#already got the pay figured out for employees

[karmacansuckmyd-ck]

Okay. Either I meet someone online who I live in the same city as (2 houses. Not rich, still love w parents & one of them has a job required somewhere else) or when I’m older and w money I get myself a bookshop after creating accounts online to promote and have an Aziraphale’s bookshop-inspired (you guessed it) bookshop. And then get them (using gn as to keep identity even more secret 🤫) to rlly want to visit, have them visit, and surprise them w me being the owner/manager etc

Which one? Patience or no?

[lesbiansanemi]

Me: maybe 8 days off will fix me, maybe going back to work won’t be so bad. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s alright

Also me: *is at work for less than two hours and already Wants to Die* Ah. Great.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Don’t Mess with My Girl

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You come home from work and you make the mistake of telling Bucky that a guy has been harassing you at work.

Warning: harassment from a male coworker

A/N: the snippets of Bucky in the Thunderbolts trailer have ignited my love for him again omfg.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky's already home when you arrive from work. You let out an exhausted sigh as you place your things on the kitchen island and kiss Bucky's cheek, "Hi, lovey."

He hums and looks at your slumped figure, "What's wrong?" he asks with furrowed brows, concern written all over his face.

"Just a rough day at work," you reply, opening up the dishwasher to grab a cup and snort as you see Bucky's metal prosthetic resting inside.

You turn back to him, "Explain," you say pointing at his arm.

He gives a sheepish grin and shrugs, "Today was a bit messy, is all." You chuckle and roll your eyes. You grab a cup from the top rack of the dishwasher and grab Bucky's arm, laying it on the counter.

"What happened today?" you ask as you fill your cup with water from the fridge.

Bucky shakes his head, "Nope. I asked you a question first," he walks over to you and cups your face with his right hand, "What's made my girl all upset?"

You groan, "A new hire, Noah. He's very...persistent."

"Persistent how?"

You shrug, "He just keeps asking me out, getting a little too close-"

"Fire him," Bucky immediately says.

You groan, "But he's a good employee!"

"Doesn't matter if he keeps harassing you."

"I wouldn't say he's harassing me..."

Bucky cocks a brow and places his hand on his hip in a very intimidating manner, "Does he get aggressive when you reject him?"

"...yes."

"Is he constantly berating you and not taking no for an answer?"

"...yeah."

"Does he scare you?"

"A little bit."

"Baby, that's harassment," he says as he walks over to his metal arm, placing it onto the notch and locking it in. He looks down and flexes his arm, "I can take care of him for you, easily. The fellas and I can grab him and-"

You immediately wave your hands and shake your head, "No, no, no. No! Don't hurt him! I'll-I'll handle it. I'll talk to Joan and let her know what's been going on."

"Good and if that doesn't stop him then, I'll pay him a visit," you give him a playful shove and he chuckles, "What? No one messes with my girl and gets away with it!"

____________________________

As soon as you got into the bookshop the next day, you immediately tell Joan of Noah's behavior. When he comes in, Joan pulled him aside to talk to him. You thought that everything would be good after that...but you were wrong.

When you were in the back, putting books away, Noah corners you, "Did you really have to tell Joan our business?"

You can't help but scoff at his audacity, "Well you wouldn't stop asking me out after I said no and reminding you that I have a boyfriend."

It's Noah's turn to scoff, "Oh yeah, your boyfriend," he says with air quotes, "You say you have one but you don't have him as your lockscreen and you haven't showed any pictures of him."

"He's a private person, but that's not the point! I told you 'no'! You should've stopped after that."

Noah rolls his eyes, "Oh just because someone says 'no', doesn't mean they mean it! Means they want you to try harder."

"Actually, it just means 'no' and you fuck off," a deep voice cuts in-between the confrontation between you and Noah.

Both of you turn to see Bucky standing there with a hard glare on his face.

You gulp, "Bucky, what're you doing here?"

He holds up your lunch bag, "You forgot your lunch at home," he holds it out and you rush over to him, grabbing the bag and remaining at his side.

Noah looks at Bucky with wide eyes and then at you. His face loses color as he realizes, "W-Wait, you-you're dating the White Wolf of Brooklyn?"

Bucky smirks at his nickname, "Yeah, she is. And my girl told me you wouldn't leave her alone. Sounds like even with your job on the line, you still don't seem to get the hint." He slips off his blazer, handing it off to Steve. He then starts rolling up the sleeve of his metal arm, the dim lighting of the book shop reflecting off its metal plates.

"I can definitely figure out a way to get the message through to you."

Noah stutters out a response, "N-No. Th-That's not necessary, s-sir. I-I won't bother, Y/N again, I promise."

Bucky hums, "If I see or hear you harassing my girl or anyone else, I'll make sure your body will never be found again. Scum like you don't deserve second chances, but I'm feeling a little gracious today."

Noah nods, "Thank you. I-I won't behave like that ever again."

"Good. Now apologize to Y/N," he nods to you.

Noah gulps and stutters out an apology. You simply reply with a nod and Noah scurries away.

You let out a deep breath that you didn't know you were holding. You look at Bucky, "Thanks."

He shrugs, "Anyone gives you a problem, they have to go through me," he mumbles pecking your lips.

"Y/N, do you know why Noah suddenly qui-ah," Joan turns the corner to see you and Bucky. The older woman puts her hands on her hips and gives Bucky a scolding look, "Barnes, what did you do?"

Bucky shrugs, "Just gave him a warning, ma'am. He shouldn't have been treatin' my girl like that!"

"Very true, but you know I don't condone violence in my shop."

He holds his hands up, "No violence happened, ma'am. Just a little threatenin'." Joan looks to you for confirmation and you nod.

She sighs, "Very well. Guess I need to look for another employee again."

An idea came to mind, "Actually, I know someone!"

______________

"Seriously, Y/N, I owe you one for this!" the young brunette exclaims as he follows you with a box of books in his arms.

You chuckle, "It's no problem, Peter. Besides, we both get something out of this. You're doing a much safer job like your Aunt May and Tony wanted and you get to keep an eye on me for Bucky. It's a win-win situation."

The bell above the shop's door rings and Peter immediately places the box of books down, "I got it!" he rushes to the front, "Hi, welcome to-oh! Y/N!" Peter's voice echoes through the store.

You shelf a book and head to the front, "Yeah?" you break out into a smile as you see Bucky there.

"Hey!" you approach him, giving a little wave to Steve, who stands behind him. Steve waves back, but says nothing else. You wrap your arms around Bucky and peck his lips, "What's up?"

"Had a meeting at Wanda's shop, brought some pastries for you, Joan, and the kid," he hands over the maroon pastry box with Wanda's logo on it.

"Yay! Here, Peter," you hand it off to the young man and he jaw drops, "Oh, sweet! Thanks, Mr. Barnes!" and he heads into the back to share the pastries with Joan.

Bucky places his hands on your waist, "How's he doin'?"

You chuckle, "Fine. He's very enthusiastic and a hard worker. Plus, he doesn't hit on me because he's in love with MJ."

Bucky's brows shoot up in surprise, "Jones' kid? Pft. Good luck, Parker."

You giggle and then back away, "Alright, big mob boss, I need to get back to work."

"Fine. But seriously though, you feel better? Safer?"

You nod, "I do. Thank you," you kiss his cheek and he softens, "Like I said, no one messes with my girl," he gives you a wink and wave as he exits the book shop.

[loonylupinblack3]

Powerless

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: extremely toxic!rafe, violence, swearing, many threats issued

Summary: you hate being a Pogue. Hate how vulnerable and weak and powerless it makes you. Rafe reinforces this for you.

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: heavily based off of season 1 episode three of obx when pope is delivering groceries and Rafe jumps him. also the ferrari sf90 spider is actually my favourite car so i yapped about it a lil bit :)

You were helping Heyward load the grocery bags onto the boat alongside Pope and JJ, stacking the bags of food and other knick knacks in the middle of the vehicle. 

“You kids get these groceries over to Figure Eight,” Heyward instructed, grunting as he lifted a pair of heavy bags off the dock and moved over to the boat, Pope, waiting at the ready, taking them from his father. “Get straight back here when you’re done.” He gave you a pointed look. “No fishing.”

You grinned at him, saluting him as you grabbed a pair of bags from him and placed it on the boat. JJ was right next to you, with Pope behind, the three of you working in tandem.

“I promised delivery by this afternoon,” Heyward continued. “Rich folk don’t want to wait for you lazy sons-” Seeing JJ with his arms already outstretched waiting for another bag of groceries and a beaming smile on his face gave Heyward pause. “Oh, JJ, thank you.” As soon as JJ grabbed the groceries he continued. “-sons of bitches.”

He glanced at you. “Excusing you, of course, Y/n. You’re always a delight.”

You beamed at him and JJ gave a scoff. “How come you get all the praise and I get nothing?”

You sniffed, flipping your hair to the side. “‘Cause I’m better.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are-”

Heyward interrupted the two of you. “Hey, alright enough. No bickering. Get your asses moving and deliver these groceries.”

You all gave the man a salute and entered the cabin part of the boat as Pope started it up. Heyward didn’t trust JJ enough to drive the boat and knew you’d end up going the wrong way with your poor sense of direction, so Pope was in charge of steering the vehicle.

You drove through the river, leaving the Pogue side behind and entering Figure Eight, the Kooks domain. You noted the large houses, clean and tidy, and the smooth way they all seemed to be running with enough electricity and clear running water to their heart's content.

“Doesn’t even look like the storm hit there,” Pope exclaimed in indignation. No doubt he was thinking about your own houses, all of them damaged in some way and not yet fixed.

JJ twirled a pocket knife in his hands. “That’s because they got generators, bro. Get used to it.”

You scowled, shaking your head. “And then they say the juice will be out all summer at the cut.”

Pope shook his head, jaw clenched. “Nice to be a Kook.”

You nodded your head in agreement as JJ said, “lucky bastards.”

“One day I’m gonna become a Kook,” you said. “Dunno how yet, but I’m gonna go full Kook, with a pool, mansion, Ferrari SF90 Spider.”

JJ and Pope both groaned as you mentioned your favourite car, again. Sometimes they found you just never shut up about it, going on about the horsepower, the V8 engine, the fact it was the very pinnacle of Ferrari technology, with the thrill and versatility of open top driving.

“Time for you to stop talking,” JJ said, commandeering the conversation. You didn’t mind, content to listen to him for the rest of the way to Figure Eight, where you docked the boat and divvied out the grocery bags between you.

You and Pope were gonna go together, with JJ taking the rest and heading in the other direction. You bid each other quick goodbyes and hurried with Pope, walking around the unfamiliar streets. Everything looked so much nicer here, from the pavement to the shops lining the streets, everything inside looking like it cost more than a week's worth of your pay.

You took a shortcut, walking through the golf course instead of around it. The employees let you through without a second glance. It was surprising what you could get away with as a Pogue working in Figure Eight. The two of you walked on the side of the golf course, talking under your breaths as you looked around cautiously.

“I’m also going to golf here every week,” you stated, watching a particularly fit woman swing a golf club, her muscles flexing with exertion. 

You could almost imagine it being you, the golf club, hat, skirt, everything. If you really thought about it, the girl almost looked like you, similar hair colour and figure.

Pope laughed. “You hate golfing.”

You shrugged, swinging the bags in your hands slightly as you walked. “Yeah, but it's what Kooks do isn’t it?”

“What is your obsession with being a Kook?” Pope asked. “I get being rich, everyone wants it, but you seem almost obsessed with it.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself when movement caught your eye. You involuntarily recoiled when you recognised Topper and Rafe heading towards you. Pope noticed too, muttering swear words under his breath and advising you to just walk past and ignore them.

“Hey what’s up guys?” Rafe asked, putting up an innocent facade. He used his golf club to stop your walking, pressing it to the box of beers in Pope’s hand. “Hey how much for one of those beers?”

Pope turned to the side, trying to push past. “They’re not for sale.”

Rafe made a tutting sound. “Wait, wait, wait.” He stopped Pope as he tried to pass, forcing the two of you to stay there. Topper was standing directly in front of you, creating a barrier of sorts across the pathway. “You can just give us one, then, right?”

You wanted to snap at him. Wanted to ridicule him, ask him if he knew what not for sale meant. You were scared though, and you knew it wouldn’t help you or Pope standing up to him like that.

“Or you can order one like everybody else,” Pope replied, again trying to push past.

Rafe was rougher this time, ignoring Pope’s struggles and shoving him back. The coil of fear in your gut tightened. “Listen. Wait, wait, wait, you’re not listening to me. Um…” he gestured with his hands. “You’ve got so many bro, and we’ve got nothing.”

“Got nothing man,” Topper chimed in.

You scowled. “They’re not ours, they’re already paid for.”

Rafe looked at you, surprised you spoke, and then all of his attention was on you. You regretted even speaking, because his attention was like a guillotine, one wrong movement and the blade would fall.

“Oh, already paid for?” Rafe asked. “Knowing you Pogues, you probably stole them, right?”

Before you could stop him he was in front of you, his golf club snagging at the plastic bags in your hands as he pulled. Everything fell to the floor, and you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering.

“What the hell Rafe?!” You cried. “You owe us for that!”

He laughed, getting all up in your space. “Oh I owe you do I? I don’t owe you shit, Sweetheart.” He grabbed your chin, his fingers forcefully curling around your skin.

“Hey, get off her!” Pope yelled, grabbing Rafe’s shirt and yanking him back. You were grateful for the space, rubbing your jaw as the fear weighed you down, down, down.

Rafe spun around, “don’t fucking touch me you Pogue.”

“Come on man,” Topper said from his other side. They had him surrounded. “We just want a beer.” He made a lunge for it. “Just give us one of these.”

Topper and Pope were full on wrestling with the box now, and the fear was in your throat, especially when Rafe joined in, tripping Pope up and making him fall to the floor with a slam, rolling over a few times.

You gasped, going to him, but Rafe got there first. He had a bruise on his head, looking red and scratched. He scrambled upright, a hatred kindling in his eyes as he threw a punch. Rafe was ready though, avoiding it easily and using his golf club to slam into your friend's stomach. When he was bent over Rafe slammed it down again, Pope crumpling to the floor.

You couldn’t watch it anymore. As he raised his club again you moved forward, shoving him to the side. You only managed to move him because he wasn’t expecting it, and even Topper looked surprised, doing nothing to stop you because really, how much damage can a girl do?

You planted yourself in front of Pope, and when Rafe, laughing in disbelief, walked up to you, you were ready. You swung your fist but it was in poor form, Rafe catching your wrist mid-movement. His grip was tight enough to make you wince.

“Getting involved?” Rafe asked you, moving forward until you were chest to chest. “That’s cute.” His voice was low and mocking. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

You yanked your arm back. That was the second time he’d grabbed you and your skin felt dirty, his fingerprints crawling all over you. Rafe just seemed amused, a cruel delight in his eyes. There was no fear in his expression and why would there be? He was a Kook. He had his friend right behind him ready to defend him if needed. His real competitor was still on the floor, pain immobilising him. No, there was no fear in his expression, only a sick satisfaction of knowing exactly how much control he had over this situation.

Pope gave a groan, attempting to pull himself upright but Rafe didn’t even glance at him. His focus was zeroed on you, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach churn. “What’s it like, being a Pogue? Being powerless?”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, to say something humiliating and knock his ego down a few inches, anything to stand up against him. Rafe seemed to know you too well though, grabbing your jaw in a bruising grip, his fingers cold and rough. More threat than affection. “You’d be better off with me, y’know that?”

It wasn’t a flirtation he spoke to you – it was a threat. You could hear the danger in every word, the treacherous promise that he’d never leave you alone, that this sick game of his would only end on his terms. You could see the lines between desire and control blurring, and nauseatingly realised that Rafe’s affection for you might be even more dangerous than his fists. 

You tried to jerk away, revolution surfacing inside you but Rafe only tightened his grip. “Nah, don’t do that,” he warned almost lazily. “Don’t make me hurt you too.”

You wanted to cry. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall. You’d hate to give him the satisfaction of seeing them roll down your face. All of this was a game to him, a test to see how much fear he could wring out of you. The worst part was you knew he would do it, just because he could.

Your gaze darted to Pope, your friend just managing to sit upright. Topper was standing to the side, an uneasy expression on his face. You didn’t want Rafe to escalate things any further, because you knew he would, just to prove a point. He noticed your line of sight and forcibly pulled you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear.

“You’re lucky I like you,” his breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. An edge of cruelty laced his tone, as did delight, the same one a kid would get from playing with their toys, which was what you were to Rafe. “Otherwise you’d be right there next to him.”

Before you could answer he shoved you back, hard enough to make you stumble. A sickeningly smug smirk was on his face as he picked up two cans of beer off the ground, chucking one to Topper.

“Catch you later Sweetheart,” he called to you, going as far as sending you a wink, acting like everything had just been harmless fun, which you guessed it was to him.

You watched him saunter away, leaving a mess in his wake that he seemed to do everywhere. Except this time it was worse, because with a sickening dread you realised the next thing he’d leave a mess would be you.

And you suddenly had an answer to Pope’s earlier question. Why did you want to be a Kook so badly? It was simple, really. This whole interaction had just reinforced the feeling that you were too vulnerable, too weak. And the answer appeared from the ashes of Rafe’s destruction, a truth you guarded with your heart.

You didn’t want to be powerless.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Just a Dog Walker

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x grad student!dog walker!fem!reader

Summary: As Tim's dog walker, and nothing more, you grow close to him and Kojo. After protecting Kojo from a dog fight, you learn how Tim really sees you.

Warnings: dog attack, dog bite (r), fluffy ending. (Kojo is totally fine!)

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: More Kojo, what the world really needs.

“Sergeant Bradford, come to my office for a minute?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers quickly. “Uh, sorry. No, sir, I can’t.”

Crossing his arms, Wade inquires, “Why not?”

A low huff is audible in Tim’s office, but Wade knows it isn’t him.

“Is yo’ dog under that desk?”

“No.”

“Let me amend the question. Is Kojo under the desk?”

Kojo barks happily, trying to push past Tim to visit Wade. Wade shakes his head, dropping his arms.

“Why is he here?”

“I’m working a double and I couldn’t leave him at home. What if he had run out of water or needed to go out?” Tim answers.

“You know, here in sunny Los Angeles, there are more people than I can count who are certified dog sitters.”

“Kojo doesn’t like strangers.”

“Just Kojo? Look, Tim, I get it, the bond between a man and his dog. But, there has to be a boundary, a separation somewhere. I’ll call Luna, she’s got friends with dogs and trusted, bonded employees who watch their dogs. Walk ‘em daily, train ‘em, do everything while you’re at work.”

“I can take care of my dog by myself.”

“Not while you’re at work, Bradford. He can stay for now, Lord knows he’s a better boy than you, but by the end of the week I want to know you’ve got someone to care for him.”

Tim grumbles, pushing his hands under the desk to pet Kojo. “I’ll take you up on Luna’s friends then.”

“She’ll call later.”

“You already asked her?”

“’Course I did. We have work to do. And, so you know, we can see Kojo’s paws under the desk. But nice try.”

“I tried, buddy,” Tim tells Kojo, passing him a treat from the container hidden in his desk drawer.

✯✯✯✯✯

Grad school is expensive, but since you don’t have the degree level you are striving for, you need a different job to get you through. Pushing 30 and being a dog walker isn’t ideal, but it’s paying the bills. One of your neighbors helped you open a business with proper insurance and licensing to care for the dogs of Los Angeles. 

Most of your clients live nearby, and you do your rounds twice daily, studying and attending classes between. One of your favorite clients has a friend named Luna, who you love. She gets you jobs, helps you out constantly, and is like a mother figure to you. You are forever grateful for her. So, when she calls, you rush to answer.

“Hey, Luna!” you answer. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you doing? Still working on your dissertation; making progress?”

“Slow but steady, yeah. What can I do for you?”

“This is actually something I can do for you. There’s a sergeant that works with Wade; he’s got a dog and needs someone trusted to take care of his dog while he’s at work. He’s been sneaking Kojo into the station and Wade had to ask him to stop.”

“Kojo? That’s an adorable name. But, yeah, I’d be happy to meet him.”

“Awesome! His name’s Tim. I will send him your number and have Wade force him to set something up.”

“Is Tim a little rough around the edges, typical cop type?”

“Not typical, no… Just- you’ll see when you meet him. He’s great, though, deep down.”

“I’ll try to remember that. Thanks, Luna.”

“See you Friday?”

“See you Friday.”

You sit back, writing the name ‘Tim’ on your dog-walking calendar. Another client would be great for your wallet, but it seems like this sergeant will take some convincing before he hires you. This is understandable, of course, because you wouldn’t let just anyone take care of your babies, and dogs are just four-legged babies. 

“Please be as great as Luna said,” you whisper before returning your attention to the research before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Yeah, I texted her. We’re meeting at an outdoor café tonight,” Tim says before Wade can ask. “But if I don’t like her or if Kojo doesn’t like her, I’m going to keep looking.”

“Got it,” Wade answers. “But you’ve got more double shifts in your future, so don’t take too long trying to find a ‘perfect’ dog walker.”

Tim nods, hoping he can find a way out of letting a stranger into his house to take care of his dog. He checked your name, and your business seems legitimate, but there’s no way of knowing. Luckily, he and Kojo are both excellent judges of character.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luna sent you a picture of Kojo, and you spot him immediately. The man sitting beside him, though, is breathtakingly handsome. You’re shocked that he doesn’t have female neighbors and friends lining up at his door, offering to take care of Kojo (and him). 

“Hi, Mr. Bradford?” you ask.

Kojo looks up at you and pants, his tail slapping against Tim’s leg.

“Yes. Nice to meet you,” Tim replies, offering his hand.

Shaking his hand, you glance down at Kojo. When Tim releases his grip, you squat and extend your hand for Kojo to sniff. He flips your hand up with his snout, stepping closer to you.

“I’m sure Luna told you that I’m a cop,” Tim continues, drawing your attention away from Kojo.

You sit beside him, lowering a hand to pat Kojo’s head. “She did, sir.”

“Then you know that if anything were to happen to my house during or after your visit, I could very easily charge you with any number of crimes. And I won’t tell you what I would do if something happened to Kojo while under your care.”

You can’t tell if his threat is legitimate, so you nod in understanding.

“Yes, sir, I understand. Kojo’s safety, and your home, of course, are of the utmost importance and I will do everything I can to do right by both of you.”

Tim nods, watching Kojo for a moment. “You’re good with him. He’s not always so welcoming with strangers; scared one of my girlfriends away once. So, I’m going to give you a chance.”

“Amazing. Thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“What do we need to do to get started?”

“I can offer you a few days free, as a trial run. And if you still want to keep me on afterward, we can discuss payment, sir.”

“That’s unnecessary. I need someone to take care of Kojo and you seem to be the best fit.”

“Okay. Then I will email you a link to create a client account and my website has a portal to pay. Luna mentioned that you work overnight sometimes, so if you needed me to do later or earlier visits, I can do that too, sir.”

“Sounds good.”

Tim stands, wiping his hand on his jeans before offering his hand again.

“Nice to meet you and I look forward to your email.”

“You, too. And thank you.”

Petting Kojo once more, you smile before walking away. You didn’t expect him to be so attractive, so you have to remember that he clarified you’re his dogwalker, and he doesn’t even really want a dogwalker.

Determined to make him see the benefits of someone caring for Kojo, you add him to your schedule before he even pays you. Money is no longer a concern; you’re already in love with Kojo, and now, you need to focus on not falling for his owner, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’d you think about her? I know you hired her, but what’d you think personally?” Luna asks, standing in Wade’s office.

Tim shrugs. “She’s very polite. Seems driven, hard-working, responsible.”

“Well, now that you’ve read her resumé, have anything else to add?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and Wade guesses, “She makes you nervous?”

“A little.”

“What?” Luna exclaims. “She’s the sweetest!”

“Not like that, Luna,” Wade interjects. “Someone wasn’t expecting a pretty dog walker.”

“Oh. Tim Bradford, I wasn’t sure you still had it in you.”

“She is taking care of Kojo. Yes, she is beautiful, but this won’t go any farther than a business agreement.”

“Care to bet on that?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers before leaving and closing the door behind him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Kojo, Kojo,” you call, entering Tim’s house with the key he had made for you.

Kojo’s nails click on the flooring, rushing to greet you.

“Hey, buddy. You miss your dad? I bet you do.”

As you slide Kojo’s harness over his front legs, he licks your face, and you laugh, scratching his chest before standing to connect his leash. Kojo has quickly become your favorite dog. You visit several throughout the day, but Kojo is the sweetest and the most handsome.

When you return to Tim’s side door, it’s standing open. You know that you closed and locked it, so you pull Kojo’s leash tight, stepping back as you prepare to run.

“It’s just me!” Tim yells from inside. “Sorry, my hands were full, and I couldn’t close the door.”

Sighing in relief, you lead Kojo inside, closing the door behind you and locking it instinctually.

“Honey, we’re home!” you call.

Tim freezes in the kitchen at your teasing, borderline flirtatious tone. You remove Kojo’s leash and harness and put it away, following him as he runs toward Tim.

“Why are you home so early?” you ask.

“I worked all night,” Tim answers. “Thought you’d feel my absence through our connection.”

You chuckle at Tim’s flirting. After the second meeting, it became much easier to talk to him. Interestingly enough, Tim started the flirtatious tendencies. You tend to stick to business-related topics, but sometimes it feels like you’re just two friends – maybe more – and you forget you’re just his dog walker.

“Everything go okay at work, sir? Kojo, for one, had a great day.”

Tim says your name, a sigh more than anything. “I told you a week ago to stop calling me sir.”

“Sorry, sir- Tim.”

Tim looks away suddenly, turning his attention to the bags he carried inside while you were walking Kojo.

“Did you even wonder where Kojo was?” you ask.

“No. I know his dog walker is punctual… and a control freak.”

“Planning my day doesn’t make me a control freak!”

“You have it planned to the minute.”

“To accommodate you,” you grumble.

“Yet you won’t let me take you on a date.”

“You won’t ask.”

You fall silent, and when you think you took it too far, Kojo barks and makes you both laugh. Talking to Tim is easy, but no matter how much you love Kojo or think you could be more, you must keep everything in perspective. Tim is older, a police sergeant and you are his college student dog walker.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hello?” you ask, answering your phone and rubbing your eyes as you look away from the computer screen.

“Hey,” Tim says. “I’m so sorry for the late notice but I’m going to be here overnight. Could you-“

“I’ll go over now.”

“Listen, it’s crazy out there right now. If you want to stay there, please do. I don’t want you out more than you have to be.”

“Tim, that’s not necessary.”

“Please. It’s not just for your safety; I’ll feel better knowing that you’re somewhere safe.”

“Okay,” you reply. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m insisting. Kojo is a cuddler, but that’s all you have to fear there.”

“Oh, you should have started with that. Kojo cuddles sound amazing.”

“Long day?”

“Not as long as yours. I’ll text you when I get there. Thank you, Tim.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“See you then.”

The drive to Tim’s house is short, but you hear several police sirens. Whatever they’re dealing with does seem (as Tim put it) crazy. Once you’re inside and the alarm is reset, you collapse on the couch and let Kojo cuddle up to you. You feel weirdly close to Tim, too, probably from being in his house. Falling asleep here is easy; you’re at peace, happy, and cuddled by a warm, loving dog.

✯✯✯✯✯

Waking up is not quite as peaceful. Tim is taking a picture, and when you grunt, he lowers the phone and smiles.

“That’s adorable,” he states.

“I’m quitting,” you murmur, throwing an arm over Kojo.

“You know, he didn’t even come see me when I got home? He’s a cheater, although I can’t blame him. It does look pretty comfortable.”

Ignoring him, you move closer to Kojo.

“Consider this my two hours’ notice.”

Tim chuckles, and the couch dips by your feet as he sits. When you sit up, he’s leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your way so you can rest. Need me to come back later?”

“No, I’m here all day. If you want to stay, you can.”

“I have a paper to finish,” you lament. “But I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” You’re gathering your things when Tim reiterates, “Seriously. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Drive safe.”

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s cloudy in Los Angeles, like a bad omen. You’re considering taking Tim’s offer of staying at his house to work. Kojo is the last dog you visit, and you look down at him as he sniffs the base of a streetlight.

“Mind if I stay with you for the rest of the day?” you ask him.

Kojo’s tail wags faster, but he’s still more interested in the light than you.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kojo picks his head up, continuing toward the corner as you lead him down the sidewalk. You see something move up the road and command Kojo to stop. Unsure if it’s a dog or some other animal, you wait a moment before walking again.

With your attention on the unknown shadow before you, you fail to hear a dog running up behind you. Kojo turns suddenly, and you don’t register what’s happening as you push him out of the way.

Another dog, about Kojo’s size, with no leash or owner in sight, is on top of you. Kojo is barking, trying to help, but you yell at him to stay back.

“Kojo, sit!” you yell over the other dog’s growling.

Your yell turns to a cry of pain when the dog’s jaw clamps down on your arm, his claws digging into your side.

“Get off!” you yell, your adrenaline giving you the strength to push back. 

Once you’re sitting up, you use your legs to free yourself from the dog’s grip. Kojo is behind you, unharmed, and you need to keep it that way. Flipping yourself on top of the dog, it releases your arm before moving its legs wildly, raking a paw across your face as it tries to move away.

“Go!” you yell harshly, moving enough to let it up.

Stomping your foot after it, you show the dog you’re in charge and wait in front of Kojo until it’s out of sight.

“Kojo, we have to go,” you say quickly, grabbing his leash and limping behind him as he leads you home.

Kojo focuses on getting you inside, and when you close the door and fall to the floor, he moves to your side. He whimpers, and you want to comfort him, but you are growing dizzy.

“You okay, boy?” you mumble.

You scream in pain when you raise your hand to check that Kojo is okay. After dropping your arm, your breathing grows shallow as tears stream down your face. Kojo whines again, and you want to reach for your phone, but your arms feel too heavy to move. Looking down, you suddenly realize the severity of what happened. Covered in blood and with no strength to call for help, you whisper an apology to Kojo and let your eyes drift close.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs as he turns onto his street. He’s ready to see Kojo and, if he’s lucky, you. When Tim sees your car in the driveway, he smiles and rushes toward the door. That happiness quickly disappears when he notices the trail of blood leading up the driveway. Walking to the sidewalk, he sees that it leads nearly to the corner. Racing to the backdoor, which has a large blood smear below a clear handprint, Tim keeps a hand on his gun as he unlocks the door.

Kojo’s whimpering greets Tim, and when he looks down, he sees that Kojo has blood on him. Kojo looks over quickly, and Tim follows his movement. Whatever fear he felt when he saw the blood on Kojo is multiplied when he sees you.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Tim calls for an ambulance before kneeling beside you.

“Is Kojo okay?” you ask weakly.

“He’s okay,” Tim promises, leaning closer in a poor attempt to find the source of your blood. “What hurts?”

“What doesn’t? Did you check on Kojo? He seemed okay but I couldn’t make sure the blood was mine.”

Tim turns, running his hands all over Kojo. The blood is only on his fur, evidently not his.

“He’s fine,” Tim repeats, his voice breaking at the end. “You are not.”

“There was a dog free running and I- I didn’t see it. Kojo stayed behind me so I need him to be okay.”

Tears are running down your face again, mixing with the blood. Tim wants to wipe them away, but the clear claw mark over your cheek deters him.

“There’s an ambulance on the way, you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. Just stay awake.”

“Kojo- Kojo’s a good boy,” you mumble.

“He is. Can you please keep your eyes on me? The ambulance is almost here.”

You nod, and the last thing you remember is Tim’s apologetic look and a painful pressure on your side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim, are you coming with?” Bailey asks.

Tim is staring at the bloodstain on his floor and up his wall. “I’ll be there soon.”

“We’ll keep you updated. She’ll be okay.”

Tim nods and waits for the EMTs to exit the house before he begins cleaning. He scrubs until every trace of your blood is erased from inside and on the door. After animal control captured the dog, several officers went out to find the dog's owner. Nolan promised to come by and clean the driveway, so Tim concentrated his efforts inside.

“Alright, Kojo, our turn,” Tim calls, letting Kojo into the bathroom to remove the blood from his fur. 

After Tim cleans Kojo and himself and throws away the blood-stained rags and cleaning supplies, he gathers his things to visit you in the hospital.

“I’ll be back with our girl,” Tim promises Kojo as he leaves.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m sorry.” You can’t stop the apology when Tim walks in.

“Stop apologizing. You kept that dog away from Kojo and I don’t- I can’t lose you. I walked in and you were covered in blood… I should have told you before that I care about you.”

“It’s my job to take care of Kojo,” you whisper.

Tim moves to the side of the bed, gently taking your hand. “You are not just a dog walker. I’ve been falling for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. The fact that you love Kojo solidified it for me.”

“I- I have feelings for you too,” you admit.

“They told me your pretty face won’t scar.”

“I barely even remember what happened.”

Tim sits beside your legs as he tells you, “Nolan and Celina arrested the dog’s owner. It wasn’t the first time he had done this.”

“Given a poor, unsuspecting college student thirty stitches while she’s just trying to spend the afternoon in her crush’s house? Oddly specific crime. What’s the code for that?”

Tim chuckles, gently squeezing your hand. “You can go home now. If you’re still up to spend some time in your crush’s house.”

“Tim-“

“Don’t tell me I don’t have to. I want to, need to.”

“I would love to spend time with you and Kojo. But I’m not sure I’m up for flirting today, handsome.”

“After the day you’ve had, just sit back and I’ll do all the flirting.”

“’Preciate that, sir.”

Tim laughs as he exits the room to complete your discharge paperwork. You smile behind him, hoping you’re not dreaming, and you finally told him how you feel.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo,” Tim chides. “Give her some room.”

“You cleaned all the blood?”

Tim gently directs your eyes to him, leaning close to remind you, “You’re more than just a dog walker. Worth the time, the effort, the love, all of it.”

“Love?”

“Yeah. Kojo really loves you.”

You laugh, quickly remembering that you have several stitches on your side.

“Careful,” Tim requests.

“Are you certified to help someone sit still while stitches hold their side closed?” you ask.

“Depends on the patient. You? Absolutely.”

Tim helps you get comfortable on the couch before walking to the kitchen to gather some water and snacks. When he returns, Kojo is cuddled up to your uninjured side.

“Really? Again?” Tim asks.

“I love you,” you say, completely distracting Tim as he kneels before you. “But I also think I really want to quit this time.”

Tim laughs, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “That’s fine. I am looking for a girlfriend rather than a dog walker now anyway.”

“Care to see my resumé?”

“Memorized it last time.”

[glaciertea]

Tickets for Two

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader two-shot

Part 1

Here is part 2, happy birthday to the giant spider!

Also, thank you @slushycoookie for being my beta reader for this part. You are truly the alpha cookie.

Summary: Working the graveyard shift at a movie theater has it quirks. It's not the best thing, and it's not the worst.

Well, there is one thing that keeps you from leaving this job.

The huge, gorgeous man who comes in every Thursday.

CW: 18+, Oral (both receiving and giving), light teasing, semi public sex (it'll just be you two, so I guess it'll be semi), you both are perverts... just slightly

Word count: 2.7k

“It always feels weird not to be the one behind there.” You eyed the menu, debating if you should have a small or medium popcorn.

“It's nice seeing you here and not working.” Miguel shoved his hands in his pocket, already knowing what to get himself. “Figure out what size you want?”

“Yeah, I'll get a small. And are you saying that because you get to be handsy and not solicit around my area?”

“Maybe.” Miguel grunted and moved closer to the counter to place his order.

“I'm still surprised they haven't banned you yet.” You greeted your coworker and asked for a drink alongside your buttery treat. 

“I merely want to be near my partner. I don't see anything wrong with that. Besides, I'm not spooking any other patrons, so there's no problem.”

“Then what about the guy who—”

“That time doesn't count. That idiot shouldn't have been raising hell for getting mad when you accidentally tapped the wrong size. You caught your mistake and apologized, and yet he still had the nerve to be a shocking idiot at that point.”

“Miggy, you forcefully threw him out. The employees and customers swore you were security after that, especially with how much you hung around the counter beforehand.” You nudged his arm before reaching for your card.

“And?” He stared at the transaction, concluding he was going to pay you back.

“At this point, I believe you are the only one who supports the concession stand after dark.” You hauled nearly all of the items in your arms, trying not to tip over.

“Si mantiene alejados a los imbéciles, que así sea.” He mumbled and balanced you out by taking some of the snacks. “Now come on, let's go watch this film.”

“Movie date, commence!” You skipped ahead, making Miguel smirk.

You tended to stray away from movie dates, especially considering your employment in the building, but you decided to join Miguel for this night. You might even enjoy the thrill and peace of experiencing a vacant showroom. To be the consumer indeed of the provider.

You made your way to your chosen seats, near the back, and got comfy. The lights dimmed, and you glued your eyes to the screen. It showed two new movies coming out, but didn't capture your attention. Then the trailer for the next future showing was coming to an end when you noticed nobody else was heading in. 

A whole theater between you two. An accidental private screening, one could call it.

“Is this how it is when you come in here?”

Miguel plopped a gummy in his mouth and shrugged. “About. It is nice to have a theater to myself. It gives me time to think.”

“What do you usually think about when you're here?”

“Work.” He stole a sip of your drink. “And you occasionally.”

You didn't get the chance to react when the lights dimmed and the feature film started up. He didn't turn to you; his eyes focused on the screen, so you decided to munch on your popcorn and get comfortable.

And you did get comfortable because the movie they chose to show was mind-numbingly boring. You didn't know what was going on or if anything was going on. By the thirty-five minute mark, you had devoured most of your popcorn, and your drink was heavily watered down. You felt yourself dozing off; the room became darker than before when Miguel nudged you awake. 

“You okay?”

“I'm up!” You twisted your head up to him. “Is this movie over?”

“Close. We got,” he checked his watch. “Approximately an hour and forty-five minutes left. Excluding credits.”

You groaned out and banged your head on the back of the chair. You thought of the many possible options. You could suck it up and finish the mind-numbing film, or you could get up and leave, draining the funds you spent. Your brain circled and circled when an idea struck. 

“We can do a certain indecency when a couple is in an empty theater roo-”

“Front cameras.” He subtly gestured to where they could be placed.

“Shock. That's right.” You slumped more of your drink down. So much for a fun night. 

Miguel drummed his finger on the armrest before standing up. “I'll be back in five.” 

“Going to the restrooms?”

“Something along those lines.”

You watched him stand up and crack his neck to the left and right. He didn't say much as he strode down the steps and disappeared behind the barrier separating the seats from the theater room's door. Your eyes lazily went towards the screen. More nonsense about the car robots and exposition; you could've sworn that the film was going to be about medieval times. Or was it going to be about a war? You decided it was best not to question the direction of the movie.

Stealing some of his lukewarm coffee to give you somewhat of an energy boost, Miguel finally returned from wherever. He parked himself right back in his seat and turned to you.

There was a hint of confidence in his eyes. Uncertain by the new attitude, you cocked your head, intrigued by what he did out there.

“Miguel? Where did you go?”

Not missing a beat, he pulled the armrest up and placed you on his lap. Something was poking you and nudging the backside of your thigh. Masquerading an ignorant state, your fingers casually brushed along the outline, fascinated by the peculiar object. 

Miguel grunted at the attentive focus, shifting in his seat and rubbing against the fabric of your pants. He was glad the bottoms he was wearing were slightly thinner.

“I don't think the movie is causing you to react this way; is it now?” A cheeky grin crept on your lips as you sneakily grinded.

“I'm taking your idea into consideration.” He grunted and squirmed, relieving any pressure that roused up.

You turned your torso and peered down to undo his belt buckle. “The cameras?”

“Right now, they're seeing two people watching the film, bored out of their minds.” His gaze was not leaving your fingers.

“But wouldn't they realize it's a still image?” You stopped unbuttoning his pants. “Miguel, did you hack my job's security cams?”

“Hack is a strong word, cariño.”

You gave him a look and crossed your arms. “Did you hack?”

“I'm able to recreate realistic simulations. I know how to fake a moviegoer experience.” He took your hands and kissed them, knowing your disapproving glare wasn't going to leave. “So yes, I did hack your job's cameras. Más o menos. But only for this area.”

“Miguel, make sure you fix them back.”

“I will. Lo prometo.”

“You better, or else.”

“Or else what, amor?” He was prepared to accept what you were going to throw.

“Or else, I'll be forced to teach you a lesson.” You palmed the hardened erection, massaging it and enjoying the damp stains leaking through.

A low rumble expelled from his chest as pricking goosebumps and the flaming ignition coasted within you. Your eyes locked with his mesmeric ones, passion lighting up the darkness of the room. You took each other in, admiring one another's features more than the feature on the big screen. The only good thing about it was you were able to pick out his sharpness and gorgeousness.

You wrapped an arm around his neck and closed the gap, tasting the snacks on his lips. The buttery popcorn, the sugary fruit from the gummies, and the bitterness from the coffee create a delicious concoction melting onto your tongue as you twist it around his, needing to taste it all.

Soft moans trickle from you two when a husky one leaves Miguel. You don't pull away, playing coy. The raw guttural sounds become more like a beautiful song you will never get tired of hearing. You squeeze and knead the bulge, getting the reactions that make you giddy. His hands glide down your backside, pinching your behind or your inner and outer thighs.

“I don't think we should waste any time. Don't know when an unexpected viewer will show up.” You cheese and nip at his cheek.

Moving off his lap, you slip back over to your seat, cozying yourself on your knees. You pushed the searing need between your thighs in the back of your head; right now, you want all your concentration on Miguel. 

Helping him get out of those uncomfortable bottoms, you licked your lips at the pulsating tent before freeing him completely.

“This is way more interesting.” You thumbed at his glossy tip, loving how he looked when he threw his head back, biting his bottom lip.

Enthralling, a gorgeous frame that any camera can pick up on. It would only enhance his beauty further. He is certainly better than any film. 

Done with keeping him anticipating your full touch, you scoot closer, grasping the sensitive shaft, pumping in a slow motion, letting his self-lubrication mess up your hand. You sucked at his neck, wanting to leave a fresh mark. It got a few grunts out of him, but you needed more. 

Leading up to his ear, you glazed your tongue over the outer shell and carefully nipped at it. 

“I thought we couldn't—joder—I thought we couldn't waste any time, cariño? Joder, qué bueno.” There was some smugness in his tone. He was trying to save face when you pushed his cock towards his stomach.

“You know what? You are so right. The movie can end at any moment, so I really shouldn't waste any time.” You threw the smugness back with a hint of sarcasm. “Here, let me speed this along for real now.”

“Ah, no, it's fine; you can take your time. I was only—oh mierda, cariño, joder, espera, más despacio!”

You dipped down and immediately engulfed half of him. Your mouth built up enough spit to help make this easier. You always struggled to fit him all the way in. A blessing and curse with what he was endowed with. Dribbles of spit fall onto his trimmed hairs, your muffled moans giving vibrations, making him almost lose a fit.

He pushes your head down, biting his on his bottom lip until he tastes a bit of metallic. Your tongue made delicious laps, noisily slobbering, thankful that the film was drowning it out.

He was holding back, the croaks and the whines in his chest fully prominent when you cupped his balls, fondling them with the utmost care. You curl your tongue, going down more until you could feel him touch the back of your throat. He was a mess at your attempts. You would come up to go back down, and when it wasn't enough for you, you would start the process over from the head until you got it.

“Amor, I'm not going to last if you keep that up.”

A disgruntled, muddled hum resonated at the back of your throat. You were now very determined to take him all. Securing your hands on his thighs, you opened your throat, relaxing your body. You stretched your tongue, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You were almost there, so tantalizingly close, when a hoarse low shout of your name was called out, and your face was suddenly closer to Miguel's pelvis.

He erupted in your mouth, the salty strands cascading, hitting your throat, and running along the sides of your chin. He kept you there when nothing left to give and hauled you up.

“Shock, Miguel.” You gasped out. “I will perfect—” you swallowed any lingering residue and took a long breath. “I will perfect me taking all of you. That was a lot, are you okay? That was intense.”

When you didn't get a response, you started to worry when you were met with bright blood-red eyes piercing yours. You shuddered. Miguel can be intimidating, but it brings that awakening out of you.

“Miggy?”

“You always know how to make my head explode, cariño.”

He stood up and fixed himself. You could only watch, dazed at what he was doing when he kneeled before you. You gulped as he fingered the button on your pants. 

“But this movie date is supposed to be an enjoyable time for both.” He starts to pull your jeans down along with your underwear. “Así que te voy a dar algo bueno que ver.” He murmured along your thigh, pressing a soft kiss to it. That fiery flicker burning into you.

You gulped and tugged at the collar of your shirt. “He-hey, about what I said about wasting time, you know I was teasing—oh, shock!”

Miguel wasted no time diving right in, letting you feel the high satisfaction and pleasure you bring—and brought—to him. 

You struggled to choke back your moans, covering your hands to the point your fingers were squashing your cheeks. His tongue twirls achingly slow, teasing you simply because he can. Because he's acutely aware that you can't get too loud to draw anyone to you both. That annoying, sexy, mischievous glint in his eyes, saying, ‘You wouldn't want us to get caught now, now do you?’ 

God, he is such a smug bastard, and you can't stand that you love it. 

He massaged the tension from hips and thighs, not caring about the crick in his neck or the slightly sticky floor; his only goal was to make sure not to miss a single part of your heat.

Every stroke and every round he made was bliss that was driving you mad. His fingertips glided against your thighs, stroking the soft skin and pinching the inner part to make you squeak. He refused to break any contact with you, the suction so heavy that you swore your soul was going to ascend right out of the theater.

“Miguel.” You purred out, combing his luscious hair, relishing the glorious moment. 

He was ready for you to come apart.

His tongue dragged down in an unpredictable pattern, making your hips buck. He let a breathy “humph” out and grasped your waist, a heed to get you to stop moving.

Your head spun, and your body quivered. You were close, so very close.

He must have known as he sped up, his tongue making moves you didn't think he even possessed, his mouth slurping you whole. The room was fuzzy; your brain could have been a pile of goop by the end of this, and you wouldn't even be mildly upset, not even the slightest.

“Miggy, I- I'm-”

A silent cry parted between your lips, pushing Miguel's head down as your release shook you whole. Your mess was stained on his lopsided grin, and that was enough to make you want him again. 

You felt hot and cold, the sweat clinging to your forehead greatly helped you cool off, but you weren't quite calm. He cleaned himself off, double-checking to see if you had any questionable fluids on your clothes or your face. The film was still going, and you couldn't tell if it was the middle or third act. 

“Did it make it to the climax?” You heaved out. 

“I think we both just saw that.” Miguel smirked. 

You squeezed your lips together and released a waft from your nose. “Do you want to continue this at my place?”

“The film?”

“No. This movie isn't good. We could do better. Hell, I believe we can make a better one.” Your eyes drifted to his, and you could already see the hunger growing back.

He took hold of your hand and stood you up. It startled you, but you shook it off and trailed behind when it clocked on you. 

“What about the cameras?” You stammered.

“It'll revert itself back when we step out of this room. I put a sensor that'll detect when we leave.”

You trusted his word but resisted asking him how he had messed with the security later on. Right now, you were both overcome with anticipation when you rushed out of the doors, thankful for how devoid the building was. 

Even if the movie didn't satisfy you, it might have become your new favorite. If mindless films like that bring you that sort of experience, then you will gladly watch them with him.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE STRATEGY CALL

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. in which the stark racing f1 team talks about the 2025 strategy and beyond

content warnings. written in 3rd person

word count. 1.4k words

notes. with this chapter i wanted to involve a bit of politics and 'realistically' explain why stark racing won't immediately win a wdc (because with the whole set up, it would be possible). f1 are politics and no matter how many drivers say cash is king, connections have sometimes more worth

"welcome, everyone. thank you for tuning in", greets tony with a big smile on his face, spreading his arms as if going in for a hug.

"as you can see, i'm not currently with any departement, i'm doing the finishing touches in my own lab back in new york... since i don't want to drag anyone here to the US for meetings, we will proceed like this until january next year."

"now, i know it will be annoying with dragging your equipement with you and it's also unsafe, since you know... data secrets bla bla- so, in the next few days, each stark racing employee will receive the so called 'tactical intelligence glasses', which you can see me wearing. it's voice activated and can only be used by the one who sets it up, which will be you!" while speaking, tony fiddles with a pencil in his hand and starts walking around in his lab, showcasting it to every viewer.

"to cut things short, you'll receive a tutorial on how to use these glasses and set them up once you receive them. if you ever lose them, don't worry, we can track them. destroying them is pretty hard, but please don't try to make it a challange... our plan is to use them not only during meetings but also during the race, to keep our data from the cameras. with netflix, paparazzi and other cameras from the news, it's easy to steal data that shouldn't be accessible."

"alright then", he ends his ramblings with a clap, "we're going over the interesting part now. let's talk strategy..."

y/n let's her father's voice wash over her, her own glasses perched on her nose and feeding her constant information. in front of her are two holograms, projected by the hologram table in the meeting room she's currently in. the standing figure of her father and the presentation he's currently rattling off, all of it in a glowing blue.

next to her sits kevin, her future teammate, exhausted from the long 24 season but still paying attention. the rest of the room is filled with their team, the race engineers and trainers- each of them having their own glasses on.

to outsiders it looks like they're clowns, but it's a common sight in stark industries. decades ahead of the general public, stark stands for the future. of course they're trying to push it to the outer world, selling hologrammic equipement to both the industry but also private customers, but it's a slow progress.

the marketing team of SI hopes with their public use of the glasses and other devices they'll attract more customers, leaving the age of apple and samsung behind and instead welcoming the age of holograms. powered by starkanium, the production of phones, tablets, computers- anything really, is much cheaper and enviroment friendly than what's currently dominating the market.

shaking her head, y/n focuses on the presentation again. of course she knows it by heart already, she helped writing it, brooding over the strategy with the team ever since the team got announced.

"... the plan is to finish between 5th-3rd on the construction championship. not higher, not lower. we don't want to place higher, because this is our testing season. we will be practically sandbagging from the beginning, not revealing our true power for 2026."

yes... the construction championship. it will bring in money, not that they would need it, but it will justify the expenses they're going to make during the season to prepare for their second one. y/n is under no illusion, if they want, they could go all out and snag at least p2, if not p1. maybe she would even get her world championship- only then for everyone to say she won because she's driving a stark machine and not because of her own skill.

it sounds arrogant, she knows. but y/n believes, no, she doesn't only believe, she knows, she is one of the best in the whole world. if she can go against her father in an iron man suit, who can be only piloted by less than ten people in the world... winning in an f1 car is nothing.

but they've already made enemies for not waiting until 2026 like audi, 'enemies', who have much more pull within the motorsport world than them, simply because they're already established. christian horner is one, followed by toto wolff, the iconic red racing team not far behind.

with they're entry, they didn't make friends on the paddock, so for their first season... they can't be too good. or else their future seasons will be ruined.

it's stupid, to think like this, to think so far ahead, to think of others, in a sport where winning is everything. but it's not. cash and connections influence everything you do, how far you succeed. they have plenty of money, but are practically poor in connections. heck, even haas is better established than them.

they won't be, not after they're done after their first season. they will show the world, what stark racing is truly made of. and y/n will prove, that a woman can win.

"-bought data packs from previous seasons, dating back a whole decade, from mercedes and aston martin. cost a pretty penny, but data is everything. not to mention, after the big leak that happend in the middle of the season, we managed to grab enough data on all teams to calculate 3523 outcomes to this season. points, standings, anything." kevin wheezes at the number, which is followed by several data sheets. he gapes at the calculations, which predict another world championship for max 2064 times. all from the data they managed to collect.

"insane, right?", y/n whispers to kevin, who turns his head to her. his wide eyes make her snicker.

"welcome to stark racing, mate. just you wait until JARVIS and FRIDAY start feeding in new numbers and information." a muttered 'holy shit' is the only answer she gets and y/n has to snicker again. toto wolff once said something about formula one being war planning... well, he should know that stark industries and it's most brilliant minds know everything about war. be it on the market, by income or an actual alien invasion.

"we want to achieve at least one win, be it in a proper race or sprint, three podiums per driver and at least two fastest laps. and it will be possible", her father continues, pointing at a hologram of their car. it spins lazily in a circle, showing off it's aeorodynamic curves.

"this car is faster than the rb19, goes on par with the rb20. we don't know the upgrades from red bull, but another year and we can pretty much predict their stats for 2026. newey is predictable, all his upgrades point towards the perfection of the car, he focuses on what to make better and not invent something completely new. and if he does, he takes ages to prove it's better than what they had before. newey is brilliant, but he's no stark." there it is again, the facts of their rivals, taken apart and put back together to summerize their data in a few simple words.

"so, our motto for this season is testing, collecting data and improving for the next season. we're sandbagging, we're restricting ourselves. so if we ever do bad... we all know we could do much better. the engineering team will send first comparisons between the SR-1 and SR-2 out next week, y/n has already tested both cars in the sim, so we will have some data to read off."

"so, with that, we're pretty much done. thank you everyone for listening, i know for some it's very early right now, so if you have to read over the spark notes- JARVIS has put a summary of the most important information together, you'll receive the mail right after this converence. thank you again and welcome to stark racing, everyone!" claps fill the room and y/n takes off her glasses. it's exhausting to play mindgames like this, to calculate the desired outcome, but it will all come together.

hopefully, with her as a world champion, with the bold stark name on her back.

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ARKHAM MAID 2024

[louiseolivier]

Fic Idea

Post 8x05

Bobby's acting strangely—not overtly, but just enough that everyone is side-eyeing each other. Buck decides to hang back after his shift one morning and catches Bobby still in his office. He asks him what's up, and Bobby admits that even though Gerrard is gone, that doesn't mean the budget cuts also went away. The good news is that with union pushback, instead of firing someone, they've agreed to rotating month-long furloughs, effective Nov 1st.

Buck immediately volunteers for A shift. He'll do Nov and Dec. Bobby says he can't let Buck sacrifice that much of his paycheck. Buck tells him he's got enough stocked away for a couple of months and that he wants to do this. It might even be good for him.

The first month is really good. Tommy works 48/96, so they get four full days off together and it's amazing. They had a mini vacation in Palm Springs where they went stargazing, hung out by the pool, and spent a day in Joshua Tree.

Buck gets in a lot of reading and knocks down his sizable tbr. He fills in as a sitter for Jee-Yun and enjoys the hell out of spending time with his niece (never mind her deep disappoint on the days Tommy isn't there too). He also gives himself a full day of doing nothing but scrolling his phone. He jumps from one Wikipedia article to another and explores exceedingly niche substacks.

And he still gets 118 time. At least once a week he goes in and cooks a filling lunch for them. He does it at the 217 too, where they sing his praises. He even spent two days being a firefighter when Chim came down with a cold. All in all his month off was pretty amazing, and he figures December would be a piece of cake. He's so sure that he tells Bobby he'll take January too.

Except it stops being a piece of cake. Two days in and he's already restless. It doesn't help when Tommy, Chim, and Eddie show up and tell him how they worked together for a rooftop rescue at Nakatomi Tower. Buck doesn't know the building and asks where it's located. The guys are dumbfounded. "Like, Die Hard, man," Eddie tells him. "Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs?" Tommy says hopefully. "Die Hard...Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker?" Chimney prods. "Oh, yeah," Buck says, having it all click together.

After that his aimlessness really takes hold. He keeps himself busy by feeding the 217 breakfast, lunch, and dinner on the days Tommy works. On his second day, one of Tommy's crew tells him, "You know, you should start taking orders. Make some money since they won't let you fight fires.

Buck's surprised at how fast the idea takes hold. He spends all four of his days with Tommy talking about it. He feels like he's vibrating out of his skin, and he falls just a little more in love with Tommy when he tells Buck that his idea is not only good, but that he knows a guy who can help make it happen.

Buck next goes to his team and explains his idea. He's going to open a sandwich service. Nearby fire stations will send in orders the day before, the sandwiches will be made the next morning, and delivered throughout the afternoon. Tommy has a friend who will rent out commercial kitchen space to him, and the employees will be fellow furloughed firefighters. They wouldn't be making the same pay, but they would be making something instead of draining out their savings like Buck. Eddie's all in, but Hen and Chim are a little more hesitant. Whether they come around or not, that's okay. Buck plans on starting small and thinks he can do it with three or four people, and he has multiple firehouses to pull from. But he knows his biggest hurdle is coming up with the start-up cash.

He toys with the idea of asking his parents for a loan. They were willing to fork over money for Chim and Maddie's down payment, and they swear up and down they want to make amends, so if Buck needs to use guilt to get a cut, he will. Before he can work up the nerve to ask, Tommy hands him a card and calls it an early Christmas present. Inside is a check for 10k. Buck's floored and misty eyed. He asks how and why and are you sure? Tommy pulls him in and tells Buck that he's sure. That he believes in Buck and wants to do whatever he can to help him succeed. Including making sandwiches.

And that's it. That's all I've got. Purged from the system.

[kafka-ish]

I think if Art wasn’t as serious about tennis he’d be such a coworker. Maybe it’d be in between summers at Stanford and it’s your first week there. He’s scheduled to train you, show you the ropes but when you first walk in he thinks you’re just another customer, a really pretty customer that’s got him changing up the script. Hey! How’s it going? What can I do for you? Find everything alright? He’s already thinking of ways he can slip you his number, maybe he’ll write it on your receipt. And he’s typing in his ID to give you his discount, anything until you say, “Actually, I work here.”

Art stops typing. Looks up, completely dumbstruck because you’re too pretty to be selling yourself out for some minimum wage corporation, to be doing any sort of labor. You need to be taken care of; any reason you should step foot in here would be to pick out a new tennis racket for a match you have. But you’re here. You work here. So he cancels out the order and says something about how he’ll get you a t-shirt, stay there.

He’ll take you to the back where the employee bathrooms are. You watch his fingers when he punches the numbers. “It’s like a six,” he says, and you think about that every time you use the code to get in. He waits for you outside the door while you’re changing, wishing he could get a glimpse, wishing he could be on the other side. He gets hard just thinking about it. He thinks about the kind of bra you’re wearing, if you’re wearing one, what you look like underneath the fabric. And he thinks you look so cute in that work-issued uniform even if the collar of your shirt isn’t folded over correctly - it only gives him the urge to reach over and fix it. Sorry, he says when he retracts his hand and sees the look you give him. He doesn’t mean it, not entirely, by the way a smile starts working its way on his face.

Art would give you a tour before you get started. He wants to show you around and he loves that he gets to be the first one to make an impression. Fucking revels in it. But he’s also weighted with the worry of making a good impression so some of his delivery is awkward: this is the stockroom it’s where we get stuff to… stock / we separate brands in sections so if someone asks where adidas is you can point to the three lines back there / managements making us ask everyone if they wanna round up their change but you don’t have to. I just ask anyone who’s paying cash. Or if they’re cute. The system makes you put their email in. He flushes a little because he doesn’t know why he says that last part.

I think Art would be so patient when he’s training you. He would take his time to over-explain everything and he doesn’t realize he comes off sounding like a douche. Telling you what all the buttons mean and asking if you want to come with him when he’s about to stock something just so you can see where it is for next time, obviously. But it’s just an excuse to talk to you!! He doesn’t know how and he figures since you both work there it’s an easy in and you think it’s so adorable that because it’s a slow day he’s pretending to be your first customer, gathering random items, having you scan them, and reminding you to ask if he wants to round up his change for charity.

“Not today”

“Okay, your total will be—”

“Hold on. You don’t want my email?”

“Well, you said no so…”

“No. Convince me. Really try and convince me.”He wants to know what lengths you’d go for him if this is how you’d happen to meet. So you say, okay it’s for this charity you guys are having.

“Say it’s for homeless animals. They eat that shit up,” Art lets you in on this piece of information like the manipulator he is.

“Is that what you do?”

And Art would make sure to stay near you just in case you need something, always bags the customers’ items so you can focus on the transaction. He loves the way you say his name, how timid you are when you whisper Art when you need help. He imagines that’s how you say it when he’s eating you out.

[seat-safety-switch]

Stop doing what you're doing right now and go cancel a subscription. Chances are you're inadvertently donating money every month to a political party, long-dormant print magazine, streaming service, doomsday cult, or predatory mega-corporation. You are gaining literally no benefit from it. You probably forgot you even had it set up. That money could be spent better elsewhere, by cramming it into the mouth of your local weirdos.

All around you are folks trying to make something very strange. Maybe they're electrical engineers who are trying to build this thing they saw in their dreams, the humming menace that destroys the earth. Perhaps they're just some local artist working hard to make a mug that looks a whole lot like a cat's butthole. No matter what, you can afford to support these folks financially by simply reaching out and cancelling a recurring payment to some group of faceless assholes.

Conversely, those faceless assholes love subscriptions, for the precise reason you may have already guessed. People forget to stop paying them. Or, more likely, they've made it a huge pain in the ass to stop paying them. Don't worry. Here at Seat Safety Switch's Subscription Scam Scancellers (we couldn't come up with a good synonym, and Ted in accounting kept pushing really hard for "ceasers" without realizing that's A: not a word, and B: doesn't start with S) our job is to make sure that you get your five to nineteen dollars a month back in your pocket.

How do we do it? With machine learning, you ask? Take your R2D2 fetish somewhere else, freak. No, we do it the old fashioned way: by hiring people who are too salty to work anywhere else. Half of our employees are former stevedores and union electricians who got fired for swearing too much at work. They will absolutely not take "no" for an answer, and sitting all day on the phone yelling at customer service robots while they burn through a pack of Pall Malls and a flat of malt liquor is essentially a holiday for them.

So call on us today, and we'll get you hooked up. Of course, to get the best service, you'll need to be part of our "Premium Club," which involves a small payment of only $7.50 a month. Your first three months are reduced to $3.60 a month! You can cancel anytime you figure out how to.

[wisedelusionalmarshmallow]

@rosekillermicrofic, September 6th - Book, T, Word Count - 721

It was a really regular day today at the bookstore where Barty works.

Like really regular.

Like 'all of his regulars came in today' regular. 

The couple who comes here every two weeks to buy two books. Barty learned that they trade the books once they’re done with them and then have bookclub-style date nights. Which is really cute but totally not his thing.

The old ladies who come here for an actual bookclub. Barty had to stifle a laugh at today's choice, some 'murder mystery’ that was a lot more romance than their usual mystery or horror selection.

The one young boy who spends all his weekly allowance on the newest Batman and Spiderman comic.

Even the young woman with the service dog. Barty always has good conversations with her, even though he can never remember her name, and isn’t too keen on asking for the fourth time.

The entire day, Barty was waiting for the ball to drop. Waiting for a call from his boss telling him a shipment got delayed or that he’ll have to cover for Avery again because somehow he’s always sick the day there’s a concert playing in the city over. Figure that one out.

But none of that happened.

It was half an hour to closing when Barty heard the doorbell chime, signalling someone had just entered the store. 

Now, he doesn’t have the best view of the door from where the counter sits—his manager trying to get more stock shoved on the shelves rather than worrying about the safety of the store—so he doesn’t really see the customers until they ask a question or come to check out some items.

That’s how he found himself leaning over his counter, trying to figure out the new scheduling system on their computer. He'd been putting it off all day and just needs to get it done before the store falls into more chaos than it already is. But he just can’t even get past the sign-in. His manager left a sheet of employee codes, but every time he would input it, nothing would work.

That’s when the stack of computer science textbooks appeared on the counter in front of him. Ah, the customer was ready to pay. But if they’re taking computer science, would it be rude to ask for help? No, right?

Ugh. Whatever. Without even looking up, Barty talks to the customer. “Hey man, I’m gonna guess you have some sort of experience with computers or whatever... Um, this—” he turns the monitor and points to the screen. “—is not letting me sign in, like at all. And I kinda need my schedule.” The customer laughs a little and that causes Barty’s head to shoot up. Holy—

Fuck! Why did he have to be hot? Barty awkwardly smiles at the man; he thought he would look like just another college nerd, not a literal Greek god.

He quickly surveys the issue. “Are you forgetting your password?”

“Nope. I have it right here,” Barty smiles, very nervous and flustered about the situation.

“Hmm.” The customer places his head in his hand, surveying the screen before looking down to the keyboard. “Ah.” He reaches forward and clicks a single key. Caps Lock. Could this day get any more embarrassing?

“Thank you,” Barty sighs. Then turns the monitor towards himself again and enters the password, the little ding coming from the speaker, and the application finally loads. He looks over to the books on the counter before looking up at the man’s face again. “I wish I could give you one of those for free, but my boss didn’t really like it when I did that last time.”

“I’ll just take your number instead then,” he says casually.

Barty’s ears go red. Oh my god, did he just ask for my number? Ohmygodohmygod. “Uh–I. Sure.” Barty grabs out a new roll of receipt paper, the closest thing to scrap paper that he has right now, and rips off a piece, quickly scribbling out his number, praying he remembers all ten digits correctly.

He hands the paper off and smiles at him, waiting for the customer to say something and then leave. Except they just stand there in silence. Staring at each other.

That is, of course, until the ball drops. 

“...you gonna ring me up?” 

[lemmetreatya]

this was very clearly his side job.

club bouncer!sukuna is well aware he didn’t have to commit fully to it, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pompous power that the job brought him.

club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t believe he has favourites. every club had their fair share of sleazy gropers and pumping loud music. but he definitely looked forward to working at a certain club in particular — spice’s munchkins.

staffed majority of woman (bar the owner, kiyotaka ijichi himself) who were few of the most likeable people he knew, club bouncer!sukuna felt a tendency to look out for them more than he did the customers. because he’s not gonna lie, they were all stunnas in their own right. glamorous — with hairstyles that suited their features and outfits that accentuated their curvaceous bodies. it was sadly often that people would try to treat them like pushovers or start unnecessary trouble, but club bouncer!sukuna made it his mission to protect them. especially you.

“you good?!” you shout over the music towards club bouncer!sukuna as you clean up your work station.

the bar area isn’t too busy concerning the ‘entry before 12am = free drinks’ is over and most people are on the dance floor, and so club bouncer!sukuna takes the chance to lean onto the bar counter, his eyes freely dancing over the top half of your figure.

“a martini pornstar if you dont mind.”

with a roll of your eyes, you scoff in his direction albeit your smile is light.

“boy, you know i’m not allowed to pull those typa favours. Iji’s already warned me twice.”

“yeah, but i’m your favourite. you’ll let me slide, wont you?”

the two of you hold each other’s eye contact for a brief second. you’re sure you encounter something deeper, something more carnal than just a casual stare, but you easily relent and look away first.

“fine! but at least pay for one through the employee discount. i’m really not tryna lose my job.”

club bouncer!sukuna has his eyes linger on you a bit longer before he agrees with a grunt.

you quickly set the card machine up so that he can pay for his drink but then you move to the otherside of the bar to start making his drink.

however, halfway through you accidentally dropped the lick of dark red de kuyper onto your shirt, the sticky substance automatically seeping through. with a curse under your breath, you suddenly rush towards the toilets behind the bar.

seeing you randomly boister off, club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t think about why — he automatically follows you through behind the bar area, thinking something was dearly wrong.

“everything okay?!” club bouncer!sukuna’s voice is gravel as he speaks upon pushing the door open, but he doesn’t expect to see you with your shirt mildly wet with the buttons popped and your bra on display. instantly he backs up.

“oh, shit. my bad.” he gruffly mumbles but you stop him before he’s able to leave.

“no, it’s fine. you’re fine.”

you move around the man to pull him back into the staff bathroom before shutting the door behind him and for a second, club bouncer!sukuna feels his dick jump in excitement.

“fuck…” he breathes once you let go of him. you back up so that you can stand against the sink with your spine against the cold porcelain.

“what?” your lips look like glass beneath the toilet’s neon lights and club bouncer!sukuna is just dying for a taste.

“i know you feel that.”

“feel what?” you ask up at him with wide inquisitive eyes.

club bouncer!sukuna’s hands start to flex by his side as he feels his inner demons become stirred. he can hear his walkie talkie click for his presence but he dutifully ignores it because surely there was something deeper to your actions yet all you do is act clueless.

taking a step closer in your direction, club bouncer!sukuna bares his teeth as his lips curl upwards. yet his large hands quickly find solace atop your waist.

“don’t make me sound it out, woman. this. this thing between us.”

“what, you think i got the hots for you?” you say, despite you allowing club bouncer!sukuna‘s hands to knead your skin whilst you lay your hands over his chest.

“i know you do.” he snides, but then he’s pressing his tenting crotch against your thigh. “luckily, i feel the same way.”

club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t mind that you offer to suck him off because he’s singing low moans into the echoing bathroom once you do, his hands on your cheeks as he pretty much fucks your face.

but then he remembers that hes determined to treat you and so he finds obligation in eating you out against the wall as you stretch one of your legs wide open. messy juice stains his mouth but now its your turn to tug at club bouncer!sukuna‘s hair as you caused you to writhe and buck your hips into his mouth.

but because he’s a menace, club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t let you dip after he’s made you cum twice. no, club bouncer!sukuna is fucking your sweet cunt whilst cursing every profanity he knows because you’re exactly what he needs and wants to willingly. and his walkie talkie is now requesting the both of you, unsure of where you were.

club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t usually stay close to quick fucks — hasnt really got the heart to face them — but it’s something about you that makes him do something stupid, something so intimate.

whilst he’s zipping his trousers up and youre drying her blouse in the hand druer, club bouncer!sukuna groans.

“uhh…fuck. i dunno, man but…” club bouncer!sukuna kisses his teeth before nodding his head towards the door. “there’s a 24 hour food stop just up this street. you wanna grab somethin’ with me after our shifts?”

your eyes widen for a second but not for long. giggling with the man, you sweetly nod.

“sure. thought you’d never ask.” you say with a sigh of relief.

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷: Had this idea out of the blue. Don't ask😭

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. In the story the boys will be using he/him when addressing Yn. Requests for this series are open.

⚽️Blue lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Masterlist to the Crossdresser AU

'Why are clothes for guys either boring and cheap,or cool, but expensive? This sucks...' (Y/n) sighed and looked away from the shirts and towards the dresses that were a little bit further away from the boy isle.

'Wish I could wear those for one day.' She thought sadly and picked some random hoodies to pay for. It was another period when Ego would let the team breath, so everyone was mostly either at home with their families or out enjoying themselves. (Y/n) decided to be outside the house, since she couldn't really stand being around her adoptive parents for longer than it was needed.

'My son this... my son that. So now they see me. I hate them.' (Y/n) thought to herself when she bumped into someone. The person ended up crying out in shock and dropping the clothes they were holding.

"Oh! I am so sorry for not looking! Here, let me help you." (Y/n) quickly replied and started picking up the various dresses that fell on the floor.

"It's ok! You didn't mean to!" A feminine voice quickly replied and the person started picking up some of the items as well.

'Huh? Wait! I know that voice!' Her eyes slowly widened and she looked at the figure.

"Ah? You are Chigiri-san! Hyoma's older sister, right?"

The red-haired girl blinked and looked over at (Y/n), her eyes slowly widening as well.

"Yes... you are the captain of my brother's team, (L/n) (Y/n). You remember me?" The older asked, surprised that the captain of all remembered her. (Y/n) sent her a sheepish smile and pulled down her mask.

"Well, you and your mom were the loudest cheerleaders." She answered back as they both got up from the ground. The older Chigiri blushing a little at the comment.

"We were both pretty excited to see Hyoma play again, sorry."

"No need to apologize. It was cute seeing it." (Y/n) said truthfully.

'Wish I knew how that feels...' She thought sadly, handing the shorter girl her clothes.

"The dresses look pretty cute."

"You think so?" The redhead asked as she accepted her items, rummaging a little through them.

"Yeah. The pink one looks pretty cute." (Y/n) said, pointing at the floral, pink dress.

"It is! It really is, but... I will have to pass this time." The older said sadly as (Y/n) raised her eyebrow.

"Why? You seem to want it?"

"I already picked some dresses the other day, I just came to look at these today for fun."

Still not seeing the issue, or noticing the embarrassed blush on her face, (Y/n) continued.

"So? There is never enough clothes in my opinion... or my mom's." She chuckled a little. The older Chigiri nodded her head slowly, but frowned right after.

"I used up my budget for the clothes I previously bought. These are way to expensive. Maybe another day I can buy them."

At the redhead's confession, (Y/n) stopped thinking for a moment, then felt like punching herself in the gut.

'Not everyone has as much money as you, idiot! Stupid (Y/n)!' She scolded herself as she looked between the older girl and the clothes she was holding.

"I will just return these and go home. It was nice meeting you, (L/n)-"

"Can... can I look at these dresses for a moment?" (Y/n) interrupted her, and the older Chigiri slowly nodded her head.

"Sure. But what could you possibly want from those dresses-Hey! Where are you going with them?" The girl suddenly asked as she watched (Y/n) walk away from her with the dresses, and to her horror she walked towards the counter.

"What are you doing?" The redhead panicked and ran after (Y/n) as she talked to one of the employees.

"Could you put these dresses on a separate bill from the hoodies? Thank you." She smiled and bowed a little as the woman agreed.

"H-hey, I told you I can't pay for them." The older Chigiri said as she pulled (Y/n) to her level so she could whisper it to her.

"I know."

"And what do you plan on doing now?"

"I will pay for them." (Y/n) blinked a little, thinking her answer was pretty clear.

"What?" The older Chigiri blinked in shock, but before she could say anything, the woman on the counter spoke up.

"The 4 dresses would be 15000 yen."

'15000?!' The redhead looked at the woman in disbelief as (Y/n) nonchalantly nodded her head.

"Do you take credit card?"

At the nod of the woman, (Y/n) took out her credit card from her wallet.

'Is... is that a black credit card?! I only ever saw those in movies!' The older Chigiri thought in shock as she watched (Y/n) quietly pay for their stuff.

"Thank you. Have a great day." (Y/n) called out as she left the shop, the redhead following her close behind.

"You... you are rich? Like, rich rich?" (Y/n) turned to look at the girl and nodded her head, handing her the bag with her items.

"Well, my parents are. But that's not relevant-"

"You literally payed for my clothes! How is that not relevant?!" The girl argued back.

"Or do you do this for anyone you see?"

"Hmm... no. But you are the sister of one of my close friends, so there is no harm in doing so."

The redhead was flabbergasted at his nonchalant behavior, but quickly shook it of.

"Well, then. Let me treat you with some food." The older girl quickly grabbed (Y/n)'s wrist, pulling her towards the food court.

"What? I don't want you to waste-"

"It's not waste. You are my lil bro's captain. We need to keep you well fed for the World Cup." The older Chigiri teased as (Y/n) quickly shook her head and decided to follow her along.

'I could use some food.' She thought, rubbing her abdomen a little.

What neither of them noticed was a small group of high schoolers following the duo ever since they were at the counter of the clothing store, taking pictures of everything.

"They are dating! Told you so! Look how close they are!" A girl said, pouting a little.

"Maan... I wish that was me holding (Y/n)-kun's hand." Another girl added, earning a nod from a boy and a third girl.

"Are you into guys now?" Another boy asked the previous guy.

"Well, you can't blame me. (Y/n)-kun sure has something captivating about himself."

"Shhh! Let's just follow them." The first girl said as she redied her camera for another opportunity to take a picture.

The same evening, (Y/n) was in her room, packing her things for Blue Lock again when her phone rang. She grabbed it and looked at the caller, for a moment, before answering.

"Hello, Reo-"

"Why did you not tell Nagi or I that you are dating?! This is a big mistake, (Y/n)! Football and Blue Lock need to be your priority. Not chasing girls!" Reo yelled as jealousy was seeping through his voice. (Y/n) blinked for a moment, unsure what he was talking about.

"What?"

"Is it because her hair is red? I can fix mine, (Y/n)." Nagi's voice was heard next. What jarred (Y/n) was the genuine hurt and desperation that was coming out of Nagi.

"Haaa?"

Meanwhile, Chigiri threw his phone on his bed. He was close to crying as he started pulling on his hair, not believing what he just saw.

"Why my sister, (Y/n)?! Why not me!?" The redhead never felt as riled up as he felt right now.

"Big sister! Why did you have to go after (Y/n)?!" Chigiri yelled, running out of his room and towards his sister's.

Meanwhile, said girl was happily inspecting the dresses she got from (Y/n). A small blush coating her cheeks.

'He did look cute while eating...'

Poor (Y/n), and the rest of Blue Lock, were in for a rude awakening with the main topic on the internet for the next few weeks.

'IS FOOTBALL REALLY THE ONLY THINK ON THE MIND OF JAPAN'S RISING FOOTBALL STAR?! Captain (L/n) spotted with a unknown redhead girl, breaking the hearts of many fans.'

[colourstreakgryffin]

hey there honey! i'm here to request deerest alastor meeting a blitzo-like gn! reader fic if that's alright with you;) ( by that I mean either the reader with blitzo's story/persona/both if you wish. )

the genre? fluff, angst- anything, really. i kinda just wanna see how one would think they'd interact !

basically, i'm fine with anything, i do love a good surprise haha . it's rather more interesting;)

on a sidenote; i actually got this idea after watching some snippets of our boy and by recalling our conversation earlier. so i was hoping to see what's in store for our beloved if al were to ever cross paths with someone like him.

for an afterthought- man, i must say that i absolutely cherish this emo guy now.

( this could be platonic, or romantic; whatever you think fits for this shot/anything that is to your liking! )

hopefully this ask wasn't too confusing, and that you're fine with it. thank you, have a great day<3

Y E S! I love Blitzø from Helluva Boss so this duo will be so interesting! Alastor will have quite the difficulty to deal with a Blitzø! Leitora but yet, he will like them!

Alastor- Chaotic I.M.P

General

Alastor has such the passive-aggressive, crude, snarky, prickly Imp to handle. He doesn’t do that well but he also doesn’t shut said Imp out for the way they are… it’s just rough

Alastor’s patience is both worn out and stretched over further with you, the head of I.M.P and the royalty of being so immature and blood-thirsty. A assassin that’s trigger happy, and he isn’t sure how long he can stay calm with you

Alastor finds you interesting. Your mouth is vulgar but you’re actually very intelligent in your work and you rile up your little employee group very well. How fascinating, he considers studying you to figure out how native demons like yourself act

Alastor likes teasing you about your much shorter height and tugging you on your long tail. Both are methods to piss you off and maybe methods to make you pay attention to him as well

Most HCs of platonic can also apply to romantic then a few HCs of romantic can apply to platonic!

Platonic

Alastor doesn’t know how to react to the fact you’re constantly stalking him and following him around. You envy his relaxed, happy self and craves exactly what he has so you regularly watch him. All the times he’s caught you filming him… too many times

Alastor finds you hilarious. Your violent, dark sense of humour actually makes him chuckle and he encourages you to feel confident in what makes you laugh. It makes him laugh so it’s simply perfect

Alastor likes to tease you even more than he already does. Annoy you, piss you off, squeeze your face inbetween fingers to lead you on. It’s all so amusing and the way you bark out with rage at this has his day fixed instantly

Alastor does speak honestly about his own issues with you. He trusts you, you’re like the other friends he has, he may have known them specifically longer but he feels like he can be himself around you. You’re not that bad after all

Alastor finds it pretty cute that you have your own Hellhound child. You have a 22 year old Hellhound son/daughter/child and you’re so loving and affectionate to that Hellhound. He just watches it from the sideline, smiling widely and planning how to use this against you to mess with you

Alastor invites you out to hangouts regularly. To clubs, to drinking bars. Anywhere where it’s just you and him, and you two can just let loose by having drinking contests that end in Alastor slamming alcohol like a sailor and struggling to keep up with you on the dancefloor

Alastor will let you touch him with it seems fit but he does need breaks from you randomly touching him. He likes you, you’re a wonderful snarky little Imp so he can excuse any type of touch, but he needs space

Alastor’s smile and personality is more natural around his Imp friend and he treats all his friends equally so when you’re around, he’s smiling, giddy and sweet just like he is with other friends like Rosie, Mimzy

Alastor is the type of ‘I’ll do something for you at the right price’ friend. Give him what he wants and he’ll do a favour for you, he may like you as a friend but he wants to establish that you’re just like his other friends and you’re not that special at all

“Ah. My dear, this Hotel and my home is for everybody, including yourself. Feel free to get comfortable and we can chat more later”

Romantic

Alastor knows of your intimacy and commitment problems, and since he really likes this cute small gun-wielding badass imp more than he could suspect, he is willing to wait for you to get more comfortable with and trusting of him. Hence what actually fires up the relationship you two share

Alastor is extremely protective over you: you’re a mortal demon, he’s immortal. You can die, he already died and now immune to fatal blows. And the fact you’re an assassin that takes care of humans as well. You have the Radio Demon on your beck-and-call, and goddamn, how glad you are that you’re dating Al. You have a loving, doting but also scolding and cautious boyfriend right there to save your flank

Alastor expresses his loyalty, love and respect through that way he acts around you, giving you whatever you want free of charge, gifting you all kinds of presents, constantly writing you name on random pieces of paper or even the Hotel walls, being smitten of you around the Hotel staff. He can’t get you out of his head

Alastor loves carrying you around. You’re so small but you’re so squishy and cuddly, day or night. He loves hugging you to his chest and carrying you around, you’re smaller than Niffty and he’s living for it! You can be asleep and he’ll keep wondering around with you in his arms bridal style

Alastor is half for I.M.P, half not. The reason he isn’t is because he doesn’t want this psycho humans laying their hands on you and the reason he is is because he loves seeing you happy and he wants you to express your passions so he tries his best to be as supportive as he can

Alastor may or may not be the one taking care of you. You let loose sometimes after bad situations and he is the one reassuring you he’ll always be there, he won’t let you die alone and he’ll always be with you. He loves you and he wants you happy and healthy

Alastor’s ideas of a romantic date is to a nice restaurant, all dressed-up and bonding over simple conversation. Yeah, he isn’t the most ‘interesting’ date-planner but his vanilla tastes are so much better than anybody could ever suspect. You bond with Alastor very well with every date

Alastor enjoys bragging about you. He brags about you on his radio show and even promotes your business, I.M.P. He is going to show who you belong to and he’ll even mark you more… physically, if he must. You’re his and he won’t let any chance that somebody will try to steal you away

Alastor is an affectionate boyfriend and when I mean affectionate, I mean lovey-dovey, complimentary and touchy. He loves giving you kisses, holding you in his lap, giving you hugs, holding your hand all the time. He loves holding you, you’re so sweet and cute

“Darling. You should be a lot more careful… I wouldn’t do well without you, so please. Do both of us a favour and do not charge into battle recklessly… please? For this poor lovestruck little deer?”

Alastor also might just try figure out how to make you immortal so you’ll stay with him for all of Hell’s time

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 10

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Ao3

[Warning for reference to sexual activities, fairly brief]

-

Robin watches Steve walk past the “Action” section with an armful of Schwarzenegger films three times before she says anything.

“You’re distracted today.”

“Hm?” Steve looks up at her, snapping out of whatever vacant thought he’d slipped away into and entirely proving her point. “Sorry, what?”

“Distracted. You.” Robin points down the correct aisle. “The Terminator and his ilk go down there.”

Steve shakes his head. “Right, sorry.”

Following him over, Robin leans against the end of the shelf while Steve sorts through cases that Robin knows have already been organized. “So what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Steve is quiet for a moment longer. He doesn’t seem unhappy – he seems lighter, actually. He’s not in the same weirdly good mood he’s been in for the last week, but he’s a little more settled, so whatever it is, Robin figures it can’t be bad.

Finally, he glances around the store (it’s empty; Sunday nights hardly even require two employees once the afternoon rush has died out, but Robin won’t complain about being paid to sit around and do nothing for a while), and then says, “Eddie and I are dating. Like, for real this time. I think.”

The words come out in a bit of a rush, and it takes Robin a moment to decide that, yes, she’d heard them correctly.

“Excuse me?”

Her tone is exactly as pointed as she’d meant it to be, if the way Steve winces at the question is any indication.

“The last you told me, you two were ‘talking about it’ and ‘taking it slow.’” Air quotes are heavily employed to illustrate Robin’s new skepticism.

“And we were!” Steve says quickly.

“That was, like, two weeks ago, Steve!” Robin says. “That is not slow!”

“Well it’s not like we just jumped into it! We did talk, and we went on a couple of dates–”

“What? When? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“I mean, the first was last weekend, so–”

Robin gasps, jabbing a finger at Steve. “You lied to me!”

“I did not,” Steve insists, pointing a finger right back at her, though it doesn’t have quite the same effect with one arm still full of clunky plastic cases.

“You did! You asked me to take your shift because, and I quote, you were going to do something for yourself,” Robin shoots back.

“And I did! I gave myself the chance to see where this thing with Eddie was going,” Steve says.

“Or, you gave yourself the chance to fall right back into the same pattern that hurt you before,” Robin says.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s different this time,” he says, more quietly.

“How?” Robin demands. “Because ‘dating for real this time, I think,’ doesn’t sound that different.”

“I mean, we didn’t say the word dating, exactly, but…” Steve shifts a little on his feet, but stands firm. “He told me that he loves me.”

“Uh huh,” Robin drawls. “And was that before or after you slept together?”

She regrets it the moment she says it, regrets it the moment the words form and she knows they’re going to come out, but it’s too late. She can see the flash of genuine hurt on Steve’s face before he buries it beneath a layer of cool indifference.

“We didn’t actually have sex, but thanks for the vote of confidence,” he bites out, turning and rounding to the next aisle.

Shit.

No one who Robin has personally seen tear a monster in half with his bare hands (feet?) has any right to look as much like a kicked puppy as Steve does, but he somehow manages it.

And the thing is, she knows how important that is to him – for someone to say the words out loud. She’s learned about his parents in bits and pieces; she even eventually got the full scoop on Nancy. She just– she worries. And when she worries, she says things before she really thinks them through.

Sighing, Robin walks around to the next aisle, finding Steve kneeling and paying entirely too much attention to the stacks of cases in front of him. When her slow approach isn’t rebuffed, she sinks down on the floor next to him, cross-legged with her back facing the shelf.

“I’m sorry. That was a cheap shot,” she says.

Steve shrugs.

“If it helps, it wasn’t directed at you,” Robin goes on. “I just– I really don’t have any reason to trust Eddie’s motives, and I don’t like it when you’re sad, and it’s my job as your best friend to look out for you and be mad at people on your behalf. Especially if you’re not going to be mad at them yourself.”

“Isn’t it also your job as my best friend to trust me and my judgment? And, like, support me when I’m doing something that’ll make me happy?” Steve asks quietly, a little dry.

“I guess,” Robin groans, leaning to the side so that her cheek is pillowed on the round of Steve’s shoulder. “But come on. If some girl made me cry, are you telling me you’d get over it in a snap?”

Robin can feel Steve tense beneath her for a moment, and she absolutely knows he’s thinking about lying to her.

“That’s different,” he finally says.

“It really isn’t, you big goddamn hypocrite.” Robin doesn’t bother to hide her smile, even as she smacks Steve on the back, ignoring the whiny ‘ow’ he gives her for it. “So tell me about the date.”

“Which one?” Steve asks.

“The first one. Must’ve been pretty good for you to agree to another,” Robin says.

“It… really was, actually.” Steve shifts carefully out of his crouch, giving Robin enough time to sit up before he settles onto the floor in front of her, back to the opposite shelf. “I mean, it was weird at first. He took me out to some random neighborhood and then we walked a little ways into the woods.”

“Creepy,” Robin says.

“A little bit, yeah.” Steve nods. “And then we came to this little, like, forgotten park? Had some playground equipment and a gazebo. And when we got there, he told me to turn around, so I couldn’t see what he was doing.”

“Creepier.” Robin wrinkles her nose.

“Yeah, but I was curious, so I did it.” Steve shrugs and Robin snorts at him. “But when he let me turn back around, he’d uh – he had a bunch of candles lit up all around the gazebo? It was… really nice. And he brought dinner – something he cooked. Like, with one of the recipes I taught him.”

Robin’s brows go up, reluctantly impressed. “Damn, alright, point to Munson, that was pretty good,” she admits.

“It was,” Steve says with this dumb, smitten little grin that Robin will absolutely tease him about later.

“Okay, okay, so he picked up on you being a romantic, that’s great, but,” Robin holds her hands out in front of herself in an emphatic sort of ‘here’s the thing’ gesture, “where was all of this before?”

“Right?” Steve bursts out, flinging his arms out in front of himself, narrowly avoiding knocking into one of Robin’s hands. “Thank you! I’m not crazy for wondering that!”

“Of course you’re not,” Robin says, narrowing her eyes at him. “He didn’t tell you that you were, did he?”

“No, no, he– he didn’t.” Steve quickly shakes his head. “I just… I don’t know, I felt like I was being kind of unreasonable, I guess. Like, maybe for wanting any of that at all. Or wondering why he didn’t do it sooner.”

“You’re not,” Robin says again. “You deserve to get what you want, Steve.”

“Yeah, that’s what Eddie keeps saying.” Steve sighs, leaning his head back against the shelf.

“Well… good,” Robin says, a mildly reluctant concession. Maybe Eddie’s getting on the right page after all.

“He says he wants me to tell him when I need something,” Steve says. “Like… he wants me to talk to him.”

“What, about your feelings?” Robin asks, playfully wrinkling her nose. “Gross.”

“The worst,” Steve agrees drily, but he looks pleased, and a little thoughtful. Robin gives him the minute to think, before he says, “I did kind of blow up at him, though. Before that.”

“Good,” Robin laughs, nudging his knee with hers.

“It did sort of feel good,” Steve admits, glancing down through his lashes at Robin. “Just… to kinda get it all out.”

“What happened then?” Robin asks.

“Well, it’s – last night kind of went sideways,” Steve says. “It was supposed to be another date, but…”

“But…?”

“He just – when we were having dinner last weekend, he kept calling it our first date, and it was, but it also wasn’t? I kept thinking about what I thought was our first date.”

“Wait, was that the time in your car out by the quarry?”

Steve lifts his head up so he can shift the full brunt of his scrunched look of disapproval onto her. “No, hooking up in my car out by the quarry was not our first date. That didn’t happen until later.”

“Well it’s not like I have timestamps on these things, Steve!” Robin groans.

“It was that night at the diner,” Steve says, and Robin’s mouth falls into a little “oh” of recognition.

“The diner.” She nods.

It’s obvious in retrospect; Robin has heard everything about that night and then some, from the way Eddie had managed to get ketchup everywhere to “and he can do this thing with his tongue, even I didn’t know you could do that, but I’m gonna try and figure it out, it was so good–” (Robin had teasingly asked him if he’d need to practice on a peach or a banana, and he’d thrown a handful of balled-up receipts at her before deciding “both”).

“But he wanted me to tell him about it, so I did, and then last night, for our date, he took me to the diner,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows at Robin.

“What?” Robin’s eyebrows scrunch down in answer. “Did he think he just gets a do-over?”

“That’s what I asked!” Steve says, before subsiding a bit. “But I don’t… I really don’t think he thought that far ahead. I think he just wanted us both to have, like, some kind of special memory there.”

Robin hums, squinting at Steve skeptically.

“Anyway, I kinda yelled at him and I left, but then he actually came and found me,” Steve continues.

“Where did you go?” Robin asks.

“The lake.”

“Why were you all the way out there?”

Steve grimaces. “Mostly because I knew he doesn’t like going out there.”

Robin snorts, and Steve’s grimace shifts into a guilty sort of smile.

“But he came out there, anyway. And we talked, and– I really think he means it, Rob,” Steve says, looking at her like he needs her to believe it, too. Or at least like he needs her to believe him.

Robin sighs, letting her head fall back slowly, as if she’s deflating. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Munson is off death row. He can have a parole hearing.”

“I think you’re getting a little too into this whole execution metaphor,” Steve says.

“You’re both lucky I didn’t decide to make it literal,” Robin shoots back, and Steve laughs. “So, wait,” she looks back up, “you seriously haven’t had sex again? Since the whole…?”

“Oh my god, get this: he actually walked me to my door last weekend,” Steve says, halfway between incredulous and amused. “He didn’t even ask to come inside. Said the rule is to wait until the third date.”

“Oh, I bet you loved that,” Robin teases.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have said no if he had asked to come in,” Steve scoffs. “But I’m… kind of glad he didn’t. It was different.”

Robin smiles. “Different is promising,” she says, reaching out to pat Steve on the knee. “Now come on; we close in, like, half an hour and I don’t want to stay late cleaning.”

“Yeah, alright,” Steve agrees, hoisting himself off the floor before offering Robin a hand up.

“Also, you owe me dinner for all the secrecy,” Robin declares, heading back towards the front of the store with the intent of putting the counter back in order.

“What?” Steve groans. “I already spent, like, two weeks with literally no one to talk to about all of this. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Nope,” Robin says, and for all she can hear him grumbling, it only takes a minute before Steve is standing next to her again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Sap,” she mutters, putting arm around his waist and squeezing him back.

“And yet, who agreed to be my best friend?” Steve asks.

Robin sighs. “I did,” she says, and she doesn’t even have to look to know that Steve’s grin mirrors hers.

Part 11

-

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[stardewremixed]

Justice for Stardewies

Because people need jobs and purpose...

Jodi

has been a single mom for so long, even though Kent returns in Year 2. She was a Registered Nurse, and replaces Maru at the clinic when Maru decides to go back to school. Jodi starts to feel her confidence grow as she works outside her home. And Harvey is a good boss, letting her work around Vincent's school schedule.

Maru

Inspired by Harvey, Maru wants to pursue and advanced degree in medical technology. With her poor eyesight, her dreams of becoming an astronaut faded. But she still gets to tinker and play with technology, which is something she loves.

Marnie / Marlon

deserves better than a "secret" relationship with Lewis. His family has wealth and historically held positions of power. The Governor is his cousin after all. Still Marnie deserves real "out in the open" love. Marlon asks her out one day after she visits the Adventurer's Guild with the weekly dairy delivery. Their first official date is the Flower Dance. And they dance together for the whole town to see. Lewis is jealous but... he had his chance. #sorrynotsorry

Shane

is sober and working at the movie theater during the evenings. He attends vet school during the day. Shane wants to open an animal clinic, with an emphasis on chickens... 🐔 er... farm animals. And he makes his famous pepper poppers for all town events.

Pam

Pam went to rehab. She is now reemployed at Pierre's. She really enjoys helping customers find what they are looking for, and she joined Caroline's class to get fit. She has already dropped almost 20lbs.

Robin

Robin does so much for the town. She is convinced by the people to run against Lewis. And then she actually wins. Since she finally has help from Alex, Robin's business is booming. She is able to hire on another employee so she can focus on her new important duties as Mayor of Pelican Town.

Linus

Is anyone surprised he actually has money? And lots of it? Linus gets involved with other veterans like himself with much encouragement from Gus. Now with properly flowing taxpayers' dollars, Linus is able to build a tiny Veterans Village for former military men and women to "get off grid," find healing, and a fresh start. Kent gets involved too after he starts counseling for his PTSD.

Alex

Robin hired Alex as a handyman. Alex is surprisingly good with his hands and figuring things out, especially electrical. With no formal training, he can rewire televisions and stereos. At first, he just tinkers in Robin's workshop. But then he starts doing bigger projects. After getting an electricians license, Alex helps wire houses and rewire faulty electrical in other homes and businesses around the Valley. It's blue collar work but it pays really well, and his skills are sorely needed. And he can work as he wants. So he still has plenty of time to toss the gridball around with friends, and take Dusty to the dog park, and even help Granny in the kitchen.

Evelyn / George

Ev still helps out at the community garden. She starts growing spices and herbs to bake in her breads and cookies. Once the Community Center is repaired, Evelyn hosts a bake sale to help with the upkeep. And Haley joins her in organizing a cake walk. George gets motivated, with encouragement from Jodi (since she is a vet's wife), to do the Valley's own version of Special Olympics. Alex helps his grandpa train.

Abigail

finally graduates after six years. She knows what she wants. She is going to pursue a master's in folklore and mythology. While it isn't business like her dad wanted, Pierre is still proud of his little girl. Abi leaves for Zuzu City (on the repaired bus line). She also has an internship lined up, translating manuscripts (since she learned ancient Dwarven).

Sebastian

takes coding to the next level. He finds a partner in Zuzu. They start a tech company together. Seb still comes home on weekends to spend time with his family (he and Demetrius patched things up ever since his stepdad got his official diagnosis as autistic). Seb always brings rice pudding for Demetrius, from the Asian Market he lives above. Seb is also working on releasing his first video game, inspired by his experiences in the mines.

Sam

After the band breaks up, Sam decides to go solo. He leaves for Zuzu City for some gigs. The first weekend he is there, he makes a connection with a talent scout who thinks Sam is really good. Sam starts landing bigger and bigger shows. Next thing he knows, he's traveling the world, opening for big name bands. It is a dream come true. He never stays in one place too long, but that's just what he loves about his "work."

Elliott

publishes his romance novel. And then his editor suggests a series. It is super successful. With his new steady income, Elliott upgrades his cabin to a proper beach cottage. He teams up with Penny to write a children's book.

Penny / the children

returns to school and obtains a proper teaching license. With help from Robin, she opens an after school enrichment program for Vincent, Jas, Leo, and a few other children. And she partners with Professor Snail to offer summer camps on Ginger Island. Penny also organizes a beach clean-up day.

Vincent starts an entomology club with the Prof, much to his delight.

Jas works with Emily to create costumes for a play. The story of the Winter Star is the first show they put on for the town. And this seriously helps Jas' confidence.

Leo repairs the treehouse with the help of Alex. And Pam, who attended cosmetology school, gives him a proper "big kid" haircut.