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ladykailitha · 2 months

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Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 12

Welcome back to another addition of Dustin being absolutely chaotic as fuck and Robin inserts herself into a dangerous situation because she has to out sass an eighth grader.

This story really is nearing in the end of season 3, and I don't think this story will go for much longer than that. So it will probably be the next story I finish.

What this means is that soon I'll be starting up "The Hellfire Erotic Club" as I am already two chapters into sugar baby!Steve and sugar daddy!Eddie so that one is next on the docket. And as it sounds, it absolutely will be mature. It might even be my first explicit story I've written. So let me know if you want to be kept off the list for that one.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Things mellowed out with Robin at work. She still had the YOU RULE/YOU SUCK board, but at least wasn’t throwing out snide comments and sneering glances every two seconds so Steve absolutely counted that as a win.

And he continued to flirt badly. The worst was when Eddie and Jeff had stopped by after touring the music store.

“It’s the hat,” Steve said with moue. “It’s ruining my best feature.”

Robin snorted. “Your best feature? You don’t have one.”

Steve rolled his eyes and took off the hat. “My hair is my best feature, of course. I was the Hair in school, after all.” He threw it off the side and did a mocking shimmy with his shoulders before heading to register to greet a group of giggling girls.

“Hello, ladies,” he said smoothly. “My name is Steve and I’ll be your captain on this journey on the ocean of flavor. What can I get you today?” And then to really sell it. He winked.

The girls as he expected were completely turned off and hurried to get away as soon as possible. But hey at least Jeff got the number of one of the girls. So yay, gay wingman for the win! Or whatever.

Eddie came loping up to the counter, Jeff close on his heels. “That has got to be the most depressing thing I have ever had the misfortune to witness.”

“Seriously dude,” Jeff said with a wince. “Your mojo must have got up and went. Holy shit.”

Steve just pursed his lips and waved vaguely in Eddie’s direction. Eddie and Jeff giggled, but Robin frowned in confusion.

“Why does Munson being here affect your flirting?” she asked. “Because from what I’ve seen it doesn’t matter if he’s here or not, your flirting is always bad.”

He just shrugged. “Maybe the PTA is right and Eddie can cast evil spells and cursed me.”

Eddie wiggled his fingers at her, but she just rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. If he could cast spells Mrs. O’Donnell would be dead by now.”

The three boys cackled.

“Or maybe,” Jeff said seriously, “the girls remember Stevie here hanging out with us freaks and geeks last year and think he’s suddenly beneath him. You know, now that he’s not King Steve anymore?”

Robin’s mouth open and closed like a fish before she snapped it shut with an audible click. She blushed a dark red and was grateful that a mother with her two young sons came in just then so she could avoid the awkwardness that followed.

“I’m off in five minutes,” Steve said, “if you two want to wait around?”

Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and then Eddie nodded. “Sure, we could hang out for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said with a half shrug. “I don’t have anything to do today.”

Steve moved off to the side to start scooping the lady’s order. He gave each of the kids a cone and the sundae to the mom. Then he tossed the scooper into the warm water they kept nearby to keep the scooper clean. He walked to the back and returned within seconds.

Just then the power went out. Steve sighed and went over to the light switch. He flipped it up and down.

“That didn’t work two days ago,” Robin hissed. “And it’s not going to work now.”

Eddie peered at Steve through the dark. “This happened a couple of days ago, too?”

“It’s because of how hot it is outside,” Steve said. “Which makes the AC run overtime and it blows the breaker.” He sounded like he was repeating something someone else said as he continued to flip the switch and then the lights came back on. Just as Steve was about to leave again, Dustin came running up to Steve, skidding to a stop when he saw Robin, Eddie, and Jeff standing there.

“Hey, guys,” he said with a strained smile on his face. “Can I talk to Steve for a moment? I won’t take up much of his time. I promise.”

That got Steve’s hackles up. He turned to Eddie and begged him with his eyes to understand what this meant. Eddie tilted his head to the side for a moment, before his mouth formed an ‘O’.

“Jeff and I will be at Suncoast Video,” he said, “we’ll be there when you’re done.”

Jeff blinked at him for a moment trying to decide if it was the worth the fight. Then he shrugged and followed Eddie away from the strange tableau behind them.

Robin eyed them suspiciously as the two boys went to go sit down.

“What’s up, bud?” Steve asked, a nervous chill sliding down his spine. Please don’t be the Upside Down. Please don’t be the Upside Down. Please don’t be the Upside Down.

“So because my ma doesn’t want me racking up her phone bill calling Suzie,” he said, “I put up, with a little help from Lucas, Will, and Mike, a communications tower so we could talk.”

Because of course they did. They were geniuses when it came to building that kind of shit, but not so much in why they shouldn’t.

“And there was this weird Russian transmission,” Dustin explained hurriedly. “I don’t want to show you the recording yet, not with so many people around. But I can I meet up at your place later tonight?”

Steve was about to turn the kid down. After all, he had tried the hero racket and it blew. All he got for his troubles was ringing in his ears and the biggest break up of his life.

“Just think, if we solve this then we can be celebrated for exposing a Communist plot!” he exclaimed. “We could be American heroes, Steve!”

Oh. That did sound nice. There was no chance of him putting his body on the line for a recording in Russia after all. “Sure thing, bud.”

There was no keeping the stupid little transmission from Eddie or Robin. The first one wasn’t a surprise, really. Eddie was attached to Steve’s hip like he’d always been right there. Robin was more of a shock, to be honest. She just inserted herself where she didn’t belong on sheer sass alone.

Because Dustin had all the tact of a bull in a china shop, he had been whining about not being able to translate the message. When suddenly the window to the back slid open with a slam.

“You do know you’re in public, right?” she huffed. “If you’re trying to being sneaky about it, you’re failing miserably.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Like you’re so smart.”

Robin raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “And how many languages do you speak, dork?”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance, then tried to stifle a laugh, Steve by biting his lip and Eddie by shoving his hair in front of his face.

“Two!” Dustin huffed, puffing out his chest. “Binary and English.”

“Binary doesn’t count,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. “You can’t ‘speak’ it. I speak French, Spanish, and Italian. That’s four.”

Dustin crossed his arms. “Does to and besides I didn’t hear Russian on that list.”

She tilted her head and smirked. “And how do you even know it’s Russian?”

Dustin’s jaw dropped to the floor and his eyes bulged out of his head.

“Just because it sounds ‘Russian’,” Robin said, using air quotes around the word Russian, “doesn’t mean it’s not some other Slavic language.”

Dustin’s bottom lip quivered. “And how many Slavic languages are there?”

Her grin turned feral and she leaned on the counter, looking him dead in the eye. “Eighteen if you don’t count the different dialects for each region, then you’re looking at something closer to twenty-five.”

“There’s no way there’s that many!” Dustin cried.

Steve bumped his shoulder into his. “Why don’t you let her hear it? What’s the worst thing that could happen? That she doesn’t recognize the language? It’d be no different from where we are now.”

“Come on, Dusty,” Eddie implored. “Or do I have to tell Suzie that you think girls aren’t as smart as boys?”

Dustin turned to glare at the older teen. “That’s a low blow, man.”

He looked over at Robin who was eyeing him expectantly and sighed. “Fine, here.” He handed her the portable tape deck and sat back to watch.

The message came through the small device and Robin listened to the whole thing, before rewinding it and playing it again.

“So what do you think?” Dustin asked after her third listen through. “Is it Russian?”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a smirk. “And probably in code.”

But before Dustin could answer, Eddie leaned on the front counter. He had been watching Steve the whole time Robin had been listening to the recording. When she got to the end, Steve would frown. Even with half of a banana stuffed in his cheeks like a chipmunk.

“What’s on your mind, Stevie?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“There’s something about the music,” he muttered, tapping his fingers and humming the tune.

Dustin huffed. “Can you please pay attention to the important part, Steve? The apparently secret coded message in Russian?”

Steve shoved the rest of the banana in his mouth and chewed silently. He swallowed roughly and asked Robin to play the music again.

“Steve!” Dustin snapped. “What did I just say?”

Eddie glared at him. “Shut it, kid.” And Eddie began to listen to the music, too. Then Steve and Eddie made eye contact as they both got it at the same time.

Steve grabbed Dustin’s wrist and dragged him out of the ice cream shop, Eddie fast on their heels. They reached the Merry-Go-Round and Steve tried to pull out a couple of quarters but they fell to the ground. He bent to pick them up, but Eddie shoved a couple of quarters from his pocket into Steve’s hands.

Steve put the quarters into the Merry-Go-Round, while Eddie and Dustin stood by. Eddie smiled, smug and Dustin stood there, glowering at Steve, arms crossed.

The carousel roared to life. And then music started.

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Steve and Eddie shared a grin.

“That’s the music from the recording!” he continued. “How did you recognize it?”

Eddie laughed.

“Because I hear it at least two or three times a shift,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. “It’s hard to miss because it’s so loud and so close to Scoops Ahoy.”

Dustin frowned and pouted because he had thought that Steve was just being his usual spacy self. But he actually figured it out.

As the three of them walked back to the ice cream shop, he said, “All that tells us is that Russians like carousels.”

Steve and Eddie shared a glance over his head.

“That’s an Indiana Flyer carousel,” Steve said slowly. “As in they only make them in Indiana.”

Dustin stopped short and his eyes widened in fear. “Does that mean they’re here in the state?”

Eddie shook his head. “Worse than that, Dusty. I’m pretty sure they’re here in the mall.”

Steve’s heart sank. He had been hoping that they would be able to solve this without getting directly involved, but that had just flown away like a startled butterfly.

Now all he had to do was convince himself that the Russians weren’t in Hawkins for the gateways to the Upside Down.

It was going to be a tough sell and he knew deep down it was never going to stick.

There were Russians in Hawkins and they were most likely here for Hell.

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING!

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina @bluelightsinthevoid @blcksh33p1987 @i-go-pink-in-the-night @mamafaithful

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #boy with a bat

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wonkawinka · 7 months

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we’ll meet again

“we’ll meet again… don’t know where, don’t know when…”

alastor x angel!daughter!reader

CHAPTER TWO: smile like you mean it!

— — CHAPTER THREE: weak ankles!

warnings/notes: EPISODE 6 SPOILERS! not proof read, no use of y/n, used she/her pronouns, reader is on the fem side, maybe vaggie x reader and maybe emily x reader if you squint but its all platonic

chère- french for dear

remercier dieu- french for thank god

court reporter- someone who transcribes everything said during a court meeting

wc: 2336

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

ROLLER skates. flashy lights. bursting colors. street jazz at every corner. twists and turns.

NEW ORLEANS had it all. all you could need in your heart. soft, live jazz rung through the tiny diner that everyone got their morning coffee from. skating through the diner, you tipped your hat from one couple to another. there was the occasional (and by occasional you mean somewhat often) jerk who flirts with you, a teenager, but you brush it off.

ever since the stock market crash of 1929, people have been living off the hook ‘round these parts. you were lucky enough to snag a job, let alone have a father that's able to put food on the table for you.

the bell of the door rings exactly at 9:01 am, you don’t even need to turn around to check who it is.

“good mornin’ ladies! fine morning today, isn’t it?” alastor’s voice rang through the diner, sound waves bouncing the walls and into your ears. his presence was certainly not something anyone would miss. your coworkers nodded in agreement, saying their tiny welcomes, the occasional giggle for one of them.

pouring out straight black coffee into a medium sized cup, you skated towards the counter and slipped your dad a napkin and his cup.

“mornin’ papa.” you said with a smile, taking his coins and filing it into the register.

“good morning, my dear!” he said with his chipper smile, one that made the men grumble and ladies swoon, but it just made you happy to see your father happy. “day treating you well, i hope.”

he took the coffee and took a sip. a sound of satisfaction left his lips “perfection! you know me so well, chère.”

“pa, you drink the blackest coffee on earth. it’s not hard to mess up, dontcha think?”

“ah, don’t sass me now, little miss. i’ll have you know this is the best coffee i’ve had since yesterday mornin’!”

“i made that coffee yesterday morning.”

“hmmm, did you now? seems i dont remember…” he grinned teasingly, pushing up his glasses in ‘thought’.

“yeah, course ya’ dont, ya old man.” teasing back, slipping him a slice of pie “i know you didnt eat, pops, cant have ya flopping dead during your morning show. who knows, maybe the cannibal will getcha. then i’ll have to take over the show.”

he smirked at her words, ha, if only she knew.

“well, aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” he said, taking the to-go box from her hands.

“well, you raised me, so you tell me.” you smiled brightly

his laughter rang through the diner, and soon yours as their vocals mixed together in a medley of sounds. they nearly mixed together perfectly. nearly.

some people looked at you weirdly, but you both never really minded. everyone in town knew you were his daughter and everyone in town knew he was your father. the talk of the town, especially when people found out your father of all people adopted you all those years ago.

he smiled at you wholeheartedly, something you only get to receive from him. “thats my girl.” his hand cupped your face, thumb brushing against the skin.

you placed your hand on top of his and smiled. “love ya’, pa.”

“love you more, my dear.”

you patted his hand, signing him to let go. “now shoo, before you’re actually late. you got an audience waiting for you all ‘round the area. can’t have them sitting for too long, hm?”

with a tip of his head, he bidded you and the ladies of the diner farewell, grabbing his coffee and pie, slipping out the door.

one of your coworkers called out your name “hunny, you better help a girl out! is your fatha’ up for grabs?” she giggled, winking at you.

“oh hush, lonnie! that's my dad..!”

——————— PRESENT.

“OH, don’t worry, it’s really not that hard! you just flip the book and let them in! see? simple.” st. peter directed you to the golden podium of the pearly white gates.

“are you sure i’m even allowed to do this? look.. i’m happy to help. i just don’t wantcha to get in trouble with the Seraphims.” you floated down onto the podium, scanning the big book of entries.

“it wouldn’t be for long! thank you so much, by the way. you really are heaven’s little helper, huh?” he elbowed you and gave that big smile he had. it was almost blinding. literally.

“haha, yeahhh… if you say so.” you turned and flipped through the pages for what seemed to endlessly go on.

“who names their kid breakfast?”

“now, now, we dont go and judge what those humans name their offspring!” he placed his two hands on your shoulders in reassurance. you cock an eyebrow at his word choice, but next thing you know hes already flying off to do who knows what. ‘saintly duties.’

“huh.” you continued to flip through the pages to examine the very odd name choices, nodding at some and… skipping through others.

minutes, maybe even hours went by until sudden echoes from down the golden pathway filled your ears. they shoot up in reaction to the newfound sound.

“uhhh, heelloooo? helloooo!” the blonde hair girl called out

“hiya!,” you call out , “how may i help ya’? well, getting into heaven i guess, huh?” you laughed at yourself, watching the girl’s nerves calm down a bit. behind her was a recognizable individual. you know, it nearly looked like vagg—

“OH— uh, uh, uh— hello! my name is charlie morningstar. heh.”

“alright, lets see…” you flipped through the alphabetized record only to find every name known to man BUT a charlie morningstar.

panic fills your core when you cant find it, scanning the page over and over and over again to no avail.

“uhhhh, you see, slight problem, hun...” you start, throwing in a name to ease her name. “i, uhm, can’t find your name… but you know! the trek all the way to the uh, other place, is a long way. maybe i can like… sneak ya’ in—”

“OH, no, no, THAT won’t be necessary. uh— see, my dad got me this meeting, so maybe try lucifer… morningstar..”

THAT CERTAINLY RANG A BELL.

“OH, uh.. uhuh.” you nod “i see.” you nod quicker. your eyes darted to the gray haired girl who looked at you with the same tense expression.

“i think there may have been a, um..” you put your hands together “mishap… but i am SURE it is a just BIG misunderstanding, haha!”

a mighty voice called out to you, one that could shake all of heaven’s foundation.

“remercier dieu…” you say, quite literally.

“don’t worry, we can take it from here.” sera’s voice reassured, the normal call smile present on her face. you bowed your head in respect which she kindly returns.

behind her was an excited emily which shot you an ecstatic wave. her smile was about to explode with happiness which only grew more as she approached charlie, the princess of hell.

st. peter pops out of nowhere and of course, starts singing his welcome song.

see, you didnt think it was bad, it was quite good, but hearing it over and over again for the past century really takes a toll on your ears.

after his musical number, em is basically ready to explode into a pile of rainbows and sparkles. “oh, oh! i gotta show you! the zoo, the petting zoo, the aquarium, the- the EVERYTHING!”

her and charlie jump for joy as they start running off.

“oh come on, do we need to ru— yEUP okay.” you’re dragged along the crossfire, em tugging on your wrist.

you catch a glimpse of adam and lute. they did not seem… very ecstatic.

hm.

“em. emily. emmy. e.” you bring her to the stop. her happiness was contagious, a sickness, her happiness basically flooding into your veins.

“i know you’re excited, sugar,” you start, “but maybe, i show them their room first. how's that sound?”

with some reluctance, emily allows you to guide the two girls to their temporary room.

“here, let me get that—” with an easy spell you learned, you pick up their bags weightlessly.

“follow me, i’ll show ya your room.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

on the way there, you’re bombarded with questions from the princess. not that you were complaining of course, you found it quite endearing.

“wow, your sprinkles have RAINBOWS in them?!”

“yup, those are just rainbow sprinkles,” you chuckle lightly at her innocent excitement, “so.. about this hazbin hotel you were talkin’ about, mrs. morningstar…”

“oh, please, call me charlie!”

“charlie,” you smiled ,”i really do love the idea. quite innovative! you have my support. do you already have people staying?”

“oh, we only have.. two residents. but we do have lovelt staff! we have a maid.. nifty, she’s harmless, most of the time.. and a bar-tender, husker, he’s great, grumpy, but great! vaggie, my lovely girlfriend keeps the hotel safe,” she smiles brightly at her partner, “oh, and our host, alastor! he’s uh.. the radio demon, BUT HE MEANS WELL! i think.”

the name rung in your mind, bouncing off the walls and causing them to shoot jolts through your head. it was like a migraine, but worse. radio demon. it was strikingly familiar resemblance to your father (father?), but who knows! there are probably many alastors that loved radio.

“i see,” you nod, “well i wish you luck on the growth of your hotel.” you opened the entrance of there room and landed their bags perfectly in the corner.

“wow, okay, i LOVE heaven! everythings so clean and nice! AHH, and emilys going to bring me to a zoo where everythings fluffy and soft!” you zone out the rest of their conversation before charlie bids her goodbye.

“safe travels, charlie.” you bow your head in respect, earning a giggle from the princess.

“thank you sososososo much for your help! heh, alright SEE YOU LATER!”

silence filled the room.

“vaggie.” you started, not bothering to around and fully face her. “knew that was you, cant hide from me under all that hair. looks good, though.”

“uhhhhhhhhhhh—” she says your name in a frantic manner, causing you to cock your eyebrow “ah, fuck, i can’t think of an excuse.”

“look, vaggie, i dont know.” you sigh “you disappear for your ‘yearly outing’ to god knows where then you go missing for years, now you come back to be dating lucifer’s daughter.”

“i know, i’m so—“

“no no, don’t apologize. i get it. im happy for ya, vags, but damn, years. i dont know what you do on that one day, but adam and lute didnt seem very happy when they saw ya today.” pinching the bridge of your nose, you turned to her.

“look, adam tried recruiting me to god knows what when you went missing. said i got good aim or something. im just telling ya to be smart. i got no idea what he was trying to do with me, so im telling ya’ to not give in to that prick. i’ll be at todays meeting; i work as the court reporter.”

she pondered your statement for a bit, snapping out of her thoughts once you handed her the room key. you offered her a smile, which she hesitantly returned.

“ah, come on, smile like you mean it! though a smile may not mean everything, you’re never fully dressed without one.” that phrase rang in vaggie’s ears. that was oddly familiar.

a little too familiar.

it was your time to bid farewell, but before you did, she called out to you.

“thank you.”

“ah, don’t mention it. we’re friends, arent we?”

and with that you shut the door.

— — — — — — — — — — —

SCRIBBLING. writing. swirls of ink as you titled the paper in preparation. COURT ISSUE 36789127. it made you think, whos counting all these issues?

“WHAT’S UUUP, BA-BY!” the annoying ring of adam’s voice filled the court room. he was like a toddler, ironic as he is the oldest human soul known to mankind. he was mankind. a sick joke for it too.

every little thing he said you were required to write down, even if it was a dumb, immature response.

“we are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell, can be redeemed into heavenly realm by the means of this Hazbin Hotel… Princess Morningstar?”

the blonde takes a stand and clears her throat,

“Webster’s Dictionary defined redemption as—”

you scribbled that down.

“..incredible progress..”

scribble.

“… the porn demon …!”

scribble.

“well, if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into Heaven?”

that puts a halt in the discussion, causing you to lift your head and wait for an answer. she had a point. how did you get here in the first place?

a copy of adam’s terms were presented to your table: act selfless, don’t steal, stick it to the man.

well damn, if those were the terms, even your father (father?) would be in heaven, right now.

evidence was presented, words have been thrown, objections were made. the endless back and forth of right and wrong being thrown around the courtroom. not even the written word could convey the thick tension lathering the walls of the heavenly court.

all the evidence weights to charlie’s side, and yet, the judges say otherwise.

“wait, none of you know what gets someone into Heaven?”

this sparks a musical entrance from emily which you would say was surprising, but you would be lying to yourself.

good thing i took band and choir you thought. perfect pitch came in handy as you noted every chord and pitch in your work.

at this point, you were ready to combust. it was clear who won but the rulers of heaven seemed adamant to keep it from happening. it was suspicious, ironic even.

“..don’t you care, sera…”

scribble.

“..just because someone was dead..”

scribble.

“he blew the shot like the cocks in his…”

scribble.

“..come down and exterminate you..”

your quill snaps in half as you look up from your paper. extermination.

murder.

genocide.

from heaven itself.

#alastor x reader #platonic #dad!alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #platonic hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #charlie hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #st. peter hazbin hotel #sera hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #angel reader #hazbin hotel spoilers #french…

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pimosworld · 9 months

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The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor

🌔Summary- You, a long lost descendant of Hathor, crosses paths with Moon Knight. A chance for Khonshu to reconcile with his past and a chance for the boys to have a future.

🌒CW-18+,MDNI, Explicit smut, angst, hurt, comfort, canon typical violence, god and goddess powers, mentions of parental abuse, past domestic abuse (not physical), healing old wounds, healing your inner child, eventual happy ending.

WK-1.2K

A/N- This idea has been bouncing around in my head for months and now I’m finally tackling it. Don’t have a set schedule for posting or an idea for how many chapters so it should be a wild ride for my moon babes.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Moon Knight Masterlist]

Prologue

He steps into the coffee shop holding a newspaper over his head to shield himself from the rain. He’s sporting that scowl between his brows as he grumbles under his breath.

He takes his fingers through his hair trying as best he can to smooth his hair out of his face. No flat cap today.

The barista doesn’t understand as she tries to make conversation. It was so obvious to you in the beginning and yet people who greet him everyday don’t even notice.

Hmmm coffee with sugar today…interesting.

He says something to the mirror next to the register about buying a new coffee pot as he taps his foot and waits. His arms crossed as he scanned the room.

It’s Pavlovian the way he drifts to you and sits next to your table. The one he doesn’t even know is saved for him.

“This tastes like crap.” He sets the mug down like it personally offended him.

“You’re a little nicer when you have tea.” Marc looks over at you, but you don’t look up from your book. “Although decidedly more grumpy than when you have black coffee.”

He clears his throat a little before speaking. “I’m sorry, did you say something to me?”

You pick up your pressed sunflower bookmark and place it gently between the pages. “You’re much nicer on the days you have tea.”

He feels warm suddenly, when your eyes meet him. The heat is almost too much as he shucks off his jacket. Maybe the coffee was stronger than he thought because he’s sure he can hear his own heartbeat.

Steven did tell him to take a break.

You smile at him and place the book in your bag as you stand from the corner table and exit. You squeeze his shoulder once as you wave goodbye to the barista.

He stares down at where your hand was, it’s seared into him. Like the ache from a sunburn.

Well that settles that mate

“Settles what?”

She has that effect on all of us

****

He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

When he sees you again and recognizes the barista as she smiles at him. Her cheeks are red and she stammers a little over her words.

He can’t focus on anything but that table next to you. He wants to get to that table before anyone else does.

You can tell it’s him when he walks in. His hair is combed back and he’s wearing that black jacket you love that fits him like a glove.

Your eyes flit briefly to the register where the girl who is absolutely smitten with them tries to compose herself enough to not ruin his coffee again.

He’s nervous

There’s two open tables, the one next to you and one by the drafty door. You meet his eyes as he weighs his options while he waits for the girl to finish his coffee.

There's that warmth again, it’s too hot in here. He removes his jacket and sheepishly heads toward you. He gently places it in the seat beside your corner table that looks out onto the street.

“I would never let anyone take your spot.” He’s certain this time, you’re speaking to him. You don’t look up from your book The art and architecture of ancient Egypt.

They call his name twice before he heads back to the counter to collect his coffee.

You take a few notes and bite down on your pen as you think of what to say next. He can see the indentation where you bite the pen. The way your lips rest carefully on the edge. The way your brow furrows when you’re thinking.

He finds himself exactly where he wants to be in his seat. With nothing to say.

The hot coffee somehow cools him down from the flames burning inside. He closes his eyes and is drawn back to the last time he remembered it tasting this good.

When he opens them again you’re smiling at the barista shooting her a thumbs up as she claps her hands in delight.

He swallows thickly, he’s never been this nervous. Not even as moon knight.

“I’ve seen that book before.” His voice somehow sounds foreign even to him.

You flip it over and glance at the back and laugh. A sound he could definitely get used to.

“I would hope so, Steven let me borrow it.”

She’s almost finished it, I just gave it to her a few days ago.

You resume your book as if you didn’t just say the most earth shattering thing for his fragile mind to hear. It shouldn’t come as a surprise with how comfortable you are in his presence.

You know he’s dangling off a cliff and you might as well just give him that push he needs to let go.

“That reminds me.” You dig through your bag for a moment before sliding a small leather bag toward him. “I haven’t seen Jake in a few days, it looked like he might need it.”

Marc shakily opens the bag to reveal a leather patch kit. He takes three deep breaths before zipping it closed.

If you’re going to sit there like an idiota at least say thank you.

“Jake said thank you.” Shit. Why would he say that out loud?

“De nada.”

You know.

Sì she knows.

Was he that closed off after Layla that they didn’t want him to meet you? Maybe they were scared he’d run you away. It’s shocking to have Jake partnering with Steven to keep secrets from him.

Then again, maybe you weren’t a secret.

You can tell he’s genuinely surprised and a little uncomfortable but Steven and Jake told you that was to be expected. This is the longest conversation you’ve had with him, where he didn’t recede from the front.

Long enough for him to finally start opening up to you. Asking your name and how long you’ve known him, them.

You and Steven bonded over tea and your love for ancient Egypt. He was helping you prepare for your interview with the museum to become a curator.

Jake would give you rides to the library or home, when the weather was particularly bad.

He can place it now…that scent that lingers on his clothes from time to time. Your perfume, a mixture of vanilla and lavender. It’s overwhelming his senses now as you lean in and laugh at some off handed remark he said.

You must be comfortable enough to hug them, to press your body close to theirs. Close enough to leave a trace of you on them for days on end. It’s exhilarating and maddening all at once…to know he’s closed himself off from you for so long that you’re practically strangers.

Except you aren’t.

You’re much more than that. The way you reach over and trace a new scar on his brow. Staring at it like it personally offended you. Your touch burns and lingers long after you’ve placed them back in your lap. The look on your face like you’ve possibly crossed some boundary with him. He desperately wants you to touch him again. To leave a mark not unlike his scars.

“I thought he was supposed to heal you?”

It’s evident he’s missed more days with you than he can conceive. He can feel his chest constricting even before the words leave his mouth. “Who?”

“Khonshu.”

The bird looks on from a building high above the street. He’s not sure how you could’ve forgotten that you’re the one who’s supposed to heal them.

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shybunnie20 · 11 months

Text

Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.

Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.

Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual

The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.

When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.

In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”

“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”

“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”

“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”

Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.

Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”

“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”

As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.

Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”

“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.

“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”

Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”

Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”

“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”

“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”

Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.

“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.

“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”

“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.

“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”

He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.

“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”

“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”

“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”

“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.

Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”

Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.

“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”

“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”

Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”

“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache.

“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”

With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”

“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.

“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.

Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”

You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.

You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”

Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”

“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.

The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.

Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.

Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.

“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.”

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.

“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”

Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”

“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”

“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”

Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.”

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”

“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.

“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.

“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”

“Do you want help or not?”

Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.

After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.

Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.

Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”

“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”

“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”

In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.

You unfold it three times.

In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.

It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is.

Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.

That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.

Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.

Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…

You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.

Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.

“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.

“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.

“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.

Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”

Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”

“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”

“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.

“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”

With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”

Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”

“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”

Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.

With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.

You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.

With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.

This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.

It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.

The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.

Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.

With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.

Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.

Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.

To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.

This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.

During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.

After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.

“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.

“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”

“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”

“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”

“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.

“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.

He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.

Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.

Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.

Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”

While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”

“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.

“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.

Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.

Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.

The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.

While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.

In this world of shadows, what else is there to do

Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you

Your haunting beauty tells no lie

The one thing I cannot defy

The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.

As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.

“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”

“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”

“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”

“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

Consider reading From Bar to Billboard, I worked really fucking hard on it 🖤

★My Masterlist

★Tip Jar

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

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cyberneticdreamscape · 3 months

Text

THE TORMENTING DATE

This story can be found as a dedicated page on my blog: Here

This story features a number of kinks, primarily: Exhibition \ NTR

===============================================

I’ve long fantasized of a precious little doll, so enthralled with desire for me that she graciously obeys throughout the day. First, waking her. She sleeps with a remote rabbit in, on, waiting. My own alarm connected to it, so that when I wake, her cunt is teased until she comes to. She is well trained, knowing the first thing she must do is message me good morning, at which point I will turn her alarm off.

Today is a special Saturday. Today is her birthday. I’ve already picked her outfit out for the day. A short pleated skirt. A cute little top. Translucent, dark thigh-high nylons with a garter-belt. An adorable little choker. Her punky little boots. And a small pair of black mesh panties, barely hiding a thing, with a matching bralette. Her nipples are pierced, something that shows through the outfit. As is her belly button, her shirt tied to reveal it. She has showered and dressed, her makeup done. The final step, as I pull up, is to get her outfit all finished up. First, the remote vibe for her already drenched little hole, connected to my phone and ready for use. Second, the gemmed plug, still a little too tight for her little ass, but with the help of lube, she fits it in snugly. Finally, her purse.

The moment she’s in my car, I test to ensure the toy is on, as I greet her. As we drive towards the mall, I ask what she’s brought in her purse. It doesn’t matter what she says, I tell her to stuff it under the chair, she won’t need it, she won’t even need her phone. And in a short while, we’ve arrived.

As we walk through the entrance, my hand on her hip, a smile on her face, she notices two girls waving. Her friends? “Oh, that’s right, I asked them to meet us here as a surprise!” She’s flustered already, they don’t know what she is yet. As she steps up, one of her friends hugs her. “It’s been too long!” They exclaim, even though it’s not even been a month since they last were together. Up goes the toy, and my doll stumbles over her words as she answers.

All day long, shop after shop. Up and down. High and low. Groping her, whispering to her. All while her friends are right there. Up high as she stands at a register to make a purchase. Up higher when she squats to look at a cute object on a low shelf. Wildly fluctuating as the four of us sit in the food court to enjoy lunch. She’s barely able to hold her fork without shaking, and so, I help her eat. As we ate, one of her friends asked, “Do you not have your phone?” “Oh, um… no. Mast… I forgot it in the car.” She nearly admitted that “Master told her she didn’t need it.” Apparently her friend had texted her a question as we ate, but it was something I would not be aware of just yet.

The day progresses like this. Store after store. Hour after hour. And then… While we were in a store with not many others around… Her other friend finally asked allowed. “Are you wearing a vibe? I’ve heard a buzzing here and there but you said you don’t have your phone.” She blushed bright. “It’s okay if you are. I’m sure you would if he asked you.” she said, gesturing towards me. She nodded, face bright red in her hands. Her friends giggled. “Knew it!” one exclaimed before leaning in to whisper, “You’re his good little doll aren’t you.” She froze up. I grabbed her from behind and whispered to her myself, “They know, little one, no need to hide it or lie. Be a good girl and tell them.” But she could barely speak. So she did the only thing her swirling mind could think to, and lifted her skirt for them, letting them see the vibe buzzing in her mesh panties.

By the end of the shopping day, the three were giggling again like nothing had happened. I was happy to see her friends were as understanding as I hoped they would be. But her day was not over yet. And so we departed, her friends going their own way, while I took my doll to her birthday dinner.

At the restaurant, we had a cute waitress, and so I teased my doll every time she came by. So much, in fact, that my “date” couldn’t even order for herself. And so I ordered for her, and apologized that she was “so shy.” Up and down still as we ate. Up and down with each sip of her drink. And eventually, desert time. I ordered us a decadent slice of chocolate cake. The waitress placed it between us, and I nodded to her. She stood and waited as I took a piece in my fork and fed it to my doll. As her lips wrapped around the fork, I pushed the toy as strong as it could go. My little doll began to clench and shiver as she swallowed the piece, cumming in her seat like a good girl. “Good girl.” I whispered softly. “I’m glad to see you enjoy the cake so much.” The waitress said with a smile.

And so we finished, and the check came. I left a very good tip before handing the pen to my little toy and requesting she write a message as well to our server. “Thank you very much for helping me celebrate my birthday. Master hopes that you thoroughly enjoyed watching the orgasm he gave me. I’ve had a remote toy in all night.” We stood, and began walking, right as the waitress read the message. We could hear an “I knew” as we left. And yet… the night was still not done.

A hotel? But the distance home isn’t far. It mattered not. In the room, I bound my doll with rope. Placed a ball gag in her mouth. Replaced the vibrator and plug each with dildos. And then, a knock.

As I open the door, the waitress entered, off her shift, and changed into something more elegant yet revealing. She had been in the know the whole time. And as her birthday gift to my doll, she would be letting me use her over and over, while my doll watched. And so… the night ended. A cute waitress leaking cum. A desperate doll now un-gagged, lapping up my seed from the waitress’ holes. And me sat watching the show.

#cyberneticdreamscape #cyber.txt #cyber.stories #exhibition kink #ntr kink #r@pe k!nk #cnc kink #bd/sm kink #corruption kink #edging kink

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meep-moops-stuff · 4 months

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Sidney Crosby x Reader - Found Father

“You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know / and not invite your family cause they never showed you love”

It was finally winter in Pittsburgh, meaning the temperature was starting to get colder and the snow was starting to fall.

A month had gone by since Sidney paid for y/n’s latte and it ended well. They ended up chatting afterwards about her degree in social work and all she has to study.

Sidney never went to college, so he found it interesting to hear about the true college experience.

Ever since then, and every time Sidney would walk into the cafe, he’d find book girl in her usual corner. He’d always give her a little wave or say a small hello as he’d walk by.

But today had ended differently.

Sidney made his usual order at the cash register and waited for his drink to be made when he saw y/n talking on the phone and she did not look impressed.

He kept his eyes on her as he grabbed his coffee and made his way over to her hair as she hung up and took her glasses off to rub her eyes.

“You ok?” Sidney asked gently.

Y/n looked up and smiled but sighed.

“The stupid power is out at my apartment complex because of the wind and snow. And they won’t get it back on until tomorrow afternoon.” She explained.

Sidney set his drink down and sat in the chair across from her.

“What? So you won’t have any heat? It’s supposed to get really cold tonight” Sidney said with a stern tone.

Book girl put her glasses back on and leaned back in her chair, shutting her laptop as she looked outside.

“Yeah I won’t have any heat tonight.” She mumbled. She watched the snow fall as she began to bounce her knee, trying to figure out what to do.

“Have you asked your parents if you could stay with them?” Sidney asked.

Y/n chuckled and shook her head.

“No. I don’t really talk to my family anymore.” She said softly.

“You can stay with me I have a guest room” Sidney blurted out.

Y/n stopped bouncing her leg and looked at Sidney in surprise.

Sidney’s eyes widened, realizing what he had just said.

Why doesn’t he think before talking sometimes?

He cleared his throat and sat up, trying to figure out how to make things less awkward.

“I didn’t mean that weirdly like you can stay with me. I’d be in my own room obviously and the guest room is like not close to mine so you’d be totally safe” he rambled out.

His face started to get red and he knew this looked bad.

Y/n smiled as she crossed her arms and began to giggle at how awkward Sidney was making this.

“I just made it even more awkward by adding that, didn’t I?”

Y/n nodded and sat up and took a sip of her hot coffee.

Sidney looked at his watch and noticed it was 5pm and the sun would set soon.

“But I did mean it. You can stay at my place in the guest room until your heat is back on. I don’t want you freezing to death” he said softly.

“I’ve known you for maybe three months at this point and you’re just going to offer up your guest room like it’s no big deal?” Y/n asked.

Sidney shrugged and traced circles on his coffee cup.

“Well I think it’s safe to say you aren’t a serial killer based off what I know…so yeah” he said, causing her to smile.

“How do I know you aren’t a serial killer though?” She asked and smiled.

Sidney chuckled and tilted his head to the side.

“That’s true. I could be. But I’m too busy to be one” he said.

She giggled again and cracked her knuckles as she looked back outside to see the sun beginning to set.

“Ok. I’ll take up the offer”

Sidney nodded and set his empty coffee cup back down on the table and cleared his throat.

“Ok do you need a ride? I can drive you to grab some things and then we can head back to my place and-“

Sidney stopped talking as he looked at y/n who was already done packing up her back pack and putting her winter jacket on.

“I have a car. I can drive to yours or follow you” she said softly.

Sidney scratched the back of his head and nodded, forgetting that she was probably able to drive.

“I have extra clothes in my car. I’ll be fine” she added.

Sidney nodded again, not sure of what to say.

“Well are you ready to go?” He asked.

Y/n nodded and smiled as she grabbed her car keys out of her pocket and stood up as Sidney stood up.

“Well after you” he said and gestured towards the door, making her smile.

He walked behind her out the entrance and as soon as the cold air hit his face, everything dawned on him.

He’s really letting her stay in his guest room?

She’s maybe 20 at the oldest. He doesn’t even know her age, just her first name and why she goes to college.

He was joking before about the serial killer comment but what if she is?

And what if she-

“Sid? Are you ok? This is my car”

He was snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the car she was standing at, about to get in.

He nodded and pointed to his car that was a couple cars in front of hers.

“I’ll pull out and you can follow me” he said and smiled.

He turned to walk to his car as he heard y/n shut her car door. He let out a breath he had been holding in and made his way to his car.

As he got into the drivers seat and closed the door, he stared at the steering wheel.

If this was any other person, he would’ve left right away. But something was different when it came to y/n. She seemed different, like she needed help. Some sort of extra support.

Sidney isn’t a parent but he knows when his paternal instincts come in, and when he heard she was be staying in a freezing cold apartment, he couldn’t let that happen.

He finally snapped out of his thoughts and started his car up, making sure y/n was behind him through his review mirror as he pulled away.

#sidney crosby #hockey imagine #pittsburgh penguins #father!sid #found father #sidney crosby x reader

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hyperfixationstati0n · 11 months

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When You Know, You Know (Pt.2)

An: lmk how you feel about this :) Idk where else to go form here as I didn't plan on making multiple parts but if a part 3 is wanted I'll figure it out!!

Pairing: Spencer x bookstore!owner!reader

Content warnings: none really, swears a little, both spencer and reader are still hella awkward

Word count: 875

Part one

I waited and waited for Spencer to come in again. 3 weeks of waiting, actually. I was starting to think I’d scared him off, although I didn’t know how I managed to do that. I was sulking, standing in front of the register with Lennon on a particularly slow day. Rose, the angel that she was, was helping stock books while I attempted to focus my mind and work on packaging online orders.

“I’m just delusional. I scared him off and now he’s never coming back!” I exclaim, earning a sideways look from Rose across the store.

“You can’t scare someone off if you’ve never talked to them,” Lennon says with a laugh. For someone younger than me he was such a bully. (lovingly, of course)

“But I did talk to him. And he knows I hide from him whenever he comes in.”

“Girl, I swear to god if you don’t let me help you find that man’s Instagram or something I will lose my mind. you need to get out of your comfort zone and make a fucking mo-“

The bell chimed. My eyes widened. Lennon shut his mouth as quick as he opened it.

Spencer was standing in my store, standing there with an awkward yet charming smile and a wave. I wave back, feeling my cheeks flush. As soon as he walks down an aisle, talking to Rose, I hit Lennon on the shoulder.

“Go take inventory or something.” I say under my breath.

“Ohh, so you like the register now” He teases, his voice a little louder than I would’ve preferred. I playfully shove him away and try to collect myself. I was going to act natural, I wasn’t going to be weird. I was going to be myself. I told myself he was just another customer, however untrue to me that might be.

Thankfully though, this time around I had more time to prepare what I was going to say, something I needed if I was going to get through a few sentences with him without fumbling my words. He came to the register with a stack of 4 books. Seriously, my curiosity was piqued. How did he read this fast? I noticed this time one of them was a poetry book; ‘Leaves of Grass’ by Walt Whitman. Interesting. I always took note of what people were buying, and obviously, he was at the front of my mind. This selection surprised me.

“You’re not hiding!” He comments. I nod and smile, slightly embarrassed at the fact he had pointed it out.

“It’s very out of character, I know” I was trying to come off as witty, but truthfully I could only pray that what he saw. “so, how are you?”

“I’m great actually. I finally have a day off and decided I could come pick up a few new reads.”

I nodded slowly but the question was still on my mind. I had to know.

“I hope I don’t overstep with this, but do you actually go through books as fast as you’re buying them?”

A smile twitches as his lips, a slight pink tinge covering his cheeks.

“I-yeah, I do. I…read really fast.” His voice seemed a little nervous. I wouldn’t press the matter right now, but it definitely caught my attention.

“I can tell” I chuckle softly, hitting a few buttons on the cash register as I finish ringing up his things. “You definitely bring a lot of business here”

He laughed softly, a sound I could’ve relished in. But my own mind stopped me-I was supposed to be acting normal.

Then the unexpected happened. After he paid for his things with actual small talk from my end-he lingered. For once I was glad we didn’t have much business today, I got to really talk to him. He was kind, and clearly very smart. I found out we actually had a lot of mutual interests. Talking to him was weirdly easy, even if I had this consistent feeling of butterflies in my stomach. But then I heard his phone go off with a text.

“Shoot…I hate to cut our conversation short but I have to go.” He says as he tucks his phone back in his pocket. I nod, albeit a little sadly. I had Lennon's voice in the back of my mind

“Make a fucking move, make a fucking move, make a fucking move…”

It was now or never.

“I was wondering if…maybe, only if you want…do you want to go out for coffee sometime? When you’re not working.”

His eyes widened and I had this temporary moment of fear before his eyes softened and he smiled.

“I would-I would really love that.”

I gestured slightly to his phone.

“Can I give you my number?”

“Oh yeah, yeah! yes, please do” He fumbles to get his phone back out and unlock it, only having one hand to do so as the other was still holding his bag of books.

I put my number in, and we said goodbye, but just as he was about to leave I asked one last thing.

“Spencer?”

He turns and looks at me again, waiting.

“How fast do you really read?”

“20,000 words per minute.”

What have I gotten myself into?

#criminal minds #spencer reid #x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #☆wykyk

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katnissmellarkkk · 10 months

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Collection of introductions of the love interest in a YA series. You can always tell based on how they’re introduced what kind of love interest they’re meant to be.

[ katniss/peeta - hunger games ]

“Peeta Mellark.”

Peeta Mellark!

Oh, no, I think. Not him. Because I recognize this name, although I have never spoken directly to its owner. Peeta Mellark.

No, the odds are not in my favor today.

I watch him as he makes his way toward the stage. Medium height, stocky build, ashy blond hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the moment is registering on his face, you can see his struggle to remain emotionless, but his blue eyes show the alarm I’ve seen so often in prey. Yet he climbs steadily onto the stage and takes his place.

[…]

Why him? I think. Then I try to convince myself it doesn’t matter. Peeta Mellark and I are not friends. Not even neighbors. We don’t speak. Our only real interaction happened years ago. He’s probably forgotten it. But I haven’t and I know I never will…

[ bella/edward - twilight ]

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd turned her down.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.

[ harry/ginny - harry potter ]

“You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?”

“Who?”

“Harry Potter!”

Harry heard the little girl’s voice. “Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please. . . .”

“You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo.”

[ hermione/ron - harry potter ]

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.” She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

“Er — all right.”

[…]

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard — I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

[…]

“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered.

[ tris/four - divergent ]

I have to stand on solid ground again. I see a few hands stretching out to me at the edge of the net, so I grab the first one I can reach and pull myself across. I roll off, and I would have fallen face-first onto a wood floor if he had not caught me.

“He” is the young man attached to the hand I grabbed. He has a spare upper lip and a full lower lip. His eyes are so deep-set that his eyelashes touch the skin under his eyebrows, and they are dark blue, a dreaming, sleeping, waiting color.

[ percy/annabeth - percy jackson ]

“Annabeth?” Mr. Brunner called to the blonde girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. “This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don’t you go check on Percy’s bunk? We’ll be putting him in cabin eleven for now.”

Annabeth said, “Sure, Chiron.”

She was probably my age, maybe a couple of centimeters taller and a whole lot more athletic-looking. With her deep tan skin and her curly blonde hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling grey, like storm clouds; pretty but intimidating too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

She glanced at the Minotaur horn in my hand, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, You killed a Minotaur! or Wow, you’re so awesome! or something like that.

Instead she said, “You drool when you sleep.”

[ thomas/teresa - the maze runner ]

But he had caught a glimpse of her before being blocked off. She was thin, but not too small. Maybe five and a half feet tall, from what he could tell. She looked like she could be fifteen or sixteen years old, and her hair was tar black. But the thing that had really stood out to him was her skin: pale, white as pearls.

[…]

He approached Newt and Alby, who both knelt beside the girl. Thomas, not wanting to meet their stares, concentrated on the girl; despite her paleness, she was really pretty. More than pretty. Beautiful. Silky hair, flawless skin, perfect lips, long legs. It made him sick to think that way about a dead girl, but he couldn’t look away. Won’t be that way for long, he thought with a queasy twist in his stomach. She’ll start rotting soon. He was surprised at having such a morbid thought.

“You know this girl, shank?” Alby asked, sounding ticked off.

Thomas was shocked by the question. “Know her? Of course I don’t know her. I don’t know anyone. Except for you guys.”

“That’s not …,” Alby began, then stopped with a frustrated sigh. “I meant does she look familiar at all? Any kind of feelin’ you’ve seen her before?”

“No. Nothing.” Thomas shifted, looked down at his feet, then back at the girl.

[…]

Thomas’s mind was spinning. He was sure he’d never seen her before—but then the slightest hint of doubt crept into his mind. “I swear she doesn’t look familiar at all,” he said anyway. He’d had enough accusations.

[ clary/jace - the mortal instruments ]

It was Alec who spoke first. “What’s this?” he demanded, looking from Clary to his companions, as if they might know what she was doing there.

“It’s a girl,” Jace said, recovering his composure. “Surely you’ve seen girls before, Alec. Your sister Isabelle is one.” He took a step closer to Clary, squinting as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “A mundie girl,” he said, half to himself. “And she can see us.” “

“Of course I can see you,” Clary said. “I’m not blind, you know.”

“Oh, but you are,” said Jace, bending to pick up his knife. “You just don’t know it.” He straightened up. “You’d better get out of here, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Clary said. “If I do, you’ll kill him.” She pointed at the boy with the blue hair.

“That’s true,” admitted Jace, twirling the knife between his fingers. “What do you care if I kill him or not?”

“Be-because—,” Clary spluttered. “You can’t just go around killing people.”

“You’re right,” said Jace. “You can’t go around killing people.” He pointed at the boy with blue hair, whose eyes were slitted. Clary wondered if he’d fainted. “That’s not a person, little girl. It may look like a person and talk like a person and maybe even bleed like a person. But it’s a monster.”

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just-dino-maggie · 2 years

Note

trevor zegras 61 pls

Thank you for the request!! I hope you enjoy this little imagine!

61. “I thought you knew.”

Trevor Zegras and I have never been friends. We are civil, professional. It’s how it should be. I’m the on the social media team for the Anaheim ducks, I see the guys almost every day. I’ve made good friendships with most of them but Trevor and I never quite meshed.

I was upset about it at first. I thought he was cute and funny, especially around the other guys but around me he shuts down. He so uninterested in me and it’s frustrating. I decided after a little while not to let it get the better of me. I still makes sure I get his good side for all the pictures. I cant leave my girls out to dry. I may not get along with him but it’s easy to see the appeal.

It’s the Ducks media day today which is one of my favorite days of the year. I get to do what I do best. I take some fun behind the scenes videos, I help direct our photographers, and I get to hang out with the guys who have been away all summer.

I check my itinerary and the first person I have to do one on ones with is Trevor. I feel a little nervous but I know Trevor will preform well in front of the cameras.

I get the lighting and the cameras set up early. I make sure there is a comfortable chair for the guys to sit in. Cam Fowler joked about a metal chair being too harsh on his “old man back”. Once all of that is done I read over my questions to make sure I have them on lock.

I wait patiently for Trevor’s call time. He is usually on time but every once in a while he’s late. I try not to worry about it. I fiddle with the sleeves of my sweater and anticipate his arrival.

When I hear the door open I stand, Trevor walks through the door nonchalantly. “Hey Trevor,” I say putting on a bright smile. “You know the drill, do you mind putting this on?” I hand him one of the reverse retros.

He takes off his sweater and I try not to notice the way his undershirt lifts up as he does it. Unfortunately my brain has chosen to take that information and not let it go. “When you’re ready you can sit right here and we can get started.”

We start filming and he’s amazing as usual. He might be my favorite to film. The other guys are awesome behind the scenes but the only time I get to see Trevor be himself is on camera. He let’s loose in some ways because people have come to expect his vibrant personality.

“Trevor that was great! I think we’re all set!” He doesn’t answer me. He just starts grabbing his things and getting ready to head to his next call time. I don’t know why it bugged me so much. His silence just felt dismissive and it hurt. “You are aware that you can be nice to me right? I get that you don’t like me very much but you can at least pretend.”

“I’m not trying to be rude, I just don’t know what to say.” He turns to look at me, “I don’t dislike you.”

I roll my eyes, “Right you don’t dislike me you’re just put off by my presence.”

“I thought you knew.” He says, confusion written on his face.

I throw my hands up in defeat, “You thought I knew what Trevor?”

“About the rule with the interns.” He sighs, “In Highschool I was an idiot and I screwed around with an intern at USA hockey. She ended up being related to a coach and things got complicated. I told myself I would never try anything with an intern ever again. So because I’m attracted to you I stayed away from you.”

I pause for a second trying to register his words in my brain. He has a rule about interns? He’s attached to me? Oh my gosh Trevor Zegras is attracted to me. “I’m not an intern.” I say then I mentally slap myself right after.

He smirks, “You’re right, you aren’t an intern and you definitely aren’t coaches’ niece. Maybe I should stop treating you like you are.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Maybe we could be friends?”

He smiles, “Yeah something like that… I’ll see you after the shoot?”

I nod then I wave him out the door. I can feel the blush on my cheeks and the smile on my face. I don’t even care because Trevor might really like me after all.

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #nhl imagine #anaheim ducks #cam fowler #jack hughes #usa hockey #usntdp

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obsidiancreates · 9 months

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Sid's In Psych Lolz (Existential Horror For The Main Cast Though)

Buzz carefully balances Detective Lassiter’s coffee, a danish for Detective Juliet, and two chocolate croissants in case Shawn and Gus show up today in one hand as he fumbles to put his wallet away with the other. It’s a bright, beautiful day in Santa Barbara, which likely means some kind of murder or major heist is well underway. Sometimes it seems like the more picturesque the day is, the more wild it’ll be.

He gets some good evidence for that theory when he narrowly avoids bumping into a frantic-eyed, shaking young woman. She looks up at him, and her eyes glaze over entirely as her jaw drops.

“Whoa, miss, are you okay?” Buzz is barely done saving his coffee shop goods when he moves his hand to her shoulder, reaching down about as much as he’d have to with Shawn or Gus. She’s young, probably late teens or early twenties, and so pale he assumes she must be a tourist. Her face is stuck as that of shock, but waving a hand in front of her face he’s not sure anyone’s home to reset the breaker.

“Miss, can you hear me? My name is Buzz McNab-”

A shaky, squeak-like laugh escapes her.

Buzz’s concern worsens when he notices she’s favoring her right side, and her lip is busted open. But given the state of her arm, scrapped up and dotted with rocks, he’s pretty sure she got it all from falling on her side. “Hey, are you in danger? I’m with the SBPD-”

She wavers like she’s about to pass out- and then she does.

Buzz hopes, as he catches her, that Detective Lassiter won’t mind the lack of coffee when he comes in with a wounded Jane Doe instead.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This better not be another international thief or forger,” Gus warns as he parks.

“Gus, it’s not even in the top five possibilities here,” Shawn assures as he gets out. “Chief said the girl is pretty much incoherent.”

“So what’re we supposed to do?”

“Psychically translate her ramblings, that’s what.” Shawn waits for a fistbump that never comes. “Come on! It’ll be easy, I just need you in there checking for signs of drugs while I check for signs of lying or just plain being bananas. Oh, there’s Buzz with her bag!” Shawn jogs over to Buzz, who’s registering the bag for evidence. “Buzz, my good man! Chief called us in for the uh, rambling girl.”

“Oh, good.” Buzz is visibly relieved. “I’m actually the one who found her. She’s in pretty bad shape.”

“How bad?”

“Looks like she fell onto a road or something, and when I spoke to her she went completely blank! When she came to on the ride here she started asking me if she’s really in Santa Barbara and if I’m the real Buzz McNab.”

“Huh.” Shawn shares a look with Gus, both thinking the same thing: possible kidnapping escapee. “Mind if I get a reading on her bag there before I go talk to her? It might help me get a clearer image for whatever she’s saying.”

“Sure.” Buzz hands it over easily. “Just, make sure to hand it over to the evidence guys when you’re done, and don’t take anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, man.” Shawn takes the bag over to a bench by the wall and starts rifling through it.

“Careful, Shawn. If she actually got kidnapped, this stuff might be all she’s got left.”

“I know that, Gus, I’m being careful. … Dude, there’s three different books in here. Chief said she’s like, twenty-something, but she’s carrying around The Hobbit? … And a box of safety pins?”

“Safety pins?”

“Yeah, and look at this. What kind of phone even uses a charger like… whoa.” Shawn pulls the phone in question out. “Dude, it’s a smartphone that folds!”

“What?!” Gus snaps to attention at that, sitting next to Shawn and reaching for it. “How is that- it has two camera lenses?!”

“And check out that power button, it’s totally flat against the side of the phone. Maybe she was in the tech industry before she ended up here.” Shawn keeps digging. “Lip glosses, a bunch of surgical masks? Ha, jackpot!”

He pulls out a plain black wallet and opens it up. “ID right in the top, sweet! Looks like our Jane Doe is…”

His brows pinch. He slides the ID out of it’s clear holder and reads it again. “... Definitely not, a real ID.”

“Why not?” Gus leans in to look at it. Shawn faces Gus, and flicks the ID card around.

“Because it says she was born six years ago.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, how’s it looking in there?” Shawn asks Jules as he gets his first look at the girl in question. Given the likely fake nature of the ID, he’s not sure he should think of her as the name on it quite yet.

“Not great,” Jules sighs. “She’s saying the same things over and over.”

“No, I’m serious,” the girl in the room insists. Shawn zeros in on two things even through the glass- the girl’s leg won’t stop shaking under the table, and she’s picking at the skin around her fingernails. Could be signs of lying, but given her circumstances it could just as easily be from drug side effects or some kind of mental illness or trauma.

“I understand you believe what you’re saying,” Lassiter says to her, “But-”

“Please, I’d like to talk to Shawn Spencer, he’ll believe me, he’ll know I’m telling the truth here.”

“Whoa whoa, Chief never mentioned her asking for me by name.”

“She just started a few minutes ago- Shawn, she’s very unwell. She…” Jules takes a deep breath and shrugs. “She’s saying she’s from 2023, in a different world.”

Gus looks in at the girl with new concern. “So she’s delusional? Shouldn’t we be handing her off to a hospital?”

“Not until we’re sure about her identity. Shawn, if you can glean anything about who she actually is-”

“Don’t worry Jules, I’ve got this.” Shawn taps on the window. “LASSIE! I’LL TAKE OVER HERE, BUDDY!”

Lassiter startles a little at the knock and shout, but gets up with surprisingly little of his usual grumbling.

“She’s all yours, Spencer,” he says as they swap places.

The girl visibly relaxes when Shawn and Gus step into the room, though the shaking leg and picking don’t stop. Shawn also notices she’s chewing the inside of her mouth non-stop, and her eyes are darting all around- again, he’s not sure if it’s a sign of lying or of serious mental issues. He and Gus sit down, and the girl smiles at them.

“Hi. My name is Shawn Spencer, Psychic Detective,” Shawn starts, using a more delicate voice than usual- this girl is pale and her face is somewhat gaunt. She’s not starving looking, but she’s thin and has little to no muscle, meaning either a lazy lifestyle and good metabolism, or, given the kidnapping theory, being forced not to move for a long, long time. She’s clean, though, save for the split lip and bits of road dirt smeared on her arm still. Her clothes are nice too- new, or at least seldom worn. Her shirt is for a band he thinks he’s seen on MTV before that weren’t really his preference, My Chemical Romance, and he’d guess she’s worn it less than ten times given how new it looks. She’s got a cheap choker on, fake leather with plastic spikes and a little bedazzled heart in the center. She wants to look edgy, and he respects the effort, but the lack of makeup puts her at odds with the now fading-out trend for the style she’s clearly emulating.

It’s also a little at odds with the large, practical, and very green backpack, and the contents inside. The lipglosses were clear and a very light brown, and there was no eyeliner or nail polish in sight. The books weren’t what he’d expect from someone dressing like this either- The Hobbit is old and pretty far on the nerd-reading scale for someone not in school, even for Gus, and the other two books were some kind of sci-fi- The Murderbot Diaries, which would’ve worried him if Gus hadn’t read the first few pages while Shawn went through the extra pockets and realized the name was a sort of joke and the robot actually didn’t like to murder.

All of these thoughts and details run through Shawn’s mind in a couple of seconds at most, but the way the girl looks at him is almost like she knows what he’s thinking- or knows how he’s thinking. It’s something expectant, maybe even excited.

Then again, apparently she’s heard of him, so she’s probably just excited to see him ‘having a psychic episode’.“This is my partner, Baggins Screwloose.”

Her smile widens. “You went through my bag.”

“No, nothing like that-”

“You did, you saw my books, which means you saw my ID.” She leans forward. “Don’t call me that though, the name, call me Sid instead. If I have to be Isekai’d into one of my comfort shows, I want to be called by my online name. Just in case.”

“Uh, Shawn?” Gus whispers into Shawn’s ear from such a close proximity that literally anyone other than Gus would get slapped away for it on pure instinct. “I think she’s just crazy.”

Shawn gives a little nod, but doesn’t say anything. He turns back to… Sid. “So the ID isn’t your real one, then?”

“No, it is.”

“... You… realize it says you’re from the future.”

“Not your future, though. Well, maybe. I don’t know, the movies haven’t gone past 2019 yet- I mean the Monk movie did apparently so since it’s the same universe I guess the pandemic is canon to your future too but-”

“Let’s, slow down.” Shown puts his hands up and smiles at her. “Uh, movies? Comfort show? I mean I’m flattered, really, but uh, I’m no movie star.”

“Oh, yeah, getting ahead of myself. Sorry, I’m excited, and I’m a fellow ADHDer, ha.”

Shawn’s smile drops a little. How does she know- no, she probably guessed from some article describing him. He’s not exactly hiding it, after all.

“Okay so basically, I’m from a world where you guys are a TV show!” She says it so brightly, so confidently. Shawn’s almost certain she’s got brain damage now. “Called Psych, ran from 2006 to 2014, with three movies currently out and a fourth waiting to be started and hopefully many more after that!”

“Really?” Shawn looks at the glass, giving the detectives behind it a ‘You couldn’t have warned me about this?’ look before looking back at Sid. “So uh, this show is about me and Gus and our agency?”

“Yes, and Jules and Lassie too, and your dad shows up a lot- no offense but I fucking hate him.”

“M-my dad?” Shawn laughs. He’s not going through something like this again, not just a few months after Yang. “Alright, what’s the game here?”

“None! I can prove that you’re a TV show. I can tell you stuff that no-one, not even Yang or the world’s best detectives, could tell you about your past.” Sid grins like she hasn’t just said the most terrifying sentence in the world.

“Shawn, we need to leave,” Gus says, already standing up. “Thank you for your time, Miss Delusional Woman, but-”

“The hat game.” Sid’s eyes are locked with Shawn’s. “I know about the hat game, and he wouldn’t let you get the cake unless you succeed at it. I know about the doghouse, the one he made you complete years later and then you gave him your neighbor’s dog just to ruffle his feathers for it. I know that you and Gus got into a fight over Battleship one time because you were cheating by not putting out any of your boats, so your stupid dad made you play with one less piece for a month. These were all cold-open flashbacks at the beginning of the episodes, a formula the show followed for years. A flashback to your childhood, usually involving Gus and always involving your dad and some lesson he wanted to teach you, and then the main plot which was somehow related! Like how in the one where you went to find the missing kid at the ComicCon type thing, the flashback was to how your dad was a total asshole about you wanting to read comic books and put you off them until adulthood-”

Shawn stands up, his chair scraping back, as Gus stares at the girl in unabashed terror. Shawn levels a finger at her. “You’re working with Yang, or-or you talked to my dad or my mom-”

“You totally gaslit George Takai in that episode,” she presses on, “And Jules said she also collects comics and stuff! And-and I know about Jules and Lassie too of course- OH! That bar! For the-the astrologist murder case! You met Lassie at that bar, and he said to you while drunk, and I quote, ‘You astound me.’ And then he denied it afterwards until the very end of the episode, and then you repeated it back to him!”

Shawn hears Lassie yelling for McNab and The Chief in the other room, but his head is spinning too much to care. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m from another world where you’re the main character of a TV show that I adore, and I don’t know how I got here. I-I’m not even in the right year- I’m guessing this is around 2009? It’s season four for sure, because to be frank that’s your hottest season and you’re smokin’ right now, but also that jacket-”

“Shawn, we need to go.” Gus pulls on his arm. “She’s crazy!”

Sid stands up. She’s as tall as both of them, slightly taller with her boots. “I’m telling the truth! I’m not a stalker, I’m not working with Yang, and I’m not going to hurt anyone! I promise, I’m telling the truth!”

She is, she is, the nervousness has disappeared and her voice is steady and she’s making direct eye contact and nothing about her says she’s lying and even more she’s saying things she’d have no possible way of knowing otherwise.

“Okay.” Shawn purses his mouth, and then looks at the one-way glass. He knows, just intuitively after looking, that Jules and Lassie are gone and no-one replaced them. It’s just him, Gus, and this girl. He puts his hands on the table and leans in close. “Okay. Answer one thing, and I’ll believe you.”

Sid nods. “Shoot. Not literally, though, please, I also know you’re like, literally a perfect shot.”

“... Am I psychic?”

She blinks, and tilts her head like she’s thinking deeply. “Well, no, if we go by spoken canon. You started claiming to be psychic because you called in a tip while hooking up with a girl, and then Lassie brought you in because he said the shop owner had a partner and they suspected you because of how good your information was, quote, ‘So good it could only come from inside,’ end quote. But when you tried to say you call in tips all the time Lassie listed your job history and the car theft, and refused to believe you, and was about to send you to a cell. Then the lady from the front desk walked in to book you, and she was decked out in spiritual stuff so you got the idea and solidified your claim by telling them about the guy with the tail light shards in his boot, which of course you actually met him while waiting to be interrogated and-”

“Oh my god.” Shawn stands up from leaning on the table and wipes his hand down his mouth. “Oh my god, Gus, she’s real.”

“What?!”

“That’s what happened, there’s no way she could know that’s what happened!”

“She could’ve been here when you got arrested!”

“What, in the interrogation room?!”

“He came to see you at work after,” Sid presses on, looking at Gus now. “He caught you playing games on your computer, and told you that you two were starting a private detective agency, and you told him you were never going along with him again, you learned that at the Mexican border- twice!”

Gus’s eyes go half-lidded, and he looks like he might faint. “Oh… my god! Oh my god!”

“When am I in the season, though? What was your last case? I gotta know, there’s stuff I want to make sure I avoid-”

“Uh, I think- our last case was-was Gus had this girlfriend who liked extreme-”

“Ah, the Ruby thing! Okay, so like, mid season four, which means… ah, shit, the outbreak episode. I already live in a gosh-damn global pandemic, I’m keeping my fucking distance when that happens, okay?”

“You live in- what?”

“Mr. Spencer, out of the way,” The Chief says as soon as the door opens, Lassiter and Jules right behind her. “We’re putting this Jane Doe into custody until-”

“No, Chief!” Shawn shakes his head. “No, she’s- well.” He looks at Sid, who smiles so earnestly at him. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Oh, come on, Spencer.” Lassiter walks further in with handcuffs. “You’ve jumped on some wacky trains before, but this is-”

“What do I have to say to convince you, Lassie?” Sid looks at Shawn. “I can say the interrogation thing again, just, you know, his parts.”

“What interroga-”

“When you first met Shawn and he claimed to be psychic, after you booked him for a… I think radio store robbery, that you thought he was involved in. You were chewing gum the whole time, and you futzed with your then romantic and force partner’s ponytail even while interrogating Shawn.”

Lassiter’s face goes from annoyed to enraged in a second. “How the hell do you-”

“You and Chief Vick were on the way to a conference thing when her water broke, and you asked her to move your briefcase because it’s leather and you hadn’t scotchguarded it! And then you put up your siren on your car!”

Chief Vick is dumbstruck for a moment, mouth agape. Sid turns to her unnervingly knowing gaze to Jules. “And-and you have a boyfriend you’re planning on meeting at a train station sometime soon, you guys agreed to meet up on a specific day and time, and he gave you a figurine from a set, and your brother is a secret operative who you had to arrest-”

“Shawn, who is she?” Jules takes a step back. “Is she psychic too?”

“No such thing,” Lassiter growls.

“I’m naming moments from a TV show,” she stresses. “And if you give me my phone I can even show you the show! Not-not the whole thing, because- I mean, well- I’ll show you clip compilations on YouTube! I’ll play the title song! I’ll show you the actor’s IMDB pages, Gus’s actor was on Broadway and drama shows and Lassie’s actor was in this great musical fantasy show called Galavant and Jules was in a Hallmark movie one time-”

“This is utter bull!” Lassie shoves Shawn away and goes to cuff Sid.

“You couldn’t keep up with Henry while the two of you were tracking Shawn after he got shot, and you said ‘It’s steroids, isn’t it? I knew it, you’re juicing aren’t you?’ right before you both came across the gas station-”

“You have the right to remain silent and I highly suggest you embrace it before you say anything even more incriminating-”

“None of you have ever seen Chief Vick’s husband! Shawn keeps a packet of Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo in his wallet! Lassie once brought a Wii over to Jule’s house for her nephew’s to play with and-and he put baby Jesus in a shot glass! Chief Vick has a sister and Shawn and Gus found out because her sister pulled their boat over and the two got into an argument!”

“SHUT-”

“DETECTIVE LASSITER!”

Everything freezes.

Chief Vick, visibly shaken, holds her hand up. “Uncuff her.”

“Chief, she’s clearly unsta-!”

“Uncuff. Her.”

Lassiter shuts his mouth, and for a second it looks like he might not do it.

And then he looks down, and reluctantly removes the cuffs.

“Alright, Miss Sid.” Chief Vick has a dangerous look in her eye. “You say you can prove it using your phone, fine. You have one chance to prove it to us. But if you can’t, you are going in the holding cells, and we will have you put in a psychiatric facility if you are lucky.”

Sid nods. “I promise, I won’t spill anymore secrets once everyone believes me.” She makes eye contact with Shawn again. “Especially important ones.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her phone is weird.

They’re all gathered in the interrogation room, Sid’s backpack on the table in front of them and her phone in her hands. She unlocks it using her thumbprint, and the apps on the screen are just… weird-looking. And her YouTube app is even weirder, just flooded with ads and weird video suggestions and truly looking like an app from another world.

She pulls up the searchbar and, quicker than anyone else in the room is capable of typing on a phone, types in Psych.

The very first suggested result is Psych Gus Running Away. She clicks on it.

A whole page of results that are, undeniably, the faces of the group around her come up. She clicks on the very first result, a short video marked as being uploaded 11 years prior, and it shows Gus, on the very first case he and Shawn worked for the SBPD, running out of the cabin they’d been investigating, screaming, as Chief Vick reacts.

“Bam!” Sid looks up, around at the whole group. “I can show more. Oh, like this one!”

She’s already gone back to the initial page, and she clicks on a video uploaded by a channel named Psych Compilations called Psych: Shawn vs Gus Running Compilation. The very first clip is of Shawn running into the Psych office during the Yang case.

“Stop.” Chief Vick puts her hand over the phone. “I don’t think any of us need to see any more.”

She looks a little ill. So does Gus, to a much more intense degree. Jules is completely speechless, and Lassiter looks angry as he realizes what and how much of his life has been viewed as entertainment by strangers in some other world. Shawn… is surprisingly unreadable. Staring at the phone, probably running a thousand different trains of thought all at once.

Sid looks between them all. “... Anyone want to hear the theme song?”

“No,” Gus says at the same time that Shawn says “Yes.”

“I’ll go with Shawn’s answer. Since he’s like, the main guy.”

“Like his ego needs any more inflating,” Lassiter grumbles, but it’s missing it’s usual bite as Sid pulls up a lyric video for what is, apparently, the theme song of their very lives.

In between the lines, there's a lot of obscurity.

I'm not inclined to resign to maturity.

If it's all right, then you're all wrong,

But why bounce around to the same damn song?

You'd rather run when you can’t crawl...

She pauses the song. “Thoughts so far?”

“I got to admit, it’s pretty good.” Shawn looks at Gus, who still looks like he might pass out, but nods, still bopping a little.

“Even your theme song says you're immature,” Lassiter notes.

“I’m proud of that, Lassie.”

I know, you know, that I'm not telling the truth.

I know, you know, they just don't have any proof.

Embrace the deception, learn how to bend,

Your worst inhibitions tend to PSYCH you out in the end!

Sid pauses it again. Shawn laughs a little nervously.

“Not telling the truth that’s- I don’t lie about my investigations, guys, come on.”

“Really, Spencer? Because you were just agreeing with that theme song.”

“Who knows how different the TV show is from our lives, guys. And who says the-the theme song has anything to do with the show anyway? I mean, lots of shows have theme songs that are totally off the mark, like uh-”

“It says embrace the deception, guys,” Sid pipes up. “Embrace. Allow. Trust me, y’all need it.”

“What is that supposed to-”

“You know, Lassie. You know.”

“Chief-”

“Still can’t arrest her, Detective. … Yet.”

Sid shrugs. “This next part isn’t in the show at all, we only know it from live playings of the song- the creator of the show wrote and sang it with his own band!”

In the realm of compliments, there isn't any higher than

A fabricated misdirection fashioned by a liar.

You think you hate all that you love,

Acting so surprised when it fits you like a glove.

“Wow. This song is making you out to be a way better liar than you are.” Gus looks at Shawn. “Maybe the show isn’t that accurate.”

“I don’t know, early seasons Shawn was pretty snake-like,” Sid says casually. “I mean, in a good way.”

“A good way?” Jules looks at Shawn. “Shawn, why is this song all about you being a liar and manipulator?”

“I-” Shawn looks down at Sid. “What the hell are you trying to do to me, man? Turn everyone against me?!”

“Shawn isn’t a bad guy,” Sid assures. “He just… exaggerates a lot. You guys know that, I mean, has he ever even introduced Gus as his own name, or given an honest answer to a non-case-related question? No, because he’s eccentric, and a little unhinged. I should show you his reaction to Henry getting shot and almost dying.”

“Sorry to what? You’re-you’re joking, right?”

“Nope, it’s my favorite episode- even though by then you’re a complete idiot.”

“I- wh- I’m not an- you can’t just say things like that and move on-!”

“I can and I will, UNPAUSE!”

You want to find the answers then I offer a solution

Everyone has got a dose of healthy disillusion

If it's a game yeah, they wanna play

You better load the dice cause they'll do it anyway, but...

You'd rather run when you can't crawl...

“Okay, Chief, this theme song is clearly alluding to Spencer lying about his ‘psychic abilities’, you can’t deny that.”

“No, no, Shawn is definitely psychic,” Sid says. “I can point to a lot of moments in the show that prove it. But he’s also a literal genius detective who will mix his psychic stuff with his actual deductions and pretend it’s just all psychic because it’s more fun that way.”

Vick, Lassiter, and Jules all look at Shawn. He laughs a little.

“She’s- no, trust me, it’s all psychic.”

Sid looks at Jules. “Remembering retracing Shawn’s steps when he got shot? And how he got a hundred percent on the detective’s exam at age fifteen? And the times he forgot to brush off deductions as minor psychic visions? He’s both! Genuinely!”

Jules looks at Shawn, her mouth hanging open a little bit. “Oh my god-”

“I think I hate you,” Shawn says to Sid.

“You hate that you’re smart because Henry tortured you for it. Own it, Shawn, own it now before it all goes away and you become a bumbling idiot who lucks into all your solves! Don’t become seasons six through eight Shawn, I’m begging you! God, you’re so fucking stupid in the later seasons, so stupid… and it’s already begun, the decline…”

“Whoa! Wha- one minute you’re praising me as a genius, the next you’re calling me an idiot?”

“You become an idiot later. God… season eight… I’m shuddering, look at me. The show is still absolutely hilarious and creative and wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but… your brain, it became mush…”

“Hang on, hilarious?” Lassiter glares at her. “Are you telling me… that the show we are in-” he gestures between him, Jules, and Chief Vick, “-is a comedy?”

“Yeah. Psych is a comedic crime show, heavy focus on the comedy.”

“We catch murderers.”

“There’s dramatic episodes and elements, yes. But it’s mostly a comedy.”

“We are serious police officers!”

“Yeah… lots of copaganda, unfortunately, and the 2000’s nature produces some questionable lines and plots, so the show for sure needs to have a critical eye applied to it at times… but mostly it’s fun!”

“Fun?!”

“I’d offer to show you an episode to prove it being a comedy but, well, for certain reasons I can’t do that. I can show clips of funny moments though! I have lots of compilations and specific moments and stuff I can show you, since my phone somehow has data and a connection to all the stuff from my world and time- should I show you Psych fanfic? No, probably not, I think that’d cause a lot of fighting. I can show you the clips though- oh, and cast interviews! And clips from Galavant and from the movies and-”

“Just finish the song!”

“Oh, yeah.”

I know, you know, that I'm not telling the truth.

I know, you know, they just don't have any proof.

Embrace the deception, learn how to bend,

Your worst inhibitions tend to PSYCH you out in the end.

I know, you know.

The room is silent for a moment.

“Alright.” Chief Vick is the first to shake off the ordeal. “Well, we… we’ll arrange for somewhere for you to stays, Miss-”

“Obsidian if you’re using Miss, please. Sid otherwise.”

“... Miss Obsidian. Clearly, something… completely beyond us is happening here, and I think it’s in our best interest to keep a close eye on you.”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s usually how this sort of thing works.”

“... Right. I’ll be arranging for a watch at the place of residence we give you, and Mr. Spencer, I want you to find out what you can about this… reality… situation. It seems in your wheelhouse.”

“I uh… I’ll try, Chief.” Shawn is looking at Sid with some confusion. “On that note, could I speak with her alone for a second?”

“If you take her out of my office, absolutely. In fact, take her back to your office until I arrange her accommodations. She’s… well, she’s unsettling to have around the station.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn waits until they’re in the car to turn to Sid with an undeniable and uncharacteristic scowl. “What the hell was that with the theme song?! You said you wouldn’t get me caught!”

“I didn’t!”

“You told them I’m a genius detective!”

“You are!”

“And telling them you can show them proof he’s psychic was way too far,” Gus snaps. “If your show is real, all it’ll do is get us arrested!”

“I do have real psychic moments to show them! It’s actually a pretty popular fan theory, that Shawn is a real psychic and just unaware of it-”

“Oh my god.” Shawn stops facing her in the backseat, turning back around to look out the front windshield. “Now you’re being absurd.”

“I’ll show you the damn clips too! I’ll show everyone!”

“No! No, I am not learning about other realities and-and being a TV character and then also learning I’m a real psychic in the same day!”

“We can wait until tomorrow.”

“You! Are being completely insensitive and hostile about this whole thing!”

“It spiraled out of my control!”

“So far out of your control you have to call me an idiot?”

“Hey, you have the potential to become one if you aren’t careful! I’ll show you a damn season eight episode so you understand my panic, if I must!”

“No! No episodes, no theme songs, no clipshows! We’re taking you to our office, you’re sitting on our couch, and you’re going to let Gus and I figure out what the hell this all means while you just, sit there!”

“... Alright. That’s fair.”

“Yes, it is.”

“... But if Henry comes by I’m going to punch him without remorse.”

“... Not in his face.”

“Fine. His arm. I’m going to aim to bruise.”

Gus looks at her in the mirror. “How bad does the show portray him?”

“If I didn’t know it would drive Shawn into an unhinged state of revenge and sleepless obsession, I’d kill him with my own two hands.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah it’s not good.”

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #psych tv #psych the tv show #psych the show #psychfic #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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the-wales-5 · 7 months

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"Crazy for this girl" (Chapter 5)

William was overthinking all those small moments such as Middleton helping him with writing a painting interpretation, letting him compare his most important notes with hers, fun they had during Raisin Weekend and now also that simple conversation they had about Chile, sports, and nature. It all replayed in his mind for hours. Being in a relationship and having thoughts about someone else was a thing he thought he’d never experience.

The moment he woke up the next morning and noticed Catherine’s pen on the bedside table, he felt uncontrollable and inexplicable frustration. He avoided having breakfast with his friends, then checked his schedule and found out that he’ll have eight hours of classes and seminars that day. “It can not get any worse than this” he thought, feeling that tiredness mixed with confusion won’t let him focus on that stuff. Despite that, he went on with his morning routine. Right before closing the door, he took a blue pen from the table. “No smiles or conversations” he planned his next meeting with Catherine Middleton meticulously “I'd just give her the pen, and everything will be normal again”.

Due to oversleep, Catherine did not attend the first class that day. Rupert wanted her to take a day off and go on a trip with him. She rejected that offer, but her boyfriend insisted on helping her reach the university building.

Right there, Kate noticed William who just went outside during a break between classes.

“Is that actually him?” Finch asked “I thought he’d be hiding in his room when free”

“He’s not as antisocial as you are and your boys from The Poker Team, it seems” Catherine teased her boyfriend, laughing

“It was not a funny joke, Katie,” he said.

Right at the same moment, Carley approached William. “You seem cross about something, Willy” she said “Look at me”

“We need to talk about something. I am organising a party in a few days, and my question is if you are going to attend. It would be amazing if you do, you know?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Carley said as she put her hands around his neck “I thought you would invite me first” she said and almost kissed him, but William pulled himself away and began to search for a notebook.

“What’s the matter?” she asked

“I’m just searching for something” he murmured, and Catherine's blue pen fell off onto the ground at the same moment.

“This perhaps?” Carley picked it up, feeling perplexed “This isn't yours. I gave you a more expensive one three weeks ago. Don’t tell me you’ve lost it somewhere and replaced it with a cheap one from a shop”

“No. It belongs to Kate” William almost snatched it from his girlfriend's hand

“Kate? The beautiful one?” She sneered

“We're on the same course. I was writing a list of people attending the party, so I had to borrow a pen from her and..” . At that same moment, he noticed Catherine and called her name. “I forgot to give it to you yesterday”

Middleton said with a tiny smile, “Oh, I've got another pen. You could keep it” and walked off. William turned his eyes towards Carley, who said “You seemed nervous. Why is that?”

“It is not true. I am simply trying to focus on things needed for today's classes. It'll be a long day for me, but we can meet with one another in the early evening” he said and kissed Carley on the lips.

He escaped the class an hour earlier than planned in the schedule. Fergus followed him and asked him a question that the prince did not actually register in his mind.

“Steve! Are you still here?” Boyd waved in front of the prince's face to get his attention.

“Yes? What is your problem?”

“It is not really mine, but yours as you seemed to be disoriented by half of the day and left earlier than you should, Steve”

“I do not think it matters to someone apart from you” He pulled out his phone

“I am just trying to tell you that your professor might have an interest in that, you know”

William dismissed these words.

Carley got a text message from her boyfriend asking her to come to his room almost at the same moment. She was suspicious but soon excited to have intimate time with him, too, and her assumptions turned out to be right.

In the afternoon, Catherine finally could talk about her observations on William with Olivia while they both were at the restaurant before Middleton's shift “Don’t you think that there’s something wrong with him?”

“Why do you think so?”

“He seemed unsettled today, as if he didn’t want to be there”

“You know how this stuff works, right? It’s all boring sometimes, and not every day is full of enjoyment, right? He just had it tough today, I guess. There's nothing wrong with that”.

Catherine chuckled a little bit “Yes, but to be completely honest with you, I grew confused when he was ignoring everything, even when we were supposed to work on a sketch interpretation along with two other students”

“And I assume that you are just overthinking”

“He ruined this presentation with his apathy!”

“Oh, stop it. I repeat that you're overthinking. You know what he went through”

“Yes, and I know how it affects a person. I am studying psychology too, remember? Am I over-dramatic? Rupert told me exactly the same thing earlier” she sighed

“Is it a unique day when I agree with Finch for the first time ever? Unbelievable! “.

They both laughed, and Catherine carried on her work.

“Why are you acting so weird?” was Carley’s first question when she met with William for the third time in the evening.

“What do you mean?” He sighed

“This. Exactly this. Your annoyance at each word I say. Our meetings are now sporadic, full of tension”

“We're just a step away from Martinmas exams”

“This is not a clever excuse”

“This is not an excuse at all, Carley. This is our reality right now”

“And because of that reality, we are separated most of the time!”

“Are we? We've met one another three times today alone”

“It comes to me as a surprise. Last week, we barely met one another because you closed yourself in your room to concentrate on your studies. Isn't it outrageous that you prefer to spend time alone rather than with your girlfriend?"

“Perhaps, but I swear that there is no other reason than my studies and the necessary planning that goes into our relationship”

“And hence there's no stability either!”

“I am truly sorry for ignoring you as you put it, but I promise that we'll figure it out together.

“How? When?”

“Tomorrow. We can arrange our meetings for the next two weeks”

“Why tomorrow? Why not today?”

“I have some other plans for now. A list to that party that I planned to be in two weeks is still open yet, by the way”

“Oh, is that an official invitation for me?”

“You may treat it as one” William said quickly and put his lips on Carley's in a passionate kiss right then.

Chapter 6

#royal fanfiction #crazy for this girl #chapter 5 #st andrews university themed stories #prince william #catherine middleton #2000s #st andrews university #fife #st salvator's hall #st andrews #scotland #kate x william #♡#stories #text post #tags

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luna-writes-stuff · 2 years

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Day 3: Hey Stephen, Steven Grant

Song link

Fanfic, gn!reader

Fluff

Word count: 3263

Tw: Steven being his own anxious self, mutual pining (I'm a slut for those), first date.

Summary: Steven has been fawning all over you since the day you met. And you have been dropping hints all over to confirm that you liked him too. But he was oblivious. And a raging ball of anxiety. At least, that was, until one car ride home.

"Hey Stephen, I know looks can be deceiving But I know I saw a light in you."

Wave, greet, smile, stutter, turn around so she can’t see your goofy smile.

Five steps Steven followed religiously when you would pass him in the halls. You had worked at the museum months before Steven had, switching from area to area, but regardless of your current line of duty, you would always walk past him. And even after all this time, he felt his entire face heat up when his eyes met yours.

Unbeknownst to him, you had picked this route on purpose; you could have walked ten other halls, but this was the one you would always visit. Steven had left an impression since his first working day. He had a lot to tell about the museum itself, and its attributes - regardless of working behind a register -, he had been twice as friendly as your usual museum staff, and he had this adorable habit of falling over his words when you would initiate a talk with him.

It was not difficult to like him.

And for him, you were not difficult to like either.

"And as we walked we would talk And I didn't say half the things I wanted to."

“Hey, Steven,” You greeted as you let your arm rest against the counter.

From below the register, you heard a rough thud, followed by a groan, and a disgruntled face.

“Hey-hey,” He stuttered, rubbing the back of his head as he rose from his spot. “How are you?”

You smiled at him, voicing a ‘good’, before grabbing a pen from the cup filled with writing utensils, and laying it on the counter. Steven merely stared at it, unsure of what you meant by it.

“Two forty, correct?” You pointed out, drawing your card from your pocket.

He could feel his ears heating up upon realizing that you wanted to purchase the pen. From a museum gift shop. Where he worked behind the register. Fumbling with the keys of the system, he scanned the pen, nodding at your earlier question.

You paid the pen, putting it in the pocket of your shirt, waving of Steven’s offer for the receipt.

“I don’t think I will return it,” You mused through another smile. “It was merely a reason to see you again.”

And with these words, you walked out of the shop, sending a wave over your shoulder. Steven simply stood there, unsure of what to say or do. He watched you leave, the ghost of a smile on his lips. And then his cheeks warmed up again. And he turned around, before you were to walk back at catch his stupid grin.

"Of all the girls tossing rocks at your window I'll be the one waiting there even when it's cold."

It wasn’t until the end of his shift that he would see you again. He was helping a customer with a notebook and a snow globe, you being the next person in line. But he hadn’t seen you yet.

The girl in front of him kept chatting about her terrible ex-boyfriend, and how she had so desperately hoped to find her new partner in a museum. Steven, bless his heart, had tried to comfort her by telling her that perhaps she would still meet that special person today, and she had taken it the wrong way. For now, she was fawning all over him, her arms both on the counter as she kept leaning forward, until Steven could swear she’d fall on his side if her arms were to give out.

You patiently waited behind them, silently laughing to yourself at Steven’s more than uncomfortable face. A tiny snicker escaped you whatsoever, drawing the attention of your friend behind the counter, who shot you a helpless look.

"Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing I don't always have to be alone."

“Can I pay for this book?” You spoke up, trying to wipe that grin from your face.

One dirty look was received from the girl, which was returned with a mocking smile, immediately losing your patience with rude customers. But Steven had already called you forward, simultaneously dismissing the girl, who sauntered away.

“The museum’s index of our Egyptian exposition?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows in attempt to make you smile. A successful notion.

“A dear friend of mine told me it was worth the read,” You explained, to which Steven nodded, that foolish grin threatening to return to his face.

“Well, than that friend must have known it is not entirely accurate.”

“Yes, well,” You began, offering your card again. “I was rather hoping he’d read it with me, so I shall know which tales to believe, and which not to.”

"'Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you Can't help it if there's no one else I can't help myself."

At these words, Steven bent down to grab a bag under the counter. Not to hide that incredible blush on his face.

“Could I offer you a ride?” You continued after accepting the bag. “Before I’m being called awake at night because someone ended up on the other side of London again.”

Chuckling nervously, Steven stepped away from the register to let his co-worker take over his shift. “I did not mean to fall asleep on that tube.”

You shrugged, offering him his jacket, which you had already fetched from the break room, followed by a cup of warm coffee. A look of surprise crossed his face, but he tried not to make a big deal out of it, instead, putting his jacket on and accepting the coffee.

“God knows you need it.” You spoke, gesturing towards the cup, before walking towards the car.

"Hey Stephen, I've been holding back this feeling So I've got some things to say to you."

The drive to Steven’s apartment was not a long one. But it had been a while since you had eaten. And when you drove past the second McDonalds, you were not able to control yourself any longer.

“Do you mind if we go through the McDrive?” You asked, already taking the exit. Steven only hummed, lost in thought. He would not have admitted it, but his head had kept replaying the entire scenario from earlier that day; ‘It was merely a reason to see you again’, you had said. And those words have been on a loop in his head constantly

It wasn’t until the big, yellow M came into sight for him as well that he woke up from his daydream. Now, it wasn’t that Steven wasn’t hungry; quite the opposite, but he did not want to go to McDonalds. Well, he did. But he didn’t.

"I've seen it all, so I thought But I never seen nobody shine the way you do."

“Hey,” He spoke up, swallowing thickly, his hands already finding each other, toying with his fingers nervously. Your eyes flickered towards him briefly, before returning towards the road.

Nerves began to pierce through his stomach, his hands now shaking, even though they were laying on his lap. But you had not noticed yet.

“I heard there is this great new restaurant only five minutes from here.”

You smiled at his words, nodding in agreement. Yes, you had heard of it as well.

“I would love to go there, Steven,” You sighed, still driving towards the snackbar. “But I am afraid I am a little low on money right now.”

The man remained quiet in his seat, staring out of the window absentmindedly. Yet, his mind was spinning. You took his silence for a disappointed answer, and frowned slightly.

“With the mortgage from my new apartment, and rent and everything,” You mumbled, referring to the new home in central London you had finally managed to buy. “I am afraid I’ll have to wait for ten more days until I get paid. I don’t have the money now.”

“N-no,” He interrupted, now turning back to you. “I meant it as a question.”

Now it was your turn to remain silent. And now Steven understood how a silence could be so deafening and uncomfortable. It did not make his proposition any easier.

“Would you allow me to take you there?”

"The way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name It's beautiful, wonderful, don't you ever change."

The stutter in his voice was adorable, and you could not help but show a tiny smile.

“As a date?” You prodded, a teasing edge to your voice, but you were sincere nonetheless.

“Well,” Steven chuckled nervously. “Only if you want it to be. It could be a fun little frien-“

“Steven,” You interrupted, showing him that kind look on your face that only made this moment so much harder for the poor man. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Swallowing thickly again, he nodded, casting his eyes down to his lap.

No other words were spoken, and the lack of answers were terrifying Steven. If you would say no, he’d have nowhere to run to. He’d be stuck in a car regardless, and pretend he was fine. He won’t ever let himself live that one down.

But if you were to reject him, would things change? Not only would this car-ride be absolutely horrible, he’d have to be forced to look at your face every day with a secret longing, even after you denied him. He could never bring himself to go to work if he had to live with that.

Why did he ask? Silently, he was already punishing himself. He knew you deserved better, of course you did. But he always held hope you might have liked him back as he had. And this silence was the worst, especially for the consequences it would bring.

"Hey Stephen, why are people always leaving? I think you and I should stay the same."

“I just came back from work,” You finally uttered. “I look horrible.”

“You look beautiful,” Steven quickly countered, not even realizing the words he had just spoken. “You always do. And, and the good news is, you do not have to get dressed up. I already like you, so you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Now it was your turn for heat to rise to your face. Perhaps you had begun to understand the reason Steven always turned from you after greeting you.

“You don’t either,” You spoke honestly. “I would be a fool to reject that offer.”

Beaming in his seat, Steven finally let go of his hands, resting them on the seat calmly, though inside, he was grinning from ear to ear. For years, he had pined over you from a distant, only striking up occasional conversations.

And now he sat there, with you beside him, on your way to your very first date. He was thankful he did not have to take the tube to the restaurant. He would have gotten some weird looks for that stupid smile.

The diner had gone surprisingly well. From the moment you had accepted his offer, Steven changed completely; he opened every door for you, would hold your seat, named your order to the waiters, and even insisted upon dessert, after you had told him you did not want him to spend that much money for a little cake.

He was even more endearing than he usually was. And the looks he gave you throughout the entire night made your heart swell with love. How you had never seen him looking at you like that before, you did not know. But now that you noticed, you did not think you could ever unsee it. His eyes were filled with so much adoration and patience, it was nearly too good to be true.

But he was real.

And he was sitting in front of you

"They're dimming the street lights You're perfect for me Why aren't you here tonight?"

When the two of you left the restaurant, the sun had already began to set, and the streetlights illuminated the roads. Your stomach was fuller than it had been in the last couple of weeks, but you had a blast.

Steven was still smiling, walking beside you as he observed you gently. This time, as you turned to look at him, he did not look away, as he usually did. Instead, he brightened his smile, his eyes crinkling as he did so.

“Something on my face?” You wondered, aware of his staring.

“No,” he denied, shaking his head. “Just looking.”

You hummed at his answer, content with the diner dip, as you had called it. Yet, you could not help but grow increasingly aware of his eyes on you. They were not uncomfortable, but it was new.

"I'm waiting alone now So come on and come out And pull me near And shine, shine, shine."

Trying to ignore it, you walked closer to him, your arm wrapping around his, matching his steps. Steven tensed at the notion shortly, his other hand clenching his fingers together. He felt his heart speed up, and he wondered if you had any idea what you were doing to him.

He’s had crushes through the years, but with you, it felt different. Not a crush, but he was in love. Completely and utterly head over heels. And he had known it since your first talk.

And now, your arm was around his.

And your head suddenly on his shoulder, your steps ceasing. For a short second, Steven wondered if he had done anything wrong. But when your eyes fell upon the sky, he realised that had not been the case.

Your eyes had landed on the sky above you, the stars hanging in the dark canvas above.

“A clear nightsky in Central London,” you mused. “I didn’t think I’d see the day.”

"Hey Stephen, I could give you 50 reasons Why I should be the one you choose."

Steven remained silent beside you, his eyes now rising to the stars as well. Your arm began to slip from his, settling for his hand instead.

It was extremely warm, perhaps because he had been nervous earlier. You had been too. But it was a pleasant feeling. And, without any poetic meaning to it, his hands simply felt as…his. What you had always imagined his hand to feel like, his fingers entangled with yours, it felt exactly like that. And there was something deeply enchanting to it.

For someone who worked in a museum gift shop, his hands had been surprisingly calloused, though. You had not expected that.

“Do you know anything about astrology?” Steven asked, trying to get his attention off of the incredibly soothing contact your hands made. It was almost overwhelming to him.

“No,” you answered honestly. “I just like to look at the stars.”

He ‘aww’ed in understanding, his mind trailing off to a book he owned about astrology and starsigns. He might let you borrow that one later.

For now, he stood there, enjoying the moment in the cold afternoon air.

"All those other girls, well, they're beautiful But would they write a song for you?"

The car-ride to Steven’s apartment was short. The restaurant had been walking distance from his flat, but you insisted upon driving him home. You even insisted on walking with him to his room.

“Will I see you again?” Steven asked meekly as he stuck his key in the door.

“Well,” you smiled. “I work tomorrow. You work tomorrow. If you show up.”

“Yes, sorry,” he sighed, understanding your underlying notion. “It’s just, I have this sleeping problem-“

“Steven, it’s okay.” You reassured, resting your hand on his shoulder. “You can’t help it.”

His eyes softened upon the words, his shoulders slumping. You frowned at the sudden change of his mood, cursing yourself for even uttering a word about his absence at work.

“And if you don't,” you tried to cheer him up. “I will cover for you to Donna. She likes us both too much to fire us.”

“I doubt that.”

You retrieved your hand, holding it up to lay emphasis on your words. “Who else am I supposed to buy my pens from?”

"I can't help it if you look like an angel Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you Can't help it if there's no one else I can't help myself."

Opening his door, he turned back to face you, his face set in sudden anxiety. He wanted to do this with you again. He didn’t want to see you during work hours only. And you had seemed to enjoy yourself. Why would you not want to?

“Hey,” he spoke up, changing the subject. “I know a great bookshop in a hidden alley in London. Maybe we can find some books about astrology there?”

You grinned, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Is that a second date?”

The teasing edge on your voice was now easily caught by Steven, who answered your question with a sudden boost of confidence.

“It is.”

You looked at him in surprising, nodding in admiration.

“Okay, handsome,” you agreed. “I’ll keep you to that.”

"If you look like an angel Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you Can't help it if there's no one else I can't help myself."

And there it was again. That stupid rush of warmth running over his cheeks. He used to hate it as much as he loved it. But now, it had simply become endearing.

“Okay,” he whispered, his hands finding his pockets as he leaned on the balls of his feet.

Before the moment could get awkward, you walked up to him, leaning forward slightly to place a light kiss on his cheek. As you leaned back, you found Steven frozen to the ground, and it almost reminded you of a Looney Tunes moment. You kept that thought to yourself.

“I had a wonderful time tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, Steven.”

With that, you turned around, offering a wave behind your shoulder as you always did. It wasn’t until you began descending down the stairs that Steven was ripped out of his thoughts.

“Y-yes!” He stuttered. “See you tomorrow…”

He heard your laugh echoing through the halls until your footsteps were no longer audible. His heart had only been speeding up since that talk, and he found his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably tight. A quiet ‘I love you’ slipped from his lips, before he stepped into his apartment.

The second his door closed, his back leaned against it, and the man let out a sigh of relief and satisfaction. He replayed everything that had happened in his mind, letting it all process properly.

And then he laughed, running a hand through his hair. A cheer erupted from his throat as he turned around, facing the door.

“A second date.”

The same words you had uttered as you reached the bottom floor, doing a little dance of victory.

"Can't help myself, I can't help myself."

#november writings 2022 #steven Grant #moon knight #mcu #Oscar Isaac #steven grant x reader

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kjmsupremacist · 2 years

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pink (like the holes in your heart) (ryujin/yeji)

Yeji leads a completely ordinary life—she works in a cafe by day, and dances at a club by night. She has friends, and her life is good. For the most part, she’s content. But one night, she meets a hot older woman, and opens a new world full of new dangers and new delights.

Chapter 2 | prev next mlist

Characters: Yeji, Ryujin, the rest of itzy

Genre: romance, fluff, angst, smut, age gap, stripper!au

Pairing: Ryujin/Yeji

Warnings: AGE GAP (older ryujin, younger yeji), d/s themes, mommy kink, bdsm and general rough treatment, alcohol mentions, sex work (nothing wild)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 9.9k

I put this disclaimer on all my age gaps - I don’t condone large age gaps in real life as these relationships tend to have an imbalanced power dynamic. However, because this is fiction, I can warp the world to my liking and guarantee everything is the way I want. Also, it’s fiction, and we’re all just here to have fun. If you don’t think you’re going to have fun, you can leave the way you came. I promise it’ll be fine.

listen to the official playlist here!

The haze lasts through the following morning, but dissipates by the afternoon. Yeji takes Yuna and Chaeryeong out to a fancy dinner, paying with a couple of the hundred dollar bills that the woman tipped her with. They all giggle when the waiter’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at the sight of them.

The next afternoon sees Yeji and Yuna at their cafe, Yuna on the register and Yeji at the bar making drinks. It’s the middle of the week, so not horribly busy, which means they can gossip between waves of customers. Yuna tells her about the professor who’s being investigated for a multitude of Title IX violations, each worse than the last. Yeji makes faces and offers snide commentary as she cleans their tools off.

They’re getting near the end of their shift when the bell on the door rings. Yeji doesn’t look up at first, intent on getting a stain out of a mug.

“Welcome in, how can I help you today?” Yuna chirps.

“Could I get a medium latte, please? To go.” The voice is familiar, and Yeji snaps her head up.

It’s the woman from that night. She’s in professional wear this time, a stylish grey pantsuit with a crisp white button-down underneath. She has a sleek black shoulder bag and a silver watch; it flashes in the light as she taps her card to the reader. Yeji didn’t even realize she’d completed the transaction. Her ears are full of ringing.

Yeji ducks her head, heart racing, accepting the cup from Yuna and getting started on the espresso shots. Maybe she doesn’t recognize me, Yeji thinks wildly. I’ll just pretend I don’t know her. It was dark in the club, anyway, and I was wearing lots of makeup.

And not much of anything else, a different voice in her head supplies unhelpfully.

She turns the cup over in her hands. Ryujin. Her name is Ryujin. It sticks in Yeji’s brain without her even trying, but she repeats it anyway. Ryujin. She steams the milk, taps the pitcher on the counter, then pours it carefully into the cup. She considers a heart for the latte art, but decides that’s a little too forward and goes with a swan instead.

“Latte for Ryujin,” Yeji calls, setting the drink on the pickup counter and hoping her voice doesn’t shake.

Ryujin strolls up, and it takes Yeji one look to know she’s completely busted. She’s smirking, and her gaze pins Yeji to the spot. She reaches for her drink but doesn’t pick it up. “Hi,” she says softly.

“Hi,” Yeji manages.

“Now the club I could understand, but what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a cafe?” Ryujin picks up the latte, studying the art; Yeji thinks she sees amusement flash across her face. “You’re far too talented to spend your life making coffee.” She takes a sip and nods. “As good as your coffee is.”

Yeji doesn’t know what to say. Thank you? Or sorry my job isn’t prestigious enough for you, some of us are poor? “We really shouldn’t be talking to each other,” she says instead. “Privacy is important.”

“Indeed.” Ryujin reaches into her pocket and produces a business card. “Well, since I know about your day job, it’s only fair that you know about mine.” She slides it across the counter to Yeji. “Mutually assured destruction, hm?”

Yeji takes it, unsure. “You really want to give this to me?”

“You don’t seem malicious,” Ryujin says with a smile. “Working tonight?”

“Ah, no,” Yeji says, truthfully. “Later this week, though.”

“Then I’ll see you around.” Ryujin’s eyes linger on her; there’s nothing too intense about it, but Yeji gets the distinct feeling that she’s being carefully observed. “Yeji.”

And with that, she’s gone, leaving behind the faint scent of cologne.

Yeji looks down at the business card. It’s a matte black with gold lettering. Shin Ryujin. A & R Director. All In Entertainment. There’s an address, an email, and a list of phone numbers. Yeji zeroes in on the one labeled “c.” Is this her way of giving me her number?

“Was that her?” Yuna’s speaking just above a whisper, even though they’re alone in the shop.

“Hm?” Yeji looks up and sees Yuna looking back at her intently.

“Your sugar mommy from the club,” Yuna says, and Yeji groans.

“She’s not my—yes, that was the woman from a couple days ago.” She holds up the business card. “She gave me this.”

“Ooh, lemme see!”

“No.” Yeji pockets it. “It would be bad practice to give out my client’s personal information.”

“You’re no fun,” Yuna complains.

“I don’t want to get fired,” Yeji says, giving her an exasperated look.

“I know.” Yuna blinks. “So are you gonna call her?”

“What, on her work cell? Or the front desk?” Yeji shakes her head, cringing at the thought. “What would I even say? No, if she wants to see me again, she can come back to the club. She knows where to find me.”

* * *

Yeji heads to Chaeryeong’s place for dinner that night. She decides to leave the business card at home—what she said to Yuna was true, and it should go double for someone else who works at Crown, even if that someone is her best friend.

“You said you had news,” Chaeryeong says when she opens the door.

“Hello to you too,” Yeji says, slipping inside.

“Yes, hello.” To her credit, Chaeryeong does give her a hug and usher her into her living room. “Sorry, I’m just nosy! Sit. Do you want something to drink?”

“I’ll drink after I eat,” Yeji says, settling on the couch and opening a pair of chopsticks.

Chaeryeong sits too, untying the takeout bags. “Okay, so what happened?”

“The woman from the other night,” Yeji says. “She stopped by the cafe.”

Chaeryeong freezes. “What the fuck? How did she know you were there?”

“I don’t think she did,” Yeji defends. “We are near the business district, I think she just popped by for a coffee. It sounded like she’d been there before, she knew exactly what she was ordering.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been working there for how long?” Chaeryeong argues. “You’ve never seen her before.”

“I usually don’t work afternoons,” Yeji points out, which is true. “Maybe it’s her afternoon stop.”

“Right.” Chaeryeong sounds entirely unconvinced. “So what did she say?”

“Something about how my talent is wasted in a cafe,” Yeji begins. Chaeryeong makes a noise of protest. “No, I know. I don’t think she meant it to be so condescending, though.”

“Why are you giving her so much benefit of the doubt?” Chaeryeong asks. “Just because she’s hot? You don’t even like women.”

Yeji chews on her lower lip. “I dunno, maybe I do,” she says slowly. Chaeryeong raises her eyebrows. “The dance I gave her—there was something there! I’m usually really prudent with my customers, you know that. But…” She shakes her head. “There was something about her. I think… I’d like to chase that, find out what it was, exactly.”

Chaeryeong’s eyes soften. “That’s fair,” she agrees.

“Anyway,” Yeji says, deciding not to have a sexuality crisis in Chaeryeong’s living room, “she gave me her business card, saying, like, if she knows my day job then it’s only fair I know hers so we both have blackmail material?”

“Where does she work?” Chaeryeong asks immediately.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Yeji replies. “Crown’s all about discretion. Mom would have kittens.”

“I know, but just this once?” Chaeryeong pouts at her, but Yeji knows she’s joking.

“No,” Yeji says, swatting her anyway. “What I will tell you is that she’s a director at some big, fancy company.”

“You better be careful,” Chaeryeong says, sobering and pointing her chopsticks at her. “Those exec types are not to be messed with.”

“I’m not messing! I told her I was working later this week, and she said she’d see me around. That’s all.” Yeji shoves a piece of broccoli into her mouth decisively.

“Well,” Chaeryeong says, “just remember that it’s best to milk her of all the money you can get, and then leave it at that. Don’t get involved, and definitely don’t let her do you any favors. Because then you’ll belong to her, and that’s too dangerous.”

“I just don’t think she’s like that,” Yeji says.

“Well, there has to be something in it for her,” Chaeryeong points out. “For her to be giving you this kind of attention.”

Yeji rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that I’m young and hot, duh.”

Chaeryeong shoves her, and Yeji laughs.

Yeji knows Chaeryeong’s right, but she can’t help but think about Ryujin throughout the week. She likes the way she feels when Ryujin’s eyes are on her. It’s scary, but it’s also exhilarating, and Yeji doesn’t know what to do with that.

Thursday and Friday pass. Yeji works a full shift both nights, and though she keeps an eye out, she doesn’t catch a single glimpse of Ryujin. Either she’s really good at hiding, or she’s just busy. Yeji has a feeling it’s the latter—it might be self-centered of her, but she has to imagine that if Ryujin were there, she would seek Yeji out. Still, she can’t help but feel a little disappointed. She doesn’t know what to do with that, either.

Saturday night comes, and Yeji has another solo dance scheduled. She leafs through her wardrobe carefully. Her hope that Ryujin will be there has started to dwindle, but she wants to look extra nice just in case. After a lot of contemplating, she settles on a gold set with black detailing—a pretty bra with black lacing up the center and the straps, and a matching thong that has cutouts in the waistband. The bottom half of the waistband she lets settle naturally; the elastic strings on the top she hooks on her waist above her hip bones. She twists in the mirror, adds a lacy black thigh garter with some gold jewelry, and plucks up a pair of flashy gold pumps. If Ryujin is there tonight, she won’t be able to miss her.

“Oh wow, Lucy,” a girl named Winter gushes when Yeji steps out of her cargo pants backstage. “I love that set! It’s so pretty on you.”

“Thank you,” Yeji replies, smoothing the straps of the waistband. “I wanted to stand out tonight.”

“You look like C-3PO,” Chaeryeong says, but she bends down to kiss the top of Yeji’s head, grinning. “Kidding. I love the way that bra makes your tits look. Everybody’s gonna want you.”

“You think?” Yeji asks.

“Yes,” Chaeryeong says quietly. “Even her, if she ever shows up.”

“It’s not for her,” Yeji lies. “It’s for me.”

“Okay,” Chaeryeong says mildly.

Yeji finishes getting ready early, says hi to Mom, and then goes to wait in the wings so she can watch the other girls perform. She smiles, watching Karina and Winter’s duet. Maybe she and Chaeryeong should do something like that; though Yeji can’t see the audience, she hears cheers go up. They seem quite popular. She files it away to pitch to Chaeryeong later.

Karina and Winter are waving to the crowd. Yeji stands, whispering, “Great job!” when they pass her in the wings. Karina squeezes her arm and mouths thank you in response.

The lights change, and Yeji straightens her back and strolls out onto the stage, offering the crowd a smirk and a wave, taking her position in the center of the stage. It’s a choreography she’s practiced for a while, so it comes easily, her limbs already familiar with the moves.

She tells herself not to search through the audience, but she finds her eyes flitting from face to face as she dances. There’s something to be said for eye contact—it makes the dance feel more personal—but that’s not Yeji’s end goal.

And then she lands on a familiar face, and nearly freezes.

It’s Ryujin, alone in the crowd. She’s wearing an oversized black suit jacket and what looks like a cropped leather tank top. Her nails are a glossy black; Yeji can see them against the vibrant blue of the drink she’s holding in one hand. Their eyes meet, and Ryujin raises the martini glass to her lips, holding Yeji’s gaze over the rim.

Yeji tears her eyes away, refocusing on her performance, but it would be a lie to say she doesn’t think of Ryujin with every move she makes. Yes, she’s in front of an audience, but this dance has become for Ryujin, and Ryujin alone. She knows Ryujin knows it, can feel her eyes following her even though she doesn’t look back once.

At last, her song is over. She blows a few kisses and hurries backstage to do a couple of touch-ups. Chaeryeong is there, fighting with one of the straps on her bra.

“Lemme help,” Yeji says, coming up behind her. She adjusts it carefully, then looks up over Chaeryeong’s shoulder and catches her eye in the mirror. “She’s here,” she says softly. “She saw me.”

Chaeryeong smiles, turning around and brushing a strand of Yeji’s hair out of her face. “Good. Go get the fattest paycheck of your life,” she says.

Yeji swallows. “What if I don’t want her to pay me?” she whispers. “What if I just want her?”

Chaeryeong sighs, but she doesn’t lose her smile. “Then go get her,” she says softly. Yeji blinks in surprise. “Look,” she says. “I’m not saying it’s smart. But this is bigger than money, and bigger than her. You think you like her? You think you can learn something about yourself in the process?” Yeji nods. “Then just be safe. That’s all I can ask.” She squeezes Yeji’s hand.

Yeji squeezes back. “Thanks,” she manages.

“You look hot,” Chaeryeong continues. “She’ll be stupid to say no.” She nudges Yeji. “Go,” she says. “I need to fix my makeup.”

“Okay.” Yeji lets go of her hand and walks out the door and onto the floor. She weaves between people, nodding hello to a few regulars, but not pausing as she heads to where she saw Ryujin when she was onstage.

She’s still there, waiting for her. Her black slacks are carefully tailored; they fit perfectly around her waist, and Yeji tries not to stare at the curve of her hips, her thighs. Ryujin smiles when she sees her, purple lipstick in stark contrast against her perfect white teeth, and everything around Yeji seems to fall away. Even the music seems faint. All Yeji can hear is the pounding of her heart. The lights strobe overhead, and Yeji has to watch Ryujin’s mouth to make out what she says.

“Hey, babygirl.”

Yeji tries not to melt. She gets closer, so they can actually hear each other, and then says, “Where’s your girlfriend? Or did you not bring her this time?”

Ryujin blinks, startled, but then understanding dawns and she laughs. “Getting jealous already?” she teases. “But all I did was give you my number.”

“You gave me your business card,” Yeji retorts. “What was I supposed to do, call and leave a message with your secretary as ‘Lucy from the club’?”

Ryujin laughs again. “I guess that’s fair,” she says. “No, the woman with me last time isn’t my girlfriend. She’s a good friend of mine, that’s all.”

“Noted,” Yeji says, somewhat placated.

“I meant what I said, though,” Ryujin continues. “Your talent is wasted at that cafe. And—it’s wasted here.”

Yeji bristles. The coffee shop is one thing—making lattes has nothing to do with dancing. Her job here, though, is another matter. “Being a stripper is a perfectly valid profession, and the only reason society considers it indecent is because of puritanical culture and sexism, and it’s really rich of you to look down on my job when you’re literally a customer h—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ryujin cuts in gently. “I meant you could go professional. Today. If you wanted. You’re not just good at shaking your ass, you can actually, really dance. You know what I do for a living. I would know.” Yeji quiets, surprised. “I have a great deal of respect for dancers and sex workers, but it’s just a different kind of work. And you have the skill to be a performer on an international stage. You’re right, it would be hypocritical of me to have something against your job here. But I don’t.”

Yeji feels clumsy as she tries to find the words to respond. “Oh. Thank you, then. But…” She thinks about all her dance lessons as a kid, all her big dreams, her crushed hopes. She’d wanted to be a singer once upon a time, hadn’t she? And she’d failed. “If I was that good, I would already have a job somewhere else,” she says. “And besides, I have friends here now. And the money’s good. I don’t want to abandon this.”

Ryujin nods. “I can understand that,” she agrees. “Then—do you have time for another dance? For me?”

Yeji presses her lips together. Then go get her, Chaeryeong’s voice echoes in her brain. Yeji wants more. Yeji wants her. It feels wrong for Ryujin to pay her for a dance when they could be doing something else instead.

She shakes her head, looking up at Ryujin, and sees disappointment flicker across her face. “I don’t want to dance for you,” she says. “I think I want—I want something else.” The disappointment clears, replaced by sharp interest. “And I don’t want you to pay me for it. Be-because I want it.”

Ryujin’s lips stretch into a lazy smile. Yeji almost feels like a mouse in the jaws of a cat—caught, death imminent and inevitable. But where there should be fear, there’s something else. Oh. Desire.

“I see,” Ryujin says slowly. “That sounds good, too.”

“Can you wait until the end of my shift?” Yeji asks, feeling a little stupid. “It’ll be around three, I know it’s late.”

“Not a problem, baby,” Ryujin says, and Yeji has to suppress a shiver. “It’s a Saturday, I can stay up late.” She turns, points at a booth near the bar. “Make lots of money, okay? I’ll be right there, watching you. Come get me when you’re done.”

“Okay,” Yeji agrees dizzily.

The rest of the night passes slow and excruciating. Yeji tries to keep her focus, but she knows her customers can tell she’s a little distracted. She feels Ryujin’s eyes on her wherever she goes, can picture her expression even when she’s not looking—eyes half-lidded, but gaze clear and full of intent. Whenever she checks to see if Ryujin really is still there, she finds her staring back, same as always.

Finally, Yeji’s shift ends and she waves to Ryujin to let her know she’ll be out in a minute. Ryujin nods, and Yeji ducks into the dressing room. The club stays open until five on the weekends, but Yeji rarely works the latest shift—Mom doesn’t like the younger girls to be out super late.

Chaeryeong’s taking her makeup off the mirror, and her eyes snap to Yeji as soon as she enters.

“I think I’m going home with her,” Yeji whispers when she sits down.

“Keep your location on,” Chaeryeong replies. “Women can be murderers too.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me not to?” Yeji asks as she unclasps her bra. “Thank god. I forgot how itchy the glitter is.” She puts on a simple, comfy bra instead. Ryujin’s already seen her dressed up. She doesn’t need to keep the lingerie.

“I know there’s no stopping you,” Chaeryeong says. “And if something happens, I’ll just ask Yuna for the CCTV footage from the cafe.”

“You listen to too much true crime,” Yeji replies, stepping into a clean pair of plain cotton undies and then shimmying her cargo pants up. “I’ll be fine. I won’t get murdered. I promise.”

“You better not.” Chaeryeong waits for Yeji to finish pulling her shirt on, then reaches out for a hug. “Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yeji salutes, then zips up her bag and slings it over her shoulder, bending to adjust her shoes. “Okay, I’m off. Have a good night. Get home safe.”

“Thank you,” Chaeryeong says.

Yeji stops by Mom’s office to punch out and hear her total. Less than usual for a Saturday night, but Yeji’s about to go meet the reason why, so she thanks Mom with a smile and a wave, and heads back out to the bar.

Ryujin is exactly where she left her, and she stands when she sees her approaching, tapping away at her phone. She looks up when Yeji reaches her table. “Ordered us an Uber,” she says. “All set?”

Yeji nods. “I think so.”

“Then c’mon. It’ll be here in a few minutes.” Ryujin sets down a few bills next to her empty glass and leads them to the door.

It’s a little chilly out, but not unbearable, so Yeji doesn’t bother trying to find her jacket. Ryujin takes them to the curb, leaning up against a signpost. She seems content with not talking, staring out at the street. Yeji follows her gaze and sees nothing in particular—just neon lights and the occasional car. It’s late, nearing four at this point, and the city is quieting.

“I have a confession,” Yeji blurts.

“Yeah?” Ryujin gazes back at her, calm and a little amused.

“You’re going to be the first woman I’ve ever been with,” Yeji says, heart hammering. “I mean, you’re the first woman I’ve ever been interested in.”

Ryujin smiles. “I could tell,” she says gently. “I don’t mind. I don’t care about your history, as long as you’re sure you’re interested in me.”

Yeji nods emphatically. It’s confusing, and she can unpack what it all means and figure out exactly how she feels later, but what is crystal clear in her head is that she likes Ryujin. A lot. “I’m sure,” she says.

“That’s good, then.” Ryujin’s phone buzzes in her hand, and she peels herself off the pole. A sleek black car pulls up to the curb. “This is us.”

Yeji tries her hardest not to look surprised. The driver gets out and opens the door for them, taking Yeji’s bag and placing it in the trunk. It must be the luxury service, Yeji thinks to herself as she ducks into the car. She’d heard of it, but considering she can barely afford a regular Uber, she doesn’t even know the name. She glances sideways at Ryujin, who’s clicking her seatbelt into place. She knew she was rich, but somehow it hadn’t really hit her until right now. I wonder what her place looks like.

“Are you hungry?” Ryujin asks softly once they pull away and head down the street.

“A little,” Yeji admits.

“Good, me too,” Ryujin replies. “I have some leftovers we can heat up when we get home.”

“Sounds good,” Yeji agrees. When we get home. Suddenly, Yeji’s life seems small and lonely. Imagine if she had someone she could come home to every night after work! Sure, she has her friends, but they’re all their own people, and though they love each other very much, and spend what is probably an inordinate amount of time together, there’s still plenty of time leftover where it’s just Yeji, by herself.

And it’s not that she can’t stand her own company. She doesn’t mind being alone; solitude is good, necessary. But… She watches Ryujin out of the corner of her eye. The idea that tomorrow, and for many, many more days of her life, she’ll be going back to her empty apartment feels a little miserable.

But that’s not tonight. Yeji gives herself a little shake. Tonight she has an entirely separate set of problems to worry about, and they start and end with the woman sitting next to her. Though Ryujin told her not to worry, Yeji can’t help but be a little anxious. She’s not a virgin, but sex with a woman has to be different, right? She’d never really considered it before, so she’d never even thought about what the rules were, what she needed to keep in mind, what she didn’t need to worry about.

It’s almost like Ryujin can feel her building herself up into a panic. She reaches out and places a hand on Yeji’s knee, rubbing her thumb back and forth, gentle and comforting. Yeji looks up at her, and Ryujin smiles. It’s okay, baby, she mouths, and Yeji finds herself relaxing into the seat.

Ryujin keeps her hand on Yeji’s knee until the car rolls to a stop outside a very tall and very fancy-looking apartment building. They step out of the car, retrieve Yeji’s bag, thank the driver. Ryujin offers Yeji her arm again, and Yeji takes it, feeling a thrill of excitement run through her whole body.

They head into the elevator, and Ryujin punches the 13 button. “You’re not superstitious, are you?” she asks, grinning at Yeji.

Yeji giggles and shakes her head. “Not at all.”

“I always thought it was so silly, skipping certain numbers and pretending that does anything,” Ryujin says, still grinning. “I mean, you skip thirteen and go straight to fourteen, there’s still a thirteenth floor, it just has a different name. It bothered me a lot as a kid because it didn’t make any sense.” She shrugs one shoulder. “Though I suppose I’ve always been one for staring a problem right in the teeth instead of dressing it up.”

Yeji smiles. “I’m the same way,” she agrees. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. “But I think there’s room for harmless make-believe. Skipping the thirteenth floor is harmless, right?”

Ryujin nods as she leads Yeji down the hall to the only door on this side of the building, keys jingling in her hand. “That’s true, too.” She pushes the door open and enters, holding it for Yeji. “Shoes off, if you would.”

Yeji is already bending down to unzip her boots, and makes a face. “Please, I’m not an animal,” she says, and Ryujin laughs. Yeji savors the sound. It’s sweet and melodic and surprisingly bright. “At least, not about things like this.”

Ryujin laughs again as she closes the door, locking it and toeing her white sneakers off, nudging them into line against the wall. “Good,” she says simply. “Here, put your bag by the stairs, we can take it up later.”

Yeji does as she’s told and then follows Ryujin around the corner and into her kitchen. Ryujin turns on some lights and then pulls open her fridge. “We can heat up some tteokbokki, if that’s ok?”

“Yes please,” Yeji says, hovering by the counter.

Ryujin sets a container on the counter and then sticks her head back in the fridge. “Anything to drink?”

“Just water, please,” Yeji replies.

Ryujin emerges with a yuja tea bottle, grinning. “So polite,” she teases. She uncovers the container and sticks it in the microwave, then gets a glass and fills it with water for Yeji, strolling up and handing it to her. “Cheers,” she says, clinking her unopened bottle of tea against the glass.

“Cheers,” Yeji giggles back, charmed, and takes a sip.

Ryujin sets her bottle down, and then shrugs off her suit jacket, draping it over the back of one of the chairs at the breakfast bar. She holds out her hand. “Dance with me.”

Yeji sets her glass down too, a little flustered but pleased, accepting Ryujin’s hand and letting her pull her closer. Ryujin wraps her other arm around her waist, bracing her hand against the small of Yeji’s back, and Yeji lets her other hand settle on Ryujin’s shoulder. Ryujin leads them in a little two-step sway around the kitchen, smiling at Yeji, and Yeji finds herself grinning back, unable to school her expression at all.

“Ready, and twirl,” Ryujin says, extending her arm. Yeji laughs, twirling a little clumsily. Ryujin dips her, and then brings her back up, much closer than before. “You’re a natural,” she says, and Yeji giggles again, breathless.

“Mm, it’s almost like I dance for a living,” she says.

Ryujin’s smile grows wider. “Hm,” she hums in agreement. “Good thing, too. Or we would’ve never met.”

Yeji’s heart rate jumps. “Yeah,” she replies. “Good thing.”

Ryujin tilts her head, still swaying them. “I wanted to kiss you that night. Last week. You’re so pretty, baby.”

“You could kiss me now,” Yeji blurts.

“Oh, could I?” Ryujin’s tone is teasing and playful; she leans closer still.

Yeji’s pretty sure she’s shaking, but she holds her ground. “Mm-hm,” she says, and Ryujin leans in and kisses her.

Her lips are soft and warm against Yeji’s. She’s gentle but firm, and Yeji kisses back almost hungrily, pressing closer. Heat floods her whole body, and any reservations she might have had dissipate instantly. Yeji wants. She’s never wanted like this before, and she’s dizzy with it now, head spinning—

And then the microwave beeps, and she almost screams. Ryujin pulls away, laughing. Her lipstick is just a little messy, but it almost makes her more beautiful. Yeji gasps softly, trying to slow her heart, trying to come back down to earth.

“That scared me so bad,” she admits, and Ryujin laughs even harder as she opens the microwave and extracts the leftovers.

“Sorry,” she says, setting the container now and kissing Yeji’s temple before going to find some chopsticks. “Sit, baby.”

Yeji sits, accepting the chopsticks that Ryujin passes to her and picking up a rice cake, blowing on it so she doesn’t scorch her mouth. Ryujin does the same, watching Yeji take her first bite.

“Oh my god, it’s so good,” Yeji gasps.

Ryujin grins. “It’s my friend’s restaurant,” she says. “She’s one of the best cooks I know.” She takes a bite. “Maybe we can go sometime. She’ll get us a private room if you’re worried.”

“I’d like that,” Yeji manages. “If it’s this good reheated, I can’t imagine what her food is like fresh.”

They finish eating quickly with minimal chitchat, both clearly more interested in what comes next. Ryujin throws their chopsticks in the sink, rinsing out the takeout container and throwing it in the recycling. Yeji sips at her water as she waits, feeling a little useless.

Finally, Ryujin dries off her hands and turns to Yeji with a smile. “Alright, baby. Come with me.”

Yeji retrieves her bag and follows Ryujin up the stairs to her room. It’s only now that she really takes in her surroundings. Ryujin’s apartment is huge, and gorgeous. There are beautiful windows that look out over the city in almost every room. The floors are sleek hardwood, the walls painted a pristine white, the doorknobs all a flawless metal. Ryujin opens her bedroom door, turning on a lamp, and Yeji’s eyes grow wide.

She has a huge, beautiful black dresser along one wall, next to a small door that Yeji assumes leads to her closet. There’s a big jewelry organizer on top of the dresser, and a bunch of skincare products filed neatly in a box on the other side. Behind the dresser is a big, circular mirror with a brushed gold frame. Ryujin’s bed is simple, but sturdy. It looks like it’s made of bamboo, with a set of sheets in varying shades of muted blue. There’s a big window here, too; Ryujin goes to it and taps a panel on the wall, and blinds whir into place, giving them privacy from the neighbors across the street. There’s another door on the other side of the bed that’s been left ajar, and Yeji can make out pristine marble counters in the dark—it must be her bathroom.

“This place is stunning,” Yeji says softly, and Ryujin smiles.

“Thank you,” she says. “It helps that I don’t have kids. More money to spend on myself, you know. Go ahead and put your bag down by my dresser.”

Yeji drops her bag on the floor, still gazing around. There’s a huge art piece on the wall opposite the window, some pretty abstract painting in blues and golds. She startles when she feels a hand on her wrist.

“I’m going to take my makeup off,” Ryujin says. “Would you like to as well? You’re probably gonna get messy.”

Yeji almost shivers, snapping her eyes back to Ryujin. “Oh! Yes, please.” Maybe with a man she would’ve been nervous to reveal her bare face so quickly, but Ryujin will have to reveal hers, too. Besides, Yeji has a feeling Ryujin won’t think any differently of her, makeup or no makeup.

They head into the bathroom; Ryujin flicks on a light over the vanity. She has a gorgeous recessed tub in one corner, and a huge standing shower in the other. The tub is made of the same black marble as her counters; the floor is some kind of white tile, and it goes all the way up the walls of the shower, too. Ryujin pops open a container and pulls out a couple of cotton pads, pumping them on top of some kind of micellar water, and then handing a couple to Yeji.

Together, they take their makeup off, side by side and silent in front of the mirror. There’s something so sweet and intimate about it—two women, carefully wiping away the faces they show the public and letting each other see what’s underneath. Yeji rinses her face off and then straightens to find Ryujin already offering her a soft hand towel to pat her skin dry.

“Moisturizer,” Ryujin murmurs, holding out a bottle and squeezing a pump out onto Yeji’s palm. Yeji smiles as she warms it between her hands and then taps it into her skin. There’s a comfort in this, an understanding Yeji has never had with any other partner.

“Thanks,” she says belatedly.

“Lemme see you, pretty girl,” Ryujin murmurs, and Yeji turns.

Ryujin looks less severe now, gentler and more subtle, but still just as attractive. The fine lines on her face are a little more prominent, but Yeji finds that she likes them, likes that Ryujin looks a little more mature. It makes her feel safe.

“You have a freckle on the tip of your nose,” Ryujin whispers, smiling.

Yeji touches it, giggling. “Yeah,” she says. “Have had it since I was a kid.”

Ryujin leans forward, coaxing Yeji’s hand out of the way with a finger, and places a soft kiss on the spot. Yeji giggles. “It’s cute,” she says. “Okay, c’mon.” She takes one of Yeji’s hands, pulling her back out into the bedroom and turning the bathroom light off as she goes. “Get comfy,” she says, dropping Yeji’s hand and nodding her towards the bed.

Yeji sits, pulling her socks off and tossing them underhand into the corner while Ryujin goes to the lamp she turned on when they first came in and dims it. Satisfied, she returns to the bed, pausing to slip her socks off as well, one hand braced on the mattress, before climbing up to join Yeji.

“Hi, baby,” she says softly, crawling up next to her and giving her a kiss.

“Hi, mommy,” Yeji whispers back, and Ryujin’s smile turns a little darker.

“Now that you mention it, we should probably talk about that,” Ryujin says.

“What?” Yeji asks, surprised.

“We’ve already established that we both like when you call me mommy,” Ryujin says. “So what else? What do you like, baby?”

Yeji considers it, thinking back to her past relationships. Her sex life has always been rather vanilla, she supposes. It’s not that she’s unaware of the options, it’s just that she never really knew how to bring it up. But now Ryujin is here, asking, and…

“I’m not sure,” Yeji admits softly. “I’ve never really—explored like that before.”

Ryujin remains unfazed. “But you want to,” she says.

Yeji’s breath hitches in her throat. “Yes.”

“Lucky for you, I have plenty of experience,” Ryujin says, corners of her lips curling up dangerously. “We can try things out, see what you like. The important thing is you make sure to tell me if something feels good or bad. Okay?” Yeji nods. “If something is bad, I want you to say red. Like stop. Even if I don’t ask you, okay?”

“Okay,” Yeji agrees.

“I’ll check in from time to time, though, just in case. If everything is good, then you can say green,” Ryujin continues. “Yellow is somewhere in the middle—just that you’re not sure, that you want to slow down, maybe change something and then keep going, or maybe stop.”

“Like a traffic light,” Yeji giggles.

“Yes,” Ryujin says. “Now, is there anything you’ve been curious about?”

A thousand dirty things pop into Yeji’s head at once. She thinks Ryujin could do just about anything to her and she’d like it, but she should probably start small. “I like calling you mommy because I like—I think I like giving up control. I like the idea of you doing whatever you want with me.”

“Mm, that’s good,” Ryujin says, tone almost blithe. “That’s what I want, too.” Her hands have found their way to Yeji’s waist, touches light and teasing. Yeji realizes she’s leaned back against the headboard, has let Ryujin corner her. “You want to give yourself over to me, baby?”

“Yes,” Yeji breathes. She imagines it, imagines lying pliant, on her back or on her knees, following Ryujin’s every word. She imagines Ryujin sticking a couple of fingers in her mouth and making her gag on them, not letting her speak even when tears gather in her eyes. She imagines Ryujin making her come again and again, with her fingers or her tongue or a toy, or making her ride her thigh and not letting her stop, even when she gets tired and her legs shake. She imagines Ryujin tying her up and grabbing her hair and holding Yeji’s face against her pussy, and—

“What are you thinking about, babygirl?” Ryujin asks, pinching her waist and making her squeak. “You gotta tell me, or we won’t be able to make it happen.”

“I, I—” Yeji’s head already feels a little foggy. She doesn’t know the words to say what she wants. “I don’t know how to explain,” she says finally, sending Ryujin a helpless look.

Ryujin, luckily, shows mercy. “That’s okay, baby,” she soothes. “How about I suggest a few things, and you can tell me yes or no?”

“Okay,” Yeji agrees, settling.

“You liked it when I pinched you,” Ryujin says. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Yeji says.

“You think you like pain?” Ryujin asks. Her hands have traveled down to the button of Yeji’s pants. “Can I?” She taps the button.

“Yes,” Yeji agrees. Suddenly, she wants nothing more than for both of them to be completely naked. Their clothes are just in the way, and she wants to see everything, to show Ryujin everything. “And—yes to pain.”

“Want mommy to spank you?” Ryujin is focused on getting Yeji out of her pants, but her voice is still measured and attentive.

“Yes,” Yeji agrees, lifting her hips so Ryujin can pull her pants down. She does it easily, unhooking the fabric from Yeji’s ankles and dropping her pants somewhere on the floor.

Ryujin bends down and kisses the soft skin of her inner thigh. For all the rough intent of her words, her touch is still gentle. Another kiss, higher this time, close to where Yeji can feel heat and wetness building, close to where Yeji wants so badly for Ryujin to touch her. Another kiss, over the tendon there that’s pulled taut. And then Ryujin raises her head, self-satisfied smirk only growing when Yeji whines.

“And you like that I’m older than you,” Ryujin says softly. “Yes or no?”

Yeji swallows. “Yes,” she whispers. “I like it a lot.”

“Mm.” Ryujin comes back up to Yeji, gives her a quick kiss on the point of her jaw. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Yeji says truthfully. There’s just something about it—maybe it’s the same sort of thing that makes her want to submit. Ryujin has all the power, all the control, and Yeji likes that. “I want—” The words are in her brain before she can even think of where they came from, but they’re true. “I want you to take advantage of me, mommy.”

Ryujin kisses the hollow of her throat with a low hum. “Does it make me a bad person if that’s what I want, too?” she murmurs.

Yeji shakes her head. “I don’t think so,” she says. “I’ve come to you willingly, haven’t I?”

“That’s true,” Ryujin says, her voice gaining a hard sort of edge to it. “Practically threw yourself at me tonight, what was I supposed to do?”

“Couldn’t help it,” Yeji says, truthful once again. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“What a coincidence.” Ryujin’s voice is soft and dangerous. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, either.” She toys with the hem of Yeji’s shirt. “We can talk about the rest later,” she says decisively. “Let’s get the rest of your clothes off so I can eat you out.”

Yeji nods, almost frantically. “Yes, please.”

Ryujin smiles and helps her out of her shirt, then goes to work on her pants while Yeji unclasps her bra. Ryujin’s tiny tank top goes next, and Yeji watches, rapt, as her bra falls away, too, and they’re both left in just their underwear.

Yeji’s seen plenty of tits before—she works in a club, she’s seen it all—but it's never really occurred to her that she likes tits, until now. Ryujin leans in, pressing a kiss to Yeji’s sternum, and Yeji brings a hand up to cup one of them, running her thumb over Ryujin’s nipple and nearly giggling when a tremor passes through her body.

“What was that about never being with a woman before?” Ryujin says, half amusement, half something else. “You seem to know exactly what you’re doing.”

Yeji does it again, flicks her thumb back and forth a couple times. “I’m just doing what I know I like,” she says softly, and Ryujin closes her mouth around one of Yeji’s nipples in response, tongue quick and skilled and so good. Yeji gasps, pleasure flooding her body. She can’t wait to find out how that’s going to feel against her clit.

It seems like Ryujin is thinking the same thing. After a few seconds, she pulls off, sitting back on her heels and out of Yeji’s reach. “More time for that later,” she says when Yeji pouts. “I want to eat you out first.”

“Okay,” Yeji agrees breathlessly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Scoot down a little,” Ryujin says. “Get comfortable.”

Yeji slides down the bed just enough that she ends up half-reclined against Ryujin’s pillows. Ryujin gets situated between her legs, running her hands down the tops of her thighs and leaving goosebumps scattering across Yeji’s skin in their wake. And then she reaches out and finally touches Yeji, palm overturned and fingers gentle, brushing over the fabric of Yeji’s panties.

“You’re so wet already, babygirl,” Ryujin comments, almost offhand. “Already soaked through your panties.”

“Your fault,” Yeji accuses, and Ryujin just laughs.

“Let’s call it a team effort, hm?” She doesn’t need an answer; she hooks her index fingers on the waistband of Yeji’s underwear and pulls them down. Yeji extracts her legs, giggling when Ryujin chucks them over her shoulder. “That’s better. Ready?” She looks up, finds Yeji’s eyes. Yeji nods.

Ryujin slings one of Yeji’s thighs over her shoulder and bends over. Yeji has about a half a second to admire the contours of her back before she can’t think at all, because Ryujin’s tongue is against her clit. She moves it in circles, almost teasing, and then goes in with rough back-and-forth movements. She hardly gives Yeji a chance to adjust, picking up the pace, pressing her face closer.

Yeji’s mouth has dropped open into a silent scream. She shakes, hands whispering across the sheets, trying and failing to find purchase there, something to anchor her. “Mommy,” she gasps, and Ryujin only hums.

Yeji has been eaten out before. But never this well, this quickly. Maybe it’s Ryujin’s age, or maybe it’s that she’s a woman, too, but there’s hardly a learning curve for her. Yeji almost feels embarrassed. She knows she won’t be nearly as good, and she considers apologizing right now. But she can’t, because she can hardly form words. Ryujin slips a finger in her—easy now that she’s practically dripping onto her sheets—and Yeji moans, letting her head loll to the side.

“Mommy,” she whimpers. “More.”

Ryujin doesn’t respond, just adds a second finger and works them in and out of Yeji tirelessly, curling them up as she pulls them out to press against the spot inside her that makes her legs shake. Yeji alternates between rolling her hips up to meet her and trying to squirm away. It’s almost too much, but she wants more, and she realizes that it’s because she’s close already.

She can feel the heat of Ryujin’s breath against her entrance. It’s almost reassuring—at least it’s hard work for Ryujin to make her feel like this. If it were easy, Yeji thinks she’d probably die of embarrassment.

But only after she comes, because everything feels so fucking good, and in the back of her mind, she finds herself almost remorseful. Why had she let herself suffer without sex this good for so many years? The answer, she knows, is just that she didn’t know it was possible to feel like this. It’s not that her past partners had left her unsatisfied, but she has a feeling that this is going to all but ruin her for everyone else.

“Feels so good,” she stutters. “Oh, fuck, Ryujin, mommy, I-I’m close.”

Ryujin raises her head as she adds a third finger. Her lips and chin are slick, glistening with Yeji, and her eyes are bright and happy. “Good, baby?” she asks. Yeji hardly hears her, thinks maybe she manages a nod. The next thing she feels is pain, sharp enough to make her gasp. Ryujin has struck the back of one of her thighs. “I asked you a question.”

Yeji moans, high and broken. “Y-yes, it’s good,” she says. Ryujin doesn’t slow her fingers once; actually, Yeji’s pretty sure she’s sped up.

“Feeling okay?” Ryujin’s voice is the same, but Yeji registers something softer underneath. “Can you give me a color?”

“Green,” Yeji replies immediately. “Please, mommy, hit me again.” There’s a small part of her that balks at the words—she never imagined she’d beg to be hurt. But, then again, it’s different with women. She can trust Ryujin. She’s safe here. “Make me come.”

“Of course, baby,” Ryujin says, tone almost indulgent. She dips her head again, and it takes everything in Yeji not to buck her hips up to meet Ryujin’s mouth. Ryujin hollows her cheeks a little, sucking as she swipes her tongue, back and forth and then around and around, fingers still pumping, other Han soothing over the spot where she struck here, where the tingles of pain are rapidly fading.

Yeji barely realizes Ryujin’s raised her hand before she strikes her again, the pain blooming hot and sweet across her skin. Yeji lets out a shaky moan, and Ryujin hums against her clit and then Yeji is coming, one hand flying to the back of Ryujin’s head, holding her in place as her whole body goes tight. She convulses around Ryujin’s fingers, gasping out whimpers that sound something like mommy, mommy please, and Ryujin doesn’t stop. Yeji’s heart is pounding, her head; pleasure sweeps her whole body in staggering wave after staggering wave. She feels it washing down her legs to her fucking toes, her fingertips, followed by near numbness as Ryujin finally relents, pulling away and crawling up the bed to lavish Yeji with attention.

She feels lips brushing her own and kisses back blindly. Ryujin pushes her tongue past Yeji’s teeth, and Yeji can taste herself. Another tremor runs through her body, and even though she’s still going through the aftershocks of her orgasm, she thinks she could maybe come again. Ryujin hums softly into her mouth, clean hand coming up to stroke her cheek as she pulls back.

“Look at me, baby,” Ryujin whispers. Yeji blinks her eyes open shyly, and finds Ryujin staring back. “Did so good for me,” she murmurs and Yeji preens, fluttering her eyelashes and letting out a soft giggle.

“I don’t think I’ve come that hard in my life,” she admits, and Ryujin chuckles.

“Good,” she says. “Can’t have anybody else making you feel like I do.” She raises her other hand, fingers glistening in the low light. “Help me clean up?”

Yeji leans forward, parting her lips and letting her tongue poke out a little in response. Ryujin smiles, offering her her ring and pinky fingers, dipping her head to take her index and middle fingers herself. Yeji pushes her tongue between the two fingers, licking them clean. Her forehead brushes against Ryujin’s, and when they both pull off, they’re laughing softly. Yeji follows Ryujin with her eyes, rapt, tracing over her smile lines, as Ryujin wipes their spit off on her thigh.

Ryujin brushes some of Yeji’s hair off her forehead with her other hand. “I like when you look at me like that,” she says.

Yeji leans into the touch, not breaking eye contact. “Like what?” she asks.

“Like you have stars in your eyes,” Ryujin says, smiling.

Yeji smiles, too. “I can’t help it,” she says truthfully. She sits up a little straighter, leaning into Ryujin’s space to steal another kiss. “Okay,” she says. “Your turn now. But you’re gonna have to help me.”

Ryujin exhales soft laughter. “Okay,” she replies. “What do you want, baby? You wanna eat me out too?” She tips her head just a little. “You don’t have to.”

Yeji rolls her eyes. “Are you nuts?” she asks. “Yes, I wanna eat you out.”

“Okay, let me see something,” Ryujin says. “Stick your tongue out.” Yeji obeys. “You can go around in circles, right?” Yeji nods, demonstrating, feeling a pleased flush rise to her cheeks when Ryujin’s eyes darken. “Good girl. How ‘bout side to side?” Ryujin demonstrates, sticking her own tongue out and wiggling it back and forth in a perfect line. Yeji hesitates, then tries it too, going slow at first but picking up speed once she gets the hang of it. Ryujin grins. “So talented,” she teases, and Yeji giggles. “Try it like that, like I did with you. Switch it up a little. I’ll tell you if you need to change anything.”

They switch places carefully. There’s something so purposeful about it; one action doesn’t naturally flow into the next, and Yeji used to think that might be kind of unsexy. But she appreciates now that they’re taking it slow, that Ryujin is giving her time to set herself up. Besides, there’s something to be said about being deliberate, about choosing.

Ryujin lies back against her pillows, letting her legs drop open. “Let’s see what you can do, pretty girl,” she murmurs, and Yeji feels something flare in her, a drive to be good, a drive to prove herself.

She bends over Ryujin’s body, pausing to kiss her stomach, first between her ribs and then at the seat of it, the pretty curved line where her belly meets her hips, then lower. She hesitates for a split second, then pushes on. The last thing she sees before she gets too close is pink and pink and pink, dusky and pretty and enticing. Yeji’s nerves slip away. She knows what to do, mostly, and where she doesn’t, Ryujin will help her.

Yeji can smell her, the wet heat of it. It’s earthy and a little sharp, different from Yeji, different from anything she knows. It might be a little gross of her, but it smells good. The short hairs tickle against Yeji’s nose and upper lip as she opens her mouth and presses her tongue against Ryujin’s clit. She takes Ryujin’s hips in her hands to hold herself upright, then circles her tongue around her clit, long, slow movements, building up to an easy rhythm and giving herself a chance to adjust. There’s not much to adjust to, though. She’s not choking on anything, and she doesn’t have to be so careful with her teeth. Sucking dick has its merits to be sure, but this—Yeji pushes her face closer, switching to the side-to-side movements Ryujin just taught her, and is rewarded with a breathy moan.

She raises her gaze and finds Ryujin watching through half-lidded eyes, head lolled to the side. “That’s it, baby,” Ryujin says when she sees Yeji looking. “So good. You’re a natural.” There’s a hint of humor nestled there in the desire, and Yeji smiles against Ryujin’s pussy, swiping her tongue faster. She tastes mild, a little salty, a little bitter, and Yeji makes a mental note to ask Ryujin if she can tongue-fuck her next time so she can have more.

One of Ryujin’s hands comes down to cup the base of her skull. Yeji hums softly, delighted to find it sends shivers through Ryujin’s whole body.

“Don’t even need me to help you,” Ryujin says lowly. “Doing so good. You can go a little slower. Think you can give me one of your fingers, baby? Want you inside.”

Yeji scrambles to obey, planting one hand on the mattress to stabilize herself and fitting her other arm under her body so she can work a finger into Ryujin. This, too, comes easy; she knows what feels good, what doesn’t. Ryujin is so wet, dripping down her knuckles as she begins to move her finger in and out, slow and stuttering as she tries to keep up with her tongue, too. It takes a few minutes of awkward, jerky movements, but Ryujin is patient, murmuring praise. Yeji doesn’t back down, determined to find the right rhythm, and eventually she does, tongue pushed flat and wiggling side to side against Ryujin’’s swollen clit as she pumps her finger in and out. She’s glad she’s not wearing nails, that she clipped them just yesterday and filed them down to let them recover, glad there’s nothing stopping her from giving Ryujin everything.

As Ryujin gets louder, Yeji gets bolder, scraping gently with her teeth to see what will happen. Ryujin moans, nails digging into Yeji’s scalp. “Who taught you that, baby?” Ryujin asks. “Fuck, do it again for me.” Yeji obeys, staying gentle, warmth settling over her body and gathering in her belly when Ryujin shakes.

She adds a second finger, and she’s able to get deeper like this, curling her fingers up and moaning again Ryujin’s clit when Ryujin rolls her hips up to meet her, when she groans low and gravelly in the back of her throat and says, “There, right there, baby.” Yeji’s tongue is getting sore, her lips puffy and probably bruised, her chin covered with seat and spit and Ryujin, her fingers tiring, but she keeps going because Ryujin sounds so good, tastes so good, feels so good. She thinks she could do this forever, maybe, face buried between Ryujin’s thighs, Ryujin’s moans filling the air, Ryujin clenching tight around her fingers, pulling her in.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” Ryujin gasps, and then Yeji feels her pulsing around her fingers as she arches off the bed, bumping Yeji’s nose almost painfully. Yeji doesn’t care, does her best to move with her, keeps circling her tongue and moving her fingers as best she can as Ryujin comes with a moan. Yeji thinks dizzily that maybe it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. She thinks she’s gonna remember it forever, the sound playing and replaying in her mind whenever she gets off next.

After a little while, Ryujin stills and pushes her away, gentle but firm. “Okay, okay,” she gasps and Yeji raises her head, drawing in a huge breath. She realizes now how tired she is, how her body aches, how tight her lungs.

“Was it good, mommy?” she asks breathlessly, crawling to the side and then scooting up towards the pillows.

Ryujin nods, giving her a lazy, satisfied smile. “Yes, baby,” she says, and her voice is all sugar. “You did very good. C’mere.” She holds out her arms and Yeji goes happily, nestling close. “Kiss me.” And Yeji does, pressing her lips to Ryujin’s, kissing her softly, letting her eyes fall shut, letting Ryujin wrap her up in her arms until she’s surrounded, until the whole world is just Ryujin and her lips and her taste and her soft, soft skin.

They break apart after a few moments and just lay there, breathing. Yeji rests her head on Ryujin’s shoulder. She wonders what time it is. Maybe the sun is already on the rise. Maybe it’s been hours. She’s not sure, but she doesn’t care. She could stay here forever, she thinks. She would stay, if Ryujin asked.

“Doing okay?” Ryujin asks finally.

Yeji giggles a little deliriously. It feels like such a silly question. “God, yeah,” she says. “I had fun. Is that weird? I had so much fun, I didn’t know it could be so fun.”

Ryujin laughs, too, the delight rich and clear. “Good,” she says. “I’m glad. I had fun, too.”

They lay together a few minutes more, pressing soft kisses to each other’s palms and letting their laughter ebb away. At last, Ryujin drags them both from the bed. Together they pull the sheets off, throwing them in a heap with their clothes, and then head to the bathroom for a shower. Ryujin has earthy-scented body wash, and Yeji tries to hide how pleased she is to share, happy that the smell will linger on her skin tomorrow, a secret reminder.

Yeji has a few spare pairs of clean underwear in her bag, so she pulls on a pair once they’re both dry, then goes to Ryujin for a shirt. Ryujin has her top drawer open, picking out a pair for herself, and Yeji’s eyes land on a row of dildos in the back, along with a harness.

“You own a strap?” she gasps, swatting Ryujin’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to scare you,” Ryujin replies, plucking up a pair of underwear and pushing the drawer shut.

“Next time?” Yeji all but demands, pouting. “Want you to fuck me, mommy.”

“God, you’re insatiable,” Ryujin accuses, but she’s grinning. She leans in and kisses Yeji’s forehead. “Yes,” she adds. “Next time.”

They get sleep shirts, then put on fresh sheets together, fluffing the pillows, and climb into bed. Yeji yawns widely, and Ryujin covers her mouth for her, laughing as they both settle down against the pillows.

Yeji curls closer, slotting one of her legs between Ryujin’s. Ryujin runs a hand down her back, touch warm and reassuring, eyes on Yeji, watching her. Yeji blinks back, some joyous feeling bubbling up in her chest. She’s never felt so wanted. She’s never felt so safe.

“G’night,” she whispers.

“It’s already seven a.m.,” Ryujin whispers back.

“Oops,” Yeji says softly, closing her eyes, and Ryujin laughs. The sound washes her into sleep, Ryujin’s hand is still warm on Yeji’s back.

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