#but they're fake stacked

[furiousgoldfish]

How triangulation works

Triangulation is a form of abuse, often associated with narcissistic abusers, which works in a way that gets the abuser what they want, by involving other people into the relationship. It will usually happen when you and the abuser are in some kind of conflict, and want different things; the abuser tells you what they want you to do, and you know you don't want this, so you say no, and stand your ground.

When the abuser realizes they can't persuade you, threaten you, force or pressure you into doing what they want, they go a roundabout way about it, by convincing other people to go and pressure you instead. Now how does that look like?

It can go multiple ways, they can come and cry to other people about how incredibly cruel, insensitive and selfish you are, not wanting to do this one thing to them, and how it's killing them, and ruining yours and everyone else's life. They'll often sprinkle in some lies about you, make you look cruel and twisted. They can come to your siblings, friends, relatives, family, and tell them something along the lines 'I know it's only right for them to do x, but they won't listen to me. However, they really value your opinion, and they might listen to you, please tell them to do x, it would be better for everyone.' This will make the person feel important and happy to be valued both by the abuser and you and to be given this important task of changing your mind, they'll become willing to do it. Or, if they go the crying and complaining route, the person will become annoyed that they're being vented on feel like it's your fault they're now having to deal with this. The abuser might also add imagined disasters and catastrophes that might happen, if you do as you want, and not follow their idea of how things should go.

This person, having been manipulated into thinking they're doing something good, will go and try to tell you that you're wrong for wanting to do what you want, sometimes they'll accuse you of being selfish, yell at you, defend the abuser's idea, pressure you, accuse you of being responsible for abuser's "upset" by acting this way, and will wholeheartedly try to convince you that following your own free will is a horrible, disastrous idea.

And for you, this now means you have to consider, and reconsider over and over again, if you have the right to make your own call, because now everyone in your life seems to be on the abuser's side, and insisting that what you want is stupid, selfish, inconsiderate, hurtful, wrong, potentially disastrous. This, of course, is not true, but the abusers want you in that spot, where everyone you know is against you and on their side, convincing you to just do as you're told, or else. This can sometimes create intense pressure and feeling like you're all alone in the world, like nobody cares about you, and that any decision you make will be beaten down by everyone involved. It can also make you pull down your own choices after having to consider over and over if it's possible that this choice could be selfish or in any way hurtful, and this is not how people normally make calls, it's something you do under intense pressure and scrutiny, which is there only because the abuser wanted it.

These choices can be anything from where you go to school, work, where you live, how you dress, who you date, what you buy, how to respond to others, what you do, how you act. Often they'll be about whether you give the abuser what they want from you, and whether you agree to talk to them or not. The biggest triangulations I've experienced in my life were done when I've refused to talk to the abusers, then they felt it was necessary to lie and manipulate every person I knew to pressure me into extending contact  - and all of those people have been lied to, and have been brought to a heavy emotional state in order to do a crazy thing like telling someone what to do. Normally people don't do such things, they understand it's not their place to dictate someone's personal decisions, not their call to make in somebody's life.

This is partly what makes the abusers so dangerous, not only they're willing  to cross that line themselves, but they're capable of making others cross it too, making their every whim seeming like a life emergency where all rules of freedom and privacy are null. This also puts you in a position where you're forced to doubt yourself, your every decision, and even your senses, to figure out if you could possibly be right, when everyone you know is telling you that you're wrong. They want you to be in that desperate mindset, doubting your own senses, memories, decisions. It's almost like a form of gaslighting, that everyone participates in.

Your choice is, of course, never wrong. You always have the freedom to make your own decisions, even if the entire world decides to attack you for it and to tell you that you're wrong. The entire shitshow is happening only because the abuser thinks what they want is more important than your free life and your quality of life, and they're willing to lie and push people into doing their bidding, just to bypass your free will. You don't have to doubt any of these decisions, because any choice you make is right, as long as you're the one who made it.

Being trapped in that space where it feels like everyone is against you, and on the abuser's side can be extremely isolating, painful and emotionally heavy. It can put you in a state where you feel abandoned and like you're wrong and evil for every decision you try to make. However, this isn't true, all of the people who are telling you that you're wrong, actually have no clue what's going on, and have been fed lies. Not that it hurts any less that they've betrayed you despite not even understanding the situation! It hurts badly. They've been naive enough to fall for a manipulation, and their moral standing weak enough to try and infringe on your freedom, and you didn't deserve that. They've aligned themselves with a person who has hurt you and is attempting to control you, and that feels terrible, like you're alone and helpless against a whole horde of people.

One thing you can do is point out how it's not their place to make this call, and ask them what they've been told in order to come and tell you something as inappropriate and hurtful like this. I can't claim it's going to work every time, but some people were taken aback when they were informed of some of the stuff the abuser just 'forgot to mention' when sending them into action. Sometimes even that won't make them back down, because it's embarrassing to accept that you've been manipulated into being someone's tool, and they'd rather insist they're completely in the right. It's a messed up game where you essentially can't win, the best you can do is stick to your decision and inform everyone who comes to pressure you, that you're not in fact, doing anything illegal and if they want to change your decision they'll have to bring out an army to force you.

Triangulation goes hand-in-hand with scapegoating, and will make you feel like a scapegoat. Even if a lot of people will fall for the abuser's manipulations, not all will, and this is not something that you'll need to endure all of your life, especially if you manage to cut contact with people who are easily manipulated – you don't owe them a presence in their life if they're aligned with an abuser. There are people out there who cannot be manipulated easily, and will stick to their morals and refuse to infringe on your freedom, even when told a bunch of lies.

[annelidist]

played the demo for peripeteia. it's kind of ass but it fucking rules. the animations are scuffed, the ai is dumb, the environments are barren, but the vibe is impeccable and for some reason it has fucking great traversal. it has this super robust ledge grab/mantle that works on the edge of any surface, and combined with a decent jump and some forgiving fall damage scaling, you can just fuckin scramble around wherever you feel like. it's so simple and hands-off in its implementation that it's kind of hard to describe how fun it is to problem-solve with it. if they just stash around more hard-to-reach items for you to scrounge and cut down on the empty space in the maps, there could be something incredible here; figuring out weird ways to traverse the layered environment is already a joy of its own. i'm really rooting for this one to turn out well

also you can finish the demo as soon as it starts by doming the questgiver with the terrible gun he lends you and going through his pockets for the intel you need. this is Peak Immersive Sim, to me.

[purpleshadow-star]

Stranger Things Season 5 opening scene script leaked 🤭

[brachiosaurus-on]

... I have literally never thought of the exact positioning of a Padawan braid before just now. XD But I suddenly am sorely tempted to sketch one in front of the ear because I think it looks nice. And it can still be tucked behind it like regular hair! Compromise?

Ahahaha you come and offer me this compromise not knowing that two days ago I wrote over 1k words describing in detail the process of braiding the padawan braid and designed a padawan comb specifically for the braid and that I spend my showers contemplating the incredible practicality of having the braid drawn from a line above the ear and snugly rooted in place by pulling in the strands slowly like a dutch braid, building to where it hangs from the end of that line at the top back of the ear (not the base of the neck) and is eventually tied off with windings the first of which is approximately one centimeter below the ear lobe.

I will allow such sacrilege but I advise that when your Jedi starts spinning in the wrong direction that braid will not remain tucked behind the ear.

[trainwreckweather]

.

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I talk about the medical neglect and ableism I've encountered as a victim of the healthcare system, there's always some cockwaffle who feels entitled to come into my inbox and make the argument of "not all doctors" while talking about how "people like them" (because it's always someone in a field of medicine who does this) are doing their best and it's really hard because so many people fake being ill to get on welfare (Yikes), but like, yeah, obviously #not all doctors, because if all doctors were negligent, bullying scum bags, I'd be dead.

But here's the thing: while I truly believe that the majority of doctors are doing their best in a system stacked against them and their patients, their presence does not negate the mass harm caused by the bad ones. And there are far more bad ones than you realize.

Fuck, John Oliver literally did a segment on this last week:

Yes, the truly bad, malicious doctors are in the minority. Most are just horrifically burned out and fighting a losing battle against a system, killing both them and their patients through a lack of funding and resources and profound overwork.

But the malicious ones do exist, and they will go out of their way to harm patients who don't kowtow to them.

I almost lost my life because when I was in my early twenties, I told a doctor I didn't think she was listening to me, and I disagreed with her assessment of my mental health (she was not a mental health doctor, and I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain). She retaliated by putting "non-compliant" in my file.

There was also a fun little "doesn't show respect" note too that lives rent-free in my head because I know I wasn't rude. I was polite. I just didn't agree with her, and my refusal to accept her off-handed comment that "you probably have bipolar or BPD" (again, I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain) meant I was "refusing care."

I wasn't. I just refused to be slapped with a mood/personality disorder when I was there because I kept fucking fainting when I stood up.

(Spoiler alert: it was dysautonomia)

That "non-compliant" marker followed me around for years. It followed me across an ocean and effectively ensured that any doctor I saw was going to treat me like absolute dogshit because no one wants to help Difficult Patients. It wasn't until I was so undeniably ill, literally on the brink of death, that anyone helped me.

I'm alive because of a good doctor. And all the good ones that came after him because of him.

So, I know they exist. You don't have to tell me that.

But I really fucking need you to acknowledge the bad ones and that you're part of a system with a long, long history of abusing minorities and vulnerable people. I need you to acknowledge that because it's the only way we're going to survive this godforsaken nightmare and make things better.

So yeah, #notalldoctors, but if you feel the need to say that because someone talking about being literally left to die by the medical system hurts your feelings, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back and ask yourself if you're going into medicine for the right reasons.

Namely: do you want to help people, even the "difficult" ones?

Even the ones who might disagree with you?

Even if they're on welfare?

Even if they'll never get "better" in a way that means "cured"?

Just a thought. But hey, what do I know. I'm just someone who experienced hemolytic anemia because doctors kept telling me I was anxious and needed to exercise more 🤷‍♀️.

[eddiernunson]

Nice to Meet You, Where You Been? | Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, you're the best!

Summary: your college roommate takes you to the annual Harrington Halloween Party, where you expect to do nothing but get drunk and dance for a night. That was...until you turn around to the person dancing against you to Eddie fucking Munson.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, praise/degradation, hook-up at a party, daddy kink, creampie, no protection, slow ish build up, size kink? maybe?, hooking up under the influence

I had a whole ass plan to write for KinkTober but executive dysfunction took over. Hopefully this makes up for it...maybe.

I have another Halloween themed fic from last year, EddiexReader with Steve if anyone is interested

Word Count: 6.1k

-

You sit in the backseat of your roommate’s boyfriend’s beater, the music bumping through the stereo as you make your way to what is supposedly the biggest Halloween party of every year. Your roommate spent the beginning of your fall semester hyping up this party as the best place to be on a Halloween night. Her insistence was charming, and you were looking for an excuse to get drunk. So, now you are watching as you pass by Halloween decorations and children dressed in costumes going Trick-or-Treating.

You don't pay much attention to what they're saying, the gist of it reminiscing on the Halloween parties they had attended in the past. Your roommate had made it very clear from the start that this guy, whatever his name was, his Halloween parties were legendary in town. He has only been throwing them for a handful of years, but if you were a young adult in rural Hawkins on Halloween night, chances are you were at this party.

You start to wonder how big this guy’s house must be if a couple hundred people have been attending every year, and it sounded like he even encouraged it.

You can hear the music bumping from the house before you even see it. It's hard to miss, a cluster of cars in the neighborhood, several people walking up the lawn towards the wide-open door. Your roommate’s boyfriend parks down the street, a spot that is probably fine to park overnight due to the nature of the party.

If there is to be a single sober soul at this party, they would be a rare sight.

You tug at your costume as you walk behind the two of them, strutting arm in arm. They’re wearing a matching couple’s costume, as salt and pepper. It’s something they could come up with last minute, him wearing a black shirt for pepper and her a white dress for salt. Their costume is minimal, and certainly they’ll get asked frequently what they’re supposed to be, but when everyone’s intoxicated, you suppose it won’t matter much.

You’re dressed as your favorite iconic Batman villain, Poison Ivy. You loved the character from the DC comics as you grew up and having a year away from your parents and in a different town, you figured it might be a time to try a new daring costume. So here you walk, arms crossed in a small green dress with fake vines pinned across your chest. You opted for some dramatic green eyeshadow and bright red lips, hoping your makeup and costume will sell the look.

Your ears are nearly bursting as you cross the threshold to the front door of the massive house from the loud bumping music. The pop music is a bit obnoxious, but you’re sure you won’t care once some alcohol is in your system.

Your roommate seems to remember you exist, escaping her boyfriend’s arms for the moment and intertwining her arm around yours. She immediately guides you to the kitchen where stacks of red solo cups are sitting, surrounded by bottles of alcohol and soda. “Holy shit.” You mutter.

“I know.” She giggles, handing you a cup and some tequila.

“No thanks.” You push it back, knowing what exactly tequila does to you. “I’ll just do a vodka-sprite.”

As you’re pouring, in waddles a lanky dude with brown curled hair and freckles scattered on his pale skin.  “Oh hey, Mandy!” He greets her, stumbling as he toasts his cup. “Haven’t seen you in a while! How’s that boyfriend of yours?” He asks, spinning the lid of the alcohol he’s holding absentmindedly, causing it to flick off into the distance.  

“Nate’s good, I think he’s taking over your stereo, though.” She says, moving the bottles around to make Nate’s drink, as well.

“As per usual.” He laughs, pouring a large quantity of said tequila into his cup.

Mandy seems to realize something halfway through her sip. “Oh shit!” She sputters out, a drip of alcohol leaving her mouth. “Sorry, I forgot you two don’t know each other, yet. Y/N, this is Steve. Steve, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You greet him shyly, his confidence radiating, but very intimidating.

“Hello. Me casa e su casa, and whatever, whatever. Can I just ask, who are you supposed to be?” He asks you, gesturing to your costume.

“Oh, Poison Ivy.” You explain to him, sipping on your concoction and wincing when you realize you’ve poured way too much.

Steve blinks at you, seemingly trying to make sense of your costume. “You’re—you’re a plant?”

You laugh, not in the mood to explain comic book villains to someone who clearly doesn’t know anything about them. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, cool!” Steve laughs, taking a big sip of his drink.

“Hey, Steve, you see much of Munson these days?” Mandy asks him, wiping her face from the excess drink surrounding her mouth.

How wonderful, more people you don’t know. Hawkins is the smallest town you’ve ever seen; everyone seems to know of everyone.

“Eddie? Yeah, he should be here tonight actually. Super dork, dressed as some character from Star Wars. Or at least I think it’s Star Wars.” He mutters, rolling his eyes in obvious affection for his friends. “He’s matching with Henderson and Wheeler.”

They shake their heads together in tandem at their supposedly dorky friends. As a Star Wars fan, however, you were fine, ecstatic even to hear that there were souls brave enough to dress up as dorky characters and that you weren’t the only one.

You follow Mandy into the living room, now bumping with a tape mix that Nate apparently brought to the party. It's a damn blast, everyone in the living room dancing surrounded by sweaty bodies, finally finding some joy as the strong drink makes you lose your inhibitions. As you continue dancing, suddenly you find yourself in a huddle of people, Mandy and Nate both dancing by you, but lost in their own drunken haze. You don’t care about that. However, something in your mind as you tell yourself you don’t care tells you to care about the person who’s been up against your back for God knows how long.

They have a good rhythm, and they weren’t all too touchy so nothing in your head raised any red flags. You turn around to face the stranger, and it’s like you forget how to breathe. One of his hands is placed on your hip, a smile on his face giving way to dimples that make you swoon. “Hi.” He greets you. You can’t quite hear it over the music, but you can certainly read his lips. Isn’t all that hard to decipher.

You smile back to him, letting a forearm rest on his shoulder. Who were you to deny such a pretty person? His wide smile expands even more, adding some pressure to your hip. The weight and size of his hand sends a thrill through you, and there’s a level of horniness that’s coming from you that you didn’t even know you could have.

Your drink is eventually finished, the cup dropped to the floor, forgetting to bother to throw it away. The gorgeous stranger pulls you in closer and closer as you continue to dance with him, his hands never dipping down past your waist, but you can tell by the steadiness of his grip that he knows how to use them. Usually, eye contact this intense would cause you to retract, looking away after that first glance. This eye contact only makes you want him more, his brown eyes exuding a type of lust you’ve never experienced before.

Or…were you just picturing this?

The hand that rested on your hip moves to frame your face, slender fingers brushing your cheek, caressing it for a half a moment. The hand moves down to hook under your chin, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip. His eyes very obviously stare at your lips, silently asking you for permission. When his tongue licks his bottom lip you nod eagerly, one hand moving to his black curls that you have been itching to touch as long as you’ve faced him.

Somehow, your ears muffle out the deafening music in favor of the chuckle that leaves his mouth. Before you could even register your heartbeat loud in your ears, he bends down to kiss you, and for the first time your brain computes how much taller he is than you. Any thought you might’ve had seems to evacuate the moment his soft lips meet yours. He kisses you with an expertise that makes you irrationally jealous of any other person who’s had the opportunity before you. He draws a sharp inhale as you deepen the kiss, offering more slobber and spit for him to wholeheartedly accept.

His hands tangle in your curled hair, thumbs caressing your face on either side. Something you're learning about this stranger is that he kisses with his whole body, and he knows how to do it well. His teeth graze against your bottom lip, tugging on it lightly. You whimper, shoving your tongue down his throat. A deep laugh escapes his throat as he meets your enthusiasm. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and down to your collarbone. You barely sigh into it when his lips leave your collarbone, looking at you with remorse.

Uh oh. Not good. Were you the worst kisser and he was going to go find someone else worthy of his magical skills?

“Sorry, gotta piss. Beer’s hittin’ hard.” He shouts over the music, his thumb gesturing toward where you guessed the bathroom was.

“Ok. I’m gonna go get another drink.” You tell him, noting the red lipstick now all over his lips. “You got some uh…some lipstick there…hold on…” You reach out to wipe it for him, but he deflects, ducking from your thumb humorously.

“Uh…no thanks. I wear this shit with pride.” He explains, giving you a wink. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

You nod, suddenly full of nerves. You have been all over this guy for the last…however long, you couldn’t even tell. And now you’re realizing, he might be a decent dude on top of being a fantastic kisser.

Your legs carry you into the kitchen, running into Mandy and Nate. You weren’t sure where they’d been, having been lost in your own little world.

“Hi, babe!” She greets you, alcohol sharp on her breath. Whoa. She has had a lot more than you have. “I missed you, where the hell you been?”

You giggle, deciding to go for the tequila. After all, it was your literal liquid courage. And if you wanted to get that man’s fingers down your panties tonight, you were gonna need some. “Making out with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.” You proudly proclaim, taking a big sip of just straight tequila before adding some Sprite.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, letting go and forgetting about Nate’s existence. “Holy shit, I’m so fucking proud!” Speaking of him…he waltzes into the kitchen, grabbing a cup right by you and winking, apparently unseen by Mandy. “Shit, I’ve been looking for you!” She tells him, drunkenly tapping her hand on his bicep. “Hey, Y/N! This is Eddie. Remember? The dork Steve talked about earlier?”

Ouch. Mandy has no filter, as of course, she's drunk, but she didn’t have to be rude.

At least now you have a name for him. You were starting to feel bad. “Oh, I’m acquainted.” You tell her, sharing a smirk with Eddie.

“Seriously? Cool.” Mandy answers, not getting the hint. You gesture with your eyes alone to Mandy that Eddie was the guy you were talking about just a few moments ago. She gets it, but apparently forgets all about subtlety. “Wait, Eddie Munson is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life?” She asks you incredulously, like it's the most unbelievable thing she's ever heard.

“Thanks, Mandy.” You grit out, teeth clenched.

“Oops.” She grimaces, grabbing Nate's hand. “We’re gonna go find a spot on the couch to make out. Sorry!”

You roll your eyes affectionately, knowing she meant no harm. Did she have to say it, though?

The smirk on Eddie’s face says everything without saying a word. “So, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, huh?” He asks, looking incredibly proud of the fact.

You knock your tequila back, needing more liquid courage. “Yep. Hottest.”

His eyebrow raises, and he takes a big sip of his own drink. Maybe he needs his own courage. “Well, you’re probably the sexiest damn Poison Ivy I’ve ever seen.” He smirks, leering at you. His eyes blatantly rake up and down your body, giving you a surge in confidence. “You’re like a little sexy nugget of weed.” He laughs, his words slightly slurred.

“Wait, you get that I’m Poison Ivy?” You ask, finally assessing his costume. Oh, he’s Vader without the mask. “I mean I guess you are the dork they talked about earlier.” Eddie seems slightly sunken by this. “Don’t worry,” you tell him theatrically. “I’m a massive dork, myself.”

He perks up, pulling you in by the waist. “What do you say we find a room upstairs?” He asks, taking another big sip of his drink.

You raise your cup back to your lips, knocking the remainder down fast. “I say, lead the way.”

He grabs you by the hand and leads you up the stairs, pushing some people out of the way that were blocking it in the middle of a conversation. As he leads you down the hall, the music somewhat fades out and you can hear him muttering under his breath. “We better find a guest room cause I’m not hooking up in Harrington’s room, and I’ll be damned if I hook up in his parents' room.”

From that, you’re able to assess that he’s over here enough to know which room belongs to whom. He knocks on one of the doors, swearing softly when someone shouts out. He does it twice more, meeting the same result. “Ok.” He sighs, fingers crossed. He knocks twice, no answer. He knocks once more for good measure, and it can be said that there is definitely no one inside. “Thank fuck.”

As soon as you’re through the door he turns the dimmer switches on lightly and locks the door. You take off the vines, letting the pins and fake plants fall to the floor to make it easier for him to climb on you.

He watches you from the four postered bed, still head to toe in what you now noticed was the caped costume that Darth Vader wears. “So, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, by the way. If you wanna do hand stuff, we’ll do hand stuff.”

Your gut swoops at his consideration and empathy. He seems to truly care about your comfortability rather than him getting off. You walk to him, swiping off all accessories you wore, including your shoes. You straddle his lap, pushing on him lightly so he falls back onto the bed. You attack his lips with your own, attempting to show how much his consideration for you already has you soaked. “I will do” you whisper in between a handful of kisses, “anything you want me to,” you tell him, starting to grind the tent you feel poking past your dress. “Within reason.” You add for good measure, not quite that down for anything. But if he wants to fuck you, you’re down. You’re so down. You’re so down bad.

“Fuck…do that again.” He asks, holding your hips. You comply, grinding your wet heat against him, teasing yourself, but loving the expression on his face. It's ethereal. “Fuck, baby. You barely touched me, and you already have me falling apart.”

This makes you smile with pride. A huff of laughter escapes your lips, sighing deeply as you can feel his erection growing. The fact that this man is as hard as he is when he’s this good looking is the biggest compliment in the world. You wrap his lips in a kiss again, your tongue peeking out to lick across his lip, managing to tug yet another moan out of him. You relish in the tone, the whimper that follows right after it. He really isn’t afraid to tell you how much he is enjoying what the two of you are doing.

As you continue to explore his tequila-scented mouth, both of his hands cup your ass, feeling his limber fingers bunch up the fabric of the bright green dress you’re wearing. He takes his time, giving you every minute to communicate any second thoughts. You moan impatiently, encouraging him to get under there already.

He chuckles, pulling the rest of the material up swiftly. His fingers grab at the skin of your barely covered ass cheeks roughly, the friction burning in the best way. A whimper escapes your throat, your mouth filling with the taste of him as your tongues meet. You’re sure he’s gripping those cheeks hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

An increasing need has been growing since you first laid eyes on him, the need for him to touch you in the most sinful of ways. While his touch on your ass is electric, you are ready for much more. Your whimpers echo the thought, feeling needy for more of his touch, your hip movements going from fluid and purposeful to rigid and needy.

“What do you need, hmm?” He asks in-between kisses, one hand pushing up your dress to your waist as it caresses your bare hip. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“Need you to touch me,” the thought leaves your lips without your permission. How dare your brain betray you like that?

Eddie starts to kiss at your jaw, switching between nibbles and his tongue deliciously lapping at the skin. “Like how?” He asks in intervals, his voice soft, yet demanding. “Like this?” He grabs harshly at your ass, nails digging into the soft flesh. “Like this?” He asks again, tingles radiating down your skin as he lightly grazes your hip bone. “Or…like this?” His hand that rested on your hip bone flutters down to where heat radiates off your core, getting a feel of your soaked panties. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking wet.” He mutters, putting some pressure at the top of your mound.

Your hips start desperately grinding against his fingers, needing him to touch you. “Can you blame me?” You ask him, breath stuttering through it.

“Are you trying to flatter me?” He asks, pausing his pressure momentarily and backing off to study you. You stutter through an empty response, and he laughs kindly. “Cause flattery works, sweetheart.” His fingers move past the cotton barrier he's been making small circles against, delicately tracing along the wetness of your folds. You’re so slick, it’s like a damn slip and slide. The moment his fingers make contact with you, they’re soaked and in your juices.

“Oh shit—” you stutter, grinding on him helplessly. You can barely focus, your arms weak as you’re suddenly unable to hold your weight as you collapse on him. He's not touching you purposely, but just the feel of him sends a ripple down your spine. “Feels good.”

“Hmm.” He answers, noting the way you’re writhing so beautifully on top of him. He knew he would have you in a mess. In fact, he looked forward to it from the moment he saw you. He meticulously moves you onto your back, taking in your wide-eyed stare with a smirk. “Gonna take these off.” He mutters, fingers moving to the waistband of your panties. “Need a good look at you.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means until you see the look on his face as he stares at your pussy for the first time. His darkened stare, the slack smile he wears as he stares at you. Well not you, just the most vulnerable part of you. You’ve had a bit of experience in high school, but no one ever looked at your pussy like this. Like…it’s…

“Beautiful.” Eddie whispers, licking his lips. You watch him as he takes you in, admiring how wanted he makes you feel. Without a warning he lurches forward in between your legs, his tongue licking one long strip up your slick. Your thighs convulse, the pleasure so red hot, you can’t control the choked-out moan that escapes your lips if you tried. “Oh, you’re shaking, baby.”

His tongue moves more purposely to your clit, sucking on it and tapping with his tongue repeatedly. Your thighs clamp around his face, tensing up as every goddamn nerve is set on fire. You feel a slight huff of laughter against your puffy clit, the breath tickling you, causing you to giggle from the sensation. The giggle leads into a whimper, the small movements of his tongue sending you into overdrive. “Feels so—oh my god—I—” You stutter, unable to finish a single sentence.

He tugs your legs, forcing your knees against your chest to get even closer. A fierce heat starts in your stomach, startling the hell out of you. A great build slowly moves you, pushing you step by step over a high you’ve never reached before. Your stomach has never coiled so tightly, the heat never so intense. “Too much, too much.”

“You’re almost there, sweetheart.” He encourages you, watching every muscle in your legs tighten and feeling your abdomen tighten and release. “Oh, it’s gonna feel so good, baby. Wanna see you cum for me, see you fall apart, hear that pretty little mouth make the prettiest noises.”

Eddie slips a finger in, pumping it slowly at first, building up the speed quickly as he continues sucking. There’s something in you telling you to be embarrassed at how quickly your orgasm has snuck up on you, but from the foreplay of his expert lips and the mind-numbing words, it only makes sense.

“Cl-close…” You manage out, the heat making your way through your body, even making a stop in your head.

“Let me see you come apart, sweetheart.” He tells you, working his fingers at an unmatched rate.

The sensation sends you over the edge, your extremities shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a near primal moan leaves your mouth, a sound you didn’t even know you had the capability of making.

It takes you a minute to recover, Eddie working you through your whole orgasm and gently kissing your thighs until you come back to. He’s patient, waiting until your breathing slows down, kissing his way up your half-dressed torso. Eddie rests his body on yours, the tent in his pants meeting the heat of your center as his forearms support his weight on either side of your head. His thumbs sway at your temple, slowly watching as your eyes lose their glaze.

Your vision finally focuses back on him, his soft smile on his face welcoming as he watches you. His legs tense up, his muscles spasming as he resists thrusting into your heat. It’s teasing you, your hips accidentally moving upwards to meet the now wet stain on his polyester costume. “You’re wearing too much.” You tell him, whining softly.

“I’m sorry, should I take these off?” He asks, kissing you rapidly on the face right after. “Or if you’re done, I don’t blame you.”

“Done?” You ask incredulously. “Oh no, I’m not even close to done.” You tell him, giggling when he gives you a smirk.

“Just checking, sweetheart.” Eddie replies, kissing you rapidly again.

You’re finally back on earth, your hands reaching around him to look for where his costume opens. You had a feeling it would open from the back. You pull each Velcro apart one by one, your hands telling you as you move down that he’s not wearing anything underneath. You don't know if it's odd or the hottest thing in the world. Both, definitely both.

Your nails scratch at his skin at the last one, finally taking the shoulders off. You gasp as he helps you take out each arm awkwardly, only because you could finally see all the tattoos that his costume has covered up. “Holy shit.” You mutter, hands reaching out to palm at each one.

As he mouths at your neck, you push the rest of his costume down, figuring out it was a one piece. Ok. Steve might’ve been right about calling him a dork. But with his cunnilingus skills, who fucking cares? “You wanna fuck?” He asks, making his way down your neck, one hickey at a time.

You wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him down so the thin fabric meets your soaked pussy even harder. “Please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how could I deny?” He answers, leaving one last final nibble on your shoulder. He gets up without a warning, and you whine pathetically. “Jus’ takin off my pants sweetheart. Can’t put my dick in you if it’s still covered.”

You watch him pull down his pants, teasing you as it makes its way down his torso, his treasure trail, the v-line, you start drooling the moment his cock pops out. You figured he was big from his bulge pressed against you, but the material was apparently holding him back from his true length. You spend a good minute staring at it, how pink the head is, how thick he looks, it made you nearly feral.

“Enjoying the show?” Eddie asks. You glance back up at his face, heating up when you realize you've stared a lot longer than planned.

“Mmmhmm.” You tell him, not seeing any need to deny.

He lurches forward onto the bed, yanking giggles out of you. His hands roughly move up your torso to take your dress off, moving it over your head. He throws it over his shoulder, eyes raking in your tits like they’re in the Louvre. Hell, he’d take a polaroid and hang it there, despite the risk of security arresting and escorting him out immediately after.

“You are fucking gorgeous, baby.” He mutters, leaning into one of your tits mouthing at the nipple delicately, grazing it with his teeth, turning the mound into a shade of purple.

You can’t help yourself, reaching down to grab his cock. “Need you in me.” You urge him, smiling when he lets out a surprised whimper.

“Fucking—” he stutters out, biting on his lip. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I can do that.” He laughs, and before you have a moment to admire how adorable that was, you feel him line himself up. “Shit, you’re fucking tight.”

You can feel exactly what he means, the head barely pushing in. Even with how wet you are, Eddie's having difficulty pushing into you. Your mouth drops open, panting through it at the blinding pain and pleasure. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. “Feels so goddamn good, Ed.” You gasp, blindly reaching for him.

Blindly, because your eyes are unable to stay open from the sheer pleasure that has taken over your body.

“I know, baby I know.” He whispers, holding one hand to your face.

“Ok.”

He pushes in more, eliciting a high-pitched whine out of you. “You have any idea how fucking hot those little noises that you make are?” He asks, his voice husky and strained.

You laugh at his successful attempt at flattery, causing him to whine at the way your pussy tightens around him in sync. “Keep going.”

He pushes in a little bit more, your legs tensing around his torso as the noise caught in your throat is even louder. “You’re taking me so well, baby, what a good girl.” You tighten up at his praise, provoking Eddie to get the idea that praise is something that you desire. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, my good girl?” You tighten around him again, Eddie twitching in you as a response.

“More.” You manage out, your voice guttural. He pushes in just a little bit more. “Oh my god, you’re in my fucking stomach, so fucking deep!” You whine, eyes closed as you pulse around him.

“Just a little bit more, baby. You’re doing so well, such a good girl.”

“More.”

He pushes the rest of his cock in, finally able to rest his body on yours. You take your time adjusting to his size, inhaling, and exhaling with purpose as the pain subsides. “That’s a girl, take your time.” He mutters, watching you carefully.

“Kiss me please.” You whisper, opening your eyes to face the intensity radiating from his chocolate brown ones. He leans in for a lush kiss, your legs wrapping around him to pull him in tightly. His hand moves to your tit, playing with the nipple between two of his fingers. Your tongues meet, somehow knowing exactly what the other needs. “You can move now.” You whisper in between kisses.

Eddie, apparently a master at multitasking, lifts his hips without so much as stuttering in the kiss. You expected him to stop, but the new mix of sensation throws you off intensely. His first thrust causes you to shout directly into his mouth. You’re much more prepared for the second thrust, however unprepared for the force behind it. “Yeah?” He asks, pulling back and staring into your eyes.

You nod enthusiastically. “So good. Cock feels…so good.” You whine to him, legs unable to continue holding onto him as tight as they were. Now they’re floating in the air aimlessly, unable to focus on much except for how good and how deep he is. “How…this good?” The question you meant to ask was how he was so good at fucking like this, but your mouth was unable to form a single coherent sentence.

“Barely been in you for a minute, and you’re already cock-drunk, huh?” He borderline mocks you, fucking you faster with each thrust.

You grunt in response, fully accepting the label of cock drunk. “So…good, Eddie!” It’s just…fucking true, which is the only rational thought in your brain for the moment. Others are So Hot, and Big Ass Cock, and finally, Gorgeous fucking body.

“Your pretty pussy is so tight, baby, bein’ such a good girl for me.” Eddie sits up, pulling your ass down to where he can fuck you in a better position where he can hit your g-spot. He rests a hand sideways on your lower tummy, putting slight pressure on it. This sends a blinding hot pleasure into you as he repeatedly hits that spot.

“F-fuck, get-getting cl-close…” you stutter, feeling your tits bounce at the sheer force he's fucking you with.

“This is fucking embarrassing, but so am I, baby.” He mutters, starting to go at a faster rate, which you would've deemed impossible a few seconds ago. “Your pussy is so fucking good, can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

You half giggle, half moan at the flattery, not minding for one moment that he would cum so quickly. After all, he spent the first half paying most of his attention to you, so you understand if he's been pent up. While that is the reality of why, you can’t help but feel like hot shit for making someone as fantastic as Eddie cum so fast. His stamina and willingness to give on top of how gorgeous he is does nothing but boost your ego.

“Cum with me.” You beg him, also on the edge. “Cum in me.”

“Oh my god—” you make his hips stutter, and you smile with pride. “You sure, baby?” He asks, trying to make sure he covers his tracks.

“Cum in me, please, daddy!” It leaves your mouth before you’re unable to stop it, the daddy kink not quite something you break out on the first fuck most of the time.

Eddie, however, is a different breed. He meets the unexpected outburst with a growl, and you swear his cock twitches inside of you. “Of course, baby girl, whatever you want.” He grunts out. “Daddy is gonna fill you the fuck up.” He lurches forward so he’s skin on skin with you again so he can whisper in your ear. “When we go back downstairs, I’m gonna keep your panties, and you're gonna dance with my cum dripping down your fucking legs.” You tighten up around him, telling Eddie this is exactly what you wanted from him. The sweet mixture of praise and degradation makes your head spin with need. “You like that, huh? Of course, you’d like that you fucking slut.” His hips rut harshly against yours and at a stupid crazy speed. “If I catch you trying to clean yourself up, you’re gonna fucking hear about it, got it?”

You nod, entirely thrilled about this.

“Didn’t fuckin hear you, slut.”

“Got it, daddy.” You answer, right on the edge.

“You gonna cum with me, baby girl?” He asks, his voice strained.

“Mmhmm. Waiting for you.”

“Good fucking girl. I’m so close…fuck…gonna—” Eddie is interrupted by his own orgasm, which sends you over the edge with him. It’s not as intense as your last one, so you’re able to pay extra attention to the look on his face. His mouth half open, a deep moan leaving his throat.  Oh god, you’ll definitely be remembering this next time it’s only you and your imagination.

He collapses on you, his chest and forehead covered in sweat. The only sound in the air is you and Eddie catching your breath together. Your breath is finally back in your lungs, but your heart is still racing against his chest. He suddenly sits himself back on his forearms, petting at your forehead and hair gently. “Fuck, please go out with me on Saturday.” He whispers, quietly assessing the expression you wear on your face.

“Huh?” You ask him, unsure you heard him correctly.

“Go out with me on Saturday. Please, I can’t fuck a pussy this good and not take you out on a hot date.” He mutters softly, placing the gentlest of kisses on your lips.

“If you think I’m letting you go after this, you’re fucking insane.” You whisper back, framing his face to grab it for another lush kiss.

Eddie sighs, petting your hair. “Thank fucking god.” He pulls out of you, tugging a whimper out of you. He gives one last kiss, before moving down your torso. You almost ask what he was doing, when you feel two of his fingers push inside you quickly.

Your head jerks up, wondering what in the ever-living hell he's doing.

“Just helping by pushing the cum back in you, baby. Wanted to give you at least a fighting chance before it starts dripping down these stunning thighs of yours.” He places a wet kiss on your thigh, one last quiver radiating through it. “You good to stand up?”

“Hope so.” You laugh, scooching your ass down the plain comforter. Eddie tosses you your dress and gets dressed back into his cheap costume himself.

You assess Eddie, fixing his hair so he doesn’t look so disheveled. “You realize my lipstick is all over your neck and face, right?” You ask him, assessing him in all his post-nut glory. How the fuck is anyone this hot?

“Didn't I tell you earlier that I'm gonna wear this shit with pride, darlin?” He asks you, giving you a smile that makes you melt. “Wanna go downstairs and make-out on Steve's dad’s stupid chair?”

“If we make out I might wanna blow you.” You admit, the effects of the alcohol and the level of his hotness has still completely taken over your brain.

Eddie groans, and you swear his pupils dilate. “Fuck, I’ll take you into the nearest hallway closet if that happens, then you can get on your knees and suck my cock off like a good girl. You just tell me, yeah?”

You giggle as he opens the door and you nod enthusiastically, pretty much already in your head that hooking up with Eddie is nowhere near done.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, Eddie tugs on your hand straight to the leather chair in the corner, having you sit across his lap as his tongue makes its way down your throat again.

Eventually, after a mere ten minutes of teasing, Eddie has to lead you to a hallway closet, where yes, you worship him on your knees with his treasure trail meeting your nose.

That was the best fucking Halloween, ever.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

[shojizbae]

Too Sweet

Spencer Reid x reader

It was no secret to the team that you had a sweet tooth. Anytime you walked past an ice cream shop, your eyes lit up with unbridled joy. After a hard case, you always came into the bullpen with a box of sweets. Donuts if you solved a case under five days, Hush Puppies if there was a fallen family, or maybe some Snickerdoodles if there was arson. They were always the same pink bakery boxes with a cellophane window.

Today was no different.

"Good morning!" you signed songed as you skipped into the bullpen and too the right to the kitchen.

"What treats have you cooked up today mama?" Derek rubs his hands as he closes in on the kitchenette

"Oooh, sweets!" Emily smiles and skips over to the counter

"They're macarons."

"Ugh, those nasty almond cookies." JJ giggles as she snoops around the box

"No those are macaroons." I correct and hold a raspberry-pink macron at her. She bites it playfully out of my hand and laughs with me. She wipes the extra creme out of the corner of her lip and thanks me.

"Woah those are delicious." she goes back to her office.

"What diabetes are you giving us today." Hotch tosses a file on the counter as he walks by.

"Pistachio, raspberry, or lemon?" I smack Emily's greedy hand away as he goes back for a fourth and fifth.

"Pistachio." He leans back to look in the box "Those look professional."

"That's what happens when you have an existential crisis and take a baking course while completing your doctorate and feel like no man would ever want to marry a woman with more degrees than 'wifely skills'." You rattle mindlessly

"Well, that was our daily depressing moment of (Y/n)!" Derek chides like a sports announcer.

"Where's Reid?"

"An that's our daily 'first Spencer question' being the tally!" Emily holds a ghost microphone up.

"C'mon,"I put my hands on the counter and leans my hips forward, "I'm not as obsessed as you think I am."

"Oh, just only a little." Emily placates. The two return to their desks to grind through the many stacks of folders. I picked up the box and reorganized the disheveled cookies. I sauntered over to his hunched back. Dr. Reid, my work husband, was mangled over his desk scratching down details of a past case on a legal pad. I sit on the right side of his corner-shaped desk.

"Good Morning Spencer," I chide. He jumps slightly with the high timbre of my voice.

"Uh good morning Agent (L/n)," He clears his throat a few times.

"I made macrons," I held up the box "Would you like one? I made some with lemon, pistachio, and raspberry. Take your pick." I brandish the box once again.

"That's alright I haven't had any real breakfast yet."

"op how about some fake breakfast?" I pick up a light yellow circle and shake it twice in my hand.

"No that's really ok," but before he can protest I force half the cookie past his lips and all that he can mutter out is a disgruntled, mouth-filled groan.

"Did that taste real to you?" He sassily holds up a finger as he chews and swallows.

"That was rude." He states but takes the second half of the treat from my hand and finishes it off. A bit of the filling slings to his lips and I slide my thumb over it

"You've got a little something-" My speech is caught when his brown eyes meet mine. He looks nice below me. His eyelashes are thick but his eye bags drown out his cool amber eyes.

"Sorry," I clear my throat and lean back on the desk. "Would you like some more?"

"Yeah, can I have the pistachio one?" He rolls around on his chair. He takes a bite of the cream-filled delectable. "Woah you have a real knack for this. It's like all the ingredients want to be together. It just takes you to make things right." He gives me that dorky smile and I lose all sense of restraint. I dive in and hold his chin while I kiss him. I pull back with the fear that I stepped out of bounds.

"Come here." He tentatively holds my jaw and his kiss is much nicer than mine. He releases me and I scan between each of his eyes. "You had a little something."

[gachaparadise]

I was watching a video comparing vocaloid originals to the psekai covers and damn girl... most of these are blown completely out of the water by the originals huh

(the tags got so long sorry lmao. i'm sure the game's great i'm just such a hater when it comes to vocaloid covers specifically cause i'm spoiled for choice orz)

[sant-riley]

Yeah but like what if one day Gaz walked into a room and saw Y/N FNAF lore dumping to Ghost

[Infodumping the boys]

(Mostly Platonic tf141 x gen neutral! reader, hints at Ghost bc it’s me and I’m biased.)

Summary: Teddy aka You, decide to gather the gang and tell them about five nights at Freddy’s before the movie comes out.

Word count: 800 ish

Warnings: Possibly of for the boys (idrc tho lmao), Teddy is this readers callsign, reader is implied to be at least early 20’s, I can’t think of anything else tbh but lmk if this does need something tagged!

It wasn't uncommon for you to infodump your teammates, they're all older than you and have significantly less screen time than you (it ties into being older). Most of the information you give them is something they take as fact, this is no different.

Gaz of all people knows your interests best, you two being the closest in age means you both realistically grew up with the internet and its most popular series.

The last thing he expected walking into one of the many meeting rooms on base, was you at the front of the room, your laptop hooked up to the projector and Price and Soap sitting down, dutifully listening with varying degrees of attention.

Price is to your left, staring down at mission documents that no doubt need to be turned in by tomorrow. A glass of some liquor next to his stack, a cigar box that's propped open right by it as well.

To anyone else, it would seem like Price isn't listening and he's just here to keep you from bothering him to come but Gaz can see the Captain's eye flick up every so often, his eyes softening when his gaze falls on yours, listening for a few beats, a miniscule upturn of his lips until he's looking back down again, grabbing a pen to make a correction.

Soap on the other hand is sitting next to Cap, a hand resting under his chin, the other flipping around a pen in his hands. He's nodding and asking questions as you flick through. Below him is a notebook that seems to have scribbled in it, if Gaz walked in further he could see little drawings of Monty Gator and Soap himself, a Venn diagram with a large red writing saying "Mohawk!!"

Ghost being there probably should be a shock but it isn't. The man is known to follow you around like a shadow, he humors you arguably the most out of the four men, letting you drag him to and from places with minimal complaint. He bets Ghost is gonna be the one to take you to the five nights at Freddys movie premiere.

Simon's dressed down to just his hoodie and his balaclava mask, attentively watching you as you speak passionately about each character and their role in the series. his dark eyes flicking around to stare at the drawings you inserted so everyone could see what the animatronics and others looked like.

You would've thought this was a mission debrief with how focused he was on your words.

Gaz lets out a fake cough, announcing himself to the room and he watches as your eyes immediately latch onto him, he ignores how his heart skips a beat when he sees the crinkles of your eyes, seeing you shoot a glowing smile his way.

You always look at him like that but he never tires of it.

"Gaz! Finally, you're here!"

Rushing over to him, you grab at his hand, quickly intertwining fingers, and start dragging him to the seat next to Ghost. He sits down with a huff, amusement swimming around his eyes. You move to go back to the front of the room, gleefully rocking on the balls of your feet as you look at them.

"What's all this about?" He questions, after getting nods in acknowledgment from the other 3 men in the room.

"Teddy here is tellin' us about five nights at…Frankies?"

"It's Freddy's, Johnny." You roll your eyes playfully.

"No shot you're making Ghost and Cap listen to this."

"I'm not making them do anything, they're here of their own free will, thank you very much." Sticking out your tongue, moving to click to the next slide.

"Is that true Cap?"

"It's background noise," John murmurs with a shrug, taking a swig out of his glass. He leans back in his seat, seemingly taking a momentary break as he looks around at the table.

"Got nothin' better else to do," Simon answers easily, looking at Gaz from the corner of his eye.

"You ain't gonna ask me, Garrick?"

"Nah, you of all people would enjoy it."

"What's tha-"

"Boys! Shut it! We're getting to the good part!" You clap your hands together and Soap immediately cuts himself off, looking back at you.

With all the boys' eyes on you, you clear your throat and push a button, there, from when Gaz remembers, is Michael Afton in all his purple nasty body glory.

"Fucks wrong with him? Why does he look like that?" Simon remarks, an eyebrow shooting up.

"I'm so glad you asked, you know actually the more I think about it, You and Michael actually have a lot in common.”

"How so?"

"Asshole dad, the oldest brother, daddy issues, I can keep going if you want."

Ghost just grunts in acknowledgment, raising a hand to his head and rubbing at his temples.

Price chokes on his liquor, coughing as it goes down the wrong pipe.

Soap audibly drops an "oh."

And Gaz just stares, truth be told, yeah. Yeah, he can see the resemblance.

[irisintheafterglow]

what if all i need is you? (college bsf!suguru x you)

summary: after failed attempts to find a date to a relative's birthday party, your best friend acts as your fake boyfriend.

wc: 2.8k

cw/tags: fake dating, best friends to lovers, first kiss, implied fem!reader but no specific pronouns used (wears makeup and heels), swearing, mentions of drinking and smoking, reader is kinda mean at the beginning but they're just stressed, satoru being satoru

note: back on my suguru bullshit! hope you enjoy :))

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <33

“You remember the plan?”

“Yep, I had it down the third and fourth times you repeated it.” You send him a glare out of the corner of your vision, carefully pulling the mascara wand up across your lashes. The dim car lights weren’t the ideal environment to finish getting ready, but whatever time you could waste out here was time you didn’t have to spend at the party. 

“It’s all there. $250, like we agreed,” you say without looking at him as he flips through the stack of money from the yellow package hiding in the glove compartment. “I’m not giving you more, so don’t ask.”

“Wasn’t going to,” he reassures you, watching as you tensely tap fine glitter onto the inner corners of your eyes and spread it over your cheekbones. He inhales and you already anticipate what he was going to say. “You know, I really shouldn’t be taking your money–”

“I don’t care that you don’t want the money, Suguru. It makes me feel better, so please, shut up and take it,” you state for what felt like the tenth time. He sighs in defeat, eyeing you like you were a tiger pacing around a cramped cage in a zoo. Having your best friend go with you as your fake date to a relative’s birthday party both complicated and simplified things at the same time, which made you all the more tense for what might happen. 

Date me for a month and earn $250! No commitment, no long-term relationships! Call me at (XXX) XXX-XXX for more info! is what the flyers that you stuck to the bulletin boards around campus proclaimed. It was a last-ditch effort to find a date to your grandmother’s cousin’s birthday party and a direct result of your family being too curious about your dating life in college. The plan was simple, in your head. You would find a random person to pretend to date for a month, bring them to the party, and then break up with them a week later. No harm done and no questions asked, right?  

“Any takers on that dating flyer yet?” 

“No,” you groan, letting your forehead hit the desk with a dull thud. It was harder than you thought it would be to find someone to act as your fake boyfriend. “All they want is sex or to negotiate a higher pay. They think I’m a hooker or a trust fund baby, I guess.”

“I can confirm that you are neither of those things,” he chuckles from the other side of the line. “Unless, you have some news to tell me.” You snort and shake your head, taking notice of the darkness outside your window. It must have been hours since you first started your phone call with Suguru and forced him to help you through a homework assignment, and the rumbling in your stomach was becoming a little more insistent. 

“Shit. It’s late, so I’ll let you go. Sorry for keeping you for so long.” You start to tidy the various study sheets and highlighters scattered across your desk, carefully straightening the polaroid of you, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko on the day of your high school graduation. “Thanks for helping me, even though I’m gonna forget all of this in a few hours.”

“I don’t mind teaching you again. Have you eaten yet? Because I’m starving.” The rumbling in your stomach becomes more of a growl at the mere mention of food and you silently curse him for reminding you that all you had in the cupboard was instant noodles. “If you say no and then proceed to make those sodium bombs you call food, I’m gonna hit you with an inflatable mallet.”

“Okay,” you reply. “Then, I won’t tell you.”

“Smartass,” he mutters and you hear the clinking of his car keys being grabbed from off the hook above his desk. “I’ll be there in ten. Grab a jacket; it’s chilly out.” Twenty minutes later, you’re bundled up in a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop near campus, barely able to eat from sheer anxiety. It was a shitty situation you’d found yourself in and the only way to get through it unscathed would be to disappear off the face of the planet. Your best friend seems to notice you poke at your noodles with your chopsticks and sets down his pair with a determined look. “Alright, what’s bothering you?” You shrug and avoid his eyes, leaning back into the dark corner of the booth. 

“Nothing,” you mumble and he raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m just stressed about this stupid party thing.”

“Remind me why you need a date for this in the first place?”

“My grandma’s cousin is super old. Like, one foot in the grave old,” you state plainly and some water shoots out of Suguru’s nose as he tries to cover a laugh. “I’m serious! I’ve never known her and, from what I can gather, no one really likes her anyways.” You hand him a clean napkin with a small, amused smile while he continues to cough uncontrollably, humming at the small thank you he manages to choke out. “But, my family wants me to at least act like I have a boyfriend for the night so she can have peace of mind.” You give him a knowing look and it takes him a few seconds to put the pieces together.

“Wait, your family wants you to pretend to have a boyfriend so your grandma’s cousin can die at peace?” You nod slowly and his face contorts into something like horror and shock, unsure of whether to laugh or feel sorry for you. “Shit. Sorry, I mean–”

“No, it’s okay,” you giggle. “You can laugh. It’s fucking ridiculous. To be fair, they just told me to find a boyfriend. They didn’t specify how long we had to be together.”

“And that’s why you put the flyers up,” he concludes, “to hire someone to play your boyfriend for the night.” You nod again and he shakes his head. “You’re out of your mind.” Your jaw drops in indignance and you threaten to drop an ice cube in his ramen in retaliation.

“I think it’s a pretty smart idea,” you argue.

“What if the guy catches feelings?”

“Sucks for him. I’m not paying him to fall in love with me,” you reply bluntly and Suguru shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Is what I’m doing wrong? I’m only seeing it as a business transaction, plain and simple.”

“A business transaction that hasn’t actually transacted yet, and the party is when?” You feel your face start to heat in embarrassment. He made a good point.

“Tomorrow,” you mumble. “The party’s tomorrow night.” 

“See? There’s no way you’re gonna find someone good enough in time.” 

“Well, what do you propose I do? Skip it entirely and kill the old lady early?”

“That’s definitely not what I was suggesting,” he corrects. “What if you just…took me instead?” You freeze, a little shocked by his idea. It was true that a certain amount of attraction existed in you towards your best friend, something that you swore never to act on for fear of losing his friendship. You never bothered asking if he felt the same because you knew him too well; you knew how he was around girls he liked, even though the last one was when you both were in high school. Sure, it was possible that he started liking you once you started college, just like you noticed him in a different light during your first semester. But either way, you were resigned to letting the feelings come and go as they usually did. Except, the feelings hadn’t left for three years. “Are you silent because you’re mortified or silent because you’re thinking it over?”

“A little bit of both,” you admit.

“How so?”

“You do know my family has been wanting us to get together for years now, right?” An unreadable look passes over Suguru’s face, a look that you can’t decipher even after knowing him for so long. 

“I’m well aware. Your parents have pulled me aside several times trying to pass along family heirlooms to use when I inevitably get on one knee.” Your eye twitches and you make a mental reminder to scold your family when you see them next. “But why is that an issue?” Truthfully, it wasn’t that much of an issue if you set aside your own feelings. Having Suguru there meant that he already knew the dynamics of your family, how to handle your relatives, and had a general grasp of what to expect at the party. It simplified things, but your own harbored feelings complicated any thought of acting like a couple. It would feel too real and you knew how much it would hurt when the clock struck midnight and you went back to being friends. That’s a little too much to unpack over ramen, though. 

“I just don’t want them making you uncomfortable,” is what you settle with telling him. Something like disappointment blinks across his face, but disappears just as fast as it comes. It’s replaced with a wry smile, one that makes your head fuzzy and stomach bubbly. 

“They won’t. My only focus is you,” he promises before launching into a new conversation about his latest biochem project. Now, ten minutes after your heels crossed the threshold of the front door, Suguru was doing a little too good of a job of only focusing on you. Even though the music of the venue blares and there’s enough family and friends to stampede you like poor Mufasa in the Lion King, Suguru doesn’t seem to care about any of it. He falls into his role as your ‘boyfriend’ as easily as the last piece of a puzzle being maneuvered into place, holding your hand with a steady grip, then snaking it around your waist, and sending you fond smiles when nobody's watching. Your parents are delighted, to say the least, and drag him away from you at the first available moment. You settle in a corner of the ballroom with a small plate of pickings from the dessert table and wait for him to return from his interrogation with your parents. 

“It’s about time you two got together,” a familiar, sing-songy voice says quietly from over your shoulder and you flinch, instinct telling you to stab him with your ornate plastic fork. You turn and find your other best friend wearing a tie and a shit-eating grin, tucking a silver hors d'oeuvres tray under a lanky arm.

“Satoru! What the fuck are you doing here?” You glance around to see if anyone has noticed you recognizing a random waiter and, thankfully, everyone is too engrossed in gossiping about your fake boyfriend for the night.

“I’m Suguru’s backup just in case things go south,” he drawls and you pinch the bridge of your nose with two fingers. “Here to cause a scene if something goes wrong.”

“You’re here to sabotage my relative’s birthday party?”

“Here to potentially sabotage your relative’s birthday party.” He sticks up his index finger in emphasis and you groan, rolling your eyes and popping another small brownie into your mouth. He copies you, plucking a cupcake from your plate and swallowing it in one bite. “I gotta say, it took you long enough. I’ve been in agony watching this entire thing pan out.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you high?”

“Not right now, no, but maybe later.” He shoots you a grin even though you know full and well none of you smoke. “I’m just saying that I’m happy you’ve finally realized your feelings for each other.” 

“What feelings? There’s no feelings,” you lie straight through your teeth and he sees through it like glass. 

“I may be stupid, but I’m not blind. If you don’t see that Suguru likes you back, then you’re the one with vision problems. Sucks for you.” He shrugs and you flick his arm lightly, glaring daggers at him but unable to fight down the curiosity poking at the back of your mind. 

“You think he actually likes me back?”

“He’s liked you since senior year, idiot,” he scoffs like your question was a funny joke. “I’m not here to fill in if he gets food poisoning from the questionable shrimp cocktail; I’m here to support either of you if your feelings get in the way and your dumbasses can’t communicate efficiently.” 

“That’s…really thoughtful of you, Satoru,” you mutter and he raises one eyebrow teasingly. 

“Wasn’t my idea. It was Suguru’s. ‘In case something happens and they’re not comfortable with me taking them home, for whatever reason.’ That’s what he made me promise and why I’m pretending to be a waiter for the night.” His attention darts upward to his best friend approaching your table and he pats your shoulder encouragingly. “Speaking of. Go get your man.”

“I hate you, Satoru.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.” He knocks his shoulder against yours before disappearing into the kitchen, on his way to probably steal a bottle from the wine cellar. 

“Uh oh, looks like you’ve found my undercover operative,” he jokes as he sets a drink in front of you and steals a cookie from your plate. 

“Actually, he’s the one who found me. You should fire that guy for blowing his own cover,” you remark and the corner of Suguru’s mouth turns up into a smirk. “It’s nice of you to ask him to be here in case something went wrong.”

“I’m an engineering major. We plan for the worst case scenarios.”

“What’s the best case scenario?” His eyebrows furrow in question but you don’t relent. No turning back now. “What’s the ideal outcome of this situation, besides the money?” He thinks for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek when a slow song starts playing through the loudspeakers. 

“Dance with me,” he replies, holding out his hand for you to take. Way to change the subject. “Please?”

“You’re not getting out of my question.” You let him lead you to the dance floor, trying not to get goosebumps as one of his hands finds your waist and the other laces his fingers with yours. “Why’d you offer to do this with me, anyway?”

“What, dancing? Or coming with you to the party?”

“Second one.” That unreadable look crosses his face again, the same one from the ramen shop when he first brought up being your fake date. It felt like anything he said was just covering up a truth that you both were dancing around; but, something in the air made you want to face that truth tonight.

“Because I’m your friend,” he murmurs and you can’t help feeling a little let down by his answer. You let it show in your face, but he’s avoiding your eyes. “That’s what friends do for each other.” He clears his throat and tries to blow a stray strand of black hair from his face, going deathly still when your own fingers brush it away and tuck it behind his ear.

“We’re just friends?”

“What do you–”

“What if I wanna be more?” His eyes finally snap to meet yours and his pupils are blown wider than you’d ever seen before, deep and dark and staring at you so intensely, you’re glad he’s supporting your waist. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his gaze flicking up and down between your eyes and your lips. 

“I don’t wanna mess this up,” he whispers so quietly that you wouldn’t hear it if you weren’t inches away from his face. “I don’t wanna mess up what we have.”

“I don’t think we would be messing it up,” you point out just as softly. “If anything, we’d be making it better.” His thumb comes up to trace the outline of your jaw, sending chills up your spine.

“Are you sure that you want this with me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“I don’t know, because I feel like I don’t deserve you and–”

“Okay, stop talking,” is the last thing you say before you tilt your head up to press your lips against his. You’re careful and frustratingly gentle, giving him ample opportunity to pull away and reject you. But, to your delight, he kisses back with more fervor than you, like he’d been waiting for years to experience this feeling. He sighs into your mouth as you grab the collar of his button up and pull him even closer, his hands holding firm at your waist until you pull away to breathe. 

“Make sure you take down those flyers once we’re back on campus,” he breathes into your ear. You let your eyes flutter shut and hum in assent, leaning your head against his. 

“Why do you bring them up?”

“Because your fake boyfriend just got promoted to real boyfriend.” You initially dismiss the single click and bright flash as the photo booth serving its clients, but are also equally unsurprised when Suguru meets you outside your 9:00 A.M with a Polaroid between his fingers of you two dancing at the party. And the caption?

First kiss! (Taken by Gojo Satoru, ultimate wingman)

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[beaniegaebie]

i don't really have any solid conclusions about this yet but i noticed A Thing in a rewatch and i haven't found it mentioned elsewhere yet so here we go

(apologies for the appalling image quality you're about to see, i can't screenshot easily rn pls bear with)

OKAY so in the scene where crowley confronts gabriel about "shut up and die", something about the arrangement of book stacks caught my eye a little

the majority of the books are angled so that we mostly just see the page edges and not the spines clearly, EXCEPT for a particularly shiny and familiar colour combo right here-

but nothing too weird going on there, i thought, crowley coloured books in a bookshop so what? right up until i registered crowley's line when we get a closer look-

hhhhmmmmMMmmmm yes yes "everything just the way you wanted" huh, very interesting considering that we know how much thought goes into props huh

and for most of the shots we get of crowley in this position those freaking books are just quietly nestled right there in the corner-

look at that god damn framing i fuckin see you, you glorious bastards

so i paused to see if i could figure out what the hell was up with those fuckers and this is when i absolutely lost my mind, your honour

A and C you say?? in crowley colours???? framed like this?????? localised entirely within your kitchen???

anyway long story short they're two books from an Agatha Christie Crime Collection set (24 volumes, three stories per volume) and guess whats on the mfing front covers I'm-

(its a rant for another post but when paired with this other set of initials spotted in s2 i want to scream actually)

ANYWAY back to the books, through an absolutely unhinged comparison of the formatting of gold text blobs i reckon the two we have here are:

(on top) The Pale Horse; The Big Four, The Secret Adversary

(on bottom) 4:50 From Paddington, Lord Edgeware Dies, Murder in Mesopotamia

(I'm fairly confident but if anyone has a better image to confirm/correct this pls do)

now here is where I'll need a bunch of help from some Christie-heads out there bc I haven't read any of these and I've only seen the tv adaptation of one of them, so i dont know for sure if these are like A Clue, or A Cool Thing, or if I've just fully brainrotted myself into a fun lil corner here? wa-hoo

but here's some initial stuff that jumped out at me after skimming the basics:

(some of) the titles: Pale Horse/Big Four - death's horse ofc, the four horsemen mayb? the them+adam?? ; Mesopotamia is a very biblical choice bbz ; 4:50 From Paddington- azi likes trains i guess? idk that one's tenuous lmao ; honestly no idea with the other two but Secret Adversary feels a tad ominous

iirc Big Four just has kind of an unusual history, it was initially twelve short stories that she later compiled into one, and it was published fairly soon after christie's mysterious disappearance/reappearance

in Big Four, poirot fakes his death at one point and doesnt even let hastings in on it and I'm hoping sure its totally irrelevant to the ineffable bois

part of the Pale Horse story is a group of assassins that basically try to pass off all their murders as being actually caused by like ✨satanic powers✨ which is interesting

christie knew a fUCkton about poisonings thats why she wrote so many into her work and, while i don't believe the poison coffee theory myself, it sure is an interesting link with how cyanide is associated with almond smell/flavour and that metatron chooses almond syrup in particular

(ALSO random side note that is mostly meaningless but I've worked in a good few uk coffee shops and have never worked anywhere that stocks almond syrup; almond milk yes, hazelnut syrup yes, but never almond syrup...? prob just the places i worked though lmao)

EDIT forgotten point: I've seen some speculation that the bently's plate reading "CURTAIN" could be a reference to poirot's last story, along side that alternate scene of crowley ordering the sherry for "miss marple", its just one too many agatha christie references for my melted brain to handle and I'm SUS

so this is where i run out of idea steam and hand it over to you lot because i have no clue what this could mean, if it even means anything other than a cool set feature

is there something here actually or am i yelling into the void just for fun?

who knows, who cares!

[shares-a-vest]

Everybody knows Eddie has a way with nicknames. Everyone gets a pet name from Eddie to the point he basically never says anyone's real name.

And Steve gets an array of them. More than anyone else. Sweetheart. Sugarplum. Stevie. Multiple pet names all strung together in quick succession. Very rarely he's Harrington. That one is typically reserved for when Eddie is being a total bitch and they are fighting. King Steve, of course. He still doesn't love it, but at least now it is said with affection instead of sarcasm and contempt.

Meanwhile, Steve's over here simply calling his boyfriend Eds. Okay, maybe he said 'babe' one time in the presence of Lucas, Mike and Dustin and he's never heard the end of it.

It's kinda lame and he rather die than explain it to anyone (or have anyone else hear it), but Steve sees Eddie as his Prince. It's a pet name Eddie hasn't used, which is surprising considering there is a side DND character who is a Prince that bares embarrassingly detailed physical similarities to Steve.

Eddie is the Prince who came and swept him off his feet when he was at his loneliest.

Again, kinda lame. And pathetic.

Unfortunately, Steve blurts out said name in the least romantic setting possible: the back storeroom of Family Video.

They're in the back looking for the copy of Top Gun Steve had stashed away for them to take home. The waitlist was a month long and Keith enforced a strict 'no employees on the waitlist' policy, even though he definitely took a copy for himself.

"Holy shit," Eddie says, staring at the VHS cover of Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis.

Steve hands it over. "I reserved it under the fake account Rob and I have."

It was basically his only option considering Keith's flimsy rule and Eddie being banned from the store a few years back. Thank God they didn't have security cameras or else Steve would have been fired a hundred times over by now.

"Whoa," Eddie says with the wide-eyed wonder of a kid, holding the VHS in his hands like it is the most precious and delicate thing in the world.

"Anything for my Prince," Steve coos, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

He pulls back, staring. Oh god. He really just said that out loud.

Eddie blinks, clearly taking a moment to compute (or willing to tear his eyes away from ogling the back cover image of Val Kilmer). He quirks a brow, turning to look at Steve, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and accentuated by the scar that runs along the left side of his jaw.

"So that makes you the damsel in distress?" he says more than asks, glee in his eyes.

Shit, Steve really hadn't thought of it that way. Trust him to come up with a pet name that immediately made him vulnerable to teasing.

Before he can think of what to say, Eddie is scooping him up bridal-style. He promptly loops his arms around Eddie's neck when he feels his legs teetering on the spot at the cramped and awkward angle, wedged between Keith's desk and a shelving unit.

"Don't worry, Princess!" Eddie declares in dramatic fashion. "The Prince is here to save you from your dungeon and that wretched oaf."

He laughs hysterically as he sways Steve about.

"Stop!" Steve laughs, kicking and sending a stack of VHSs toppling to the ground.

"I shan't!" Eddie yells, his voice echoing through the small space. "Not until I have you in the safety of my bed chambers!"

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" Steve giggles as Eddie swings him around, sending more tapes flying.

[neechees]

hello, thanks so much for doing your scam busting, is the account @/shtunning another palestine scam? i can't find the images used on google anywhere, but the lack of a gofundme makes me wary

This one is looking veeeery suspicious & is pretty much most certainly a scam for the dollowing reasons:

El-shab-hussein, a Palestinian who's been helping us with vetting real Palestinian fundraisers from scams, says that the ONLY confirmed Palestinian fundraisers who claim to be in Gaza are on this list, and that blog is not one of them

That blog already has me preemptively blocked 🤨 🚩 I've never interacted with this person in my life, and its a big red flag to have scam busters blocked

Their donation post was made YESTERDAY, and their archive is turned off 🚩we see scammers do this to hide how old their blog actually is (that it's new and suddenly asking for money) and to make it harder to investigate them

Their donation post reblogs and replies have been turned off 🚩scammers do this usually after someone has called them out on their suspicious behavior, often with proof that they're scamming, and they do it to hide the evidence and prevent anyone from seeing or reblogging this evidence against them

They're asking for donations, but do not provide a paypal or gofundme attached 🚩 scammers nowadays also often try to hide their paypal because they like to reuse one account across multiple scams, and used them enough for those accounts to be recognizable bc scam busters keep track of them. Additionally, you can tell someone's actual location by a paypal link, so scammers often are trying to hide any discrepancies in their fake story (like say, pretending to be in Europe but are actually in Canada). Laura Deramas & co have been doing this a lot, so I wouldn't be surprised if this was her

They claim that the photos they provide are of their family in Gaza, but there's literally a watermark of these photos originally being from the website Gazanow 🚩 why you would use a seperate website's photos of your family & then blur out your family's faces from the photo (even though it's already on a public website & that's where you got it?), instead of any photos that THEY themselves took, makes no sense to me, & is extremely suspicious.

They claim their "entire family" is in Gaza and that they've been working & supporting their family abroad (presumably allegedly in Europe since theyre asking for money in Euros) since 2016, and that they are 24 years old. So according to them, They've been the single sole supporter of their entire family in Gaza & moved to & have been living in Europe ALONE since the age of 16? Idk that kinda doesn't seem that plausible to me.

They've backdated their blog, and tried to use posts with thousands of notes to make it harder to find that out lol 🚩🚩🚩according to the screenshots below, they backdated their blog (& in particular, this post) to look like it reblogged a post on February 17th, 2024. But once I looked in the notes, I very quickly found it in the most recent notes that it was ACTUALLY reblogged YESTERDAY

[Image description: two vertically stacked screenshots with a blue water filter over them. The first shows a screenshots of a reblog by the user shtunning, showing a falsified reblog date of February 17th 2024. The second shows the real date within the notes of this post that they had reblogged, dated to "1 day ago", April 17th, 2024. End image description.]

And as another thing, they're claiming to be Palestinian, but using language an actual Palestinian who has lived in Palestine would never use lol, such as "revive peace between us". There was no "peace" in Gaza before this, Gaza is an open air prison under a settler colonial occupation and has been bombed regularly for decades?

So yeah this is definitely a scammer lol

[writing-mlm]

jason todd x reader please 😔

The ShopKeep and the Hobbyist [J.T]

Summary: Jason's been going to this bookstore for long enough that he's developed a bit of a reputation with them. If only the cute cashier would understand he's trying to flirt but as fate would have it, one knife chase later, and maybe they're more than worker and costumer. Pairing: Jason Todd x Male!Reader WC: 7.3k TW: use of fag but its a quote

Jason traveled out of Gotham once a week, always on a Sunday, always to the same location for three entire hours. Everyone knew that Sunday from noon to four— accounting for traffic and eating out that might happen, that Jason was absolutely unavailable. Unless you physically went to track him down. 

But that’s yet to happen. 

It’s Sunday and Jason arrived at the normal spot earlier than usual. Traffic was amazing, no accidents on the way out of Gotham, and the highway was thankfully void. He parked his bike in his normal spot, right in front of the store, and lifted the visor to the helmet before heading inside. 

The Open Book had always welcomed Jason, even when the shop was closed in the middle of a blizzard. And he helped where he could (Wayne Enterprises always made a large monthly donation to the shop and for some odd reason, someone had gifted the shop a fake bird that is able to stop any thefts(odd)). 

“New shipment came in today,” The store owner's grandson greeted him, leaning across the counter to grab at the basket of free candies the shop offered. “Snagged this vintage-looking book collection for ya.” Ever since word that a Wayne kid visits the bookshop, sales have grown so it’s hard keeping certain items in stock. Especially the fancy-looking titles. 

“Do tell,” He grabs a bite-sized chocolate and rips the packet open while you set your lollipop wrapper into your apron pocket before ducking under the counter. 

   “Shits heavy,” You grunt, slamming the box onto the table and read the label. “Uhh, ‘William Shakespeare, Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies. Published According to the True Originall Copies, 1623.’ Original is spelled wrong, though,” You look up at him and pause at his wide-eyed, clearly shocked expression. 

“Shakespeare fan?” You ask, opening the flap to the box. “There’s a bunch of them in here. I think this was someone’s collection.” 

“Do you know how much it’s worth?” Jason laughs, peering into the box, and then whistles. 

   “Probably a hundred at the most,” You shrug and he slaps the table with a loud Ha! that makes you look at him, crossing his arms. “Fifty?” 

“Try nine mil,” The lollipop falls from your mouth as you look from Jason to the book collection. 

   “For all of it?” You gape. 

   “For the top book,” He corrects. “Thank god you snagged it before someone who cared did.” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, staring at the book and taking in all of the details. That’s more than you’ll ever make in a lifetime. “What should I do? Do you want it?”

“Want it like I need air,” He admits, handing you another lollipop. “But you should probably auction it, get a stack and whatnot.”

“Grams would get pissed,” You shake your head and slide the box towards him. “Believes books should be read, not stored as an artifact, yknow? Think she marked this box as a hundred, want me to ring it up?” He looks at you and takes his helmet off so you can fully see his are you stupid? look that’s plastered on his face. 

   “(Y/n),” Jason slides the box back. “This is worth more than every single book in here!” And as much as he pained Jason to say that, he knew it was true. With over two entire floors filled with books, they were but a drop in the bucket compared to that singular box sitting between the two of you. 

“It’s just paper and ink,” You shrug, staring at the box. “Besides, she’d get mad if I did and I can’t exactly hide nine million dollars!” Sighing through his nose, he agrees to buy the box and has you set it aside while he goes about shopping.

“You’re staring,” Someone tells him as they walk past and his head spins around to see who it is. It’s one of your younger sisters, around twelve or thirteen, if he remembers right. 

   “Wasn’t,” He tells her and picks up a book. “I was looking at this book!” She turns back to him and raises her eyebrows at the title before grinning. 

   “Didn’t take you as an Ice Breaker fan,” She chides and walks away while Jason stares at the book. It could’ve been basically any other book. Putting the book back, Jason returns to his actual book shopping which only takes ten or so minutes. He knows his bag is going to be heavy with the Shakeseapre books so he can’t get too many other books this week. 

“Light load,” You comment, scanning the books. “You bought this one a month ago, too.” You note, holding off on scanning A Good Girls Guide to Murder. 

   “My sister wants to read it,” He explains, flipping through the pages. “And she likes to dogear pages.” Cringing, you scan the book and read him his total before leaning against the counter. It’s a large enough counter that most of your body can rest against it while he pays while you use your phone to order some lunch. 

“That place sucks ass,” Jason comments as he’s putting his card away. You roll your eyes and look up at him. 

   “I’m hungry as shit and there’s no good places around within a reasonable price, this place has decent grilled cheeses.” You justify and he finishes paying. 

   “What would you have gotten?” He muses, leaning against the counter so the two of you are face to face. Staring at the sad picture of a grilled cheese you huff. 

“Five guys,” You admit, looking back at him. He nods, silently urging you to continue while looking you up and down, his eyes slowly moving. You also don’t notice it or the small smile on his face when you don’t move away from him. “Strawberry milkshake and grilled cheeseburger.” You finished. 

   “No fries?” He asks and you shake your head. 

   “I don’t really eat fries from there,” You admit, fiddling with the skin around your nails. 

“Sounds good,” He tilts his head a bit, grinning so his canines are showing. He watches as your eyes dip once and then twice to his lips before they finally stay on his face. 

   “It’s fucking good. An arm and a leg, but still,” Standing up, you groan and stretch. He stands up too and puts on his helmet. You watch and wait for him to dip his head down before giving his head two pats. For good luck, of course. 

When he leaves, you return to your seat and look over the shop. There’s a dozen or so people inside, some people who are clearly not there for books as they’re recording those random interviews with the tiny microphones and such. You should really stop them, maybe put up a sign or something. But they’re leaving anyway. So it doesn’t really matter. 

“Did you kiss?” Your sister asks, walking over to grab one of the candies.  

   “Girl,” Your face scrunches and she tosses the wrapper at you but it falls short. 

    “Just saying, seemed awfully close.” She shrugs. “I would’ve made a move on him a long time ago.”

“You’re ten.” Huffing, she huffs back and puts her hands on her hips. 

   “Nineteen,” She corrects. Making a talking motion with your hand, she smacks it away and throws a fireball candy at you. “That’s why you’re forty and a virgin!” 

“Neither of those are true,” You stress, tossing the candy back into the bowl. “And didn’t you just get dumped by some loser who said he’d absolutely eat a turducken covered in chocolate?” She rolls her eyes and walks behind the counter to sign into work. 

   “I dumped him,” She corrects. “Unlike your failed relationship with the guy who wanted you to pretend to be a woman.” 

“Too low,” You sigh, shaking your head. “Too low.” 

—

With your lunch break in full swing, you’re upstairs in the break room watching some crappy straight-to-DVD movie your father had bought years back while eating the very sad grilled cheese when the door opens. Half expecting it to be another family member, you don’t look away from the TV and give a small hey but when no one replies you look towards the door and hum surprised to see Jason there. Even more so on who let him in 

“Missed me?” You grin, watching as he closes the door behind him and rolls his eyes. 

   “Little delivery,” He corrects and motions for you to turn back to the movie. You do, albeit a bit hesitant to do so, but you try not to look back when you hear him getting closer. “Close your eyes, too.” He adds when you look as far back as you can without turning your head. Groaning, you cover your eyes with your hand just to prove you’re not peeking and hear him set something down on the spot next to you. 

“See you next week!” He pats your back before snatching the half-eaten grilled cheese from your hand and you take it as a sign you can open your eyes. You’re not even upset he’s eating your lunch, it wasn’t good. Looking at what he had set down, you see the familiar white and red bag and crack a smile. 

   “You got me Five Guys?” Your head whips to the door but it’s already shutting and you can hear his heavy boots quickly running down the stairs. Turning back to the bag, you pull your phone out and scroll to find his contact. 

Thank you

we feast tonight 

The two of you don’t text much, mostly if he had forgotten something in the shop or given him a heads-up that the bookstore was closed for the day. Hell, his contact name is still Jason (bookstore fav). But he reads it immediately and thumbs up the last text. 

This grilled cheese sucks by the way

It feels like plastic

Probably is lol

While Jason is very much a regular at the shop, you don’t really remember when he first started to frequent the shop. Just that one Sunday, you had seen the time and noticed he was late to the shop. He’d come in almost three hours later than he normally did and watched as you sighed, tossing his favorite candy at him before ushering him to the counter. He listened as you told him that next time he is late he needs to text or you’d send out an amber alert yourself. 

He truly hadn’t thought anyone had noticed the change in his routine. Especially someone he only saw once a week. It had been a really shitty night for him and an ever-shitter morning, feeling like a ghost wandering through Gotham, living in a life he never should have. 

He apologized with a grin and gave you his number. He also spent a little extra time in the shop, loving the familiar smell around him. He loves the bookstore more than he loves his guns, more than he loves most things really. It’s the only normal thing in his life and truly, Jason doesn’t know what he’d do without it. Without you, honestly. He’s only ever there when you are and a place is only as welcoming as the people inhabiting it. 

Which is why he’d picked up the 2 am phone call so fast. 

“Jason?” You whisper shout into the phone. He can hear some harsh wind and some distant shouts in the background, but it took much less than that for him to abandon his patrol and start over to you. “Shit— I’m sorry but I don’t know who else to call.” You add, the clarity hitting that during an emergency you called the guy who lived nearly half an hour away on a good day.

   “It’s okay, doll,” He replies and you dare to glance behind you. Maybe they’d given up by now, but no. “What’s wrong?” He asks as you round a corner. “Where are you?” He quickly adds and you glance at the road signs. 

“Uhh, heading towards Second Ave and Belcher Street. My friend's boyfriend thinks she’s cheating with me and him and his friends are chasing me,” You explain.

   “Guns?” He asks, already leaving the Gotham border. 

   “No,” You huff, the strain of running heavy on your chest. “Just knives.” 

That’s good, he tells himself. Distance is what you should be focusing on. But he knows that the regular person cannot run for nearly as long as he can and realistically, you’re bound to get tired much sooner than multiple people. 

   “Is there a crowd nearby?” You can hear some muffling to his voice but that’s honestly the least of your issues. “Maybe a club or hospital.” He adds when you don’t respond fast enough. 

   “No,” You strain. “Just apartments and shit. God, fuck! Do you think I should climb the fire escape?” There are several ahead of you, and one of them is low enough for you to grab. 

“Can you?” He asks. 

   “Yeah— yeah,” Jumping up, you pull yourself up and start climbing up to the roof. “Shit, I’m really high up,” You pant, daring to look over the edge and see the guys climbing up. “They’re climbing up,” You tell him, quickly backing away and trying to find an exit. What type of roof doesn’t have a fucking exit? 

“I’ve seen people jump from roof to roof,” You're thinking out loud at this point, trying to find some type of solution to your stupid idea. “Can’t be that hard, right?”

“Depends on the distance,” He truthfully tells you and you look at the two nearby roofs. 

   “Definitely too far. I’m fucked.” 

“Still on Second and Blecher?” He asks and you mutter a yeah when you see them reach the roof. 

   “They’re up,” You mumble. “I could jump and live, yeah?” Glancing to your left, you see a dumpster and reassure yourself that you’d be fine. 

   “Do you think you can come back down the fire escape?” He asks. “Is there one behind the building?” Looking behind you, you let out a loud sigh.    

“Yeah— yes, heading down.” Rushing down as fast as you can, you reach the ground as they’re in the middle and run back into the main road. 

“Head back down the way you came,” Jason instructs. He’s only five minutes away at this point, maybe three if he tries hard enough. He just needs you to buy five more minutes. 

   “Okay,” 

Running for what felt like an eternity, your legs are burning and your chest is tight. Maybe that one time you lied during your physical exam was coming back to bite you. 

But they’re still chasing you and Jason is still guiding you. You’re sure you’re about to pass out when a motorcycle drifts in front of you. 

“Red Hood?” You gape, panting. The fuck? 

   “Come on,” You hear him and Jason say. You’ll worry about that once you’re away from those absolute track-and-field freaks chasing you. Getting on the motorcycle, he holds your thigh with one hand before pulling off. 

The ride is silent as you’re catching your breath and just making sure you’re okay in general. Aside from the insane burn in your calves, you’re fine. The ride does a lot to calm you down, by the time he reaches the shop your head is pressed to his back and you’re holding him not as tight as you were before. 

“I don’t know your address,” He admits and you laugh into his back. After all that happened it’s a little humorous that your biggest issue is Jason getting your address. You give it to him and it takes him a second but he has the route mapped out before he pulls back onto the street. 

“I’m staying the night.” He tells you as you get off of the bike. You don’t protest, not in the slightest. You’re far too tired to do so anyway. Instead, you wave him over and head upstairs. He tries to hide his helmet from the camera view but you tell him they don’t work. 

“This guy got robbed two days ago; whole building found out the cameras are fake,” You explain while leaning against the elevator wall.

   “And you feel safe?” He incredulously asks, looking you over. Even buildings in Gotham have working cameras.  

    “I have a gun,” You shrug while he looks at you with more of an analyzing gaze, a little surprised you’d have a gun. “And no valuables. My electronics are all secondhand for that exact reason.”

“So, steal the couch?” He jokes. 

   “If it can fit through the door, it’s yours!” Patting his arm, you exit the elevator and fish out your keys. Thankfully you hadn’t dropped them during the chase. 

“What happened?” He asks as soon as you close and double lock the door. Looking at him, you drop your phone and keys onto the kitchen island before heading back to the door. 

   “My friend, Gina,” You start with a sigh, kicking your shoes off. “She used to be my beard in high school. But we never officially broke up, I guess because she posted a story saying happy six-year anniversary. With a bunch of pictures of us together. Her boyfriend saw and he’s always been…” Rolling your hand, you open your closet and grab a new outfit. “He thinks I’m lying ‘bout being gay. Because I’m too… I dunno what he thinks. But he says I don’t look gay and he’s never seen me with a guy before.” You explain with a huff. “Not my fault I’ve been single for two years, y'know. I got school and work and whatever!” Slamming the closet shut, you sigh and apologize. 

“I’m gonna take a shower, feel free to snoop and prod. And take the boots off, I just moped.” 

“Course,” He doesn’t move an inch as he unties his boots and walks to the shoe rack to set them down. You thank him and head into the bathroom. 

“If you gotta piss or shit, go ahead. I got a curtain and a strong scent blaster plugged in.” You tell him at the doorway to the bathroom. 

  “Noted.” He laughs but it drops once the door closes. 

He finds himself making sure the windows are locked and the curtains are properly drawn. He grabs his phone and saves your address into his personal map before he goes to check to see what type of security measures you have. And there’s not many, just a gun that’s badly hidden in your bedside table and the extra lock on the door. 

But there’s not much to the apartment, the decor is extremely minimal but he remembers you talking about saving to buy a house in the countryside. Or at least outside of a city. Own land and all that. 

He can’t decide if that’s good or not, there’s nothing to steal for sure, but it’s also really sad. There’s no personal touch to your apartment, it reminds him of one of his safe houses. 

He settles himself into the couch once he’s checked over everything, listening to the sounds of the shower and eventually, he hears the shower turn off. 

When you return to the living room in a pair of shorts, you’re a little surprised that Jason is still there. 

“Bruce Wayne as Batman makes a lotta sense,” Opening the fridge, you pull out two water bottles before setting them on the counter. 

“(Y/n),” Jason stops that conversation. “You should file a police report.”

“Fuck is that gonna do?” You huff, closing the fridge and opening the freezer to grab a popsicle. “Gina will hate me, cops will just forget to file it, and then I get harassed.” 

“They tried to kill you,” He stresses, blocking you from moving away from the fridge. You stare at him, a little upset that he’s caring so much. You feel bad for even calling him and sending him out of his way. And now he’s staying for who knows how long. Not to mention now you know his biggest secret— a family secret at that, one that you can tell one person, and suddenly the whole world knows. 

   “Happens every day,” You shrug but honestly, yeah, that shit scared you. His face drops and he snatches the popsicle from your hand before tossing it on the counter to your left. 

“No. Not to you. Not to most people. So what if Gina hates you afterward? Do you want a friend that’s known you since high school who would rather side with her crazy boyfriend?” 

“Of course not!” You groan. “But it’s Gina. She’s always been there and— and this is a one-time thing,”

“You sound ridiculous,” He tells you as he walks out of the small kitchen and into the living room. “Trying to kill someone isn’t a fucking one-off. It’s a crime, a legit crime. Has Gina even checked if you’re okay?” He points to the phone that’s still on the counter; the same phone he knows for a fact hasn’t buzzed once. 

   “No.” There's no need to check your phone, you already know there’s nothing from her. She’d never text you first. He nods as if to say there’s your answer. 

“Look, Jason. It was scary as fuck,” You admit. “But I’m good. And I thank you, but you should go home. I just…” Looking off to the wall. “I don’t know why I called you, I feel like shit for dragging you away from your home.”

“I was spending my night watching Harley and Ivy dry hump in front of a newly exploded power plant. You didn’t take me away from shit.” He blinks before heading to the couch. “Besides, it’s too late to drive back. I’m beat,”

“You’re lying,” You deadpan, tossing a water bottle between your hands. 

   “Am I?” He fake yawns, leaning back on the couch. “Can I get a blanket?” Clearly, he’s not going to leave, and it would be bad as a host to not make him comfortable. Asshole. 

   “Fine,” He grins as you walk away. 

“Oh and Jason, Gram’s told me about the payment plan you set up. Taking advantage of a woman who can’t speak English is rude. She thinks you’re paying five dollars a week for some back dues you owe.” It was actually five hundred thousand dollars a week, which was absurd but hey, if he insists. 

   “It’s just nine million,” He calls back. “Not even my money and B won’t notice it’s gone.” 

Just nine million, you repeat to yourself as you find a suitable blanket. It’s one of those thick fur blankets with a tiger on the front. 

“The couch is a pull-out, by the way.” Heading back into the living room, you tuck the blanket under your arm. “I’ve used it like once. It’s pretty comfortable unless you want the bed.” You add, setting the blanket on the edge of the couch. There’s no coffee table, you don’t see a reason for one. 

   “I can sleep on gravel, doll. I’m fine, thank you.” For some reason, his eyes are having a hard time staying on your face but you’re busy walking back into the kitchen to notice. 

“If you’re hungry make anything, I’m going grocery shopping in two days anyway.” Tossing the popsicle back into the freezer, you lean against the counter and watch him. It’s a little staring contest you have going on. His eyelashes are nice, real pretty boy-esque. 

The silence and tension in the apartment is broken by four rapid knocks to the front door followed by a worried: “(Y/n)?”

“Gina,” You tell Jason as he’s already off of the couch and halfway to the front door by the time you stand up straight. When you walk up behind him you pause, when did he have time to grab a gun? But he’s looking through the peephole before looking back to you and holding up two fingers. You almost laugh, this isn’t some military operation; just a… friend? at your door. 

“Please,” Gina says through the door. “We just— K wants to apologize,” Huffing, you look at Jason who’s standing behind the door, one hand on the top lock. He truly doesn’t want to unlock it, but it’s your apartment. Your call. 

   “Says who?” K snaps, his voice a lot more muffled than hers is. 

   “You’re going to fucking apologize.” She snaps right back. 

He raises an eyebrow and you nod to the door against your better judgment. He unlocks the door and stands in front of them, really standing over them with his damn height, the arm holding the gun hidden behind the door. You can basically hear Gina pause when she sees him. 

“Who are you?” Gina asks, looking him up and down. 

   “A friend.” He answers simply and then looks over to you. “Your friend is here.” 

“Thanks, Jay.” You smile and usher him into your bedroom with two quick glances. “Gina,” You greet a little harshly as you stand at the door. “Kyle.” You look at him for only a second. 

   “It’s K.” He corrects. 

“Can we come in?” She asks, stepping forward. “I explained everything to K and he’s sorry.” She looks back at him and he’s just standing there with this stupid look on his face. 

   “Is he?” You ask, looking at Kyle. “Because when he was screaming: I knew you weren’t a fag; I’m gonna cut your dick off; stop running bitch; and since you wanna pretend you’re a fag come and taste our dicks he just didn’t seem real sorry.” She cringes, he hadn’t said that part through the yelling they were doing. 

“I don’t wanna lose you,” She places a hand on the door, not that you were planning on closing it just yet. “Let us in and he’ll apologize.” Sighing, you look at her and frown. Between not even texting to see if you’re okay and then coming over with the audacity to think that a fucking apology would smooth things over, you were peeved. 

   “You’re losing one of us tonight. Him or me.” She takes a step back and frowns, her eyebrows knitting as your words settle in her. But at that moment, you knew the friendship was over. It shouldn’t ever take that long for an answer like that. 

“(Y/n), he’s sorry!” She almost shouts, shouting as if you had given her this impossible task. You want to reply, you want to yell, and to get into it then and there. But it’s no use. Your neighbors are sleeping, you’re tired, and far from a mood where you want to interact with them. As such, you close the door and put the locks back on. 

She shouts some things from the other side but you’re not listening as you enter your bedroom. 

Jason was standing right next to the door, startling you. If he hadn’t been so close you wouldn’t have seen him in the darkness. 

“Is that a requirement for vigilantes?” You ask, clutching your chest in an exaggeration. “Y’all are fucking spooky,” Tossing yourself onto your bed, you stare up at him. 

“She’s still at the door,” He ignores the comment on his family business once again. Instead, his eyes trained on your front door, watching and waiting to see what their next move is going to be. You hope for their sake it’s leaving because his hand is still on the safety of his gun. 

   “Not like they can get in,” You shrug, laying flat on your back. “I never give my key to anyone and it takes a full round of bullets to break the door.” 

“You know that how?” He asks, setting his gun down on the dresser. 

   “Last year my neighbor's crazy ex tried to break in but the door didn’t budge.” 

“Of course,” His head dips back into the bedroom, watching you. “Sleep, I’ll be in the living room.” 

“Okay,” Turning your head to look at him, you grin. “If you get nightmares, the bed is free.” Patting the empty space, Jason rolls his eyes with a grin and leaves the room. “Your gun?” You call after him, staring at the handgun still on your dresser. 

   “I have two more!” He calls back. 

“How the fuck?” But he doesn’t answer. 

—

The next morning you wake up to the sound of the front door closing. It stirs you, really, but you’re lucid enough to realize that hey, either Jason treated you like a one-night stand or someone had broken in. 

Sitting up in the bed, you collect yourself for a moment and grab his gun on your way out. While you’re surely not as keen as Jason is, you like to think you’re observant enough. The door is locked again, so you figure he didn’t leave and someone didn’t break in. 

“Jason?” You turn the corner to the kitchen and see him standing with a bag of Ihop, staring at you as if he’d gotten caught stealing from the cookie jar. 

   “Good morning,” His eyes flicker to the gun as you set it on the counter. A part of him is proud that you were hesitant enough to bring the gun with you. “I got breakfast.” 

“Aw,” You grin. “Post hate crime meal!” 

“That’s an insane sentence,” He tells you, unpacking what he had gotten. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got you blueberry pancakes, french toast, eggs, and bacon. And the orange juice,” He places two boxes and a large cup of orange juice in front of you, then the straw. But you’re just focused on the fact that you know for a fact that wasn’t a random order. You’d posted about that exact order once before. Maybe a month or so ago. 

   “Oh,” You hum, looking at the food and then at him. “That’s sweet. Thank you.” He hums back, dropping the bag down to the floor, and takes his food. He’d gotten strawberry pancakes, hash browns, an omelet, and a coffee. 

Now you feel bad for not having a coffee table. 

“Wanna watch something while we eat?” You point your thumb toward the living room and he nods. 

While in the middle of watching Breaking Bad, you get up to set the empty containers in the sink and the cup in the trash while Jason watches. He doesn’t really know what to do, he wants to sleep, having stayed up the entire night in case anything happened but he’s enjoying his time with you. Even if the circumstances were… less than ideal. 

“Do you work today?” He asks when you’re walking back. 

   “Depends if my sister calls out,” Sitting, you turn your body to look at him. “I work Wednesday through Sunday, most weeks, at least.” 

“Are you going to make the report?” He also turns his body to you, watching as you toss your head back and sigh. 

   “Probably not,” You admit, looking back at him. “It’s more effort than I care to do,” He blinks, clearly disappointed but he’s not going to push. 

   “You should carry a weapon.” Jason’s not really asking, he’s telling you. “How good are you with a gun?” 

“Not sure,” 

“You bought a gun without training for it?” He asks, slowly as if he’s waiting for you to correct him and tell him that you actually go to the gun range in your free time. 

   “My dad got me it when I moved out.” You shrug, feeling a little ashamed because now he’s looking at you like you’re insane. “He said I needed protection and he doesn’t believe in mace or tasers.” 

“Clearly you do!” He throws his hand up towards the door. “We’re going to the gun range today.” 

“Jay!” You groan, nudging his leg with your foot. He grabs it and slides you down the couch. “I’m fine.” He just hums and leans over you, it doesn’t do much. Aside from shutting you up. 

He’s staring at you, his eyes unwavering from yours while you can’t seem to settle on where to look. It’s making you nervous— he’s making you nervous. The proximity isn’t the biggest issue, no the issue is the fact that you don’t mind that he’s above you, his hand right next to your head, and for fucks sake his breathing is even. 

“You’re going.” 

“Yup,”

—

Weirdly enough, the shooting range wasn’t in some building. No, Jason had decided to drive the hour's ride to a private lot. While normally you don’t agree to be in the middle of butt fuck nowhere without your own means of leaving, you were willing to bend your rules this one time. 

He has you help with setting up the cans and the body dummies, which are incredibly lifelike. A little creepy, but whatever floats his boat, you guess. He also puts up a new target sheet on a metal wall before he returns to hand you a handgun and ear mufflers. 

“Don’t hold it like that,” He blinks as you’re pointing the gun directly at your foot. You’re not a fool, you’ve played a couple of shooter games before. 

   “The safety is on,” You justify but point it toward the ground instead. Just to keep him happy. He just sighs and grabs his own gun, pointing it toward the dummy. 

“Stand like this,” He watches you from the corner of his eye as you mimic his stance. It’s a little uncomfortable but very technical. “A little straighter.” Fixing your posture he nods and drops his stance to adjust your grip on the gun. He takes your hands and adjusts them appropriately. “It’s not accurate for beginners, but I learned this way.” He explains as he steps behind you and lowers himself to your height. It’s hard when you’re not the same six foot-five that he is, but that’s neither here nor there. 

With his line of sight that is the same as yours, he raises your hands a little higher and a little to the left. You trust his judgment, you’re no fool on how accurate Red Hood is with his guns. 

It's silent, so silent that you can hear him breathing even through the heavy earmuffs. Whether you like it or not, you start to stop focusing on the task at hand and on him. He smells like your soap, too. It’s a little too domestic for the setting you’re in. 

“Take it off of safety,” He instructs, taking two steps away. Doing as he says, you want to roll your shoulders back but you’re worried you’d lose the position. “Go ahead.” His arms cross as he stares ahead at the dummy and you catch the flex of muscle under his shirt. 

Adjusting yourself as lowkey as you can, you close one eye and press the trigger. It's harder than you would’ve thought, giving you only a moment to back out. Following through, you let the recoil push you back a little before looking at the dummy. It didn’t hit the center of the head, instead grazing over the ear. 

“Close,” Jason looks over at you as you’re rubbing your shoulder but stops when you catch him looking at you. “Again?”

—

“I mean,” One of your friends, Tasha, takes a long sip of her drink. “None of us wanted to say anything but Gina is a bitch.” Frowning, you push around your food with the back of your fork. What was supposed to be your friend group's monthly putting ended up becoming a major therapy session when they noticed that Gina wasn’t there. 

   “Yeah,” Dante gives you a sort of frown sort of smile. “But you’d been friends with her for longer than us, so it wasn’t really our place.” 

“It’s crazy that it took her boyfriend trying to kill me to realize that, though.” It felt a bit weird, she’d always been in your life, and before the whole incident, you never would’ve thought you’d be without her. But life was the same, if not better with her gone. You didn’t realize how much you didn’t need her until now and honestly, you’re just upset it didn’t happen sooner.

Especially considering all of your other friends didn’t like her. 

“Speaking of,” Alex cranes her neck to look at you. “Who’s Jason?” She grins as your eyes narrow. You’re not one to divulge about your life, especially over text. 

   “How do you know about him?” Setting your fork down, she snorts before digging back into her meal. 

   “Girl, I was the Uber Eats driver.” She explains and looks to the others who are clearly out of the loop. “My first order of the day, some guy named Jason with a blank profile. Whatever, right? I pick up the Ihop order— he knows your taste, cute.” She quickly adds. “And then, I get the address. I’m just thinking (Y/n) created a fake profile. Nah, bro!” She covers her mouth to stop her laughing and to stop any potential food from flying out of her mouth. 

“I knock and this tall guy with this hot face scar opens the door. If he would’ve asked I would’ve taken the tip,” And she didn’t mean money. 

“Clearly he already did!” Dante cackles, watching as you drown yourself in the soda you’d ordered. The others laugh while you have to do damage control. 

“Jay’s a friend who happened to be in the neighborhood when Kyle was chasing me,” The three look at each other, ever aware of the fact that you’re staring at your plate while talking. They just assume the friend part is a lie. “And he spent the night. On the couch.” You add, looking at each of them to make sure that they understand. 

  “And ordered you breakfast in bed. And he left a hundred-dollar tip,” Alex swirls her pasta around her fork while the others gape at the news. 

   “Oh girl,” Tasha looks over at you. “He got a sister?” 

“Too young for your old ass!” You laugh while she pretends to be offended. “His sisters are nineteen and eighteen.” You wondered if you should add Barbra to his list of family. But you think she’s more of an acquaintance than family. But you could be wrong. 

   “You know his family?” Tasha’s eyebrows furrow. 

   “I know of his family. Never met that before.”

“Ah, waiting for the one-year mark?” Alex nods as if she had caught the drift you are trying to get at. 

   “Oh my god,” Rolling your eyes, you lean back in your seat. 

“What? You’re acting like you’re not attracted to that man. He’s fine as hell!” Alex pushes her hair behind her ear as she talks. “Might have to revoke your gay card.” 

“I never said that, it’s just…” Rubbing your hands on your pants, your face scrunches. “He could be straight.” Now, you weren’t going to deny the fact that Jason was attractive. He was the embodiment of your personal preferences, but you were a chronic overthinker with these sorts of things. To the point where it needs to be spelled out for you to get any hints. 

“He got you breakfast in bed.” Dante sounds out each word, putting an equal amount of extra emphasis on it. Just to make sure it really sinks in. 

   “I did that for you guys before!” You defend. 

    “Fine— fine, how do you know him?” Tasha asks and the others nod, happily awaiting your response. 

“He comes into the shop every Sunday. He’s been coming for about four years, give or take.” You shrug and they blink at each other. This is why you’re still single. 

    “Isn’t he the one that bought you Five Guys last month?” Dante is now physically turned to you, his eyes wide and you grumble. You never told them about that. 

   “You’re lying,” Alex cackles. “That’s your man and you don’t wanna admit it. Five guys is expensive.” 

“How about this?” Dante rolls his hand before you can even reply to Alex. “If one of Tasha’s friends got her an expensive lunch without asking, showed up to her job every single shift for four years, stayed with her after a traumatic night, got her breakfast, and didn’t leave until she was truly safe; how much platonic energy does that give you?” 

“Not a lot, but—“

“Nah,” Dante holds your hands as he speaks. “I love you, so don’t take this the wrong way but you’re stupid as fuck. He wants you.”

“He wants the books I sell. And my friendship.”

“He wants to spread something other than pages.” He shakes his head and you snort. “Ask him out, if he says no. Then I owe you a grand.”

“You don’t have a grand.” You deadpan and he nods. 

   “I’m so sure he’ll say yes that I’m making that bet.”

“Fine,” You huff. “But if this ruins my friendship you all owe me lunch for a month.” Surprisingly, they all agree and you settle on asking him on the upcoming Sunday. So, the very next day. 

—

“Why are your friends watching you?” Your sister asks as she walks behind you to grab one of the display books and swap it for a different one. 

   “Don’t worry about them,” You mutter, too busy watching the window; waiting for the motorcycle to stop in front of the store. She notices, of course, and stands behind you before deciding it was time to take her break and join your friends upstairs. 

Eventually, you see his motorcycle pull up and sigh, fixing your apron but stop when you hear them snickering. This whole situation was stupid, that’s what you’ve decided. But you’ve made your bed, it was time to lie in it. 

Jason walks in, his eyes immediately finding yours but you’re busy ringing someone up. He grabs the basket from the front of the shop and walks around the shop until he sees the line is gone. 

“Jay,” You grin, holding onto the counter. 

   “(Y/n),” His eyes focus on your hands for a second before he grabs a chocolate from the basket. Glancing at your friends, you fix your posture and reassure yourself. “Anything new?” Typically, you’d already be talking about what’s new but there’s just this hanging silence. 

“Nah,” You shake your head but still double-check the inventory log. “But we’re getting some um… science fiction stuff next week.” He’s not too big on those, maybe once in a blue moon he’ll actually buy one. He goes to talk but your phone dings before he can open his mouth. Watching as you grab your phone, your eyes scan over a text before you huff and silence it. 

“I heard about…” You trail into a whisper. “The Riddler kidnapping, you okay?” Not the best way to lead into asking someone out, but hey. Could’ve been worse. 

   “I’m fine,” He nods. “Arms a little sore but I’ll live.” 

“Long enough to go on a date with me?” You ask, a bit quicker than you intended but thankfully your words haven’t jumped up. He laughs, his eyes closing and you falter, glancing up at your friends for some type of support. 

   “That was a bold transition,” He settles himself down. “When are you free?”

“Oh shit, for real?” You grin. “I’m free Monday. Or whenever you are, really. My shifts are pretty flexible,” 

“I’ll pick you up Monday,” 

“I asked you on the date,” You huff. “I’m picking you up.” He crosses his arms and his eyes lower into a sort of unamused expression. 

   “You’ll pick me up, from Gotham?” He asks, just to make sure you know what you’d be signing up for. Truthfully, you hadn’t. And as such, you weigh your options— you don’t even have a car to offer to pick him up in. Damn. 

    “Fine, Monday at eight.” Giving in, he nods and glances around the shop. 

   “I don’t need a book today, see you tomorrow.” He looks you up and down, this time you watch as his eyes slowly drag down and tilt your head. 

“Looking like you already wanna kiss me, Jay.” You joke as his eyes reach yours again. 

   “Since you offered.” He grins and sneaks one single kiss that lasts less than a second. 

“I get off in thirty,”

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Clown/Circus + Imaginary Friend Darling Blurb

Throughout life, friends come and go, but you - were always the first.

Things were simple in the beginning. Sit with that lonely kid at the playground, wipe their face with your sleeves, and ask if they wanted to be friends. They always said yes. You were inseparable. Playing until streetlights came on plus a seat saved for you at the dinner table when they reluctantly returned home. The biggest fears you faced where the monsters under the bed and the dark... then came school, homework, the future. Your playdates became so far and few, they put in the efforts to make new friends and you were so happy for them.

"Y/n? Who's that? Quit talking to yourself and come hang out with us."

But none of them ever wanted to be yours. Your friend was never home anymore and when they were it was always school work or video games taking their attention. Your place at the table was given to someone else. They'd gradually drift away from speaking to you and it was like you never existed in the first place to them, and maybe you never did - so you left. Back to that empty that existed before it all. There, you remembered all your friends. All your precious memories and the treasures they gave you their parents questioned them about when they disappeared. You hated it there. You didn't want to reminisce on the good times - it only lead to wordless goodbyes. Why - why did they always leave you behind?

"I got invited to a slumber party this weekend... Everyone turned out to be so nice once I gave them a chance like you told me to.... You'll... always be my best friend, but I have real ones now. I'm not a kid anymore - and I can't live in a fantasy world forever."

Of course you always knew - but did your time together really mean nothing? The smiles and tears, joys and fears - were those fake too? This was how life for you went and has gone your entire path. Make a new friend, wait for them to make their own, force yourself to forget, and repeat. You never, ever blamed them for abandoning you. It was your biggest dream to see your friends go out in the world and do all the things you rambled about for hours - you just wished you could've been their when they made their dreams come true. If they could make those fantasies reality, why couldn't you be real too them? It's not fair-

"Hey! You gonna put your raspberry in the square yet? I don't mind waiting cuz you're really cute - but I've eaten most of the blueberries already and if I eat one more I won't have enough for a win."

A new friend - you kept them waiting, lost in your thoughts like that. There's something different about this one... They're a lot bigger than your old friends and dress strange just like those funny people in shows. How old are they?

"28..... Is my favorite number because that's how many waffles I can eat before throwing up. I dunno my age really, I like a lot of candles on my pie so it's hard to remember. I'm probably waaaaaay older - or younger, but I'm definitely not younger than eighteen because I get a new doll every year - and there's a ton. Hey, when's your birthday so we can get your collection started?"

An adult - An adult can see you, but why?

"Hmmm, I dunno how you got in here either. I was just thinking about how great it would be to have someone to eat all these waffles with since I made 29 today - and poof you appeared outta nowhere. You gotta so me that trick eventually - wanna be pals? I'll give you... a quarter, no- half the stack if ya stick around. My name's Gus. Gus the clown."

A clown... Alot of your friends loved those, others were terrified. This one reminded you alot of them. So silly and carefree, just like they always were before reality kicked in. It was never that way for Gus. You'll never forget the shocked look on their face when you told them chocolate milk didn't come from brown cows. They serenaded you with songs detailing your adventures together and nearly had a heart attack when you played peekaboo together which they later tried to play off as good acting - the tear smudges in their paint was just from hot how was is.

At the same time, Gus was far more mature they let on. They fantasized about finding the missing piece to their act and heart, and hopefully marrying that special someone someday. They were all smiles - but as soon as someone got hurt they knew when to drop the act and when to use it to their advantage. You prayed the day they found someone they wouldn't ditch you like everyone else.

It turned out there were a lot more like Gus. True to their status as a performer, they worked and lived in a traveling circus with others who were accepting of you - and had the eyes to see you. They never doubted your existence like parents used to and believed near ever word Gus said even when at the point in time you were nothing more than the ramblings of a mad-clown, and greeted you in kind. Overtime, you became corporal for these performers too and the brief hellos turned to bear hugs thrust upon dolls Gus' sibling made for everyone to have when they wanted sat hello. They still couldn't touch you, but for the first time everyone knew you were their and love you the same, if not more than the friend you came for. Sometimes it really did feel like you were a real person. If only....

"Ouch!"

You pull your hand away from Gus' as the clown bursts into a fit of giggles - yelping in pain as they clap their hands together, electrocuting themselves on the buzzer.

Whoo! That definitely sends a shock through ya. Can't believe that got you. Hey - that got you... you've never been hurt by any of the things we've done before."

They're right. That really did hurt. Wait. It hurt. You've never been able to interact with anything before - leaving Gus overwhelmed on brunch dates when they devoured your share. What's going on?

Gus expresses the confusion you're both feeling with a high-pitched scream. They dart around the room, nabbing their emergency supplies of candy from beneath their pillow. "Ahhhh, idea - Y/n, try one of these - hurry!"

You take one of the licorice sticks and shove it in your mouth. If picked up the treat wasn't proof enough, the explosion of flavor on your tongue confirmed your theories.

"It's...good."

Gus races in a circles, squeeling in delight as they grab and pinch your plush - warm cheeks. "They've never been warm before! This is amazing. Ahhh, next test- here goes!"

Shutting their eyes, Gus rams their lips against yours - grinning with teeth against your skin. They kiss your lips, cheeks, and noses - smothering you with a hug, soaking up the beat of your speeding heart.

"You have no idea long I've wanted to do that...."

You're still reeling from everything going on. "W-what's happening, Gus?"

"No clue! If you want my guess, I'd say so many people believing in you made you real like that one movie with the puppet. The others! Oh, man everyone's gonna love this! Come on!"

Gus picks you up and sprints to the main show room. They gather everyone into the area along with the biggest mirror they could find. They try to explain, but the excitement gets the better of them. Frustrated by everyone's agreeable questions - they rip off the blanket covering the mirror and your reflection, and the crowd goes wild.

"That wasn't there before! Can we touch Y/n now???"

"I call dibs on giving them their first piggyback ride!"

"Wonderful timing! I knitted you a lovely scarf before I forgot you technically were a figment of our combined imaginations."

"If they're really here and can touch stuff... They can be part of the show - can't they?"

Thats right. You'd fit right in with your history too. After a celebratory dinner and cuddle session - the preparations for your big debut were made. As expected, everyone loved you. You and Gus were the starting act, and two halves of the same whole. People saw you, they praised you, loved you. The adoration of the crowd was like no other, but everything after the curtains were closed was even better. Gus kept to their promise of never leaving you behind. You were that missing piece - someone they couldn't live without. It was time for you to finally grow up and leave the ghosts of the past where they lied.

"Aw, don't be like that, sweetie. You'll love it once we get there."

This is bullshit. Their college gradation and their folks were dragging them to some circus. Luckily they had a few buds pull through for an aftershow at a nearby bat.

"Maybe your opinion will change when you see the staring act. That clown reminds me a lot of that friend you used to go on about. What was their name again? I think it was -"

Y/n. Your name and smiling face were plastered on a billboard they passed. It was no vague resemblance - that was their first companion down to the scrunchie you wore around your wrist that they gave you on the day they gave you the lukewarm mercy of a goodbye. It couldn't really be you - right?

"Look how big you've grown...."

No-

"Your parents tell me you're graduating this year. I'm so, so proud of you. Are you going to become a scientist just like you said?"

How?

"You always said it was so you could find a way for everyone to see me too... I'm sorry for holding you back for so long. It's good that you made friends. I made alot too - really good ones. With them, I can live in fantasy and the real world at the same time. It's so much fun."

What are you apologizing for? Why are you acting like you're the one that abandoned them. You were everywhere to them. Everything they ever achieved was because of the shoulder you gave them to lean on. Being with you was like a dream - but everyone has to wake up eventually.

"Oops! Looks like a wasted all our time. I have a few more scheduled greets, but maybe if you stay after we can chat a little more before you leave. See you!"

They don't want to leave. There's still so much to be explained; to say and do, but just like them - you were gone as you appeared. They had to see you again in a better time. Do imaginary friends drink coffee?"

"How's it feel to be the one on the other end of the stick?"

Another clown stands behind them. It was the same one that shared your act. Gus. What do they want?

"Y'know I know alllll about what happened between you two. I know everything from their past since as their bestest friend - and potential future spouse - it's my job to make them loved enough to spill every, little detail. You shouldn't have come here. You're not the first to recognize them - and you won't be the last.

The ball of their wrist juts painfully against their skin as the clown grabs their arm.

"I won't let any of you get back into their heart. I won't let anyone hurt them again. You can't just take back what you broke when someone else fixes it. I'll make you feel what they felt. I'll make them forget you - and anyone who tries to take them from us that I promise and promises are meant to be kept. Quick question before you go though - think Y/n will like these matching necklaces I made us? Anything looks cute when its on them - but think it'll fit better than that old scrunchie."