me guess, that 'someone' smells of cigarettes and liquor, has a British accent, and wears a trench coat," Jazz deadpans, and Jason stares at her with wide eyes.

"How- Are you sure you're not secretly a mind reader?" He asks. He knows for sure that Jazz doesn't have a meta-gene, but maybe she is a magic user? That would explain why and how she is even at the auction. Yet, the redhead laughs.

"No, sorry. Just met him a few times," she winces like she can smell the phantom smell of tobacco even when the mage is not here, "Can't say I like him, but asking someone to fetch him a Tecpatl seems like his style."

That only makes Jason even more inclined to believe his girlfriend is actually a magic user. But he doesn't get to ask because Jazz suddenly looks him in the face.

"Consider yourself in luck, by the way," she grins, "You won't have to steal it."

[part 2 ->]

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 3 GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice part 1

As you can see by the title (I need better ideas, you're all welcome to share yours), this is kinda part of "Danny, the Youg Justice member" but as something I have more of actual idea about. So while I encourage people adding their stuff to other snippets, please let this one be. I will be adding to it. It's even partially written :D

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 2

"Hey guys" Danny greeted clearly winded, phasing through the wall. Whole Team turned towards him, some giving him a side eye “Sorry I’m late” 

“You’re good, my dude” Wally answered, patting him on the back as soon as halfa landed, turning into his human form. They gave him a moment to catch his breath(just how fast he tried to fly there?) before grabbing their bags. Dick jumped and threw himself over the speedster's and halfa’s shoulders.

“Happy Harbour, we’re coming!” he yelled.

He fixed his grip when he caught Danny’s quick wince under the pressure as they left the headquarters. Judging by look on his face, Kaldur caught it too.

“So what’s on the agenda?”

“There is an amusement park in city, so we’re going to enjoy our free time there” M’gann explained with excited smile “I can’t wait to see it, I heard it’s fun”

Artemis nodded with a grin.

“I bet I can win more plushies than all of you. No powers,” she demanded after a moment, slamming her hand n a random tree for better dramatic effect.

“Stakes?” he asked, competitive like always. While blonde shared her idea of ‘no locker room duties for a month’, Danny explained all the questions M’gann asked about what even bet was and what stakes meant. Dick was sure she knew the answers to all of them but he didn’t say anything. He was trained well enough to catch Conner listening intently, despite his clear effort to hide it.

It turned into a whole Team competition.

It was going to be an aster.

***

M’gann was having a blast. Everyone already had two to four plushies, stomach full of unhealthy food and manageable nausea from the roller coaster. Wally and Danny were throwing popcorn to each other's mouths, Robin challenged Conner and Artemis to the next game. It really was fun just like she was told!

It was much less fun when literal blast shot a few feets away from them. Ground where it hit was burned. Halfa squealed, projecting a strong wave of distress. Without second thought he threw his hood on and changed his posture, frantically looking for a hiding spot.

Few children started crying, their families scrambling to get away before attackers started shooting again and hurt them. Workers, already used to working in less than ideal circumstances, quickly, but without panic warranted by recognised villains or outright invasion, shut down reinforced blinds and probably walked out to inform someone. At least they didn’t have to worry about potential civilian casualties. 

“Do you know who they are?” M’gann asked, quickly establishing the Mindlink.

“Don’t worry about it” he answered, putting on crazy big sunglasses that Wally won some time before.

“My dude, we just got shot at. We have every right to worry”

“Calm down, Wally. I got shot at, you’re just close by. I’ll handle it” With a ruffle of his hair and a piece of popcorn thrown in his mouth,he turned around, just moment after the next blast almost caught his arm. He plastered a smile on his face.

“Hey, I’ve seen guns like these in laser tag! But I’ve never found them cheap enough to get without selling my kidney!” he yelled enthusiastically.

When the rest of them turned around, M’gann saw ten people in sunglasses and pristine white, holding guns straight from the mad scientist’s lab. THey stood still, projecting surprise bordering on shock. She could also feel hunter's happiness underneath it, intense enough that she considered breaking the ‘don’t mess with people’s brains’ rule. As a treat.

“Don’t worry guys, they won’t harm you. Act like you  don’t believe you’re in danger. Like they're a bunch of LARPers or something” It was easier said than done, especially when Danny, who nearly always underestimated the danger, was so terrified. 

“Who are they?!”

“Wally throw me a bit of popcorn, please” Halfa asked, ignoring Artemis almost yelling in their minds. In turn, he was ignored by the speedster. Three of the men turned to check something on weird sort of scanner. Danny's false smile went from cheerful to embarrassed. 

“Dang me and my poor communication skills” he said, loud enough for men to hear but not enough to sound like he was talking to them, before asking louder “I meant to ask, where have you brought it and how much does it cost?”

This seemed to actually shake men out of their shock. They got furious.

“You won't trick us this time, ghost scum” one of the guys with a scanner snarled. Danny pursed his lips in childish gesture of displeasure.

“Rude much” he muttered as if he wasn’t shining with terror like a lighthouse. Robin perked up as if something got him curious.

“Wait, ghost? What do–”

“What are you cosplaying?” Artemis blurted out. Men got visibly angry but Danny smirked.

“Don't antagonize them,” Kaldur commended. 

“If shit goes south I'll get you out of there, half a second flat” Wally offered.

“Thanks dude. Good job Artemis, they hate to be treated like a joke they are” halfa praised but out loud asking:

“Ghostbusters? No, they had different uniforms. But who else got a thing for ghosts?”

“Quit joking around, we caught you Phantom! You ran far from Amity Park but-”

“Who is Phantom?” Robin interrupted rudely (they deserved to be rude to them).

“Where is Amity Park, Utah? Cali?”  Conner asked, adding fuel to the fire of chaos with barely contained glee. He liked messing with anyone even slightly resembling Kadmus staff and these guys marked almost all of the boxes.

“Illinois” provided chubby man who looked and felt like he didn't want to be there almost as much as they teens did. Danny relaxed slightly.

“Agent W you have no clearance to share this information“

“You were in Illinois and didn't tell me, Tommy?” M’gann finally spoke, jokingly punching his arm.

“I wasn't, I swear! I've never set a foot outside of this state in my life!”

“Quit messing around, you freak!!!” the guy, with the biggest ego and probably the leader, screamed.

“Can I please mess their heads up?”  M’gann asked, pushing hope through Mindlink as hard as she could.

“Again, rude. What did I even do to deserve that?”

“Like you–”

“Operative K, I think they really don't know anything “ Agent W, the nicest out of the batch, interrupted “Maybe it left some ectoplasm on this boy to throw us off?”

“They called you it, Danny” Conner seethed, looking like only Kaldur’s hand on his shoulder was stopping him from punching all of them straight to the sun. M’gann was already reaching for their minds.

“We need to run a scan to be sure. Come here boy”

“Now, who are you?!” Robin got defensive, sliding to shield Danny from asiliants. Conner and Artemis joined him, so clearly furious that M’gann almost retreated from Mindlink. She wasn’t any calmer, it just felt overwhelming to be backed up by five other people.

“It’s classified”

Kaldur took a photo with an obnoxiously loud sound effect. Wally appeared right behind Danny, ready to evacuate him. Artemis barely kept herself from tackling the nearest ‘agent’ to the ground.

“What are you doing, boy?” Operative K splurted, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Calling the police”

“Why?”

“Robin, throw some laws, please”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the boy jumped in gleefully “You assaulted our friend and refused to state why you would have credentials to do so or even who are you. You carry modified weaponry openly in public and I doubt you have a permit, carelessly use it  against minors, endangering innocent bystanders while we’re at it. You disturb public peace. I think that’s enough to get you arrested. Wait you know what, call ‘Supervillain emergency hotline’ instead, this is serious attack”

“Right ahead of you, already calling them”

It wasn’t that big of a problem even if someone tried to qualify this as spam. Young Justice Team was first to respond to all threats in Happy Harbour anyway.

Danny let out a low ‘uuuu’ with a smirk. Someone powered up a gun. Wally slightly raised halfa of the ground, ready to bolt.

“It’s okay young man,” the nice agent started, raising his hands in a placating gesture “We’re searching for a dangerous supernatural entity and may have overreacted. In our defense, Phantom is known to be tricky and we wouldn’t be surprised if it used human disguise to hide from us. Your friend gives off the same type of energy like what we use to track it so we assumed they’re the same. We’re sorry”

“Agent W you don’t have clearance to disclose that to-”

“Operative K, after the last few incidents we have to be more throughout before jumping to assumptions. Agent Gamma wouldn’t be pleased if your temper caused the next scandal,” Agent W look at them again, with a forced ‘warm’ smile “We’re really sorry for bothering you. We have reasons to believe Phantom is somewhere around but don’t worry about it, we will be on the lookout. If you see it, please contact us and we will take care of it” M’gann grabbed the ‘WANTED’ poster from man’s outstretched hand. She barely restrained herself from doing something irresponsible, like turning every man in white into a brainless vegetable.

“Later M'gann”

“But Robin…” she whined before sending a small laugh so they knew she wasn’t serious. She knew that Conner and Danny were anxious about this use of her powers.

Agent’s left and everyone relaxed. Wally put Danny back down and leaned back, jokingly rolling back his arms as if he got tired. Halfa stopped with a loud thump to sit on the ground. He was paler than usual.

Artemis shouted, alarmed.

“That was way too close” he started, aiming for a cheerful tone but missing by a mile “I’m fine, just need a moment to cool down. Sorry for that, guys. I thought I lost them over Ohio”

“That’s fine, personally I don’t care, we knew better than to expect a whole day without something going wrong, but who were they?” Wally asked, already back to eating popcorn.

Danny sighed, so deeply M’gann felt it in her bones even though she didn’t try to read him.

“I think this is the talk we should have in the Mountain”

[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here / masterlist

Six thirty in the morning might be your favorite time of day. 

It’s the before.

Before anyone else comes in, before the morning rush, before the chime of the front door’s bell, before the shop is filled with lines of people, before it all upends you.

At six thirty in the morning, you sit in the back, perched on the prep table, with a fresh cup of coffee. You leave the side door open, screen separating you from the world, fresh air mixing with the smell of strawberry basil scones, cinnamon coffee cake and mini kolaches, fruited with whatever jam you’ve managed to throw together. Steam rises, semolina spills, the sun dawns, and the world wakes… all well after you’ve had your breakfast.

This corner of the city is busy, and the shop always hums like a well-oiled machine in the dregs of a rush, the front counter team churning out specialty coffees and teas effortlessly. It’s cyclical, similar faces every day, morning commuters rushing in and out, locals settling in a nook with their laptops and lattes, people swinging in for a quick bite. You hide in the back, usually, elbow deep in sudsy warm water with your mountain of dishes, answering the occasional shout of 'do we have more of-' and 'just sold the last-'

This morning in particular, cranberry orange scones, pumpkin muffins and mini quiches are the only things left cooling on the speed racks, waiting patiently for their turn to be placed in the display case, an endless cycle of replenishment lasting until the rush dies down, morning fading into afternoon, triple shot monstrosities turning into decaf coffees. 

It’s laborious, this routine. Five, six, sometimes seven days a week, going to bed with the sun, rising before it. Your wrists ache from rolling dough, cutting dough, scraping dough. Your back weeps when you lift the bowl from the mixer stand every morning, and your joints fare no better. You need new boots, and new insoles for your new boots, and probably a new standing mat, though you know your boss will never go for it. 

You’re tired.

The exhaustion settles into your bones easily today, wearing you down until you’re allowing your eyes to close, wilting atop the butcher’s block- 

The shop phone rings. 

You heave yourself down and swing through the double doors to the front, scrambling for the classic corded receiver, nearly fumbling it in your hands. 

“Hello?” Shit. You always forget to answer with the shop’s name. You’re not exactly the customer facing part of the operation. “Galaxy’s.” You correct and… wait. 

There’s no response. 

You think you can hear someone breathing, something rustling, but it’s too faint and difficult to make out. 

“’Lo?” You try again, but still, there’s silence. It’s an unending moment, you on one end… who knows what on the other, and you hold your breath, straining to hear, to listen. 

The line clicks dead in the next second. 

Odd. 

The shop girl is chewing gum. 

You’ve told her a million times not to chew gum when she’s working the counter, but clearly, she’s never heard of norovirus, and you’re not the boss, or the owner, so being the broken record only gets you so far. 

“There’s someone out front to see you.” She snaps it between her front teeth, and your molars grind together like stone. 

“Who?” You toss a clean towel on the stainless steel table in the middle of the kitchen with a frown. You don’t really get visitors here, most of your friends are in the same industry, and either work the line too late to be up in time to even get coffee somewhere, or are already at work, buried beneath a bain-marie and the never-ending sound of a ticket printer. 

There’s dried, caulked dough caked to your fingers, shoved up underneath your nails, and you brush them self-consciously against the ratty old apron stretched across your waist. 

The surprise lingers on your tongue, and then explodes when you spot the massive dusky blonde from the other day, the one who was with the guy who split the coffee all over your favorite dress. He’s too tall, and too broad, and too imposing, everything in your sense of self-preservation screaming at you to run when he notices you approaching, gleam of a predator sparkling in his eyes.  

Still, somewhere, tucked away, it thrills you, the idea of them, the balancing act, two halves of a whole. He’s etched from stone, strong and steady, while his partner is saporous, vibrant, and riotous, crystal blue eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun. 

You wonder what they're like. What they talk about. What they do.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Your skin prickles once you fall into his orbit, immobilized by the molten toffee pooling around his irises. You float for a second, tracing his knife’s edged jaw, the fullness of his lips, imperfect pieces puzzled together to make a masterpiece, and then crash back to earth quickly, realizing you’re standing in front of him… staring. 

“Uh. Hi.” What is he doing here? How did he know where to find you?

“Sorry to barge in on you at work.” He starts immediately, wallet appearing from his back pocket like a magic trick. “Wanted to make sure we settled up.” Thick fingers hold a folded nest of notes, and you stare down at them, slowly processing what he means.

Cash? 

“Oh, I… I have… venmo. Or we could use apple pay, you didn’t have to come all the-“ 

“Don’t have venmo.” His mouth tilts, and you go with it, head listing to the side like a wayward buoy. “This is easier.” He pushes it into your hand, peeling your fingers back to enclose the money in your palm, heat sparking up your spine. 

“How did you know where I worked?” You blurt, unable to keep it at bay any longer. The question singes, settles uncomfortably in the sparks between you. 

“Saw you in the back yesterday, when we were in for a cuppa.” Oh. Suspicion sheds, snakeskin left behind on a cold, dusty trail, suspension of disbelief settling in the back of your mind. Sure. After all, this is where you ran into them last week, on your day off. They do come here. 

“Well. Thanks.” 

“It’s our pleasure. Hope the stain came out okay.” 

“Oh, yeah. It’s… still at the cleaners.” This is absolutely false, but he doesn’t need to know that. The spare bills will probably go towards your energy bill, and the ruined dress will go in the trash. 

It is what it is. 

“Couldn’t help but notice when I was comin’ through the parking lot that the back door is open.” His voice swoops low, dropping into a rumble, and you blink, lips parting. 

“Oh, um y-yeah. I like the breeze.” He shakes his head, a simple rejection, leaving you spinning. 

“City’s not the safest right now, yeah?” Oh, yeah. Of course, you knew. Rival factions of organized crime were leaving a red sea of bodies in their wake all over town, a new murder popping up in the headlines nearly every week. 

But you were safe. You were fine. Galaxy’s had never been stained with the bloody touch of any of them, and you took it as fact. Permanence. 

You agree reluctantly, watching the storm clouds roil on across his expression before evaporating. You shrug, hands clutched in your apron, doubt and skepticism clear on your face.

His expression shutters. His eyes turn cold.   

His thumb and forefinger dart through the air, latching onto your chin. 

You freeze. You should tug away, jerk backwards, yell and scream and hiss, but all you can do is stand there, caught in a trap and trembling as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. 

“Lock the door, little doe.” 

[seeleybooth]

What are you doing out here? - I was... - No. In fact, do not answer that. It is clear I found you in the midst of some... secret dealings. I do not wish to know. And what "secret dealings" have I found you in the midst of, all alone the night before our wedding? What right do you have to ask me that?

/

"He tried to picture a life without Penelope. It was impossible.

Just weeks ago she'd been ... He stopped, thought. What had she been? A friend? An acquaintance? Someone he saw and never really noticed?

And now she was his fiancee, soon to be his bride. And maybe... maybe she was something more than that. Something deeper. Something even more precious.

"What I want to know," he asked, deliberately forcing the conversation back on topic so his mind wouldn't wander down such dangerous roads, "is why you're not jumping on the pet-fect alibi if the point is to remain anonymous."

"Because remaining anonymous isn't the point!" she fairy yelled.

"You want to be found out?" he asked, gaping at her in the candlelight.

"No, of course not," she replied. "But this is my work.

This is my life's work. This is all I have to show for my life, and if I can't take the credit for it, I'll be damned if someone else will."

Colin opened his mouth to offer a retort, but to his surprise, he had nothing to say. Life's work. Penelope had a life's work.

He did not.

She might not be able to put her name on her work, but when she was alone in her room, she could look at her back issues, and point to them, and say to herself, This is it. This is what my life has been about.

"Colin?" she whispered, clearly startled by his silence.

She was amazing. He didn't know how he hadn't realized it before, when he'd already known that she was smart and lovely and witty and resourceful. But all those adjectives, and a whole host more he hadn't yet thought of, did not add up to the true measure of her.

And he was.... Dear God above, he was jealous of her.

"I'll go," she said softly, turning and walking towards the door.

For a moment he didn't react. His mind was still frozen, reeling with revelations. But when. When he saw her hand on the doorknob, he knew he could not let her go. Not this night, not ever.

"No," he said hoarsely, closing the distance between them in three long strides. "No," he said again, "I want you to stay."

She looked up at him, her eyes two pools of confusion. "but you said---"

He cupped her face tenderly with his hands. "Forget what I said."

And that was when he realized that Daphne had been right. His love hadn't been a thunderbolt from the sky. It had started with a smile, a word, a teasing glance. Every second he had spent in her presence it had grown, until he'd reached this moment, and he suddenly knew.

He loved her.

He was still furious with her for publishing that last column, and he was bloody ashamed of himself that he was actually jealous of her for having found a life's work and purpose, but even with all that, he loved her.

And if let her walk out that door right now, he would never forgive himself.

Maybe this, then, was the definition of love. When you wanted someone, needed her, adored her, even when you were utterly furious and quite ready to tie her to the bed just to keep her from going out and making more trouble. This was the night. This was the moment. He was brimming with emotion, and he had to tell her. He had to show her.

"Stay," we whispered, and he pulled her to him, roughly, hungrily, without apology or explanation.

"Stay," he said again, leading her to his bed.

And when she didn't do anything, he said it for a third time.

"Stay." She nodded.

He took her into his arms.

This was Penelope, and this was love."

Romancing Mister Bridgerton, Chapter 17

[luveline]

if you are looking for spencer and bombshell requests, what about the first time a girl flirts with spencer after they start dating, but bombshell is fully secure because she knows her worth and understands that he’s a catch? if you need more ideas i can squeeze my brain really hard

love ur brain pls keep squeezing it <3 fem!reader

You’re the cheesy girlfriend no one expects you to be. You change your phone contact for Spencer to ‘My Sweet Boyfriend’ with a heart, you hold his hand in stupid places (though you’d done that before, sometimes), you bring him coffee, you fluster when he kisses your cheek no matter your disposition —you're overwhelmed in the honeymoon phase, and everybody’s surprised. 

“That’s not very cool of you,” Morgan says, having noticed your ducked head, your smile dripping with a private pleasure and your cheek still shining with Spencer’s quick kiss. He’s gone to find plastic cutlery. 

“I’m not that cool when it comes to Spencer,” you say. 

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” 

Morgan is as pleased for you both finally getting together as anyone, even if he finds it foreign. It is weird to suddenly be openly in love with each other, and likely stranger for the team to see you in anything that isn’t total calm collection. 

“He’s so lovely.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Morgan says, more earnest now as he slaps a rolled sandwich down in front of you. “He’s a catch. I asked for no mayonnaise, was I supposed to do that?” 

Emily tucks her seat in next to yours. “He’s totally trapped by that secretary again, I hate to tell you.” 

You turn around. 

“Why would you tell her that?” Morgan asks. 

“What?” 

You peer out of the office door, where Spencer’s being chatted to by a stunningly attractive secretary. She has dark skin and darker hair, alluring almond eyes that light her sweetheart face with a bright charm. “Oh, she’s getting prettier,” you say. 

You’ve got Spencer Reid locked in. Nothing in you doubts that he’s currently infatuated with you. You don’t even care when he laughs at her joke, or when she dips her head bashfully toward him. 

“You better go and get your man,” Morgan says. 

“What for?” 

“She’s flirting hard,” JJ says. She’s only just looked up from her phone. “He’s gonna start blushing.” 

As if. You turn back to the table, unwrapping the paper from your sandwich with a happy sigh. Spencer looks so cute when he blushes, his cheeks turn pink and he smiles like he’s being tickled, it’s adorable. If that pretty secretary wants to do the hard work for you, it’s her prerogative. He’s your boyfriend. 

“I don’t need to do anything, he’s fine,” you say. 

You’re cutting your sandwich in half when you feel a presence behind your back. A familiar hand closes around your shoulder, a voice in your ear, “Thanks for nothing.” 

You giggle at his embarrassed tone, turning your face up to his, immediately delighted by his pink-tinged cheeks and neck. “You looked like you were having fun!” 

“You’re not gonna pretend to be mad?” he asks, leaning over you to open your sandwich. He pulls out a sad looking tomato and a similarly wilted slice of lettuce and closes it again. “Did you want a drink? I can’t believe you.” 

“Spencer, did you want me to come and get you?” you tease. 

“It would’ve been nice of you. Drink?” 

You laugh again, tugging him down by the wrist. “No, Spencer, I don’t want a drink, just sit down. What was I supposed to do? I’m not gonna pull her off of you.” 

“But why?” he asks, nearly not quite pouting. “She asked me if it was too hot in here for me.” He sits in the chair beside you, his hand dropping to the soft inside of your thigh as he leans in imploringly. “If you cared about me at all–”

Everybody laughs, including yourself. He’s clearly joking, and for once nobody on the team mistakes it for ineptitude, which seems to cheer him up. He gives your leg a rather bold squeeze considering who he is and where you are, and again when you gesture for him to lift his face to plant a kiss on the ridge of his jaw. “I do care about you, Spencer. Sorry I wasn’t jealous. Should we try again?” 

He turns your face away from your coworkers, eye to eye. “You’re making fun of me.” 

His hand trails to your elbow. “No,” you say, your skin tingling under his touch. 

“I don’t believe you. And I know you need a drink, they didn’t send your bottle of water. I didn’t manage to find those forks, either.” 

He gets up again. He hasn’t so much as glanced at his own food, patting your back in a promise that he’ll return before he edges out of the office and into the station’s bullpen. You take a smug bite of your sandwich. You can’t hide it.

“Told you,” you say once you’ve swallowed. You hadn’t needed to do anything, and you really aren’t worried about other women. “He likes me a lot.” 

“Understatement of the year.” 

You send Morgan a loving smile. When you glance over your shoulder, Spencer’s taking the long way through the office to the water cooler.

[earlysunshines]

attachment: 1 image

myoui mina x fem!reader ; smut

synopsis: your girlfriends a model and you’re always clocked in so it’s reeeaaally hard for you to get intimate and goddddd mina’s getting impatient and sexually frustrated so she takes matters into her own hands.

warnings: smut ; filthy!! ; did someone say sub reader? ; sub!reader!!!!! ; mina is a model ; reader is in forensics ; somnophilia ; thigh riding ; fingering ; mentions of stitches ; bruises ; blood ; small easter egg if you’ve read one of my jihyo fics ; not proofread ; anything else i forgot to mention

a/n: muahhahahaa

attachment: 1 image

your phone buzzes, and usually you’d ignore it considering you have to meet this deadline– but when you look at your phone, seeing the small pixels of your girlfriend getting a kiss on the cheek from you in the contact picture and the little “minari” on the screen; you quickly grab your phone, clicking on the notification.

jesus. is all you can think of when you see the picture, you’re surprised you can think after seeing it.

mina – your girlfriend, your oh-so-lovely girlfriend, the girl of your dreams, the model you managed to get into a relationship with after spilling all of your drink on at one of sana’s parties, your everything and more – is leaned over against a balcony, eyes looking into the camera seductively. her makeup is light, a strand of her bangs fall over her forehead and then you glimpse down. you feel your chest tighten as soon you see the panties peeking out, pants slipping down so you can get a tantalizing glimpse of the skin and–

you groan.

it’s four, and you’re working overtime – again; there are too many cases to examine and report – you can’t be riled up, especially not now. biting your lip, you put your phone down, deciding to push everything to the side.

getting back to work is not easy.

minari: 1 notification 

“you fucking hate me.” is mumbled under your breath before you peek over, unlocking your phone quickly to see a text:

minari: don’t ignore me baby

minari: miss you

minari: did you like the picture? 

oh you loved the picture, loved it so much that you wonder what it would be like to rip the clothes she has on right off of her.

you: :-( 

you: please dont do this to me

you: i’m working overtime

you: when will you be back?

minari: this weekend, friday night

you groan again, sitting back in your chair in defeat. that’s three days.

you: i have to get back to work

you: the things i’d do to you

you: you’re a pain in the ass

on the other side of the line, mina giggles. she’s satisfied with her effect on you, she can just picture the little crease of your brows, the frown, and really just how cute you look when you’re all pouty and impatient. 

she bites the inside of her lip after reading the second to last text from you, thinking about just what you could do to her, until she’s interrupted by one of the photographers. it isn’t easy to model when she’s missing you, she’d much rather show off her luxury panties to you than the cameras. 

–

you’re beat. literally and figuratively.

as someone accustomed to the comfort and safety of the forensics lab and the routine of the department, being dragged into a chase on a friday night is far from what you expected. you had plans to go home and wait for your girlfriend, ready to greet her with a hug and something more – but no, of course you had been caught in a pursuit.

after being treated by the nurses, they hand you a slip of paper for a follow-up check-up, but you wave it off, insisting that you'll be fine. however, it's clear that jihyo, the detective, has endured much worse. fresh stitches on her ribs, bruises covering her upper back and arms, a bloody nose, and a cut on her jaw, she's clearly been through a rough ordeal, thankfully spiderwoman stepped into help you all out. 

in comparison, your injuries seemed minor—a smack to the ribs, a punch or two to the face, and a close call with a punch that grazed your temple, resulting in a bit of blood and a bandage to cover it. 

when you finally get to your car, exhausted and limp against the seat, you check your phone while you wait for the air conditioning to turn on. 

there’s seven new messages from mina, earning a sigh. 

you read through all of them, each one slowly getting more worrisome as you scroll, which paints a frown on your lips. 

[6:03pm]

minari: i just got home

minari: where are you?

[7:44pm]

minari: i bet you’re busy, stay safe

minari: i’ll be waiting here

minari: love you, i hope you’re okay

[10:30pm}

minari: going to bed, i’ll see you soon love

minari: thinking of you

[10:58pm]

minari: wish you were here, goodnight, i love you

the pain that’s spread throughout your body doesn’t bother you anymore; the thought of your girlfriend alone in bed – finally home after her two week-long work trip – makes you groan frustratedly as you lean your face against the wheel of your car. 

you’ve got to get home.

–

it’s almost midnight when you get to your apartment and you don’t even make it to the bedroom.

you underestimated the toll of the fatigue, the bruises, and the damage done to your body – not to mention the countless sleepless hours leading up to this chaotic night. you've been tirelessly investigating various dna samples and physical evidence, neglecting your much-needed rest in favor of focusing on your work and trying to distract yourself from missing your girlfriend too much because that is already enough to throw you in a spiral. 

as soon as you catch sight of the couch, you practically collapse onto it, sinking into the cushions with a sense of relief. leaning back lazily, you feel the heaviness of your eyelids, each blink a struggle to keep them open for just a little longer.

mina crosses your mind and you feel sorry for leaving her alone, but you physically can’t do anything about that.

the exhaustion catches up to you, and then you find yourself passing out on the couch with your work clothes still on, tie loose, and no energy left to fight off the drowsiness. 

–

mina wakes up earlier than usual – still alone.

the sun hasn’t even risen yet, and she had expected to find you lazily draped over her, maybe with the blanket slipping off the bed and the feeling of your breath gently warming her skin. but as she wakes, she realizes that the blanket is still snugly wrapped around her, and her skin feels oddly cold.

she blinks once, then twice, and still, you’re not there.

getting up and reaching over blindly for her phone, she unlocks it groggily, opening your messages to see a “read, 11:40pm” 

mina furrows her brows, rubbing her squinted eyes to read the same message on the screen. she feels a pang of worry as she wonders why you haven't responded or called, and why you're not next to her right now. hastily, she checks your location, clicking on your contact photo, and then freezes in disbelief.

you're home?

the contact picture she has of you—your smushed face with drool leaving the corner of your lip—is only half a centimeter away from her on the screen. with a sense of urgency, she jumps out of bed and rushes to find you.

she walks out of the hall and into the living room, catching a glimpse of the back of your head on the couch. mina lets out a sigh of relief, walking over and standing in front of your figure.

you look adorable, sitting up against the couch with your head leaned back on the cushion. you stay frozen in place, the only movement coming from the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, which tells mina that you’re out. your hair is disheveled, you're still in your work clothes, and there's a new band-aid beside your brow on your temple. mina finds herself captivated by the sight, unable to tear her gaze away.

“long night, i bet.” mina mumbles, sitting down next to you and putting her head on your shoulder. you don’t budge, still remaining in your place.

mina kisses your cheek before returning to your shoulder, deciding to rest her eyes with you for a while more.

–

your girlfriend wakes up a few hours later – you’re still asleep by her side, still frozen in your place.

mina rubs her eyes against your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your body as she stirs awake for the second time that morning. fishing for her phone, she checks the time: 11:31 am. glancing back at you, still sound asleep, she decides it's time for both of you to start the day. she hasn't even had a chance to greet you while you were awake yet, and she misses your attention.

she presses a kiss to your cheek – no response.

pouting, she presses a few more to your cheek – you stay frozen in place, eyes closed and breathing still relaxed. 

then she moves over to your jawline, pressing a few pecks and moving down to your neck, the spot that earns the most from you – there’s a reaction, a small groan from you, and then you shift in your place – still no sign of consciousness. 

mina's never been a morning person, which only adds to her frustration. with a whine, she moves over to straddle you, settling herself on your lap.

“c’mon, i’ve been waiting for you.” she says, and still, it doesn’t wake you up. “wearing the same lingerie from the pictures and you’re still like this…” 

not only is she frustrated from missing you, she’s been irritated from how sex-deprived she’s been.

she brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, gently fixing the mess from whatever ordeal you endured last night, before taking a good look at you. the morning sunlight highlights the contours of your jawline, making your skin glow, and the slight parting of your lips adds to your allure. 

you look good—maybe even better than usual—and mina can't help but feel a surge of desire, fueled by her deprivation of you.

she tugs gently on the tie wrapped loosely around your neck, coaxing you forward. your head naturally falls forward in response, so mina tilts it up by the chin, cradling your face between her fingers.

“you look so cute,” mina sighs, rubbing a thumb over your skin. “i could take you like this.”

the two of you have talked about this – about fucking while one is asleep – and neither one of you was against it. however, it’s never actually happened, and sure mina’s daydreamed about this, and you have too, but she never thought there’d actually be such a perfect moment in time.

you’re asleep, looking all pretty, perfect, and downright fuckable – mina can’t help but bite her lip at the sight, grinding down against your lap a bit.

she shifts over to straddle one thigh in order to gain more friction, gasping at the second movement of her hips against you.

“maybe,” a small breath leaves her lips, “this’ll wake you up.”

another rut against your slacks and she’s shutting her eyes, fully waking herself up at the feeling.

mina’s usually never this horny, or bold for that matter, but after two weeks without her girlfriend with barely any time to talk to one another – she’s a whole new person.

holding onto one shoulder – earning a small mumble from you – mina grinds against you again. she’s only wearing your t-shirt, which sits loosely on her, and the panties from the picture she had sent – they’re soaked now.

her arms rest on the top of your shoulders now, and wrap around your neck as she clings onto you desperately. she feels hazy, seeing stars the faster she stimulates herself on you, and you have no fucking clue what’s going on. it honesly turns her on even more, getting to use you like this.

and when she thinks it can’t get anymore overwhelming, the feeling of her cunt against you, the thrill of making a mess of herself against you – she feels a rough, firm grip on her hips, then moves her head away from your neck to see your eyes slowly opening. 

“baby, w-what?” you sigh out lazily, trying to process everything that’s going on, “what are you–”

mina cuts you off with a kiss, to which you respond immediately with a hand cupping her cheek, and your lips fitting with hers perfectly. 

your girlfriend shudders against you, looking down at her cunt leaving a dark mark of arousal on your gray bottoms, then latches her lips onto your jawline. she leaves sensual kisses, waking you up from your deep sleep immediately. you melt as your hands reach the base of her neck.

she presses a peck on your upper jaw before muttering into your ear, “i missed– ah– you,” she says breathily.

“me too baby,” you respond with a sly smile, using your hands to push her down on your skin roughly, eliciting a loud moan into your ear.

she leans back, placing one hand on your shoulder while the other grabs the end of your tie. with a swift tug on the black cloth, you gasp in surprise. your face is close, close enough for mina to see your dilated pupils, creased brows, and flushed cheeks. it all adds to the allure, and tightens the knot in her stomach.

“y-you– fuck– left me all alone… l-last– god, nngh– night,” she struggles to say, especially when your thigh flexes. her hips jerk once before she grabs your hair roughly, then she throws her head back slightly, still making eye contact with you.

all your attention is on her, your eyes wide and pleading, like a puppy ready to answer and do anything she says. there's a mix of longing and desperation in your gaze, making you look arousingly pathetic and utterly irresistible simultaneously.

she tugs on your tie once more, earning a small whine, then orders: “you’re going to make me— u-ugh,  cum, okay?”

you nod eagerly, already helping her please herself against you with both hands again.

quickly, you tap your thigh up and rut her against you once more, the sensation and timing earns something near a yelp from her. mina pauses in her place and you feel her lower body vibrate against you as her high washes over, she practically melts, and her body goes a little limp as she tries to catch her breath.

you hold her tightly, supporting her body as it recovers from the overwhelming feeling. 

there’s a large, darkened spot on the cloth covering your whole thigh now, her arousal leaking over.

she kisses you again, basically taking the breath away from you. she traps your bottom lip between her two teeth, tugging gently to tease you – your grip on her tightens.

“y/n,” she says, climbing off your thigh and settling beside you.

you respond immediately, “yes?”

her hands toy with your tie again before she pulls dangerously. you whimper, biting the inside of your bottom lip. her manicured nails trace along your skin all the way up to the bandaid on your temple; you sigh out pathetically.

“where were you last night?” mina questions, letting her nail trace down your skin languidly. “no text, call, or girlfriend in my bed after two weeks of not seeing her.”

“i-i–” she tugs on your tie once more, tantalizingly, before rubbing two fingers on the cloth covering your cunt.s “mmf, i-i was caught in a pursuit and, we got into some um– some disagreements.” she presses on your cunt and your head shoots back – mina pulls again, making your head jerk forward to meet her dark gaze. “mina, please–”

“keep going, i didn’t tell you to stop, did i?”

you gulp. “n-no.”

she unzips your slacks now, skillfully unbuttoning it with one hand so she can play with your waistband. you fight the urge to look down, pleading with your eyes in an attempt for her to just fucking touch you.

pulling on the cloth again, she orders, “keep going.”

then she slides her fingers in, teasing your skin by rubbing circles above where you need it most. “j-jihyo um, she was beat up really–” mina presses against your clit, brushing her fingers over it softly and pushing your buttons. “fuck, really badly, a-and i– mmf–”

“you what, love?”

“p-please, please i need you, please just–”

“are you done with the story? i still don’t know why i woke up alone, and to find you dead asleep on the couch.” her tone is viscious, which makes you gulp again. 

“s-sorry,” you apologize, looking down at her hand in your panties. “i waited until everyone was, patched up and–” you throw your head back at the feeling of her fingers sliding up and down your slit. she tugs – you whimper, “s-sorry. and i saw your text and had to go home and– god, i had to rush home and by the time i–”

you feel her enter you just barely, pressing just the tip of her finger inside you, making you squirm and moan breathily. your head shoots down, your eyes shutting in response to the overwhelming stimulus. mina's touch is grueling as her fingers trail up to your chin, caressing it with a sensual tenderness. she tilts your head back up, and when your eyes meet hers.

“c’mon, use your words.”

“s-sorry, again.” you pant. “i got home and, t-these past weeks i couldn’t sleep without y-you and–” she pushes half of her middle finger in; you bite back a groan in order to finish your explanation. “i-i guess it caught up to me, and then i passed out here.” you sigh out quickly, looking at her deperately.

“you haven’t been taking care of yourself?” mina asks, looking at you pitifully. her hand cups your cheek now, “love…”

“i just, missed you.”

mina frowns, rubbing her thumb on your cheek. “let me take care of you baby.”

“please,” you beg, “just, god, just touch me already.”

mina kisses your lips again, and as she does so, you groan into her lips as she pushes two fingers into your soaking cunt. 

they enter seamlessly, earning a desperate mix of a cry and a whimper out of those puffy lips of yours. she brings her fingers out, and with the same thrill – pushes them back in, almost double the force. your hand grips your own thigh, overwhelmed by the way she flattens her palm against your clit, tormenting your pussy. 

mina’s lips start to roam your neck, leaving marks that’ll stay for days, marks that’ll have you reprimanded but you don’t fucking care. she’s been gone for two weeks, way too long and fucking yourself to pictures of her on your phone could never compare to what you’re feeling right now.

she can feel your tightening around her fingers, you were always so easy to rile up, so sensitive and vocal about everything that made you feel good. so when she curls her fingers and feels your hand snake to her hair, practically pulling it off her scalp, she knows you’re close already.

and then you’re lazily grinding your hips against her, slacks now caught at your ankles as your panties start to soak up the arousal leaking from your entrance. your legs close, but mina opens them, getting rougher with her fingers and hitting your clit with her palm. 

“m-mina,” you whine, “i’m close, god, so close,”

“yeah?” she says softly, in a way that sends a shiver throughout your whole body. “cum for me then, c’mon baby, you deserve it after all your hard work.”

you manage to look her in the eye, brows creased to oblivion and your jaw dropped before it picks itself up so you can mutter a shaky “m–hmm.”

her thumb moves swiftly to brush your clit, which is enough to send you over the edge, leaving you to shake against the couch and rock your hips up. she watches you cry out, the rise of your chest – then the fall, and feels her hand grow damp with your climax.

she continues to massage your clit, sliding her fingers up and down your entrance simultaneously to let you ride out your high, bringing you back down to earth, letting your vision go from hazy to normal again.

“m-mina, fuck, baby,” is all you can mutter before she pulls you forward with your tie, kissing your swollen, reddened lips. your words muffle against her and your hands grip her shoulder tightly before loosening the more you kiss.

you feel dizzy, dizzy in the best way possible with her lips on yours, tongues swirling and kisses growing sloppier. 

and then mina pulls away one more time, twisting the fabric of your tie around her pointer as she gazes at you; dark red marks – almost purple, each the size of a quarter – are plastered on the skin of your neck, your eyes are closed as you breath heavily, and your hair is even more ruffled than before. you’re trembling, mina always liked how cute and overstimulated you are after you cum, so riled up and thrown off that it makes her want to kiss you till you’re struggling to bring air into your lungs.

she brings a hand to your hair, brushing the messy strands that hang over your pretty face in order to then cup your cheeks again. she smiles at you, grinning at the mess she’s made.

“awake now?”

“very.” you sigh out, bringing your hand over to her thigh to rub circles on it. “i’m really sorry for leaving you alone last night.”

mina shakes her head. “it’s fine, you had your job to do love.” 

“i would’ve enjoyed doing you instead.” you joke, pouting at her cutely. “god, do you know how annoying it is to be horny when your girlfriend isn’t home?”

your girlfriend rests her head against the cushion, then turns to face you. “oh i know. i waited all night for you, you know?”

turning to her and giving her an apologetic frown, you apologize again, “sorry.”

mina rolls her eyes at you, giggling. 

she holds your hand and uses the other to brush her fingers over the marks she’s made on your neck, making your breath hitch.

“make it up to me with a few more rounds?”

yeah, you’re tired as hell, even after eleven hours of sleep. you’ve just came and it took the life out of you – plus, you’re seriously just exhausted, but the way your cunt throbs at the suggestion urges you to lean over and kiss her again.

you pull away, lips brushing against hers before you answer against her, “ruin me.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eighteen

Eddie looks up, towards the front of the house, “car.”

It’s a good count of five before Steve hears a car pulling up onto the drive, “do you want to get it? Surprise Robin?”

Eddie just shakes his head, suddenly shy. Steve remembers how loudly she had shrieked over the phone, “yeah, that’s fair.”

Steve waits until the bell is rung, and Eddie does come and stand in the hallway, half hidden in the lounge doorway, watching as Steve gets the door. Just as he’s opening it he realizes just how uncharacteristically polite she’s being; normally Robin just barges in.

He gets his answer a second later; it’s not just Robin.

She does cross the threshold first, hugging Steve and then clearly spotting Eddie, Steve grabs her, “do not be loud.”

“Okay, okay,” and she goes in.

Joyce is next, carrying a big pot with a lid, she leans over to kiss Steve’s cheek, Jon and Nancy follow, both equally laden down, Nancy holding what looks like a cobbler in a large dish, with a grocery bag hanging precariously from each wrist, “we didn’t have many left overs, so mom put together a quick dessert, it’s only canned filling, hope that’s okay.”

“That’s...so great of you Nancy, she didn’t need to-”

“Hush, Steve,” and she goes in, Hopper, Will and El bringing up the rear. Everyone has their hands full.

“Okay, lets move along, we need to get all this warmed up,” Joyce says to clear the blockage of Eddie gawkers in the hall. Steve watches as Eddie nods at people, looking on curiously, as they all move past.

“Jon, bring through the kitchen chairs honey!”

Joyce has completely commandeered Steve house, and he’s totally okay with it. Jon and Hopper move the chairs so there’s enough seating around the dining table. They might be elbow to elbow, but Steve wouldn’t really have it any other way.

“We brought what we had honey,” Joyce tells Steve, passing him a bowl with a cucumber, a lettuce and some apples in it, “I didn’t want him to feel left out.”

Steve’s heart melts, “he actually might try a meal.”

Joyce absolutely lights up, and she takes the bowl back, setting it on the kitchen counter, “then lets get him a Christmas dinner. Can you deal with the roast please Hop, I’m bringing the rest out now,” and like a sergeant major directing her troops, Joyce calls on people to fetch and carry as she plates things up, “El honey, take all the cutlery please. Will, jugs of juice, thank you.”

Steve just smiles and watches it happen, “better be a beer in it for me,” Hopper grumbles from behind Steve.

Eddie’s been half watching from doorways, occasionally retreating to the couch and then coming back again, but he seems to be drawn by the smell of all the food. “Come on, come and sit at the table.”

“Table,” Eddie repeats, following as Steve leads him by the hand into the dining room.

Eddie sits, and Steve sits next to him.

“Well, Merry First Ever Christmas,” Joyce says to Eddie, before she’s distracted again, “Will, vegetables please.” Will huffs over his plate of meat and potatoes.

“What do you want baby?” Steve whispers to Eddie while everyone helps themselves.

Eddie shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the spread Joyce has put on. Steve smiles reassuringly, giving his thigh a squeeze before he makes him a plate with a little of everything. While he’s occupied, Steve is vaguely aware of El saying, “I love your hat.”

“Eddidie hat?” Eddie replies, “thank you, El.”

Eddie likes meat. He also still really likes his vegetables; he just likes them hot.

Once everyone’s eating the conversation dies down, Eddie uses a combination of claws and his fork to eat, and Steve doesn’t think he’s doing too badly for his first proper sit down meal, when Joyce asks, “Eddie, do you like the food?”

Eddie nods, “good good. Many good.”

Joyce smiles, “and how are you finding having legs?”

“Good, not different Stee.” Joyce seems to get the drift of what Eddie kind of means. This clearly gives Eddie an idea though, turning to Steve he asks, “Eddidie work? One dollar bill gro-ser-ees.”

“Uhm,” Steve chuckles, “maybe. Need to work on a few things first. Maybe.”

“Eddidie car?” And Eddie mimes turning the steering wheel back and forth.

“Need a license first,” Hopper interjects from the other end of the table.

“License first?”

“A drivers license,” Steve clarifies, or tries too, “so you can drive the car.”

“He’s going to need a birth certificate and all that,” Nancy adds.

Joyce elbows Hopper, “I’m sure Hop could help there.”

“Yeah, like I don’t have enough-” Joyce elbows him again, “yeah, okay. Watch it woman, your elbows are like knives.”

“Eddie,” El starts in, “your birth certificate is important, you can choose where you were born.”

“That’s not actually how it works for the rest of us,” Will whispers to her, smiling.

“I got to choose,” she tells him, “I chose Hawkins.”

“Eddidie born?”

El nods, “where you’re from.”

“The Upside Down,” Eddie announces with some confidence, raising a round of, maybe slightly weirded out, chuckles from around the table.

El shakes her head, “no, where are you from now?”

Eddie nods, grasping that part, “Hawkins Indiana. Pool,” and Eddie points, back through the house at the yard, just to clarify. Steve hides his laughter behind his hand.

“Might want to loose the ‘pool’ part,” Hopper adds, helpfully.

“No no,” Jon suggests, “if you make him like, from another country, it’ll explain the language barrier.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Joyce muses, “where would you suggest?”

“Well, there’s only one obvious place, right? Fin-land.”

Everyone groans, and John gets balled up napkins thrown at him.

“In all seriousness kid, going to need a full name and date of birth,” Hopper tells them.

“Oh! Christmas Eve! That would be a lovely birthday for Eddie,” Joyce tells him, excited.

Hopper hums, “uh hu, what year? And a surname, write it all down for me kid.”

“Obviously Harrington,” Steve says before he can really think about it.

Hoppers eyebrows are in his hairline, “so...brothers?”

Robin nearly chokes on her drink.

“Okay, time for gifts, and then dessert after,” Joyce says as she shoos everyone into the lounge, “the boys can do the dishes later.”

Jon and Hop share a look, and Steve knows instantly it’s a look they’ve shared quite a few times.

Everyone spreads around in the lounge, El putting on the Christmas tree lights with a little frown of concentration.

“Okay, me first,” Joyce says, getting up, and she gives Steve and Eddie a wrapped gift each.

“Joyce, you don’t have to, I didn’t get chance to-”

“Don’t worry about any of that honey,” she waves him away, sipping her drink, “just open them.”

Eddie looks perplexed by the thing he’s been handed, just turning it over and over in his hands, “here, watch,” Steve says, and carefully tears into the paper on his own gift.

Eddie seems to be delighted by this turn of events, and uses his claws to easily tear into the paper.

Matching knitted material unfurls onto both of their laps, Steve unfolding his to find a red and green knitted sweater; clearly home made by Joyce.

Eddie holds his up, “sweater? Gift?”

“Yeah, look,” Steve holds up his own.

They are a little different; while the sleeves of Eddie’s are the same as Steve’s, the middle is a hell of a lot shorter, and it takes a second for Steve to realize why; it would stop it from dragging on the ground.

“Stee Eddidie not different!” Eddie says, all excited, just as Steve looses his battle and starts to cry.

A little less than twenty four hours ago, the deepest parts of Steve were convinced that Eddie was dead in his pool. Before that, days of...of torture, knowing that Eddie could very well be dying in the black water. The sleepless nights. The slow erosion of Steve’s hope, and the guilt that came with it, all seem to hit Steve all at once.

Eddie could have died, and now they’re here, sitting on the couch together, holding matching Christmas sweaters. They got insanely lucky.

Steve’s tears come harder, and a sob escapes him, “sorry,” he chokes out, excusing himself and heading into the kitchen.

“Stee?” Eddie creeps in quietly after him.

“Hey, I’m okay.”

Eddie frowns, following Steve across to where he’s leaning against the counter, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, “no.”

It does make Steve laugh a little through his tears, and he lets Eddie carefully wipe his face before he licks the moisture off his fingers, “called?”

“Tears. I’m crying. I got upset.”

“Stee ow? Tell Eddidie.”

Steve swallows thickly, but his tears abate in the face of Eddie’s clear concern, “when you were in the pool...I had to wait. Days. And I was...so frightened. Scared. That you were dead.”

“Eddidie not dead.”

“No,” Steve huffs, “I know that now,” and he wraps his arms more firmly around Eddie’s middle, “I missed you.”

“Called missed?”

“I was sad, Steve ow, Eddie wasn’t here. You were gone. In the pool.”

“Eddidie no missed Steve. Sorry. Eddidie…” he taps the side of his head, the bobble wobbling as he cocks his head in thought, “no TV. TV inied. Together now. Many tomorrow.”

“All tomorrow?” Steve asks hopefully.

Eddie nods, his bobble rocking back and forth furiously.

And then he leans forward the scant inches between them, and kisses Steve. It’s slow, gentle. A soft brush of lips before Eddie shifts on a sigh. The gentlest, barely there sucking of Steve’s bottom lip; the softest of scratching claws against the back of his head, Eddie’s hand sliding into his hair.

“Oh!” Eddie pulls apart, but not away. If anything he instinctively holds Steve tighter, “I’m...I’m sorry,” Nancy says, wide eyed from the doorway, before she backs back into the lounge.

Steve sighs, “cats out of the bag now.”

“Cat? Lion. Tiger? Called bag?”

“I’ll explain that one another time, okay?”

When they sit back down on the couch, Steve has a fuck it moment and holds Eddie’s hand. He has to keep letting go so Eddie can open his gifts, but still. It doesn’t take long for Hopper to notice, and then he says, “oh, Harrington,” in the most unhelpful way ever.

Steve looks down at their linked fingers, and it suddenly occurs to him exactly which finger it is that next to the pinky finger. Oh. Oh, well. Eddie doesn’t understand what it means...and it’s not like Steve isn’t all in anyway at this point. Not that they can even get married but...he looks up, happening to make eye contact with Robin, who has the most ‘what the fuck?’ look on her face Steve’s ever seen.

Steve eyes her back, ‘not now.’

He gets some world class shit eye in return.

All of Steve’s gifts are...standard. Fairly thoughtful, but mostly just...standard. The toiletries he likes. Some cleaning stuff for his car. Another, not home made, new sweater.

Eddie on the other hand, makes absolute bank. Notebooks, coloring books, pencils and pens. A nice case to keep all of his stationary in. A four pack of fancy beer from Hopper of all people. Plus books, granted, they’re all kids books, but they’re perfect. Steve figures Eddie isn’t that far off learning to read, he has been nailing the alphabet for a little while now.

One of Eddie’s gifts from Robin is a calendar; it’s full of pictures of month appropriate trees. Steve sees cherry blossoms and ripe apples and snow covered firs as Eddie flicks through, reading the months out loud. “That’s a whole year,” Steve tells him, once Eddie has haltingly read out, ‘December,’ “we can write important things in there.”

Eddie perks up, “Eddidie Birthday?”

“Yeah, you want Christmas Eve?”

Eddie nods, and once Steve finds the right box on the right page, Eddie uses one of his new pens to, very carefully, write his name in the box. “Birthday?”

“How to spell birthday?”

Eddie nods, “letters.”

Steve tells him, one slow letter at a time, as Eddie writes it out, showing everyone proudly once he’s done.

Eddie insists on inspecting every single gift thoroughly, and saying thank you, before tucking it all around himself on the couch, like a little dragon with his tiny hoard.

Steve sighs when Eddie unwraps a VHS of ‘Splash,’ from Jon. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I’m hilarious,” Jon replies, deadpan.

Part twenty

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.

author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍

“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.

ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.

“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”

you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.

satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.

“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene. 

“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.

“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?

you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”

“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.

“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against. 

“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”

“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”

you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room. 

now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.

kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.

a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor. 

“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.

kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”

for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.

“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.

despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal? 

it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.

“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.

kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”

your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”

kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”

well, fuck.

“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”

“you too, detective. stay safe.”

“i’ll do my best.”

kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.

you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”

you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.

“what the fu—”

satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.

“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. 

“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.

true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?

“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.

“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.

satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”

you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”

“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second. 

“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”

“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.

“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”

“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”

you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”

“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”

your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“wouldn’t i?”

you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”

“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”

satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”

he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.

“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”

“do i have a choice?”

“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket. 

seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.

and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.

“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”

you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.

but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.

“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”

“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips. 

“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”

he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.

“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.

“suck my dick.”

part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you. 

“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.

the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate. 

satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.

“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”

it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.

satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”

when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin. 

“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you. 

so, naturally, you stab him in the back.

not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat. 

satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?

at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.

“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”

“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.

satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”

and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.

what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.

but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”

[amaranthineghost]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ TWO WHEEL DRIVE: MEET ME AT THE CROSSWALK ( lando norris. )

lando norris x biker!reader

under the guise that she's on vacation, she travels to monaco in surprise for a certain mclaren driver who had missed her presence.

authors note: there may be a fourth part to this, but it will come after cowboy lando (live laugh love) and also trying to work on the requests that have built up (please be patient if you haven't seen yours!) and other ideas I have <3

1 2

ynusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 20,472 others

ynusername the dreaded vacation curse of finding a cute boy and then leaving to never see him again!

read all 204 comments

user girl don't play with me right now

user this better be lando or I'm going to tip cows!

user after all of us hyping him up, she better not have ran off with some random boy during a VACATION

⤷ user right like girl he's RIGHT THERE PLEASEEEE

user nah guys, now you see that she was probably just using lando to go to a grand prix

⤷ user this. like it was clearly a guise just to be able to get her tidbit of fame and act like she's hot shit on her bike

landonorris hate when that happens 😅🔪

⤷ ynusername literally the worst

⤷ user little passive aggressive there lando!

⤷ user I'm sorry but y'all make it too obvious

alexandrasaintmleux a mandatory coffee date and tour is in order, gorgeous ☕️🥐

⤷ ynusername yes, please! I promise I'll park better than your boyfriend 😅🫶🏼

⤷ user NOT THE RANDOM CHARLES SLANDER

⤷ user I'm living for it, she's so c*nty

user okay it's confirmed guys she's in monaco

⤷ user officially freaking out 🤗

user not her buddying up with alexandra to get close with charles too

⤷ user what are you on because I got to make sure so I can avoid it

⤷ user right like she's clearly only interested in lando 💀

⤷ user is she really? because to me it looks like she ran off to a random vacation and forgot about him!

⤷ user no, it just looks like you're delusional! hope this helps! 🤗

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri and 1,023,287 others

landonorris guys I'm on my multi-million dollar yacht! (cough)

view all 8,201 comments

user damn I remember that yacht! such good times sipping EXPENSIVE champagne!

user oh yeah, that looks just like the model lando gifted me so we could be twinsies!

user I remember when lando accidentally spilled a drink on me, he gave me a couple hundred dollars as compensation and a go at steering the yacht!

oscarpiastri I remember celebrating your win in that! such a gracious host!

⤷ user oscar has lando's back 😭

user i'm begging for that to be yn

⤷ user she's in monaco so the chances it's her are HIGHHHH

⤷ user girl don't get my hopes up

⤷ user we can both dream

ynusername wow that yacht looks very expensive!

⤷ landonorris oh yeah, you know how it is! athlete's salary and all...

⤷ user not yn also hyping lando up

⤷ user she's trying to be his wingman to get herself

⤷ user she's such an icon

mclaren looks like we brought back a certain good luck charm? 😉

⤷ user mclaren DON'T play wit me rn

⤷ user don't get my hopes up, admin

user this is torture HARD LAUNCH ALREADY

⤷ user okay they're doing this on purpose because they know we know but they also know that we are doubting if it's real!

⤷ user the soft launch makes sense all of a sudden...

ynusername

liked by landonorris and 43,027 others

ynusername my go at a four wheel drive

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user THIS IS GOALS

user oh my god she's done it! she drove something that has more than two wheels!

⤷ user i bet lando roped her into it

⤷ user oh you know for SURE that he did

landonorris i bet you were great on the track behind you there

⤷ ynusername oh i was. i had the best teacher there with me!

⤷ user haha just kiss on camera already haha

⤷ landonorris bet

⤷ user PAUSE!

⤷ user HELPPPP but fr they need to hard launch already like guys we already know, it's not funny anymore!

oscarpiastri bet those skills were top tier, i can't wait to see you on the grid next year!

⤷ ynusername i'm coming for your seat, buddy. you better watch out

⤷ landonorris hey guys, let's not get too crazy now!

⤷ user lando jealous?

⤷ user over little oscar (who already has a girlfriend) just being friendly with her

user he's too far gone i fear

⤷ user he's so whipped

user he's utterly hopelessly deeply in love with her and you can so tell

landonorris

liked by ynusername and 1,347,293 others

landonorris should i buy a bike with my athlete's salary?

view all 12,038 comments

user i speak for everyone when i say YES DO IT RIGHT NOW

user stop everyone thank yn because she gave us biker lando

⤷ user THANK YOU YN!!! we say in unison

⤷ user YN THE WORLD THANKS YOU 🙌🏼

⤷ ynusername haha my pleasure

⤷ user oh my god im gonna faint

user oh my god imagine lando buys his own bike and get a motorcycle license

⤷ user and then she can be his backpack 🥹

⤷ user or!! they can go on rides around monaco or whatever country they bring their bikes to

user hello she's wearing the same white tank top in her post!

⤷ user ynndo confirmed!!!

ynusername two words. death wobble.

⤷ landonorris we do not speak of it

⤷ user see, this just confirms it

⤷ user DEATH WOBBLE??? I CHANGE MY MIND LANDO NORRIS DO NOTTTTTT GET A BIKE!

⤷ user bro probably doesn't even care as long as he gets the girl

oscarpiastri maybe this is your time to shine in motogp! which means an empty seat at mclaren for yn to be my teammate! thanks a lot lando for your great sportmanship!

⤷ ynusername oh my god YES!

⤷ landonorris hold on, what, i didn't agree to this guys 😅

⤷ oscarpiastri well, i think you've been overruled

⤷ user LET YN COOK IN F1!!

user the second photo hello?!

⤷ user RIGHT like they are such goals

user and the fact we don't know it's her but we also do know 🫠

ynusername

liked by landonorris and 63,024 others

ynusername sorry guys, busy again this weekend

view all 493 comments

user hello the oscar cap? SHE'S ONE OF US 🙌🏼

⤷ user ONE OF US!!!

landonorris why are you wearing my teammate's cap??

⤷ ynusername because he's my second favorite driver!

⤷ landonorris well why don't you wear the hat of your favorite driver instead? 🤨

⤷ ynusername why would i

⤷ landonorris why wouldn't you

⤷ ynusername i don't know 🤷🏻‍♀️

user hello the back and forth over her wearing oscar's cap

⤷ user stop, and the fact he knows that he's her favorite

⤷ user i mean why wouldn't he be!!

user see she's just using lando so mclaren will keep inviting her 🙄

⤷ user get a grip 😭

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landonorris

liked by ynusername and 1,293,420 others

landonorris might not have been the result i wanted, but at least i've got the girl, and also congrats osc on p2!

view all 234 comments

user HE LOCKED IT DOWN YALL

oscarpiastri you'll be back on the podium next time for sure, and congrats on the girl, mate

⤷ landonorris that hype comment really sold it i think

⤷ ynusername @/oscarpiastri so did he not help you win that sprint?

⤷ oscarpiastri no comment!

user the comment section being his wingman nailed it in

⤷ ynusername well they did say how great and rich he was, how could i refuse! he gave cpr to a goldfish, top tier qualities right there!

⤷ user not her basically admitting she's using him for his money

⤷ user you wish it was you 💀

mclaren our good luck charm returns!

⤷ ynusername it worked on oscar this time! maybe it was because he knew I'd be there 🫣

⤷ landonorris yeah, but he can't keep his mouth shut so I also knew... eventually

⤷ oscarpiastri hey!

⤷ ynusername it's okay, osc! congrats on p2 😊

⤷ oscarpiastri thank you yn 🥲 you should take me on a ride as a celebration

⤷ ynusername yes!!

⤷ landonorris okay let's take a minute 😅

user lando AND yn calling oscar 'osc' 🥹

⤷ user oscar is their child confirmed!

comments have been limited

—

taglist (found here): @poppyflower-22 @sapphiccloud @darleneslane @decafmickey @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej @soamericn @tellybearyyyy @geniusalpaca @namgification @landossainz @sweate-r-weathe-r @luvsforme @theyluvflynn @ln4smiamitrophy @rylieverstappen-sargent @littlegrapejuice @mel164 @jiggly-puff-12 @ahnneyong @prudyhoo

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[jjkamochoso]

How You React To JJK Characters Describing You as Their Type When Todo Asks

Fluff

Request from anon! This was a super fun one, thanks again for the request!! Also, I didn't do Mai, Miwa or Momo with this one, but added in Nanami; if you would like me to add the other girls back in, lmk and I absolutely will!! :)

JK Men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Part 2 to this fic; same premise here, the students are all in a big group when the question was asked! <3

Yuji:

“Yuji! What kind of person is your type?”

“My type? Uh, let’s see,” he said, putting his thumb and forefinger to his chin in thought. After he gave his reply, you noticed everyone glancing between him and you.

“What? Is there something on my face?” you asked, wiping your cheek.

“No, you dummy,” said Nobara, “didn’t you hear what Itadori’s type was?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So? So? He described you perfectly,” she hissed. You thought back to his answer and your eyes went wide, realizing she was right. You looked over at the pink haired boy.

“Is that true? Your type is me?” you asked him, not caring that everyone was deeply invested in your conversation.

“Yeah. Is that… okay?” he asked, nervously ruffling his hand through his hair.

“Only if you ask me on a date,” you said with a playful wink, walking away. Yuji just stared at you, hearts in his eyes, until Nobara smacked him.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go ask them!”

He hurried after you, eager to ask you out.

Megumi:

“Tell us, Fushiguro, what kind of person is your type?”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “Things like that are so unimportant. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters more than you think. It tells you everything you need to know is about a person. Like how you’re a wimp for not answering,” said Todo, crossing his arms with a triumphant smirk.

“Fine,” replied Megumi through gritted teeth, tired of Todo’s pestering, “you really wanna know? I’ll tell you.”

As he described his dream person, you felt your face get warmer and warmer.

“That, um, kind of sounds like me, doesn’t it?” you whispered to Yuji.

“There’s no ‘kind of’ about that, y/n,” he whispered back, just as surprised as you were. When Megumi saw you looking at him, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away, clearly embarrassed. You ran after him as fast as you could.

“Megumi, wait! I have to talk to you!” you exclaimed, halting him with a grip of his arm.

“I’m sorry, that was a big mistake, I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“I like you. A lot,” you confessed. “You’re my type, too.”

“R-really?” His voice squeaked and he quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, really? That’s good. Great. I’m… relieved.”

You chuckled at his adorable flustered state. “Me too. I guess Todo is good for something after all.”

Nobara:

“Kugisaki! What’s your type?”

“My type? That’s simple,” she answered, her bright bob swinging. As she described the kind of person she found attractive, you couldn’t help the giddiness bubbling up inside; she was describing you!

“Kugusaki? Can I talk to you over here for a second?” you asked, signaling her to follow you away from the group. Yuji, understanding what was happening, gave you a thumbs up.

“Do you have a crush on me?” you questioned. “Because the person you described sounded exactly like me.”

Nobara immediately went into the defensive, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Huh?! Nuh uh, that could be anybody here,” she replied, her face lighting up with a small blush.

“Oh. What a shame, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time,” you said, preparing to walk away. Nobara’s hand darted to your own, prompting you to stop.

“Wait! I… do like you, okay?” she mumbled, not meeting your eyes. “It’s just a crush, though, it’s not like I’m in love or anything stupid.”

You laughed lightly at her attitude. She was a piece of work, but if everything went well, she’d be your piece of work.

Maki:

“Zenin, spill. What kind of person is your type?”

“Do you really have nothing else rolling around in that tiny brain of yours?” Maki asked, obviously annoyed.

“Who would’ve thought someone as fearless as you would be scared by a little question, hmm?” a vicious voice from Mai said.

“I’m not scared, it’s a dumb question,” Maki replied, “but I’ll answer it anyway to get you idiots off my back.”

When she was done describing her type, you felt Yuta nudge you softly.

“Y/n, I think she likes you,” he said in a hushed tone.

“So what if I do, huh?” she said aggressively, overhearing what Yuta told you. The tension that overcame the group was uncomfortable, so much so that everyone left, leaving you and Maki by yourselves. She kept her eyes trained elsewhere, not wanting to meet yours.

“This whole thing was stupid. Forget I said anything,” she snarled.

“Maki,” you said with such softness that she actually looked at you, “I really like you. You’re my type, too.”

She scoffed as she looked away once more, hiding her warmed face. “You’re such a sap, you know that?”

Inumaki:

“Inumaki! What’s your type?”

“He can’t talk, you jerk,” you exclaimed defensively. You turned to Toge. “Just ignore him, okay? You don’t have to answer.”

“Salmon,” he responded, placing a hand on your arm to signal he was alright. He sighed as he approached Todo.

“Salmon salmon,” he told him, earning a confused look from Todo.

“Anyone care to translate?” the tall man asked. Toge rolled his eyes and tried again.

“Salmon salmon,” he said, this time making his pointing toward you more obvious.

“Your type is… L/n?” wondered Todo. Toge nodded meekly as you were overcome with butterflies in your stomach. He turned away from the group as Todo asked the same question to the next victim.

“Toge, I’m your type?” you asked, your voice shaking a little.

He nodded.

“Does that mean you like me?”

He nodded again. You immediately wrapped him in a hug, making him stumble back before wrapping his arms around you as well.

“I’ve liked you for so long now. I never thought I’d have Todo to thank for this, but I guess weirder things have happened.”

Yuta:

“Okkatsu, tell us, what kind of person is your type?”

“I can appreciate all types of people,” Yuta answered happily, making you smile. He was always so kindhearted!

“I don’t believe that,” replied Todo, narrowing his eyes. “You have to have one certain type of person you always find attractive.”

“I mean, I guess so,” he replied, starting to look nervous.

“And that is?” Todo raised an eyebrow.

“Um, let’s see…”

When Yuta was describing that person, you felt a tug on your sleeve. Inumaki was looking at you and you nodded in understanding.

“You picked up on that, too?” you asked, getting an enthusiastic nod in response. Yuta blushed when he noticed you watching him and quickly encouraged Todo to ask the question to someone else to keep him from embarrassing himself more. What he didn’t notice, until it was too late, was who Todo asked next.

“L/n! What’s your type?”

“That’s easy,” you said, your eyes never leaving Yuta’s as you smiled. “It’s Okkatsu.”

He could’ve sworn he died and went to Heaven right there!

Gojo:

“Gojo-sensei! What kind of person is your type?”

“Ooh, are we all playing a little get-to-know-each-other game?” asked Satoru excitedly. “I love it when the students bond like this.”

You were walking by the group when you overheard your fellow teacher getting involved in the kids’ antics so naturally, you stopped to watch.

“My type, hmm?” He was deep in thought, his forefinger to his chin. “Ah! Got it.”

As he was describing the person, the kids started snickering while looking at you. At first you didn’t understand why, but when it clicked, your first instinct was to grab Satoru by the back of his shirt collar and drag him away.

“Thanks for the fun!” he yelled, waving goodbye. When you were far enough away, out of sight and earshot of the students, you punched him in the arm.

“Ouch! Trouble in paradise already?” he teased.

“What the hell, Satoru? Our students aren’t supposed to know about teachers’ crushes on each other,” you reprimanded.

“What happens when we get married? They’ll know when they have to address you as Gojo-sensei. Or address me as L/n-sensei, I don’t care about the whole name situation,” he said airily, waving his hand around.

“You are truly impossible,” you said, rubbing your fingers on your forehead to ease your oncoming headache.

He poked your arm. “But you love me, don’t you?”

“I like you. And that’s trouble as it is,” you groaned, earning a smile and arm slung around your shoulder from the man.

“That’s enough for me, baby.”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“Noted.”

Noritoshi:

“Kamo! What’s your type?”

“I don’t want to play your nonsense games, Todo,” remarked Noritoshi, frustrated.

“The next head of the Kamo clan refuses to answer such an easy question? That tells me everything I need to know about your character,” smirked Todo.

Noritoshi scowled. “Don’t question my character over my disbelief in your stupid qualifications.”

“Admit it, Kamo. You’re scared,” teased Mai, which sent him over the edge. He explained his type to the group, finishing with, “-don’t ever ask me something so idiotic in the future.”

“So… your type is L/n,” said Todo.

“Yes.” Noritoshi’s eyes widened when he realized what he said. “No! Wait! I don’t…”

He stopped, coming to terms that the damage was already done.

“All of you get on my nerves,” he barked, walking away quickly. You hurried after him.

“Noritoshi,” you said after catching up with him, “I really like you. You’re exactly my type too.”

He studied your eyes for any sign of deceit, but he didn’t find any. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he let a small smile fall upon his lips.

“Maybe the brainless question was useful after all.”

Todo:

“Todo! What’s your type?” you asked the muscled man. He looked surprised at you speaking up, but immediately replaced that expression with a wide smile.

“You.”

You burst into laughter. “No, I’m being serious, Aoi. What kind of person are you into?”

“I am serious, you’re exactly my type. I think you’re really attractive.”

You were about to laugh again when you noticed he was being genuine.

“You’re not… joking?”

“You seriously didn’t know? You’re all he talks about or looks at,” said Noritoshi. “Even I’ve noticed that much.”

“So, what do you say?” Aoi addressed you with another smile. “You want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Yeah. That would be amazing,” you breathed out, still shocked at the outcome you weren’t expecting but would gladly accept.

Nanami:

“Nanami-sensei! What kind of person is your type?”

Todo’s loud voice made Kento stop abruptly in his tracks.

“I’m not a teacher so don’t address me as such,” he sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Secondly, that’s none of your business. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Nanamin!” Yuji exclaimed, blocking the exasperated man’s path. “It’s a harmless question! We just wanna know more about you.”

Kento observed the shining eyes of the children staring at him and he sighed again, this time more forcefully.

“My type is a person who is smart enough to stay far away from this troublesome group,” he grumbled, making a beeline for your laughing figure as you watched from afar.

“Not a fan of my students’ curiosity, Nanami-sensei?” you teased, causing him to groan.

“They’re much too nosy. I have no interest in delving into my love live with children.”

“How about with another adult, then?” you asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’d hardly call you an adult with the way you’re acting right now.”

“I’d be hurt if you weren’t right,” you replied. “C’mon, we trust each other. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Fine,” he relented, “but this isn’t how I pictured telling you. I was hoping for a more mature environment when confessing my romantic feelings towards you.”

You stood in shock at his sudden confession. You were joking with the man, not expecting him to come up with a real answer, but instead, he admitted he liked you.

“To make myself clear,” he said, noticing your lack of a reaction, “you’re my type.”

You stumbled over your words in your surprised state. “I… wow. I wasn’t expecting that.” You took in a deep breath to calm yourself. “That does make it a lot easier to say my type is overworked blondes named Kento.”

His lips quirked up into a hint of a smile. “You think I’m overworked?”

“I know you are.” You mustered up all your courage before continuing, asking, “How about you take some time off and join me for dinner later?”

Kento’s smile became much more prominent. “That was supposed to be my line, but that would be lovely nonetheless. I’ll pick you up at 7.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

Beautiful as You

Alastor x female! florist reader

Summary: The reader (you) meets Alastor after bringing an order to the hotel, he becomes fond of you and decides to visit you at your little shop.

A/N_- I'm ALIVE! Sorry I have been really unactive I've had horrible writers block but I'm back y'all!!

You’d always loved working with flowers; they had always brought you a sense of peace amidst the chaos of Hell. One day in particular, you received a call from Princess Charlie Morningstar, who was calling from the Hazbin Hotel to place an order for a large arrangement of sunflowers and a few other bright blooms for a special event. You were happy to help her and support her dream, crafting a bouquet that captured the warmth and hope you had always seen in her.

When you arrived at the hotel and knocked on the door to drop off the flowers, you were surprised to be greeted by none other than the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. You were quite starstruck—not just because Charlie wasn’t the one to open the door, but also because you’d heard so many stories about Alastor that seemed to permeate the very atmosphere. After all, who in Hell hadn’t heard of Alastor? But seeing him in person was truly something else.

He greeted you with a broad grin, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place, but the thought didn’t last long. He took the bouquet and the other flowers Charlie had ordered from you, and as his large claws brushed against your smaller hands for just a moment, you felt... a connection?

Since that day, Alastor had taken a particular interest in your little shop downtown. He’d passed by it many times during his outings and had always thought about stopping in for a quick look, but this time it was fate. Alastor began visiting regularly, bringing you a handful of wildflowers he’d picked somewhere. These flowers were beautiful, and you often wondered where—and how far—he’d go to find them for you.

One day, you weren’t at the counter when Alastor made his daily visit. Not to mention, he always seemed to come up with little excuses to see you, telling the others at the hotel that he had "business to attend to," but that business was visiting you. You were in the back room, sorting through a new shipment of flowers and preparing some new orders that had just come in when you heard the door chime. Not thinking much of it, you continued with your work.

You pretty much owned and ran the business by yourself, but your friend helped out and was at the counter. She greeted the customer as usual. Alastor's smile widened, though a hint of confusion flickered in his crimson eyes. "Ah, good afternoon," he greeted, his voice crackling like an old radio. "I was hoping to see a lovely florist—she's about yay tall," he held a hand slightly above your height, with a smile as bright as a sunbeam. "You wouldn’t happen to know where she might be hiding, would you?"

Your friend recognized him instantly and struggled to suppress a smirk. "You mean her?" she asked, deliberately raising her voice as she called your name. You emerged from the back room, wiping your hands on your apron to remove the soil and soot, and paused when you locked eyes with him. He was holding his usual bouquet of wildflowers. You wouldn’t think it would surprise you, but you were surprised that he kept coming back.

There he was, grinning at you like you were the most important thing he'd seen all day.

“Good afternoon, my dear,” Alastor greeted, his voice carrying that old-timey radio crackle that sent shivers down your spine. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”

“N-No, not at all,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I was just in the back... um, what can I do for you?” You tried to keep your cool, and your friend smirked, clearly figuring it out. Alastor then stepped closer to you, holding out the bouquet.

"These are for you, ma chère." You carefully took the wildflowers from him, your fingers brushing against his once again.

"Thank you, Alastor... That’s very sweet of you, and they are absolutely beautiful." Alastor's smile grew wider, sensing that he had made you happy, and he was pleased with himself. "Perhaps... you might consider bringing another arrangement to the hotel sometime soon? Charlie has been raving about the last one you delivered.”

“I’d be happy to,” you replied, your nervousness slowly easing as you met his gaze.

"Excellent," he said, offering a short bow before turning on his heel to leave. He paused at the door and looked over his shoulder: "Until next time, my dear." You watched as he exited your shop, the door chime ringing softly behind him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Wow,” your friend teased, breaking the silence. “So, how long have you been on first-name terms with the Radio Demon?”

You blushed furiously, unable to hide your flustered state. “It’s nothing like that. He’s just... a customer.”

“Uh-huh,” your friend replied, clearly unconvinced. “A customer who just so happens to bring you flowers and makes you go all starry-eyed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Radio Demon has a crush.”

You tried to protest and glare at them, but deep down, you knew she was right. And you couldn’t wait for the next time—the next order for the hotel, or his visit in general.