#yeah I'm stuck on paper and pens for now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

on-a-lucky-tide · 1 month ago

Text

Simon tricks Price into their bedroom after getting desperate for his attention. #GhostPriceWeek

Day Two: Heart/Alpha

cw: omegaverse, fingering, penetrative sex, eventual enthusiastic consent, Price's hang ups with his secondary sex, mating marks, knotting. ( @gomzdrawfr )

Simon sat on the edge of the bed and watched Price as he stood by the window, shoulders squared, his hands tucked beneath his arms as they pulled tight over his chest. He was tired and Simon had tricked him into leaving his office by saying he needed his thoughts on some performance data. Price operated better with pen and paper so he was used to being called in for a face to face. Emailing him was pointless at the moment anyway, because he had several hundred in his inbox from two days leave that he was working through, and the whole fuckin’ point was to pry him out from behind his desk. Bloody muppet.

“‘m sorry, know you’ve got a lot on, I jus’..."

“Ya coulda jus’ said, Simon,” Price said tightly, still chewing over his irritation. He didn't like being lied to. And he absolutely didn't like being fuckin' lied to by Simon Riley specifically. It bit at him in a way very little else did.

“Yeah, right, like you wouldn’t’ve made some shitty excuse,” Simon said dryly, folding his own arms now. In his fleece shorts, cotton t-shirt and bare feet, he looked no less broad than if he sat there in a carrier vest with an M4 cradled in his arms, but the soft fall of the material left far less to the imagination, and Price was staring out the window partly because he knew if he looked he would give in. He smelled bloody gorgeous too, warm and inviting, a scent that sat on the back of Price's tongue and made his mouth water. Simon sighed. “You don't ‘ave time, I get it.”

Price bristled. “I woulda made time.”

“Yeah? Bullshit.”

“Ya givin’ me attitude, lieutenant?”

“Simon's givin’ ya attitude, ya lieutenant finished his fuckin’ paperwork an’ clocked out three hours ago.”

Price flinched and closed his eyes. There had been hurt in Simon's tone; subtle, no more than a tremor in his deadpan rumble, but it had been there. That was Price told; well and truly put in his place. Served him right for being a fuckin’ cunt, didn't it? He pinched the bridge of his nose, shoulders slumping forward. “Sorry, Simon, I… uh, that weren't fair.”

Price heard the bed creak, old springs sighing with relief as Simon's bulk left them, and in the next breath he felt all the warmth of his mate press up against his back. “Yer shagged, love. I can see that. Lemme hold ya, fuck… I'm gaggin’ for a kiss. Anythin’. Haven't even touched ya in weeks. My fuckin’ ‘eart aches.”

“Sure it's not ya dick?”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, you grumpy wanker… so, wot? Can't want both? ‘m a man with needs. An’ one is you. All of ya.”

“Didn' ‘ave you down as the hopeless romantic,” Price mumbled, blinking quickly as Simon's warm palms swept around his waist, his nose nuzzling into the fabric of the shemagh wrapped around his neck. “I can't… I've got..”

“Ya can, please, for me… jus’ one night, let me make ya feel good, an’ then fall asleep in my arms. S’all I need an’ ‘ll stop bein’ a needy twat.”

“Y’ain’t a needy twat.” Price tilted his head against Simon's and let out a deep sigh through his nose. It felt like a ratchet strap had broken loose, his body deflating against Simon's chest. It was so difficult to let him take the wheel; the insecure, indomitable part of Price chafing at the mere hint of submission. But it wasn't submission, was it? It was letting his partner care for him.

Unlearning the association in his head between intimacy and surrender was a long and winding road, and Simon was so fucking patient with him. So patient that Price felt unworthy of it sometimes. It had to be frustrating to be stuck with an omega whose first instinct was scepticism when offered affection, who had to be coaxed and gentled into spreading his damn legs. Simon could have had the pick of anyone, with the size of him, but he had chosen the scruffy, half chewed wanker in a boonie hat.

Price felt Simon's chapped lips in the bristles of his beard and knew he was desperate to go lower, to close his mouth over the mating mark hidden beneath Price's scarf. It was a level of intimacy Price had always sworn he would extend to no one and it still made him apprehensive in the moments before Simon got there, no matter how many times he proved to be a safe pair of hands. The complete opposite to what anyone would expect of a man that looked like him. Price figured Simon had seen so much brutality from others that he had made the conscious effort to be completely the opposite in his romantic life.

“See, few weeks without some practice, an’ you're gettin’ anxious again.” Simon's hands slid up Price’s torso, nose tracing his hairline at the back of his neck.

“Not bloody anxious…”

Simon's hand pressed over the left side of Price's chest. “Yer ‘eart says otherwise.” Beneath the pressure, Price could feel it; the frantic thrum of his heart against Simon's palm. The stress of the last few weeks, several operations happening overseas at the same time, all the strings in his hand, left him on a knife edge. The exhaustion was bone deep, his nerves raw. He knew he had become waspish and short with his subordinates, his temper on a trigger even more so than usual…

Some time with Simon would be good for him. Even if his mind still struggled with it all, his body was bonded. Time with his mate would help his mind find the rest that had eluded it for days now, whether it liked it or not. There were some comforts only a bonded pair could provide each other. Price sighed, lifting a hand to twine through Simon's fingers. For fucks sake, it was Simon. This was how it was meant to be. Price was allowed to find comfort in him.

“G’won then. Feel dead on my feet.”

“No need to sound so enthusiastic,” Simon said dryly.

“Yer gonna whine more or you gonna get to it?” Price grumped in return.

Simon responded with a chuckle, rubbing the side of his chin against Price's shoulder. “Bad tempered old bastard.” He said it with such deep affection that Price’s chest felt a little light.

Simon hooked two fingers in Price’s scarf, drawing it off to expose his neck and throat to the cool air. Goosebumps erupted over Price's skin and his arms dropped to his sides, fingers flexing into his palms as he chewed the inside of his cheek. The first few times they had done this, Price had snarled and put Simon on his back, teeth bared, so his jittery anxiety now was progress.

Simon chuffed softly at him, soothing noises made to gentle a distressed omega, and it appealed to Price's base instincts, the ones already luxuriating in the scent of his mated alpha folding around him. His chin dropped forward and he drew in a deep, shuddering breath so that Simon's scent flooded his senses. Simon kissed across the newly exposed skin, palms pulling Price back against his chest so that his scarred lips could reach everything they wanted, and Price lifted unsteady hands to hold his wrists.

“Breathe, John,” Simon whispered, breath tickling the little hairs on the back of Price's neck.

“Yeah… yeah, right.” As Price’s chest filled, Simon pressed close and dragged the wet flat of his tongue over the sensitive scarring on Price’s neck. Price exhaled with a soft noise, his eyes flickering back, his knees quivering as Simon lapped again. It was like a hundred gentle fingers stroking over his shoulders, down his neck and back to his navel; a tug of pleasure so deep, so instinctual, that it was impossible to resist.

Damp lips parted, his body sagged into Simon's arms, and Simon chuffed his approval against his skin. Price, his mind eased into a foggy pleasure, offered his first faint trill in response. It curled up his throat, a soft purr, and Simon squeezed him fondly, kissing that mark until Price's knees began to shake again.

“Hmm, easy, love. I've gotcha.”

Simon guided Price towards the bed and gathered him into his lap, Price's knees bracketing his hips, and Price sank down gratefully, the seat of his trousers pressing to the warm bulge of Simon's crotch as they kissed, Price's hands sliding around Simon's firm jaw. He stayed lost in Simon's mouth as Simon worked his boots and belt off, letting them fall heavily to the floor. His shirt followed, Simon's fingers working down the buttons before pushing it from his shoulders. He pulled it down until the fabric pooled at Price's wrists, trapping them just behind him so that his full chest was thrust out and Simon could kiss the newly exposed skin.

“Ah, Si…” Price gasped. Simon's mouth was bloody heaven; his agile tongue curled around a nipple, lips sinking down to suckle, and Price moaned softly, his hips rolling forward to grind down against the hard length pressed up between his legs. He knew he was getting wet, could feel the slickness in his boxers; it was easy to relax into it when Simon was being so gentle, and his body was so desperate to feel him, the promise of that hard bulge was enough to make him weak.

“Thassit, gonna make you feel so good.” Simon squeezed Price's arse and encouraged the slow rut as he worked over his chest to give the other nipple the same attention. Price squirmed when Simon paused to tug his own shirt over his head and Price shedding his own completely in favour of pushing his fingers into Simon's blond hair, clutching his face close.

Without the cotton barrier, Price could rub himself against Simon's soft body hair, the firm, scorching plains of muscle, the thick musk of his alpha scent coiling around Price's mind like a physical touch, coaxing him deeper into a foggy headspace. He settled into it slowly, reluctant to let his control and alertness slip, but their mated bond smoothed the process. The descent was irresistible when every part of Price, mind and body, wanted to purr with pleasure at Simon's attention.

“Doin’ so good, love,” Simon whispered, his breath hot against Price's sensitive nipple, puckered and hard. He plucked open Price’s fly and slid his hand into the front of his boxers, thumb reaching down to circle the engorged, eager hardness of Price’s cock before dipping into his slit.

The first touches sent sparks through Price's hips with such intensity that he growled, fingers tightening in Simon's hair. It had been so long. He hadn’t even touched himself in the interim; touchstarved didn't even cover the desperation currently bubbling under his skin. “Fuck, s’too sensitive.”

“Mm, you're jus’ turned on, need to relax. Here, get these off, le’s get comfy.” Simon tapped Price’s waistband and placed a final kiss in the centre of his chest, before relinquishing him.

Price stood unsteadily, shoving his trousers and boxers to the floor until he stood naked before Simon’s appreciative gaze, his toes curled against the floor as he fought the urge to cover himself like some fair bloody maiden. “Wot?” Price asked, trying to come across authoritative but knowing it was somewhat meak given his flushed he was. He could feel the wetness between his thighs, and couldn't help how his own eyes wandered lower to Simon's crotch.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Simon replied, his low voice thick with desire. He shuffled back on the bed, creating himself a small pile of pillows to lean back on, and then patted his thighs. “C’mere, lean back. Still look like yer about to breach a room full’ve Al Qatala.”

“They'd ‘ave a nasty surprise,” Price murmured as he clambered onto the bed, setting his rear end down between Simon's legs, his knees gathered to his chest. Strong arms curled around him, big enough to make even Price feel well handled, and he huffed softly as he was drawn back into Simon's warmth.

“Hm, dunno, think they'd see ya in a whole new light. Body as good as yours might bring world peace,” Simon said against the back of Price’s neck.

Price chuckled low in his throat, squirming a little as Simon's hands stroked up his belly to his chest. “I’ll ask Kate whether she thinks yer idea’s operationally via-ah, fuck, Sim-mmn.”

Those soft lips had closed around his mating mark again, palms massaging his tits before fingers and thumbs began to caress the soft blush of his nipples. Price’s body relaxed in increments, the slow build of heat and pleasure as Simon stimulated two erogenous zones chasing away the last of the anxious tension keeping his back and shoulders stiff.

Simon slid his palms down the length of Price's body to his thighs, lifting them over his own to spread his omega open, and Price huffed in momentary discomfort. He felt exposed, vulnerable; he glanced at the door, tried to keep his eyes open, but Simon deepened his kiss against Price's mark as one hand returned his chest, the other sliding gently through the folds of his cunt. Three points of warmth, of being covered and protected by Simon's body, grounded in the pleasure and reassurance of his touch. His fingers were firm, possessive, rubbing over flushed, slick skin in skilful passes, thumb and the sides of his fingers circling up and down the glistening length of Price's aching cock.

Fuck, when had he got so hard and so wet? When had his body become so desperate for Simon's touch that it now throbbed under his fingers? Price made soft, tortured noises of bliss as Simon played with his cunt, suckling harder on his mark to trap Price in a feedback loop of euphoria that overcame the momentary distress of being spread open.

Simon's moan of appreciation rolled through Price's body from his shoulder, and Price curled an arm up to hold Simon’s head, lifting his hips in encouragement as he surrendered completely to his alpha's hands. Simon's mouth drew away from nursing his mating mark to nibble Price’s ear, muttering soft praise. “Yer so fuckin' sexy…”

Price huffed a soft, delirious laugh at how drunk Simon sounded, slurring out ‘sexy’ like it was treacle on his tongue. Suckling on all those omega pheromones had done a number on him. But Simon soon got his revenge, his second hand joining his first at Price’s cunt, a thick finger sliding inside.

Price lifted his head and looked down the slope of his body, groaning at the sight. There were few things hotter than watching Simon's big hands pawing at his cunt, spreading his slick folds open, teasing and squeezing with perfect pressure while his thick fingers plunged in and out of Price’s hole, glistening with evidence of just how fuckin’ turned on he was, how close to the edge as thrills of pleasure pulsed through his core like an electrical current. Price rocked up into it, throwing his head back as his orgasm tingled at the very edges of his awareness. “Ung, Si… fuck, gonna…”

“Yeah, g’won, don't hold back,” Simon said, and the long, slow lick over Price's mating mark was enough to finish him off. He was skilled enough to slow his caresses as Price came, his entire body tensing up, eye screwing shut as he gasped Simon's name over and over. It was intense, white light behind the eyes, his cunt soaking Simon's palm, and he gasped tightly until the swell of pleasure ebbed lower and he was able to slump, panting, against Simon's chest. In a haze, he watched as Simon lifted his hands away, only to slide his wet fingers into his damn mouth with a satisfied groan.

“Ya filthy bugger,” Price mumbled, delirious. He flopped away, his cunt still tingling with the aftermath of his orgasm, the air cool against his sweaty back as he sprawled on his front. “Gimme a moment, I'll see t' you.” Simon’s cock was testing the fabric of his shorts, a damp spot soaking through at the tip, and Price’s mouth watered at the thought of the musky taste of it.

“Oh, love, only one place I wanna be. Tha's knotted inside ya.” Simon lifted his rear and shoved his shorts, his thick cock flopping back against his belly, strong veins running its length from root to tip, ruddy and leaking. Price let out a soft moan, pressing his chest down and lifting his hips a little. The sight and smell of it in the mire of pheromones and arousal, the way he wanted Simon's heavy bulk over him, pushing him down…

“Oh, fuck, yer wanna be bred, don’tcha, love? Desperate for a good fuckin’ knot, my hot load fillin’ y’up...”

“You got a filthy fuckin’ mouth, Riley…” Price growled, fuck… half moaned. Yeah, he wanted all of that. Every last word.

“Can't help it, seein’ you like this, so ready fer me, does somethin’ to my brain.” Simon rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled over the bed until he was sliding over Price's back, his knees either side of Price’s thighs. The slick head of his cock pressed into Price's slit, nudging the underside of his cock as it slid back and forth, teasing. “Tell me ya want me, John. Tell me ya want me t’ mate ya.”

Price clutched at the sheets, panting, as he felt Simon's huge cock grind against him. His heart hammered in his chest, not through anxiety, but raw, primal need and excitement. He could feel Simon above him, big, thick all over, his body glowing with the heat of arousal, the bulbous tip of his cock pressing insistently against Price’s entrance with each pass. He felt enveloped, overcome, and all he wanted was to feel his alpha inside him. “Yeah, Simon… please… fuck me, please, need ya…”

Simon growled possessively, his cock sinking into Price's cunt all at once, sheathing itself inside him in a single, fluid thrust that knocked the breath from his lungs. He felt so perfectly full, Simon's huge prick satisfying the clutching need tightening in Price's gut. Simon didn't give him a chance to grow used to it, the fullness, and withdrew for another deep thrust that ground his full, heavy balls against Price's slit.

Simon didn't need encouragement, his knees spreading, cock plunging deep. Price cried out as his body was made to yield over and over, relaxed muscles stretching wide, so slick that every thrust sent a hot swell of pleasure licking up Price's spine. Simon curled around his back, big arms bracketing Price’s shoulders as his belly bumped against the curve of his arse, cock welcomed deep inside Price's eager cunt as Price tilted his hips up, his knees digging into the mattress for purchase.

“Yer so fuckin’ wet, fuck,” Simon groaned, hips slapping loudly, shunting Price into the bed with the force of his movements, strong arms keeping him pinned in place so his body couldn't be forced further away..

And it was so damn bloody good.

Simon found the perfect angle, punching low moans from Price's chest, stoking a furnace of white hot pleasure in his gut that only intensified when a large hand folded over Price's jaw, thumb slipping between his lips like Simon wanted to possess every damn hole Price had. Demanding lips found his mating mark once more, teeth nipping and tongue laving, short-circuiting Price's brain as he moaned wetly around Simon's thumb.

Simon was so hard, so fuckin’ big, Price was sure he could feel Simon's heartbeat throbbing through his cunt; a relentless, powerful thrum matching the frantic pump of his own. It was his only anchor, his mind soft, completely enraptured by his alpha’s body, his scent, the sound of his guttural snarls as he took his pleasure and promised to come deep inside his omega’s cunt. Price's body was like Semtex, manipulated in Simon's hands until the very moment he wanted it to detonate.

“Harder, fuck… Simon, harder, yeah, yeah, like that, mmm, ahh!”

“Such a greedy hole, perfect fit for my dick,” Simon growled, his voice tight.

The stretch intensified as Simon's knot began to swell, forcing Price wider, and Price would have been ashamed of the wrecked wails breaking from his throat if he'd had much awareness left. Simon had fucked him senseless, his mouth hanging open, his hands scrambling at his sheets, his entire body numb and alight with sensation at the same time. Just a snug, wet, eager hole for Simon to fuck. He balanced there on the edge, his toes and fingers tingling, the intensity of the pleasure making his cunt spasm and flutter around the relentless piston of Simon's cock.

Price lost track of how long he was pinned beneath his alpha's body, gloriously helpless as Simon hollowed him out, wringing pleasure from him without mercy. Price needed that knot to fill, and each time it popped in and out of him was sweet torture. He needed it swollen in his cunt, locking his alpha inside him, needed to be filled so absolutely that he didn't have room to breathe, as Simon brimmed him with his seed.

Such a desire would have disgusted him before he had bonded with Simon and perhaps, in the cold light of day it would again, but in the frenzied heat of their coupling, the thought of it made him almost mad with need. It was primal, instinctual, born from millions of years of evolution.

Simon's hips stuttered, slapping hard in two final thrusts, before his knot ground into Price's cunt as his cock pumped him full of cum. Price moaned loudly as he was bred, Simon's teeth massaging around the scent gland beneath his mating mark to hold him still. Price's climax poured through him in answer to the flood of heat inside him, his channel clutching at Simon's knot, milking it in tight pulses as Simon rocked his hips in slow, lazy rolls, as if he could fuck his spend deeper into Price's body.

“Christ, yer a fuckin’ dream…” Simon slurred, mouth drawing away to lap at Price’s mark between each word. His cock was still twitching, and he groaned when Price's body squeezed in response.

“Was so good, Si… so fuckin’ good…”

“My cock, my knot, everythin', s’all yours, ‘m yours… love you, John. Love you so fuckin’ much. Get so low when yer not here, when we can't be close.”

Price twisted as much as he could for the kiss, their tongues lapping together through parted lips. It was a promise. Price could do better. He could make the time. He had to. All they had was each other, and apart, without an opportunity to mate, to hold each other, their hearts ached. And he had been a prized fuckin’ wanker for being up his own arse about it earlier. It was hard enough for Simon to ask for things without Price adding to the hurdles.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Simon nuzzled Price's hair after their lips had parted and Price's face fell back to the sheets. In the haze of fucked out bliss, Price melted into the bed, his alpha knotted deep inside him, heavy body draped over, protective bulk caging him in, Price closed his eyes and drifted…

When Simon's knot went down some fifteen minutes later, he withdrew gently, rolling Price onto his back. Price arched as kisses trailed down his chest and belly, moaned softly when those chapped lips reached his cock and sucked it hungrily, before that clever tongue slid into his cunt to taste their coupling. Simon's big palms rested on the inside of Price’s thighs, pressing them out, but Price didn't need coaxing; he threw his arms above his head and rolled his hips slowly against Simon's mouth with wanton abandon, gasping and moaning encouragement, his legs spread wide so Simon could tongue and kiss his sensitive cunt without restraint.

Simon was his, and he was Simon's, and for the rest of the night, that was all that mattered. Two lovers, one heartbeat.

#captain john price #simon ghost riley #ghostprice #ghostpriceweek #prompt order? i dont know her

167 notes · View notes

unlosts · 4 months ago

Note

hi !!

i'm pretty sure it was me w the perfume request! (my brain is so scattered i barely remember what i asked for but!! i'm so so excited to read it when you're done <33) (btw i'm loving the spencer fics and i'm psyched for more, your writing is so beautiful 🥹🫶🏼)

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! It was exactly the one I lost. Hope you like it, I had a lot of fun with it 🫶🏼.

Also no one asked but I'm a firm believer that Hotch is a Grey Vetiver by Tom Ford guy, or he should be!

At exactly 9:18 the sound of the elevator opening interrupts the quiet morning, Aaron Hochner walks out heading briskly towards his office, coat over his shoulders and briefcase in hand, nodding in greeting to the rest of the team who collectively turn to stare at him with various degrees of confusion plastered on their faces.

“I was about to call a S.W.A.T team,” Says Emily, stopping him in his tracks “again.”

At that Hotch finally turns to face them, his usually pristine white shirt wrinkled like he had picked it off the floor that morning.

“Excuse he?” He asks, brow arched.

Derek lets out a laugh at this, languidly spinning his chair from side to side but before he can say anything JJ, ever the mediator, interrupts “You’re just not usually this late, we were starting to worry.”

“Yeah, cuz y’know you have a bad track record” Says Penelope with a grimace, she’s perched by Morgan's desk toying with a feathery pink pen while she talks.

“They were worried, I just knew you were maybe having some fun for once” Derek chimes in with a smile, letting out a huff when Pen pokes his side with her pen.

“There’s no need to make a scene out of it, I’m sure I've been late plenty of times before” He tries to say in a stern enough tone that they’ll hopefully drop the subject.

It would be easy to classify it as merely teasing but Hotch knew the entire team worried about him, namely about his lack of a social life outside of work. And usually he would entertain their banter for longer but he really is late today and he can already feel the beginning of a headache forming.

“Actually," Spencer adds without looking up from his paper“this year, you were only late three times, the last one being about two and a half months ago on July when you had a flat tire and had to wait for triple A”.

“Thank you for that, Spencer” Hotch says, shooting him a look.

“No problem”

“Nothing happened, I just got stuck in a bad pile up on my way there and I was already cutting it close beforehand, so if you all could focus back on your files that would be great, we have to present our consults before 5 today” He says trying, and failing to regain a modicum of authority.

Just when he thought that they had tired themselves out, the elevator opens up again and you spill out of it, carrying with you the floral scent of your perfume and a dazzling smile that spells nothing but trouble for him. The kind that makes him stay up until 2am in the middle of the week and turns what was meant to be a quick shower into a half hour delay.

“Hello hello, sorry for being so late, there was a bad bad pile up on my way here” You speak without pausing once for breath, your heels click clacking on your way to your desk where you unceremoniously dump your coat and purse on top of your desk. Heading for the kitchen to brew a new pot of coffee.

On your way there you playfully ruffle Spencer’s hair and wink at Pen, who can’t help but comment on your good mood “Well aren’t you happy this morning missy”

You make eye contact with him for a split second and Hotch can feel his throat dry up, he always felt like you breathed life into any room you walked in, the sun patterns following your steps whenever you went. So it makes sense that even now in the middle of fall he feels something warm settle over him even with such a brief look.

He thinks he’s been staring at you for hours when it couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds, by the time he snaps out of it he finds Emily regarding him with a quizzical eye and a smile that does nothing for his brewing headache.

“Well, I’ve just been having a very nice week” You reply pointedly “even went and got myself a new perfume” He did, actually, but it’s not like you can say that.

Seeing an out in the conversation he starts once more to go towards his office before he’s interrupted, once again, by one Emily Prentiss.

“Huh” She says, pinning him down with a perfectly arched eyebrow

“What?” He asks exasperated, quickly losing his patience.

“Aren’t you testy today?” She teases “I was just thinking about the fact that you both got stuck in traffic, despite coming from opposite sides of the city, that’s all” And with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders that’s anything but, she turns to work on her files.

You pop out of the kitchen carrying with you two expertly done mugs of coffee, and even better timing, hastily sitting by Emily’s desk and leaving one mug in front of her.

“I was hoping you could look over one of my cases with me? I’ve been stuck for ages and I could use a fresh set of eyes?”

“So this is bribery coffee?”

“No, the bribe is the very nice bottle of red I have back at my place that’s all yours next girls night, the coffee is just because I’m a delight to be around” You reply grinning at her.

Emily huffs a laugh and with everyone distracted Hotch finally makes his escape, shutting his office door and basking in the blissful quiet of his office.

He spends the next hour and a half failing to fill expense reports, his mind wandering to your hair splayed on the pillows this morning; you staring up at him in the shower, a droplet of water running from the bridge of your nose to rest on your lip being kissed away by him. The exact dazzling smile from this morning but all his to keep.

The lost twenty minutes after dressing he spend with you pressed against the entrance door, your hands running over his back.

With an hour left to go before lunch and a creek in his neck from leaning his head on his palm all morning he gives up and goes to get himself his second coffee of the day.

In the kitchenette right by the vending machine is his headache personified, getting herself a bag of skittles.

While he makes his coffee Emily pauses next to him and extends the bag of candy in a silent offer that he declines with a shake of his head, right before leaving she says “I do love the new cologne, very summery fresh, but just a heads up, I do think she wears it better than you”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine

213 notes · View notes

writeoffside · 6 months ago

Text

DOCUMENTS AND DESTINIES

♯ battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader - 1/?

summary: An unexpected visitor comes to your work to check out the history of his company, which leads you both to a tense search for the much needed files… Which is pretty tiring for you.

warnings: none - just swearing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: working on part 2 now hihihi

The time went slowly when you were stuck in the office. The uncountable amount of times you've checked the clock is absurd.

Papers are all over the table, every single document staring at you back. The highly reflective colored highlighters sitting at the side of your desk. Nearly at their lowest as they've been used so many times in the past few hours. The documents are full of names, places, words, numbers and other symbols. Some names are unknown to you, some familiar.

A sigh escapes your lips, turning to the side to look at the clock on the other side of the room.

It was finally reaching the time you were mostly looking forward to.

5:58, the clock read.

"Thank god," you whispered out to yourself. Slowly gathering all the papers from your table and closing the work laptop in front of you. All the papers are quickly gathered on top of each other and put into a dark purple-colored folder. The color is slowly ripped around the edges of the folder as it has been in use for a very long time. A white — now dark pastel brown like color sticker is in the middle of it. The sticker is pulled at the edges,

but still stays on. Your name written on top of it, written with a dark blue pen. You don't have the heart to switch the folder with a new one. It holds too many memories.

In a quick time, all of the things you've had on your table are safely packed and put inside your bag. All the documents are starting to overflow your folder, which ends up taking the whole space in your bag. You know well that your shoulder is going to be hurting pretty badly when you come back home with the bag draped over it.

Your boss had barged inside your office just a few days ago with multiple folders on top of each other in his hands. When he dropped them all onto your table, it felt like the table itself would drop as well and break down just there.

He started talking about how he needs the documents to be checked, corrected, and put out into mails, then returned... And more instructions were flying onto you from his mouth. Which you've totally ignored, but gave him a nod as you pretended to listen to his instructions. The amount of documents there could be counted into hundreds and hundreds.

Now, thankfully, you were about to just go home and enjoy your night by yourself!

Or so you have thought.

As you were about to move your chair back to the table and make your way out of your office, a knock sounded on your door. Which sounded completely different from the knock your boss' usually gives you on your office door.

With a deep sigh, you made your way towards the door and pushed it open. The person who was standing behind the door was someone that nobody in the entire building would expect.

Bruce fucking Wayne.

"Daniel's not here," you quickly muttered out the first thing that came to your mind. Mentally slapping yourself for such an answer. Of course, your boss wouldn't be there... In your office.

"I'm not here for Mr. Meyer... The receptionist told me that you are the only one in the building with the keys to the archive. Is that so?" He asked lowly and looked back to the hallway that he most likely came from.

"Oh! Yeah... I am the only one with the keys," you chirped, backing away from the door and walking back into your office, "I was just about to go home, but thankfully, you caught me just at the right time!" You laughed your sentence off awkwardly. He remained silent and with no other expression. His stoic' expression remained unchanged.

You opened the drawers of the cabinet, which was near the table and fumbled with the drawer, which keep the keys safe. Finally opening it and pulling out the set of keys that could open the multiple doors of the archive. The keys rattled with a sound as you picked them up from the drawer.

Then in just a moment, you closed the drawers, stood back straight, and looked over to Mr. Wayne, who was still standing outside of the office. Now fidgeting with his fingers, with his head hung low. He stood here, waiting, with no intention to move inside the office to retrieve the keys himself from you.

He was wearing a dark set of brown pants, which weren't skinny nor baggy. A white pastel-like blouse underneath a matching dark brown jacket with its front opened. The little cufflinks with 'W' could be seen on the cuffs of the blouse. His shoes were peeking out from the bottom of the pants. His dark hair was falling into his face and his pale white skin was showing off.

You shuffled back outside and closed the door of your office. Your belongings still inside as you'll have to take the keys back and lock them up back into the drawer after you come back from the archives.

"Okay... We can go now, this way! Down the stairs and then to the archive doors," you told him as he looked up to meet your eyes. His expression still hasn't changed since he knocked on your door.

Both of you made your way towards the staircase with no words uttered between each of you. The steps echoed around as both of you walked down. The sound of your heels hitting the stairs echoed down the staircase.

"If I may ask, Mr. Wayne... Why do you need to go to the archives? Is there something wrong with the documents we've sent back to the Enterprises? We can—" You were quickly cut off by his husky voice.

"No. There's no problem with the documents we've received," his voice cut your rambling quickly, "I've found something else... In the older documents. What my father might still have stored down there, in your archives... I need to check them out for certain reasons," he informed you as you reached the end of the stairs and started walking through the long, hardly lit, hallway.

The walk to the archives felt endless.

The sound of your heels hitting the tiled floor started to echo around the hallway once again. His walk was steady and his steps were long. The awkward silence felt like it grew with each step you both took. You had to walk even quicker than before, to catch up next to him.

"Here it is," you told him as both of you stopped in front of locked doors with a black bold writing on it 'ARCHIVES' and a smaller text underneath which said; 'RESTRICTED AREA; NO ADMITTANCE - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY'

The keys jiggled as you looked through them to find the right one for the first door. The key had a little red cover on it with a little black bold number one, '1' written on it. Meaning that it's for the first door of the archives.

You unlocked the first door and turned to Mr. Wayne to let him in first. With a nod, he entered the room and walked deeper into the room.

"Your father's documents are stored in the more 'locked up' side of the archives, the much more important side," you told him as you closed the door behind you. The room is filled with drawers, shelves and boxes full of important documents, the scent of old paper making its way to your nose.

You quickly make your way towards him, where he's standing by door with '2' written on it and some smaller text underneath it, which you don't care to read as you've been there multiple times before.

You unlock the door and let him in first again. Closing the door after the two of you. You look over as you see him stalk over to the next door at the end of the current archive room.

God, this man has no patience.

"What's up with your father's documents, though? They've been checked, even multiple times and on different occasions... And your father, he used to—" You started rambling to him as you approached him but you were, once again, quickly cut off by him.

"I know. But I have to check something on them. For personal reasons and also to check up on our history, the Wayne Enterprises' history, with others... I know what I'm doing," he snaps back at you sternly, now looking straight at you, into your eyes. His brows furrowed.

The tone that he spoke to you in, was no close to respectful, nor close to being polite. A scoff wanted to make its way out of your mouth, but you rather kept it shut. Your lips press into a thin line as you watch him look back at the door he waits for.

You unlocked the third door and let him in first again. He stops and looks over at you for a split of a moment and then he's turning his body away from you and heading inside, leaving you standing by the door alone.

With another sigh, you make your way inside, closing the door after you.

You made your way towards him, where he was standing. He was standing by the drawers with a big red 'W' written on the label, peeking from the side of the drawers. All of the drawers marked with red 'W' contained all the documents from the Wayne's.

"You can... Um, check the documents you need. Just put them back into their place, where they were placed before," you told him as you watched him open the first set of archive drawers to check through them.

A few minutes went by, he put out about five files out onto a table next to him. He went through every single document and file, flipping through every page he came across.

"Who's this?" He suddenly asked. His finger stopped at a certain part of the document he was reading at the moment.

You stood up from the very much uncomfortable chair that you were sitting on. You made your way towards him and looked over to the documents that he was holding.

He lowered the documents to your height and his finger hovered above a certain name.

Scott Starkey.

His name was crossed out with a black marker. In every sentence, his name was mentioned.

You looked up to meet his eyes and then back down at the name, "He used to be close with your father. He worked hard to reach a position as your father had... Or at least one close to him. He was so ambitious and hungry for success as he, your father, had," you started telling him. Bruce's eyes stayed on you.

"His ambition to get to that position literally consumed him and morphed it all into one huge obsession. He fought against his own limitations. He didn't know when to stop... His friendship with your father started to tear, he couldn't understand why your father had achieved so much so effortlessly. His admiration turned into resentment, anger, and total hatred against him," you told him as you looked up to meet his furrowed expression. His stance was now noticeably different, he was standing straight as he listened to you.

"He dug so deep into your father's personal life. Scott started to spread your father's secrets and things about his personal life, your father's reputation wasn't going to end well for him, or anyone in the Wayne Enterprises if he would have continued," you sighed as you stopped for a moment.

"What happened to him?" Bruce suddenly rasped out into the silence with his question. He looked into your eyes and then down at the documents, which he was holding in his hands. A deep frown on his face after hearing thr backstory from you.

"I don't really know..." you mumbled out to him. Your mind going blank now. They never told anyone what had actually happened to him, he just left everything behind and never came back.

He completely disappeared.

Bruce hummed and closed the file quickly. The dust flew into the air. Floating around the two of you. The files haven't been opened for a long time now.

A cough made its way out of you from the dust. You waved your hand around to get the dust away from your face.

Meanwhile, Bruce turned his body away and opened the next drawer, and took out the first file of documents, reading and listing through them. His brows were furrowed in concentration, eyes running over all the words, numbers, and symbols written on the paperwork.

You went back to sit in the chair you sat in moments prior. You didn't take your phone down there, so you've got no idea what the time currently is. But you know one thing and that is that you should have been home for at least an hour now. Not at work, sitting in the archives, on the most uncomfortable chair ever, and with the Bruce fucking Wayne.

You try to sit comfortably on it as you watch him go through another opened file, which is more of a yellowish color. Must be an older one than the other ones.

As you watch him closely, you can feel your eyelids getting heavier. Your head slowly falls forward, hanging lowly. Your eyelids flutter shut and you can feel yourself drifting away into the darkness.

The sound of traffic and the rhythmic hum of a car wakes you up.

You slowly come to your senses and open your eyes to see the road of Gotham City, full of traffic, in front of you. The rain is falling against the car.

The car. You're in a car.

Your head quickly shoots up to look at your surroundings. You blink a few times as the very unknown and unfamiliar surroundings come into focus.

You're seated in an unknown car in the passenger seat, with a seatbelt on. The interior of the car is black and looks way more luxurious than your car does.

You look to the side and you finally see the driver of the car.

Bruce Wayne is sitting at the driver's side, holding the steering wheel. His side profile is up to your eyes as you watch him from your seat.

His eyes suddenly flicker to yours and you can see a slight hint of a smirk coming up on his face. And then it's quickly gone.

"You're awake," he says, his eyes returning to the road ahead.

"Where... Where am I? I was at the archives. Where are my things?" you groggily ask as you push yourself away from the window that you were leaning against the moments before.

"Wait! The keys! I didn't put them back, didn't lock the doors! Oh my god, Daniel's gonna kill me!" The realization suddenly comes onto you and dawns slowly. You recall your last moments when you were at the archives; sitting in the chair, slowly falling asleep while he checked through the files.

Bruce sighed softly at your rambling, "I locked all three doors. As well put the keys into their place and locked your office," you looked over to him once again as he talked, "your things are in the backseat, don't worry."

You slowly looked over to the backseat and saw your coat and your bag on the seat, with the dark purple folder peeking out. You smiled to yourself.

Then the silence filled the car they were in for a brief moment.

"Thank you... For taking care of the things and taking me with you," you said to him after a few brief moments.

You see him give you a small nod, his gaze never moving from the road and traffic ahead. His hands turn the wheel to the side as the car moves to the left. You recognize the street you're driving through.

"Wait— How'd you know where I live?" You ask him as you watch the buildings and cars go by through the window.

"A friend of yours told me… Angus?" He answered, his eyes flickering to yours for a moment. His expression is much softer than back in the archives.

"Oh! Angus, yeah..." you sigh as you lean back into the seat, the tiredness creeping back onto you.

You watch the buildings go by and then another turn comes. Then you see your apartment building just a few buildings away from where you're right now.

"This is me," you point out to the building you're nearly at. The building looks like any other ordinary building in Gotham.

Bruce nods as he slows the car down and parks near the curb, in front of your building entrance.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door of the car. Your feet meets the pavement and you stand up. Your body aching from the sleep.

You softly close the front door behind you and make your way toward the back door to get your things out.

You're met with Bruce standing by the other side of the car, with your long coat and bag in his arms. He walks around the back of the car and hands you the items.

"Thank you," you utter to him softly, taking the items from his grasp, "for everything you've done for me today. Means a lot," you smile up at him.

You're so sure that you saw the corners of his mouth turn a bit upwards. A smile wanting to creep up onto his face.

"No problem," he says after a long pause. He nods his head and leans against the back of his car, his arms folded over his chest, and closely watches you stand.

His tone was steady but his eyes and posture said differently. His eyes held a hint of something even more. A very subtle, small smile coming up onto his face couldn't even be seen.

An awkward silence took over your small conversation.

You shuffled from side to side on your feet, looking down to the ground before meeting his eyes once again.

"So... Well, I should probably... I should probably head in," you say with a small smile to him, clutching your bag and coat to your chest.

"Oh, yeah... Of course!" He quickly replied with a shake of his head. As he pushed himself off the car.

You gave him another shy smile and turned yourself around to leave, walking up the stairs to the entrance of the apartment building. As you reached for the door, you looked back and lifted a hesitant hand to give an awkward wave to him.

Turning back and opening the door to the building. Your steps finally met the surface of the tiled floor of your apartment building's first floor.

You take a quick glance over your shoulder and catch your eyes with him once again.

Then he lifts his hand as well, and a very hesitant wave comes back to you. A smile plastered on his face. His smile grows as he watches you disappear into the apartment building. A warm feeling spreading through his chest.

With a final glance at the building, he walks around and gets back into his car. The childish smile not leaving his face at all.

The whole ride back is quiet. But he can hear his heart beat so loudly inside of his chest. As he drives, he can only think of one certain thing. His mind is stuck.

He only thinks of you.

PART TWO

bruce wayne fic is here! i'm so obsessed with battinson hahahah

give it some love if u liked it thank uu <3

195 notes · View notes

earlysunshines · 1 year ago

Text

can we get even closer?

detective!jihyo x spiderwoman!reader (pt. 3, finale!) ; smut, fluff

synopsis: spiderwoman becomes 10x more alluring AND convincing, detective park is completely disregarding the chief at this point.

wc: 11.7k

warnings: blood ; mentions of wounds, cuts, bruises ; smut!!!

pls read for context: pt.1, pt.2

the crime scene was a messy tapestry of deception and disorder.

jihyo scanned the mess of a venue. there were flipped-over tables, pieces of chairs, and debris scattered all over the venue—even a light had fallen from the ceiling—it was a sight.

the cluttered, frenzied scene wasn't even the worst part; to tell the truth, what made it worse was seeing her colleagues all stuck together tangled up in spiderwebs against the wall.

the chief included in the mess.

the chief was tangled up alone, arms and legs restrained with only his head free. he seemed infuriated; this does not help your case. the chief will hate your guts even more, and if he catches you, he might rip them out.

jihyo has her final conclusion made up in her head after fully processing the mess in front of her: you have one functioning brain cell.

the officers and chief aren't the only ones captured, there's an apparent culprit tied together in a large, thicker layer of cobweb: the lizard.

it's green, it's ugly, and it's huge—jihyo furrows her brows at the sight—but her face lights up when she sees the familiar silhouette of the special spider-like "hero."

you stand there in front of the grotesque reptile, gazing at it with slumped shoulders and heavy breaths. you're exhausted and aching from the very physically demanding task. on the bright side: there are no broken bones or any limbs missing—that's a plus—though there are a few scratches that rip the new suit you had just gotten. you sigh at the thought of having to face your suit designer nayeon. you really don't want to hear her complaints again.

the thought of nayeon yelling in your ear distracts you from the blood that seeps out the cuts on your body and the pain from the sore areas that will surely be dark, annoying bruises—though the thought of that nayeon pulling at your ear and bickering with you doesn't distract you forever, the discomfort in your abdomen returns and you almost fall over.

screw that ugly ass lizard.

jihyo runs over to your side, looking at your weary state.

"y/n-" jihyo catches herself, immediately quieting down when uttering the last part of your name. she watches her words even if she's not in the field of vision of the officers, they still have ears afterall. "spiderwoman, are you okay?" jihyo asks, looking at the cuts in your suit.

"yeah." you respond, and you're lying your ass off because you think you might fall over soon. "just a bit beat up, could've been worse."

“you think a stab to the stomach is comparable to a paper cut. " the detective sighs, “that doesn’t make this any better.”

it’s evident in her tone that she’s worried. your heart feels heavy knowing that she feels like that for you, but you don't want to overwhelm her anymore. you put your hand on her shoulder and her eyes soften. her look almost hurts more than that stupid pain in your stomach.

"park," you say softly, "i'm fine."

“you’re not.”

"i need to change back and leave, keep an eye on the lizard?"

"y/n-"

"it's spiderwoman." you say sternly. your voice had lost any hint of playfulness, now it’s more of a croaked-out, low tone.

"sorry, i just-"

"let's talk later, yeah?" you urge. jihyo nods with disappointment.

you smile as you shoot a web up, looking at her with the same softness before pulling yourself and swinging away.

jihyo's jaw tightens up.

you don’t break into jihyo’s house or even show up at the department for four days and counting. that’s 96+ hours of jihyo not seeing you, of her having all these questions swarming in her brain with no answers and 96+ hours of missing you. detective park is running out of patience.

jihyo spins the pen in her hand while examining the papers related to the “lizard” case, i mean, there’s not much to do since the lizard-man had been captured after turning back to normal, but jihyo had to do a brief check before going back to the prison to interrogate the human form of that nightmare.

the identity of the lizard was found after it had transformed back into a slender, fragile man: dr. watanabe, lead scientist at minatozaki industries and former friend of the chief.

the chief seemed to be slowly losing it after the whole event—who wouldn’t be after having to ask your detective to cut you and the rest of your coworkers out of the spiderweb that was shot from the wrists of the person you went on a whole tangent about not trusting—exactly.

it’s been hectic.

the detective shoves the papers back into the folder before heading into the room that holds the visitation booths, which is empty and only has one guard present. she runs a hand through her hair before nodding at the guard and sitting at booth three.

her foot taps at the ground as she waits—not because she’s anxious—it’s just a habit she’s had since college.

there’s the sound of the door opening and not even five seconds later the scientist sits in front of her. he looked terrible: bags under his eyes, brows creased, and hair disordered—that’s not like him at all. jihyo takes out a paper from the folder and holds the black telephone handle close to her ear.

“you’ve finally agreed to talk.”

“against my will, where’s the chief.” watanabe spits back through the line. jihyo shoots a look that has the scientist shrinking in his seat.

“not here.” she says sternly, “now i would really appreciate if you could be competent since you’ve caused so much trouble.”

“bring me that damn chief and i’ll talk, they said he’d be here.”

“he’s not here, so quit whining. i have some questions that you need to answer, i’d advise that you respond well and with a compliant attitude.” the detective warns threateningly.

the scientist makes eye contact once with jihyo then looks back down, ready to answer with his hand clutching the telephone handle tightly.

jihyo ends up leaving the visitation booth with sluggish shoulders and a paper with rushed, messy jotted-down notes of the criminals’ answers and puts it in her bag. once she steps outside into the afternoon light, she’s quick to stretch out her arms, groaning at the relieving sensation.

“hi.”

that voice is very familiar.

the detective turns and her eyes widen at the sight of you. you’re standing there with a smile, warm and friendly.

a dark, navy sweater sits loosely on your figure, and your hair is tied up. you look beautiful, and not as beat up as jihyo figures you should look (i mean, you literally had a whole wwe match with a lizard a couple days ago, so it’s surprising to say the least). you seem content, you seem perfectly fine and jihyo hates that you haven’t bothered her. where have you been?

jihyo stares at you in awe, well, maybe with some confusion and a hint of anger too. she wants to ask where you’ve been, i mean, it’s been days and you haven’t knocked on her window, she had even waited by that stupid window of hers with the hope that you’d barge in. she wants to ask how you’ve been doing, if your injuries been bothering you maybe and if your cuts healed. jihyo wants to know everything, from how you’re doing physically to what’s going on in that smoothed-out brain of yours. (jihyo has many questions, too many, and it has her silent in her place while she gapes at you.)

you play with the neckline of your sweater. “it’s getting pretty cold, huh.”

jihyo thinks you’re unbelievable.

“where have you been?” jihyo asks, walking up to you and pushing you playfully (fighting the urge to hold your and look at you with desire like in those cliché romance movies where the leads love interest shows up after being missing—or something like that at least. [park jihyo watches too many dramas]) she furrows her brows a little, looking at you with a tad of shock in her expression.

you tilt your head and ask, “why are you looking at me like that.”

“you’ve been gone for what, four days?” jihyo says, raising her brows. a couple people passing by glance in your direction when jihyo raises her voice, but she doesn’t care, that’s the last thing she cares about. “you haven’t called, texted, or even showed up to your own uncles workplace! you haven’t even-“ and jihyo cannot believe she’s about to say this: “you haven’t broken into my apartment or anything!”

a short silence fills the air before your eyes soften the same way they did before leaving jihyo at that venue—right after finishing up your business.

you let out a brief, soft sigh. “i’m sorry, it’s a lot.”

“yeah, it is.” jihyo huffs, losing the worry in her tone as relief fills in.

a grin plays at your lips, “i did say i would explain everything,” you start, “and i did say i’d take you out, and on me too…”

jihyo crosses her arms and mumbles, “you did.”

“that’s only if the detective would let me…?”

the weight on jihyo’s shoulders is completely knocked off and she chuckles at your response, quickly losing the serious façade.

“i have to drop this off at work, maybe i’ll let you once i do.”

you grin. “great.”

you end up as passenger princess in jihyo’s white, glossy bmw.

saying the car is nice would be a huge understatement. the interior is even more fascinating compared to the exterior, and that says a lot. the seats are clean, comfy, and from the texture, you can tell it’s authentic and expensive leather. the car is pretty spotless other than the water bottle in the cup holder and that reusable tote bag that seemed to have been thrown at the backseats blindly. the car smells fresh—something woody, minty, and there’s also a hint of apple—it’s welcoming and really fits the detective.

“comfy?” jihyo asks, turning on the engine.

“yeah.” you reply, feeling a little intimidated for no reason.

jihyo chuckles at you and shifts the stick, lightly steps on the gas, then looks at the screen in the car as she backs up. there should be no reason for this to be so attractive, i mean, you’ve seen many people back up a car, nothing special, but when jihyo does it you find yourself wanting her a little more.

the two of you end up at the department less than ten minutes later. despite how unbelievably close and flirty you’ve gotten with the detective; the whole car ride was way too intimate for your liking, and your nerves were a mess.

the car was so nice it had you feeling tense, jihyo was driving with such ease and looked so damn good with those sunglasses she had on. you felt small in the passenger seat. thankfully, you’re a few turns away from the department.

“i need to tell you something.” you say, making jihyo hum.

“what is it?”

“i can’t go into the department, i’m, well… i’ll tell you later but long story short my uncle cannot see me and i’m technically kind of on house arrest.”

“you’re what?”

“long story.”

the light turns red, the detective breaks smoothly then turns to look at you, curiosity and disbelief making her brows furrow.

“why am i not surprised that the chief would do something like that.” jihyo sighs, looking back at the stoplight—it’s green now. “he’s been on edge lately ever since the incident, he’s probably just anxious.”

you chuckle and shake your head, “he’s something…”

not too long later, the two of you find your way over at a café nearby and situate yourselves in the balcony area on the second floor.

jihyo holds a mint-colored latte cup in her hand that’s filled with a simple, hot mocha. she takes a sip and a bit of the steamed milk coats the top of her lips, she licks it off subtly. you smile before taking a sip of your own drink, some type of seasonal latte that has hints of apple and cinnamon.

“i missed you.” you say, looking down at the slightly distorted latte art in your cup. jihyo looks at you then smiles, a tint of pink dusting her cheeks as she turns her head to take in the view of the farmers markets nearby.

“me too.” she sighs, “i was… i haven’t been as tired lately, so i waited near my window for some spider to knock on it—she never came.”

you frown. “i wanted to. i’m always one to help people and try to not break the law, but i can’t help it when it’s you.” you respond jokingly.

jihyo smiles at your playfulness, happy to be spending time with one of the people she’s grown close with, as well as the hero she’s been secretly crushing and interacting with.

“can i ask how long you’ve been, you know…”

“couple months.” you reply, “remember how i told you about getting bit by the spider?” you ask, jihyo nods and you begin again, “i got bit a week after i moved here, and then i started sticking to things, accidentally broke my doorknob—oh! i was also watching this scary movie one time and got scared, after that i couldn’t see myself in the mirror.”

“that’s a lot.”

“yes, too much.”

“so… what happened with you and your uncle?” jihyo questions, wondering why she’s been spiderwoman-deficient for the past four days.

“oh yeah,” you respond, “well, he found out that i got hurt—not because i was y’know, doing my little hero thing—but he saw the blood and some of the injuries. he went on this tangent about me staying safe, he’s just been on edge and very protective. he doesn’t want me leaving the house. i’ve been working from home.”

“you couldn’t sneak out?”

“he had detectors, it took me a bit to mess with it. i took some engineering classes in high school and had some mischievous friends, so i ended up cheating the system.” you explain. jihyo nods, raising her brows at how capable you are; you’re quite impressive even if someone were to snatch your spider abilities away. “so, what’s been going on with you detective? fill me in.”

jihyo sighs, shaking her head softly.

“your uncle has been on edge, it’s strange.” she says, “usually these types of cases don’t phase him, but he’s shaken up.”

“maybe it was me trapping him in cobwebs—too much?”

the detective shakes her head again. “no, i don’t think so, but that was stupid on your end. he’s just been terribly paranoid; i’ve never seen him so tense.”

you furrow your brows and take another sip of your beverage before raising your brows as if you had an idea, “maybe it has something to do with the scientist?” you suggest, and you ponder before speaking again, “i remember my uncle having lunch with the scientist a couple months ago, he came back from the lunch all tense and a bit angry—even snapped at me for something. it was strange.”

jihyo’s expression lights up, “you’re on to something… that scientist did ask me to see the chief multiple times… and watanabe is clearly hiding something.”

“you think we should reunite them? maybe find out more of what’s between them?”

“it might be a good idea.” the detective mumbles, swirling remnants of her drink in the cup. you bite the inside of your lip and hum again,

“let’s try it, i can talk to the chief.”

“you’re on house arrest.”

“spiderwoman can do it then. she’s not on house arrest.”

jihyo’s eyes widen at the suggestion, and she looks at you like you’re crazy. “you’re insane.”

“maybe chief l/n will listen to me if i’m sweet with him.”

“he could body slam you to the ground.”

“maybe he could do that to y/n, but not spiderwoman.” you beam.

“no, maybe spiderwoman too.” jihyo shakes her head and simply sighs, “you’re actually the dumbest person i know.”

“you into that?”

the mask on your face is new, so is the suit (you were able to contact your suit designer via email and after seeing jihyo you got your much more durable suit—that is, after getting scolded by the fashion designer.)

you spot chief l/n in the office alone, it’s quite late anyway, a little past when you’d usually have dinner. your uncle examines a paper with furrowed brows and a pen in his large, aging hands. he looks pretty focused—you take it as your cue to invite yourself into his large office.

when the chief hears a small thud, he’s immediately on guard. he puts his hand over the gun strapped under his desk and scans the room: there’s no one, nothing, but he’s not convinced.

“i’m not fucking stupid.” he says coldly, “show yourself or you’re going to regret a lot.”

his voice is low, deep, and threatening. it’s worse than when he scolds you, much worse and you think you might be lucky that his most angry tone with you is less frightening than how he’s talking to you now.

you’re invisible, he can’t see you at all. the chief pulls out his gun from under the table and holds it with precision, aiming and scanning the room once more for any sign of someone. the gun in his hand is knocked out with a spiderweb and the chief halts, stiffening in his place.

you unveil yourself and the chief spots the familiar vigilante stuck to the ceiling, though that same vigilante who had terrorized him a couple days prior is wearing a new suit.

“hello chief.” you greet, making sure you alter your voice.

the tall, bulky man grimaces when you release yourself off of the wall and land on the floor of the room.

“spiderwoman.”

“nice to see you too.” you say, “i’m not going to hurt you or anything, i’m just uneasy around guns.”

“yeah, sure.” he scoffs, “you’re up to something.”

“god- no!” you groan, losing patience. the chief drops his stern demeanor for a second when you pinch the bridge of your nose, it almost convinces him that you’re just a simple human under that suit. “i’m trying to get more details on the lizard, and i need your help.”

“that lizard… he’s behind bars.”

“but that’s not it and you know it.”

“get out my damn office. i’m not afraid to fight you, i don’t care how many webs you trap me in.”

you sigh again, growing even more impatient. the chief glares at you when you do so.

“look—the people, the citizens, families and friends—they’re all in danger if you’re not competent,” you explain. your uncle drops his serious expression and his shoulders relax just barely.

“and i should just tell you why, huh? so you can do who knows what with this information? i’m not stupid.”

“you’re getting on my fucking nerves though and you’re being a prick that’s what you are.” you respond with irritation, and the tone of your retort reminds the chief of a certain someone he knows very well. “you think i saved that whole venue for shits and giggles? i left there with a broken rib and more bruises and cuts than i can count on one hand. i don’t know how many people i have to save or buildings i have to stop from collapsing to get you to understand that i’m not the fucking villain. look, watanabe is eery, there’s something i’m missing on this whole case because that damn scientist has been reluctant to give answers due to some tall ass man-baby of a chief that not only refuses to see the what, barely average height scientist, but the same chief who won’t fucking comply to this ‘vigilante’ because of his foggy little brain.”

the chief looks at you with surprise now, mouth slightly agape.

“i’m—i’m sorry?” he says with uncertainty. your uncle decides to swallow up his pride and prejudice, you sound like his niece and he starts to soften up. “fine. only if it helps.”

so rambling was the only thing that you needed to get him to comply? you’ve been wasting your time, too much time.

“why does watanabe want to see you.” you ask, observing the way your uncles eyes hesitantly avoid your gaze.

it’s quite strange seeing your uncle so sheepish looking, so submissive and not in the way he looks when your aunt scolds him for not eating, but he looks almost vulnerable.

“we-” he pauses and his shoulders drop just barely, “we used to work together. now that he’s behind bars i can’t compromise my position.”

“how does it compromise your position?”

“i’m a big guy, a big, bulky guy. watanabe and i used to be friends and… he asked for my dna samples and whatnot. look, i might’ve…” the chief sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “i gave him some and i don’t know what he did with it, but now that he’s behind bars i think it’s something bad. i don’t know, i’ve never been a science freak.”

“okay so he has your dna, what are you looking so scared for?” you ask,

“i’m just wary… i don’t know what he can do with it—what he has done with it.”

you ponder for a bit and look at the anxious chief in front of you, who looks less intimidating than ever in front of you. why would watanabe need his dna?

“well, he’s behind bars, so no need to worry about anything for now yeah? i’ll investigate this myself.” you assure. you expect an inquiry, a response or something—but the chief simply nods and huffs.

“yeah alright.” he sighs. you shoot a thumbs up and hide yourself in transparency, that’s when you hear small—but noticeable in the silent ambience—words of gratitude. “thanks for taking a weight off my shoulders.”

you really have to stop breaking into jihyo’s home—well, it’s more of you jump scaring her and then her letting you in—so is it really a crime if there’s implied consent to enter?

jihyo opens the window for you and sighs, “i have a door you know.”

“too much work.”

“and swinging to the tenth floor of my apartment building is less work?”

“more exciting!” you beam, “and i like your little reaction, it’s cute.”

jihyo rolls her eye at your little remark and you climb in. she watches you pull off your mask and tuck some of your messy hair away, her eyes linger a little before she turns and walks back to her stove.

“whatcha cookin’?” you ask, sitting on the counter of the little kitchen island.

“avocado toast with eggs.” jihyo responds, not turning around.

“how healthy.”

“did you need something?” she asks, sliding the spatula under the eggs before flipping it over and cutting the heat.

“do you wanna break the law?” you ask. jihyo turns around and the expression plastered on her face screams:“are you dumb or stupid?”

“you’re seriously asking me this?”

“okay technically it’s not fully breaking the law,” you start, “just… doing something that might be an invasion of privacy.”

“that might be breaking the law, stupid.” jihyo snickers, smiling at the idiot in front of her.

you’re wearing something comfy yet professional looking: a pullover with a dress shirt under and some simple dress pants. the detective wonders if people saw you swinging around like that—the only thing masking your identity being the mask you had taken off, and without the mask jihyo can see you with the nerdy-looking glasses you put on earlier, and the smile plastered on your face. you’ve got a cute grin.

“you never said no.” you shrug.

“i’ll lose my job.”

“no you wont. just let me explain?” you plead. jihyo sighs, crossing her arms while leaning against the counter next to the stove; all of the detectives’ attention is on you now.

“thanks lovely.” you say, and the little remark makes jihyo’s cheeks flush just barely. “okay so i had a little talk with the chief last night, turns out watanabe has his dna and my uncle’s on edge because of that.”

“okay…”

“i work for the same company, meaning i have a keycard. that also means we can investigate a little more and find out what the hell he wanted to do with the chiefs dna.” you explain, “it’s technically your job to do all this investigating and if you think about it: i’m just a loyal citizen helping out the hottest detective in the force.”

jihyo uncrosses her arms and puts her hands on the counter gripping the edge. you watch the way her arm tenses and wow she’s toned. the detective looks down and shakes her head, smiling.

the shorter woman turns back around and pulls out a piece of bread from the toaster, then uses the spatula that rested on the plate to put an egg on the toast. she hands you the plate and you turn your head, but take it nonetheless.

“eat up, gotta have energy to ‘kinda’ break the law.”

your eyes light up and you almost gasp, “you’re going to do it?”

“you get me to do the craziest things.”

you smirk and respond, “and if i were a crazy thing?”

jihyo looks you in the eye and smiles. “i could put you on my to-do list then.”

you had offered to swing out her window with her, but jihyo denied, and you teased her the whole way down to the parking lot.

now you’re playing passenger princess (pt. 2) and watch jihyo shift out her parking space, which is a sight. there’s something enticing with her movements, the way she carries herself, and her confidence.

when you reach the building—the large, modern-looking building with a café that keeps your coffee addiction thriving—jihyo gazes for a bit, clearly impressed.

“never been here?”

“no, i have, just never had time to fully take in everything.” she says, “it’s very nice.”

you smile and open the door for her, she rolls her eyes and walks in—you follow behind.

there are a few familiar faces in the building, some people rushing around and others conversing—it could be mistaken as a lobby at some college, jihyo looks around and is taken aback by the lively atmosphere.

“there you are, where have you been?” a recognizable voice scoffs. you turn to your left and see nayeon, smiling cheekily as she walks towards you and jihyo. you roll your eyes playfully and scoff playfully,

“been avoiding you.” you respond jokingly, and nayeon just laughs.

“who’s this? your girlfriend? been skipping work to be with her or what?” nayeon asks. her inquiry takes both you and jihyo by surprise, making both of you blush.

words stick to the tip of your tongue for a moment and jihyo puts out her hand for nayeon while you compose yourself. “detective park.” she introduces.

nayeon raises her brows and shakes her hand, then looks at you with a quirked brow and the look in her eyes seem to convey an “ooh~” before she responds to jihyo. “im nayeon.”

you clear your throat after they shake hands, “it’s nice to see you again i guess.” you say to nayeon, “but i have to go up and grab something, i’ll see you.”

“yeah yeah, see you. i was on my way out anyway—don’t blow up anything.” she sighs, and you scoff playfully. the two of you smile at each other mischievously before nayeon heads out the doors.

jihyo laughs and you raise a brow, watching her as she shakes her head.

“got all flustered from her asking if i was your girlfriend? what happened to the confidence from before?”

“shut up.” you respond, “let’s just go.”

jihyo laughs as you walk towards the elevators—she can’t see you, but she knows you’re blushing like an idiot.

the two of you reach the 7th floor and jihyo follows you out the elevator.

as you and jihyo make your way down the dimly lit corridor, a sense of anticipation fills the air. the tension is palpable as you approach the lab room. fumbling in your pocket, you retrieve a keycard, silently emphasizing the need for caution as you unlock the door. "stay by my side and stay quiet. we're not supposed to be here," you mumble, voice low and careful.

entering the room, you both are immediately struck by its sheer size. you’ve been here once with another scientist from the company, though only for a brief moment to retrieve information for your article. it's not just a regular room; it's an enormous space dedicated to housing the scientists' most precious possessions—their files, research, and invaluable data.

as your gaze scans the shelves, your heart skips a beat before settling on the section that holds the coveted information you seek. the lights are dim, making it difficult to distinguish one folder from another, but thankfully you’re spiderwoman; your senses are already much more advanced than any person.

with each folder you come across, you murmur the words written on their labels. jihyo watches you intently, captivated by your unwavering focus. there's a certain charm in the way you immerse yourself in the task at hand, it's adorable and there's an undeniable allure to your commitment that draws her in.

“they’re all in alphabetical order… t… u… v… hmmm—ah! w!” you beam. you snatch the folder that reads “watanabe.” a contagious smile dances across your lips, your elation mirrored by jihyo.

“is that what we need?” jihyo asks, turning her head.

“yeah, this is one of the more important files, it has a lot of his research and experiments. i’m also going to look for-“

before you can finish your sentence, an unwelcome intrusion slices through the air, mingling with the palpable fear creeping into your senses when you hear the low tap of footsteps outside the room.

the threat of being caught floods your mind, driving you into spontaneous action. quickly, you take jihyo’s wrist, urgency pulsating through your grip, and scan the room frantically. from the corner of your eye, a small closet appears. you bolt toward it and drag jihyo with you, then close yourselves inside.

you’re in your head trying to listen to the sound coming from the corridor that you don’t realize the compromising position you’re in.

silent seconds stretch while you two stay cautious and awareness dawns upon you, and your breath halts. one hand is unintendedly situated on the curve of jihyo’s slender waist and the other still grips her wrist. her back is pressed against the closet door, and your senses collide with her proximity, faces and bodies inches apart.

(with how quiet it is in the room, you wonder if whoever was lurking would catch you just from the pounding of your heart.)

you loosen your grip on her wrist and whisper, “sorry.”

“you’ve got a good grip.” jihyo mumbles, “and it’s okay.”

the air hangs heavy, thick with tension. you glance downwards and you’re captivated by the intensity in jihyo's eyes—intimidating and enticing even in the darkened room—and an irrepressible impulse surges within you.

jihyo lets out a shallow breath and peeks at your lips, you take a quick glance at hers before you two gape into each other’s eyes again.

now it’s jihyo’s turn to hold your wrist, and without conscious thought, your heart pounding an adrenaline-fueled rhythm, you lean forward, closing the remaining distance until your lips press against hers.

it’s soft and tender at first, then warm and thrilling. you pull away for a brief moment to utter and apology, which is muffled after jihyo crashes her lips back to you with a doubled intensity. you hum in response and she pulls you closer, making you lean down to match her height.

in the muffled silence of the closet, time becomes a mere afterthought, eclipsed by the pulsating intensity that engulfs you both. the world outside fades into oblivion as your lips meet again and again after parting to tilt your heads in the other direction after a few kisses, and after a couple more you’re changing kissing angles again.

jihyo’s hands trace over your chest, then to your shoulders and at last: your neck. she grips at your hair, tugs and pulls while simultaneously leading the kiss—she’s naturally one to take control. she swipes her tongue against your lip and you let her tongue explore your mouth, earning various hums and small groans.

you pull away to catch your breath and jihyo stops you before you can kiss her again, placing her hand on your chest and adding pressure to it to restrain your eagerness.

“sorry,” you say, cheeks flushed and breath heavy. “too much?”

jihyo laughs softly and shakes her head before responding, “not at all, y/n. it’s just, we should be careful… don’t want you to be too loud—yet. let’s continue later.” your cheeks flush from her remark and jihyo laughs lowly after hearing your breath quiver. “do you think whoever was walking is gone?”

“i- um, i’ll have to listen closer.” you mutter.

jihyo’s hand still rests on your chest, right above your heart—which is beating at an unhealthy pace—and jihyo doesn’t comment on the noticeable pounding against her palm. you pause for a moment and really concentrate your sense of hearing, listening on anything going on outside. jihyo lets you work your magic and smiles when you hum.

“no one outside, it’s clear. i’ll turn invisible and you know, check it out. i’ll let you know if you can come out; when i knock three times then that’s your cue to leave the closet, yeah?” you explain.

jihyo nods and says, “sounds good spiderwoman.” which earns a small chuckle from you. some light seeps in when you open the door, letting jihyo have a glimpse of your face: cheeks tinted pink, your ears are a darker shade, and the smirk on your face is smug.

you plant a kiss on her incredibly soft lips before disappearing from her sight, and jihyo hears a small “cute,” before the door closes. she’s left in the dark closet alone with a warm feeling in her chest—though it’s soon replaced with the realization:

oh my god… i just made out with my boss’s niece.

when you and jihyo reach the floor of the lobby, you two act like you haven’t just violated the privacy of a (now criminal) scientist.

there are two folders, a binder, and some samples from who knows what that were hastily placed inside your bag when you first got into the elevator. the two of you head towards jihyo's car, acting as if nothing has happened, despite having committed something slightly very illegal.

the detective closes her doors and you mirror her action once you sit down, and as you both put on your seatbelts jihyo scoffs, “i can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“it’s for my uncle, and you know, just in case.” you assure, looking at her as she grips the steering wheel a little tight. “in the end i think he’ll be grateful, and it’ll help with the case.”

“i know.” jihyo says, “he can be scary.”

“i’ll take care of him, okay?”

“okay.” she responds before shooting you a small smile, which makes you smile back in return.

when you reach jihyo’s apartment, you take off your jacket and hang it on the hooks on the wall. jihyo does the same with her own jacket and you meet at her kitchen island.

you take out the stolen goods from your back and drop them on the marble counter, jihyo turns on the lamp above to make it easier to read and see. jihyo stands across from you as you take out each file and skim through them, watching your eyebrows crinkle from concentration.

four pieces of paper are taken out of one of the binders—three of them being stapled together—and you quickly read through them. then, you place them on the counter, and your eyes scan the title of a sample before laying it next to the papers.

“this is it.” you sigh, looking down at the messy tapestry of notes and diagrams.

jihyo tilts her head and questions, “what?”

“my uncle’s dna. there’s notes on it and everything, it’s all scribbled here—look.” you respond, flipping the paper over and pushing it towards the detective. jihyo’s eyebrows reflect yours and furrow as she reads the text. her shoulders relax and she turns the paper over to read more, eye’s widening a little as she reads.

you pick up the sample and examine it a bit more as jihyo reads through. she looks back at you and says in disbelief, “watanabe tried to make human lizards?”

“pretty much.” you reply, “my uncle’s a big, bulky guy… watanabe probably tried to fuck with the lizard dna and his genes to make something relatively close—but thankfully, it didn’t work. here, this paper shows the trials and whatnot.” you add, handing jihyo the non-stapled paper.

jihyo sets the small packet down and reads through the one handed to her, examining the various angrily crossed-out sentences, numbers, and notes. she hums at the sight.

“so there’s nothing to worry about?” the detective asks. you nod and respond,

“no, thankfully. i’ll probably show up as spiderwoman and leave a little note to the chief, i should probably get to that soon—tonight.” you admit, leaning against the counter. “i’ll leave you alone for now, sorry for making you do all of this.”

you don’t want to leave, that’s the last thing you want to do. the small silence after you utter your last sentence urges you to pack up and leave, even if the thought of continuing whatever happened in your closet flooded your mind.

“wait,” jihyo says as you start to trudge away towards the window, and you pause in your place as soon as you take a step on the carpet on the floor.

you raise a brow in confusion (hoping jihyo read your mind). “yes?”

“just stay, the sun is already setting.” she says boldly.

“my uncle would kill me, i’m on house arrest.” you sigh, “getting these to him as spiderwoman would get me off house arrest.”

jihyo frowns and you mirror her expression. “you really can’t stay?” she asks, brows creasing just barely.

“i would if i could.”

“well,” jihyo starts, walking over to you. “before you jump out the window,” she mumbles, now one step away from you. she places her hand on your chest and looks at you with a warm softness in her eyes. she tilts her head, then leans up to press her lips against yours, less aggressive than in the closet, but just as nerve-racking—making your heart beat quicken just from the simple contact.

you practically melt when she kisses you, and your hands instinctively reach for her cheek, cupping it gently. time seems to hesitate when she puts her arms around your neck, and you make sure to savor the taste and feel of her lips on yours.

jihyo pulls away first, but only a little so your lips still brush against each other.

“jihyo…” you mutter, and you can feel her smiling against you—her grin spreads to your own lips.

“if you’re off house arrest tomorrow… we should—”

“yes, please.” you say, “anything you want.”

“didn’t know a kiss was enough to have you so eager.” jihyo snickers gently.

you smirk and press a quick peck. “oh i can be eager—if that’s what you want?”

jihyo rolls her eyes at your stupid (yet tempting) response and pulls away so she can see your face clearly. she gazes at you for a bit, simple appreciating your presence and the faint dimple that appears on your cheek as you smile at her. jihyo fixes your hair, pushing away strands that fall over your face.

“you’re an idiot.”

“you love that though.”

“a lot.” jihyo responds, then presses a kiss to your cheek and smiles. “now go get yourself off house arrest.”

you grin. “yes detective.”

the chief stands at his desk and puts on his coat, then gathers all the papers he had already gone through in his bag. on his desk, a folder suddenly drops down with a smack and the chief jumps, letting out a small yelp.

“hi chief.” a voice says. the chief looks up and he watches the familiar vigilante become translucent, then fully visible after unveiling herself. spiderwoman releases herself from the ceiling and lands on the ground with ease. “gotcha’ some things you’d probably love to look through.”

“what the hell spidergirl—”

“please, i know i’m supposed to mask my identity, but spiderwoman is better. c’mon man, i’m in my twenties.” you groan. the chief looks at you and shakes his head, then picks up the folder that had scared him half to death earlier.

your uncle furrows his brows slightly as he reads the papers (same as jihyo did, you note. at this point everything is reminding you of her—even the bulky man in front of you).

“where— where did you get this? how—”

“told you i’d check it out. nothing to worry about chief, just wanted to ease your worries.” you shrug, “i told you i’m not the bad guy.”

the chief examines you for a moment, looking you up and down before his shoulders drop. he puts the papers back in the folder and stares at it for a couple seconds, exhaling in relief.

“thank you.” he says, “i was… really on edge.”

“anytime.” you say, smiling from under the mask. the chief walks up to you, looking down and narrowing his eyes before softening his gaze. he puts his hand out and you look at it in surprise—as well as confusion.

“let’s keep contact, spiderwoman.” the chief says, “maybe you’re not so bad.” he adds. you hesitate for a moment and stare at his hand for a moment longer before shaking it. the chief doesn’t break your hand, doesn’t pull you in and throw you to the ground—he shakes it professionally and nods. “you’ve earned my trust.”

you want to lift your mask up and show him your proud smile, and a part of you wants to reveal yourself.

“i’m glad. i’m just your friendly neighborhood spiderwoman after all, harmless!” you beam.

“that’s debatable. i saw what you did to that monster.” he responds. you catch the faint twitch of his lips: an almost smile.

“how else could i save everyone?”

“i guess you’re right, get going kid, sun is setting.”

“i told you i’m in my twenties!”

“you really remind me of someone i know spiderwoman.” he says with a breath of amusement, “have a good night, thank you again.” he finally adds before grabbing his bag. the chief walks past spiderwoman without body-slamming her or anything like that; the tall, hefty man simply walks out and leaves spiderwoman speechless.

that’s all it took to get on his good side?

jihyo walks into the building and the routine is the same as always: she greets the front desk lady—rachel was her name, she’s sweet and always has a smile on for anyone talking to her. after her usual friendly greeting, jihyo walks over to her desk and greets the rest of the team.

as jihyo sets her bag down, a familiar face appears and greets the detective.

“hello park, morning.” francis beams, smiling softly at jihyo. francis was one of the newer cops, he was pretty young for one—but great at his job. jihyo was quite fond of him, he was nice and competent.

“morning, how are you?”

“good, good.” he says before yawning, “glad it’s friday.”

“me too.” jihyo responds with a laugh, taking out a few reports from her bag and turning on the computer in front of her.

the detective turns back to the monitor in front of her and gets to typing, looking down at the paper and back up to the screen as she types various letters, numbers, and who knows what at this point.

her mind is completely foggy, she tries to get some work done, tries to copy down the reports and examine them. the only thing she can really focus on is the memory of your lips on hers, and whether you’re off house arrest because she really needs a continuation of what happened in that damn closet.

jihyo flinches at the sudden sound of the voice she’s been missing most and looks down at her desk to see a 16oz paper coffee cup on her desk.

“morning detective.”

“jesus!” jihyo yelps, “don’t do that!”

“i thought you’d get used to it by now.” you snicker. jihyo smiles as you pull a chair up next to her and sit down, sipping on your own beverage. “i’m off house arrest.”

“i can see that.” jihyo sighs, though the tone of her voice doesn’t match the way her heart warms upon your arrival. “shouldn’t you be at work?”

“technically it’s an internship,” you respond, “but i guess it’s my job now, seeing they pay me more than some of the actual employees.”

“well whatever it is you should probably be at the building, no?”

“i have work in less than forty minutes. do you hate my presence that much?” you question, a pout forming. “didn’t hate it that much yesterday—"

the detective punches your shoulder and you wince playfully before jihyo rolls her eyes and takes a sip of the coffee you brought her. “you’re loud, too loud for someone who’s my boss’s blood relative.” she scolds you lowly and sets down the beverage before redirecting her attention back to the screen. “and no, i don’t hate your presence, just don’t want you slacking or getting scolded.” she admits, a smile threatening to form on her lips.

you laugh and gaze at her for a moment, taking in the slope of her nose and catching a glimpse of the small mole on the tip of it. your eyes trace the sharp curve of her jaw, and then your look sets on her lips—the taste and feel lingers in your mind. jihyo pretends to ignore your blatant stare.

“i’ll stop bothering you for a bit, should probably get going anyway and let my favorite detective get to work.” you mumble. jihyo turns as you begin to stand up and furrows her brows. she looks to around quickly and grabs your wrist, making you turn and hum in confusion.

“wait,” she starts, trying to keep you close to her for just a while more, “i just printed something, you should come with me before you go.” you smile at her suggestion and set your coffee down on her desk, then nod.

the walk to the printing room is quite silent, nothing is said or heard other than the click of jihyo’s boots reverberating. when you get to the small room, a man walks out and smiles at jihyo before holding the door for the two of you. the detective smiles back before going in, with you trailing behind.

jihyo goes to the screen of the printer and taps at a few buttons, then sighs, “out of paper, come with me to get some.”

“yes ma’am.”

the paper and supplies room are two rooms down from the printing area, and so the two of you walk down the hall then into the room.

jihyo opens the door and you enter first—what catches you completely off guard is the way your senses are quickly overwhelmed.

without warning, your back is pushed against the closed door and you’re immobilized by jihyo’s body pressing against you. before you can comprehend what’s happening, her warm, soft lips press against yours with a slight aggression and it makes you groan immediately.

your hands find their way to her waist, the other on her upper rib to push her closer into you—craving the warmth and feeling it gives you.

something about making out in a dimmed, small room feels right to the two of you; you’ve made out twice so far and both times have been in relatively similar spaces. this won’t be the last time you make out in a small space.

jihyo pulls away and your brain is hazy, you immediately move yourself closer to capture her lips again.

“fuck,” you sigh in between kisses, “what’s with the sudden—” you get cut off with another harsh kiss, making you groan louder into her mouth. jihyo’s tongue finds its way into your mouth and your hands find their way to her skin, and it makes her shiver from the contact.

every nerve in jihyo’s body wakes as soon as your lips come into contact with her neck, and she stifles a groan when you start to nip at it.

“no marks, not now.” she says dissapointingly.

“later?”

“maybe.” she says, and immediately, a sharp breath leaves her lips when you add a bit of pressure on her waist, squeezing it gently.

a sudden shift in the atmosphere tingles your senses, making your lips detach and actions halt. you shiver at the feeling, instantly pulling away from jihyo and trying to compose yourself.

“someone’s coming, act busy.” you mutter quickly before turning on the light and pretending to busy yourself by reaching for papers on the shelf.

the door opens and you almost flinch at the familiar voice that greets the two of you.

“y/n? jihyo? what are you two doing here?” the chief asks. both you and jihyo stiffen at the sound of who had almost walked in on you. jihyo clears her throat abruptly.

“ah, l/n. i was printing something out and y/n decided to help me out.”

the chief chuckles, “y/n, when do you have to clock in?”

“thirty minutes, figured i’d waste a bit of time with park.” you shrug, “i always make it on time.”

the chief laughs and jihyo tenses her jaw slightly as she smiles at him, fixing her hair and jacket she has on. “well,” the chief starts, “grab me some sticky notes while you’re over there, i’ll let you two converse.” he adds. you nod and grab a stack of pink sticky notes—his favorite color—and toss them at him.

“there you go old man.” you tease.

“watch it,” he says playfully, “and are you sick? your cheeks are so pink.”

again, you and jihyo tense up—you clear your throat before responding, “there’s dust here, i sneezed and rubbed my face too hard.” you lie, almost stumbling over your words when you glance at jihyo.

the chief nods and sighs, “well, don’t get my detective sick.” and with that he exits the room, shutting the door harshly (he’s oblivious to his strength at times), which lets you and jihyo sigh out in relief.

“we need to get a room.” you groan,

“yeah.” jihyo laughs, “are you free tonight?” she asks, and it makes you look at her in surprise, cheeks warming up once again.

“only if you are—and if no one tries to rob a bank.”

jihyo laughs and responds, “i am, and i might just have a room.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” jihyo says, smirking. “if it means anything, my window will be unlocked if someone wants to swing by.”

“hmmm, i’ll keep that in mind.”

jihyo’s jaw tenses and she looks at you in a way that fills your nerves with temptation. “good. now let’s print these out, i need to hand them to the forensics.”

jihyo hums along to a tune playing from her phone as she wipes down the counter next to the stove—it’s a slow melody, something fitting for the dimmed room and quiet night.

she hasn’t seen you in a few hours—though it seems like decades—so she’s cleaning up and wandering around to pass the time.

when she finishes cleaning her countertops she walks over to the sink to wash her hands, still humming along to the melody that fills the room with a soft ambiance. jihyo turns off the sink and the unexpected feeling of two large hands on her waist makes her shriek and turn around quickly.

she calms down when she’s met with your grin, but her irritation quickly replaces the relief and she punches your rib lightly; you wince at the feeling dramatically, clutching your side and pouting.

“hey! what was that for?” you groan, and it makes detective park smile.

jihyo crosses her arms and leans against the counter. “you’re going to kill me one day y/n.”

“aw, am i making your heart beat that fast?”

she punches your shoulder again and says, “oh shut up.” you grin at her cheekily.

jihyo takes a moment to examine you and somehow you’re cuter everytime she sees you. you’re wearing some comfy looking navy sweatshirt paired with black sweatpants, how adorable.

the mood in the air shifts when you run your eyes up and down jihyo, and she seems to have gained some of her own powers from the way she reads your mind. you lick your lips swiftly and smirk—it’s not a big one, but the slight curve of one side of your lips is noticeable.

“i told my uncle i’d be staying with a friend for the night,” you explain, and the tempting look in your eyes is replaced by curiosity with a hint of wonder. “i brought some drinks, got a sweet tooth?”

“i can’t pass down drinks from you.”

“you like strawberry soda?” you ask—jihyo hums. “good. i um— thought… maybe we could watch a movie—or just talk? i don’t know honestly, i’ve just been wanting to see you.” you admit, “i realized we haven’t really had time to you know, go on a date and just hang out without any of it being work or crime related… i wanted to be with you.”

jihyo laughs and she feels her heart thud against her chest. “you’re cute.”

“thanks, but you’re cuter,” you reply, which makes jihyo blush and she tries to hide it by walking over to her living room area. you follow behind and she sits down on her couch, patting down a space for you.

“didn’t know spiderwoman was so romantic.”

“hey hey… spiderwoman is a lot of things.” you huff.

you and detective park—no, just jihyo, sweet, genuine, and crazily pretty jihyo—talk for an hour. it starts off with you explaining that you earned the chiefs trust, then it goes on to complaining about said chief, nothing too new though laughs are shared. jihyo complains about her job and the paperwork that’s been piling on her desk and you complain about your side hustle; jihyo is attentive, listening to you ramble about your spiderwoman story of the recent (and very pretentious) group of high school boys who tried to rob a gas station.

talking with jihyo feels easy, it’s not like you have to force yourself or exaggerate anything; conversing with jihyo feels right.

the whole hour of you two simply sharing sodas and drinks leads to scooting closer, shoulders touching and heads leaned back against the top of the touch.

when silence floods for a bit after you share another anecdote, jihyo takes this time to blatantly admire your face—keeping her look on your lips for a couple seconds longer than the other features.

it’s you who closes the distance this time, no words need to be exchanged when you finally do what the both of you have wanted to do: simply lock lips.

“fuck i missed this,”

jihyo smiles when she pulls away. “it’s been a couple hours, y/n.”

“one minute is already too long.” you mumble before kissing her again.

this time your kiss is slow and soft, not the same crashing of hungry lips against each other, it’s soft, sweet, and you two take your time since there’s no risk of being caught. no rush at all.

in contrast to your previous (rushed, aggressive, and heated) kisses, you both take your time to really appreciate each other’s intimacy.

the new comfort and absent feeling of cautiousness lets you savor the feeling of jihyo’s lips on yours: warm, soothing, and everything you didn’t know you needed. you taste the faint hint of strawberry off her while she cups your face, sliding her fingers to the back of your neck and rubbing her thumb against your skin.

a few minutes (you guess it’s been a few minutes, cant be that long, no? it’s been thirty minutes) pass and the two of you have your hands roaming around, the kisses get needier by the second.

hunger hurriedly takes over and you’re practically eating other’s mouths in no time. despite the change in pace and intimacy, you’re perfectly fine with it; if anything, it’s perfect how it escalated from a simple sweet kiss to whatever is making your cunt throb.

you blindly shift yourselves and jihyo backs up to lay down comfortably on the cushions of the couch. one thing you that made your breath uneasy was the way jihyo tangled her fingers in your hair, especially the way she tugged at it occasionally. her hand rested on your neck at first, then she moved it down to your waist and slid her nimble fingers under your sweatshirt, making contact with your skin. you whimpered unintentionally at the sudden contact, which was not only amusing—but also incredibly alluring to jihyo.

“you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you?” she mumbles, pushing a strand of your hair out of your face. “i think it’s cute how you’re on top of me, but you seem much more shaken up.”

you try to respond to jihyo, but a lump forms in your throat when she pulls back a little more and looks at you like you’re the cutest thing in the world. jihyo slides her hands further up near the middle of your ribs, making your breath hitch.

“didn’t know you’d be this easy to rile up spiderwoman.”

before you can try to respond, she closes the gap you groan into her mouth. with a swift press of her fingers against your skin, you part your lips for her to explore your mouth, then push yourself closer to her. her touch sends a shiver down your spine and the way her tongue takes over in your mouth drives you fucking crazy.

she makes her way down to your neck with soft kisses serving as a trail, then nips at your skin softly, eliciting a soft, breathy “fuck” from you.

jihyo pulls away and you whine. she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and looks into your eyes before mumbling, “you’re cute.”

you smile and your lips meet again, you pull away to murmur against her lips softly, “bedroom?” and jihyo hums in agreement.

the two of you get up from the couch, but your lips are almost unable to part from one another for more than five seconds. you bump into the walls clumsily, which makes you two laugh even as you groan into each other’s mouths—it’s all so heartwarming and cute—and soon you manage to make it to jihyo’s room.

now it’s jihyo’s turn to press you against the door again. you curse lowly as she marks up your neck again and try to feel for the light switch against the wall; you manage to light up the room despite your eyes closing from the overwhelming feeling of jihyo’s skilled lips.

she pulls away for a second and asks, “are you sure you want to-“

“fuck yes, please.” you answer immediately, then cut her off with a hungry kiss that leaves her stumbling back. you kiss her needily and fumble with the edge of her shirt before slipping it off, and when you pull away to gaze at her body you let out a breath of amazement.

jihyo laughs. “you kept teasing me about how i could undress you, but look who’s so eager to have me naked.” she asks, catching you staring at her in awe. you part your lips at the sight of her tremendously toned core and she snickers. “you like what you see?”

“love what i see,” you sigh, “shit, you’re beautiful.”

“let me help you out, i wanna see what’s under there again.”

with a swift movement, she slips off your sweatshirt and you’re both standing close to each other topless.

you were confident enough with your words and jihyo seeing your skin when you had that mask on, but now that it’s just you; you feel a little shy now that you’re a bit revealed in front of jihyo—despite still having a bra on—and you avoid eye contact.

her eyes soften. “you’re so pretty.” she sighs, then kisses you swiftly and sweetly.

the detective is a natural leader, and it’s showing now. she guides you to the bed while exploring the curves and grooves of your body, then she’s straddling you on her queen sized bed.

you pull away and jihyo looks at your dilated pupils—completely taking over your eyes.

“can i— can i take your bra off?”

“of course.” jihyo responds.

your fingers work to unclasp jihyo’s bra and holy shit you’re stunned. your eyes widen and you exhale in amazement.

as embarrassing as it is to admit, you’ve fantasized at the ungodly hours of the night and also during those boring moments at work about seeing jihyo like this. you thought you’d be fine in a situation like this seeing you’ve daydreamed about it—but fuck it’s better than anything you can imagine now that it’s really happening. you pause in your place, halting any action.

“cat got your tongue?”

“i— fuck you’re so pretty jihyo.” you sigh, “can i touch you?”

“of course,” and right after her approval your hand slides up from her waist to her chest.

the way she gasps as you brush your fingers over her nipple is music to your ears, and it does not help the way your cunt throbs. something about the way she groans roughly when you pinch her bud slightly makes you groan in response, muttering a small “holy shit” in response.

you press a chaste kiss on her breast and trail down with your tongue to swirl around the peak of her breast, taking note of what kind of action makes her breath shake the most. the only thing you want to do right now is make her feel good, make her feel the same as you.

“your tits are so fucking nice,” you say, and jihyo lets out a sound that’s a mix of a laugh and a moan.

a couple minutes pass of you shamelessly indulging in jihyo’s tits (something that you could get used to—something that you need to do often) and your lips find their way back to each other. then, jihyo pulls away and she look at you with lidded eyes.

“can i—”

“please,” you interject, “please.”

“whatever you’d like,” jihyo says amusingly, “let me take care of you. i’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

you nod eagerly and she unclasps your own bra, biting her lip at the new territory revealed. she mutters a compliment and you simply whimper at her words. needless to say, your reactions have jihyo surprised and invested.

she works at your tits for a while, leaving a couple marks in between, under, and on them. you grip at her bedsheets and arch your back at the way she swirls her tongue skillfully around your sensitive areas, you’re practically drowning in bliss and she hasn’t even touched you where you need it most yet.

her lips leave a trail of pecks on your body as she lowers down, and when she reaches your soft tummy her hands tug your pants down.

“hyo, p—please…” you groan, “please touch me.”

jihyo hums and she presses a finger against your underwear, it makes your hips twitch.

she kisses your inner thighs and leaves you breathless, your eyes shut as you press against the mattress. she pulls away and slides your underwear off, tossing it aside carelessly and biting her lip when she meets your core.

a soft peck is pressed on your clit and you let out a stifled moan. gently, she slides her fingers along your walls. she smiles at how aroused you are, feeling the slick that dampens her fingers.

“god, you’re so wet y/n.”

“shut—shut up.”

“excited aren’t you?” she teases, “i like this side of you more than spiderwoman to be honest.”

before you can respond, she latches her mouth onto your pussy and the surge of pleasure makes you groan so loud that it even takes you by surprise. you bite your lip the more she lashes at your dripping center, sucking, slicking, and savoring the sweet slick that seeps out.

your hand immediately reaches for her hair the more she indulges in your pussy, and she groans against you.

you’re not sure how long it’s been since she went down on you, but you’re feeling that knot forming in your stomach the more she tongue fucks you and the more you whine. you’re completely lost in pleasure; a few points of contact from her nose to your clit and tongue to your walls and you’re sent over the edge.

a hoarse, strangled sound between a cry and a moan is heard from you, jihyo continues to savor your sweetness. you push your head back into the mattress and jihyo trails back up to you with kisses.

“holy shit,” you say breathless, jihyo grins while you recover.

“how was it?”

“i— think you know the answer.” you sigh as you prop yourself on your elbows. “i’ve um, i’ve thought about you like this before and— this is better than anything i’ve ever imagined.”

jihyo chuckles and you cup her cheek, then kiss her fervently. she hums into the kiss and you pull away, stroking her cheek with your thumb.

seeing as you’re spiderwoman, you’re naturally quick to recover. your hand moves back to her breast and you brush your finger over her nipple, earning a sharp breath from her.

“my turn to make you feel good.”

with a swift motion, you flip jihyo over and pin her down on the bed. she gasps at the sudden change, and before she has time to process much—you’re already occupied with her boobs.

blindly, you slider her pants and panties off with a quick motion and slide your hands up and down her legs. jihyo’s moans are on the louder side, and they’re strangled too.

you’re so eager to hear her come undone, so eager to leave her a mess. with thumb her clit once, then twice, and then stick your fingers inside—which has jihyo’s nails grasping at your shoulder and her breath shaking.

the more you pump in and out, the closer she is to breaking. you savor each and every moan that reverberates against the walls in her room, making sure the target the spots that make her curse louder than ever. her hands uncontrollably grip at your tricep, then your shoulder, and soon she’s gripping your hair, which has you groaning against her chest shamelessly while you mark it up.

“y-y/n, oh— i’m close, i-i’m— keep going,"

with the overwhelming sensation of your tongue swirling around her nipple and the way your thumb presses against her clit—she’s breathing heavily, shaking, and soon enough she’s trembling after a loud yelp. she mutters a string of curses and does what you had done before, sinking into the mattress and once you pull away from her chest to gaze at her; she pulls you in for a messy, sensual kiss.

the two of you stay like that for a while, kissing tiredly and sloppily before you fall over beside her on the bed.

“god, y/n…”

“did you like it?” you ask. the smug smirk on your lips makes jihyo sigh amusingly and she shakes her head playfully.

“of course i did.”

“we should…” you begin, “do this more often—if you’re fine with that.”

jihyo laughs and you lay your head on her chest.

“i’m more than fine with it, spiderwoman.”

when jihyo wakes up, she feels an extra warmth on the left side of her body.

she looks down and looks at the face squished in her chest which makes her smile immediately. you’re breathing gently and one arm is draped across her body, loosely resting above her waist.

“like my boobs that much?” she chuckles softly, tracing her finger along your soft skin. you grumble into her and sigh, waking up to the low sound of her voice.

you blink three times—though the first two times were slow and lazy—then shift closer into her. your hand presses her against you more, and you tangle your leg with hers before mumbling, “morning.”

she laughs at the lower tone of your morning voice and kisses your forehead. “good morning y/n.”

after rubbing your face against her shoulder, you push yourself up and prop yourself up on one elbow. jihyo laughs at your squinted, tired eyes before you tickle her with kisses on her jaw and neck.

“jihyo,” you begin—she hums in response. “do you think we rushed this?” you ask, referring to whatever relationship you two have now as you slide your along the skin over her ribs.

“hm, i don’t think so. you’ve already been saying a lot of suggestive things prior to this.”

“you liked it though.”

“maybe.” jihyo says, rolling her eyes. you drop back down onto the bed and return to nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck, kissing it once before closing your eyes again. “y/n,” jihyo says again, this time with a tone that makes you open your eyes again.

“yes?”

“what would your uncle say if… if he knew his detective slept with his niece?”

now your eyes widen and your body tenses. “shit.” you groan. jihyo laughs and you sit up quickly. “how bad did you mark me?”

“let’s hope there’s a store nearby that has concealer in your shade y/n.”

#twice x reader #twice imagines #kpop x reader #miinatozakiii #jihyo x reader #twice jihyo #park jihyo #jihyo imagines #twice #jihyo

505 notes · View notes

joi-me-hoi-me-noi · 1 year ago

Text

Getting Kidnapped - BNHA/MHA

Features: Tomura Shigaraki, Shouta Aizawa and Kai Chisaki

A/n: I thought of this while I was taking a nap LMAO, let's get started and be sure to check out the rest of my writings...(there's only like 3 or 4 at this point :sob:)... it's very short but whatever, I enjoy being funny and writing this so yeah baby :))))

TOMURA SHIGARAKI -

You really didn't know how you got there. You were shocked but not that shocked, it was bound to happen eventually.

"Damn it's dark as a motherfucker in here. I just know they can't pay the light bill." Then the lights turn on to reveal the LOV.

"Oh...I guess you do pay the light bill. Hello." You go to wave but your hands are tied against the back of the chair.

"Greetings, L/n Y/n. Do you know why you're here?" "Nope." He pauses and just stares at you.

"You know some information that we don't, I'm going to need you to talk doll. Or else we'll torture you."

"You calling me pet names is already enough torture for me, crusty." You hear someone stifle a laugh from behind you.

"Glad to hear that someone enjoys my humor. Anyways, you got some water or something." Then your chair starts to get dragged into another room.

"That's right Dabi, take them into your room. Interrogate them." The door closes behind the two of you.

Time to work your own personal magic.

A couple of hours later, Shigaraki opens the door to Dabi's room, somber music plays in the background while you sit on the floor, untied, having a conversation with the burned man.

"Dabi! What are you doing?!" Tomura rips the hand off of his face and holds it tightly in his hands.

"Talking." He lays back on his bed, his head falling off the side of the bed.

"Why did you untie them?" He points at you and all you do is wave back with a big smile.

"They said the restraints were hurting them so I just untied them." Tomura shuts the door and lets out a scream of annoyance.

You laugh and whisper to Dabi. "Somebody's got their panties in a twist, don't they?"

SHOUTA AIZAWA -

As soon as you reached for an item inside of a random home, something tied tightly around your wrist.

"What the?" One sharp tug later and you're wrapped up tight, hanging upside-down from the ceiling. "Fuck..." You draw out the word in annoyance

You go to use your quirk and it doesn't work, nothing happens. Then a man with long black hair and tired eyes steps into the brightness of the moonlight from the darkness.

"Couldn't you do this another night or something?" He rubs his eyes and stares at you.

He walks around your bounded form as you try to spin yourself to look at the powerful homeowner.

"I mean I could, if you let me go that is." You flash a smile at him as he raises his brows.

"Afraid I can't do that. You'll be coming with me to the police station...in the morning. It's too late to be doing that now." Your eyes widened.

A handsome stranger taking you to jail...in the morning. IS HE STUPID?

"What if I find a way to escape from the restraints? What then?"

He tilts his head, a small grin finding its way onto his features. "You won't. You can't break this material."

He ties the end of the fabric to a hook and walks into a different room.

"Wait what about the blood rushing to my head!"

He comes back in and with a single pull of the fabric, you're tilted sideways like sleeping on a bed.

When the morning comes, a little girl is looking at you very confused. "Who are you?"

"Your Dad's friend, I was playing around with his scarf and got stuck. Could you help me?"

The little girl, without a second thought, unties the fabric from your body. You find a pen and a piece of paper to write down your number on to then, hand it to the girl.

"Give him this when he wakes up and no peeking."

You open the balcony door and wave goodbye to the girl before jumping off the glass railing. You shoot upward and rest on the roof, holding your phone in your hand, waiting eagerly for his response.

---inside the home---

"Mr. Aizawa." She pokes his side a bit hard which wakes him up.

"What's wrong Eri?"

She hands him a folded piece of paper.

"Your friend told me to give you this. They just left a bit ago."

His eyes widened as he shot up from his spot in bed, rushing into the living area. He opened the note and smirked, shaking his head.

The note read: 'that cute little girl let me out, told you I could leave...call me! xxx-xxx-xxxx XOXO'

KAI CHISAKI -

"Wow...this is a beautiful place you got here? Why am I tied up?"

He rolls his amber eyes and lays the chair against the couch behind you. He almost straddles your waist but he just stands there, looking down at you.

"You're filthy, I plan on fixing you."

You look at him with confusion. "I literally showered as soon as I got home from my job, what do you mean weirdo?"

He hated that nickname, his fingertips played with the bottom of his gloves. The glove comes off and he reaches forward to touch you, nothing happens

...his hands are really warm and soft.

"You must not do a lot of hard work since your hands are soft... you either moisturize or you're just lazy and have servants."

He's in shock but then scoffs at your comments.

"I'm a doctor but I can't cure you. You're still filthy."

You just shrug and smile up at him happily. "Okay, whatever you say plague guy. You'd probably die if you had a sip of McDonald's Sprite."

...what?

———

Check out the master list here —> link

379 notes · View notes

ckret2 · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 32 of human Bill is convinced he's the best prisoner ever and does not deserve this abuse from the Pines:

Bill gets his fingernails painted! 💅🌈✨ Look at his fingernails, I drew this week's picture just to show them off. They're fun.

Bill also gets bound to a magic poppet that can control his every move.

It's hilarious for Dipper and Mabel, but not for Bill.

The early morning still was broken by Stan's wails of despair.

At some point during the night, the egg-and-toilet-papering kids had come back to Stan's car.

And they'd brought rocks.

####

Bill woke up with a sheet tossed over him and a cupcake sitting on the window seat. The cupcake was pink with green frosting and decorated like a happy jack-o'-melon. It was sitting on top of a note:

"Sorry I didn't mention I had plans tonight! Robbie's mom made cupcakes for everyone so I grabbed you one. The music video's gonna be AMAZING! I'll show you when Robbie posts it!" Mabel had signed with a shooting star.

Bill decided he hadn't been mad at Mabel last night at all.

He battled gravity to heave himself vertical, trudged downstairs to the bathroom, stuck his face under the faucet until his mouth tasted less like sour sandpaper, agonizingly dragged himself back upstairs to his makeshift bed, and collapsed under the sheet to wait until his head stopped hammering.

####

Sprawled on the living room floor, Mabel said, "What should I draw?"

"Draw me." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching the news and nursing a glass of Mabel juice. In an effort to counteract the lingering queasiness from overdosing on sugar and chocolate, he'd spiked the juice with two ground-up Elderly 60+ Vitaman™ brand Man Vitamins (khaki flavor) stolen from a bottle that Ford had bought for Stan and that Stan forgot to take.

"Okay!" Mabel turned around and squinted up at Bill. "Strike a pose!"

"Not like this!" Bill shoved a hand in Mabel's face to force her to stop looking. "Draw me how I really look."

"Bill, that's illegal. Remember?" Mabel pointed at the TV. Bodacious T was reporting on a child who'd dressed up for Summerween as "that weird out-of-towner who bothered us last year, you know the one," and who, under the Never Mind All That Act, had been fined fifty pieces of candy. The child's mugshot showed his crying face, but blurred out his yellow costume.

"He'd be the coolest kid in town," Bill said, "if he wasn't such a crybaby in front of the cops. Draw me anyway."

"I don't wanna get arrested!"

"Do you see any cops?" Bill grinned. "Just don't sign your name, nobody will know it was you."

Mabel considered that. "I can sign it someone else's name." She pulled out a few crayons.

"That's what I'm talking about! Do anything you want forever and frame the innocent!"

"What do you want me to draw you doing?"

"The coolest thing you can think of."

Mabel considered that, and got to work.

The news was boring now. They were talking about the weather, and it wasn't even interesting weather. "So hey, you were gonna tell me about filming last night?"

"Oh yeah!" Mabel said. "Did I mention the part where the dead rose from their graves?"

Bill muted the TV. "And I missed it?"

Robbie had decided the cemetery at his place would be more atmospheric than the trick-or-treater-filled streets (and less likely to have their shots ruined by passersby that didn't appreciate the depth of Robbie's lyrics). It went great, until the vibrations of angsty rock-and-roll stirred the slumbering corpses and they clawed their way from their graves. It turned out Gravity Falls had been having off-and-on invasions of the undead for the past year, ever since somebody decided to reanimate every corpse in town for fun, Bill.

"You can't prove it was me, I'm not the only one who knows how to raise the dead!" Bill laughed. "Hey—you're not drawing this body, are you? You said you wouldn't."

"I'm not, I promise!"

"Then why do you keep staring at me?"

"Um."

"Let me see!"

"No! Don't ruin the surprise!" Mabel picked up a glitter pen with feathers glued to the end and waved them in Bill's face. "And no cheating with your eye-bleeding psychic magic!"

Bill smacked the pen away. "Fine! So what did you do with the zombies? Feed one of the teens to them?"

"No! I chewed like four packs of gum me and Dipper got from the weird homeless dentist and made a fake baby brain. We used it as bait to lead them into an open grave," Mabel said. "And then we realized we could use the brain to train them to do tricks! So now we have dancing zombies in the music video. They actually learned the choreography pretty easily."

"Makes sense," Bill said. "I did fill the space where their souls should be with an insatiable hunger to party."

Mabel grinned. "I thought you said they weren't your fault."

"If they're good at dancing, I'm taking credit!"

"They were pretty good—especially considering how many limbs they were missing," Mabel said. "I'll show you when Robbie's finished editing the video."

"And I'll get to see you playing a creepy ghost kid, right?"

"Yeah! We were the greatest ghosts ever! Check it out, we were like—" Mabel fixed Bill with a dead-eyed slack-jawed stare and whisper-sang, "'We're the things that you have lost. Childhood joy, dead as a ghost.'"

"Chills."

"Dipper tried so hard to get in character as a ghost that he completely zoned out for a minute! When we shook him out of it, he said he felt like he had an out-of-body experience!"

####

At his computer, Robbie clicked play on a clip of the twins standing side-by-side in front of the cemetery gate. As they sang the chorus, Dipper's face went still; and then a spectral gray form rose out of his head, still singing in sync with Mabel.

"Whoa," Robbie said. "Sick. I'm keeping that in."

####

"So, it turns out my bro is an expert method actor," Mabel boasted.

Bill thought back to Dipper drifting up and down the stairs in the middle of the night. "Yep. Sounds like he's got quite a talent."

Mabel set down her crayons and held out a paper. "Okay—what do you think?"

Bill accepted the drawing. "Am I riding on the back of a rocket ship?"

"Like a bucking bronco! See the rocket flames doing a loop?"

"Sure do. Why am I holding a fish bowl?"

"It's like a cowboy waving his hat, but, you're in space. So that's your astronaut helmet."

"It's beautiful," Bill said intensely. "It's the best thing I've ever seen."

"Aw, really? Thanks!"

"When I take over the universe, I'm rearranging the constellations to look like this."

"Don't do that, though."

"Fine, but I'm hanging it up in my throne room." Bill set down his empty glass so he could hold the picture with both hands, beaming at it as proudly as though he'd made it himself. Big change from his lukewarm reception of her house drawing yesterday. She should draw Bill more often. Being a good artist meant understanding what your audience wanted.

Unfortunately, now that she'd finished her drawing, she didn't have anything to distract her from staring at Bill. And she'd taken about as much of seeing him as she could stand. "Bill. I say this with non-judgmental love. But you look sooo terrible."

"Yeah, I know. I think I'm shaped about as nicely as a human could ask for," he pantomimed drawing a triangle in front of his torso, "but let's be real, there's only so much you can do when you're working with a human bone structure. And there's way too much neck—"

"No! Bill, your body is beautiful just the way it is, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I meant your hair looks awful."

Bill had taken a shower yesterday morning, emerged with his hair all wet and tangled, and done absolutely nothing to detangle it. And then, with it still half damp and totally disheveled, he'd shoved it under a cheap acrylic wig for the rest of the night. And then he'd fallen asleep on the floor still wearing the wig.

And now, with the wig removed, his hair looked like a bird had plucked out half a scarecrow's straw brains and made a nest out of it.

"It sure does," Bill said, with the slightly forlorn air of someone complaining about a war in a far-off country over which one had no power.

"So brush it!"

"No. Never. You can't make me."

"Why not? I thought you wanted to keep your hair all triangly!"

"Not enough to touch it. Either it'll figure out how to straighten out on its own or it won't, I'm not messing with it. I've got enough going on in my life today." By which he meant he had the last lingering traces of a hangover, which was a valid excuse to get out of all social, moral, and aesthetic obligations.

Mabel groaned in frustration. "I can't take looking at it anymore! If you won't brush it, can I?"

Bill gave her a skeptical look; but then he flung his hands out dismissively. "Sure, why not? If it bothers you so much. Have at it."

"I'll be right back!"

She got her brush from upstairs and a spray bottle from the kitchen, and directed Bill to sit on the floor so she could get on the couch behind him. After making such a fuss about brushing his hair, Bill was surprisingly well-behaved with somebody else brushing it for him. He didn't even complain when Mabel accidentally yanked on some nasty snarls a little harder than she meant to.

"I feel like a corpse getting prettied up for my funeral," Bill said. "Grooming each other is how humans bond, isn't it? This is one of your little social rituals? If all you wanted was to make sure we're still friends after you ditched me last night, you could have just asked."

Mabel shoved her foot between Bill's shoulder blades. Wise guy. She joked, "Yeah! We're bonding now! After this we're gonna paint each other's fingernails and talk about what kind of boys we like."

"I want rainbow spiral fingernails."

Mabel really should be used to this—but she still kept getting surprised that Bill was interested in the stuff she liked. And not even in a patronizing sure-I'll-play-along way. He'd turned to look at her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He really wanted rainbow spiral fingernails.

And now she wanted rainbow spiral fingernails, too. "Fine! But look forward until I finish your hair." One way or another, Mabel vowed, she would reform Bill into a proper good guy—even if she had to drag him there kicking and screaming. Fun dress-up partners were hard to find, and she couldn't afford to lose Bill.

####

Soos wandered to the living room to find somewhere to hang up his and Melody's "Best Couple Cosplay" award, but stopped in the doorway.

Bill, Mabel, and Waddles were sitting on the floor, watching some kind of cartoon psychedelic fairy princess lecture a spider on the importance of colors, with a bowl of popcorn between them. Bill and Mabel both had bright multicolor fingernails and were eating the popcorn with chopsticks to avoid touching their nails. There was more popcorn on the floor than in the bowl. Waddles had taken no such cares to avoid dragging his freshly painted hooves through the carpet.

"Truth or dare," Bill said.

"Dare!"

"Dare you to assassinate the..." Bill trailed off. "I can't have the mayor assassinated, he runs Rainbow Club. And the sheriff and deputy invited me... There aren't a lot of public officials in this dumb town, are there?"

"I'm not killing anybody, Bill. Truth."

"Fine, coward. What's your favorite toxic fume fragrance?"

"That's easy! Gasoline!"

"Hey, mine too! At least on this planet. It smells like—you know that smell that heralds the coming of rain? Gasoline is the smell that heralds a really fun time."

"Yeah! Like going on a road trip!"

Bill paused. "Right! I was... I was definitely thinking about road trips. That's exactly what I meant."

Mabel added, "And it looks so cool when there's a little bit spilled in a parking spot—"

"The rainbow puddles! Yes! Big fan of the rainbow puddles—"

"I love parking lot rainbow puddles! It's like surprise happiness in the most boring place on the planet!"

Soos mumbled, "Girl talk," decided to hang his award up later, and left.

####

Dipper heard the bedroom door open and Mabel call, "Hey Dipper!"

"Hey." He didn't look up from his journal, where he was documenting last night's zombie adventures. "Oh, hey, bad news—Wendy said she got a text from Robbie, it sounds like all the footage from the cemetery last night is ruined?"

"Aww! What? But we worked so hard to train those zombies!"

"Yeah, it's just static. But everything we shot outside the gates is fine. I wonder if it's something supernatural that interferes with electronics?"

"Something supernatural? In the cemetery? Full of zombies? What are the odds of that!" Mabel laughed. "But heyyy, I've got some good news!"

"What?"

Mabel stuck a hairbrush full of gold hair between Dipper's face and his journal. "I got a replacement for the Bill hair sample we gave Pacifica!" She grinned and whispered, "Wanna make a poppet?"

####

It would have been really cool if the first full moon of summer vacation had come on Summerween. But the calendar gods were unkind that year, and instead, it came the next day, on June 23.

Which worked out, in the end, since it meant they didn't have any scheduling conflicts on the one night they could make a poppet.

They had the ritual space set up in their bedroom—a chalk star drawn on the floor with a black candle at each point—and the doll representing Bill—which Mabel had upgraded with button eyes and a miniature version of his favorite knit hoodie. They collected all the shed blonde strands off Mabel's hairbrush, wrapped them around the doll's neck, and tied them on. They set the doll in the center of the star; Bartholomew talked them through the ritual; the flames on the candles leaped a foot in the air, turned a pale blue, and then went out; and the binding ritual was complete. The doll was now connected to Bill Cipher.

"Weird," Bartholomew said. "Usually the flames turn black. I've never seen them turn blue before."

Dipper said, "That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, no. I've just never used the binding ritual on an alien before! I guess it works a little different!"

Dipper picked up the doll and eyed it skeptically. "Mabel, I know we said we're saving this for emergencies only, but—maybe we should test it out just to make sure it actually works?"

"I guess we should," Mabel said, grimacing. "Just—don't do anything that'd hurt him. Okay?"

Yeah, Dipper should've expected that. Whether he liked it or not, Mabel didn't just see Bill as her weird experiment in criminal rehabilitation—she saw him as her friend. He sighed. "Okay. But is it fine if we do something that would embarrass him?"

Mabel shrugged. "I don't see why not!"

####

As they crept from their room, Mabel whispered, "What if we stick him in a box and shake it up? And then tell him there was an earthquake!"

"I thought you were the one who didn't want to hurt him."

"Oh right."

Bill wasn't on his cushions under the window, so they crept downstairs. Halfway down, Dipper stopped, putting a hand on Mabel's arm. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, staring out the window.

"This is perfect," he whispered. "He's completely vulnerable. He's got his back to us, he's looking at the moonlight—even if he turns around, he won't see us because his eyes will have to readjust to the dark."

"I don't know if his eyes need to adjust," Mabel said. "Have you ever noticed he never turns the lights on when he goes into a room?"

Dipper considered that. He hadn't noticed—but now that Mabel mentioned it, Bill did have a tendency to lurk in the dark. "Well—okay, but he's still not looking at us. Let's see how this works..." He studied the doll; then turned it around and gently brushed a finger through its yarn hair.

For a moment, nothing happened; and then Bill swatted at the back of his head and looked around, as if he was trying to find what had touched him.

"I think it's working," Dipper hissed.

"Are you sure? What if there's actually a fly in the kitchen?"

Could be. "Let me see if it can control him."

"Careful—"

Dipper grabbed one of the doll's arms and tentatively lifted it.

Bill's arm shot up. He stared at it in bafflement. "Wh...?"

Mabel bit her lip. Dipper waved the doll's arm.

Bill's arm waved. After a pause, he tentatively asked, "Hello?" As if he thought maybe his arm was waving at someone and he should play along with it.

Mabel and Dipper clapped their hands over their mouths, fighting to keep their giggles quiet. Mabel elbowed Dipper, "Hey Dipper Dipper Dipper, get him to stand up, let me control his legs, I have the best idea—"

Bill knocked over his chair and had to flail his arms for balance as he abruptly jerked to his feet. He looked around, eyes wide and wild, an edge of panic to his voice as he hollered, "WHAT'S GOING ON!"

Dipper held the doll out to Mabel. "Okay hurry!" Mabel took it by the legs—

—and Bill started doing the cancan. He shrieked. "WHAT?!"

Dipper shoved his shirt over his mouth to muffle his hysterics. Mabel was letting little wheezy squeaks out through her nose. Bill's voice was almost an octave higher as he screamed, "WHEN I FIND OUT WHO'S BEHIND THIS, I'M GONNA SHRED YOU—" and they both got so close to bursting laughing out loud that they had to pause to punch each other's shoulders for self control.

Still holding one of the doll's legs up, Mabel hissed, "Dipper do you remember the bottle dance. Where they crouch down with bottles on their heads. Can we—can we get a tiny bottle for the doll—"

Bill was failing both arms to avoid falling with one foot held in the air. He grabbed the counter for balance. And then, with a grunt of effort, he wrenched his foot down and stomped it to the ground.

The doll's leg yanked out of Mabel's hand.

Dipper and Mabel fell silent, staring at the doll. They looked at each other. Mabel whispered, "It shouldn't be able to do that, right?"

They looked at Bill.

Bill's face was burning red, and he was so far past fury that his expression was perfectly blank. His eyes were huge, and round, and pointed straight at them.

They bolted up the stairs.

Bill charged after them.

They screamed in terror. They weren't loud enough to drown out Bill: "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU BRATS—"

Mabel grabbed Dipper's arm. "Dipper, do something!"

"Uhh—!" He tossed the doll in the air and caught it.

They heard an alarmed yelp as Bill was launched in the air and then a crash as he landed on the stairs again.

They scrambled into their room and slammed the door. "Safe!" Mabel said.

"Yeah," Dipper said, panting for breath. "Can't get us here."

The doll's head twisted 180 degrees to stare up at them.

They yelped. Dipper tossed the doll to Mabel. Mabel held it out at arm's length, threw it in her nightstand's drawer, and slammed it. It tried to open again and she leaned against it with her full body weight. "Dipper, the duct tape! In my craft supplies!"

"Which craft supplies?!"

The tiny knocking inside the drawer was echoed by the pounding at the door, accompanied by a string of creative death threats: "—and when I'm finished the coroner won't know which corpse was which! I'll make a belt out of your spinal columns—!"

"We didn't do anything," Mabel shouted, "it wasn't our fault!" She took the duct tape from Dipper and frantically wrapped it around the night stand. Dipper added, "It was someone else! And we'll never do it again—"

Sleepy and muffled, Soos's voice drifted through the door, "Dudes? What's all the hubbub?"

Dipper and Mabel gasped, "Soos!" "Save us!"

His voice the perfect tone of righteous indignation, Bill declared, "I'm being assaulted, that's what!"

Stan's voice joined in from downstairs: "BILL! If you don't leave those kids alone I'll cave your nose in!"

"THEY'RE THE AGGRESSORS," Bill screamed, half hysterical. "They are! I'm the victim here! I'm being victimized!"

Stan shouted, "Kids, good work! Bill, you can go to—" He grumbled as he self-censored, "—sleep! Shut up and go to sleep!"

"You can go jump in the bottomless pit, Stanley Pines! I'll tear you all apart with my teeth if I have to! NOBODY in this stupid junk heap of a shack is getting any sleep until I get my—"

From just outside the attic door, Stan roared, "BILL!"

There was a dull thud as Bill leaned against their door; a lot less shouty, he quickly said, "I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed."

"That's what I thought," Stan snapped. The kids heard his footsteps retreating downstairs. Soos said, "Um... night," and his door shut. After a moment, there was the creak of footsteps retreating from the attic door.

Dipper and Mabel slowly, softly snuck across the room to the door, and pressed their ears to the crack. No sound.

They stayed there for several minutes, barely breathing, listening to the silence.

Finally, Mabel pulled away and looked at Dipper. They both nodded, and Dipper opened the door a crack to check if the coast was clear.

Bill's eye stared in. "Hey, kids!"

They yelled. Dipper tried to slam the door; but Bill had already shoved his hand through. Fingernails painted with neon colors and black spirals clawed at the doorframe. He shouldered through the gap in the door, and then he was in the room, smiling much too wide and eyes fixed on them like helicopter spotlights on two wanted criminals. There was blood on his teeth. "Wow! Playing with poppets?"

Dipper upturned his suitcase and held it up like a shield. Mabel pointed a can of spray paint at Bill's face. Bill took a step closer and they took a step back.

"Pretty advanced trick for a couple of children your age," Bill said conversationally. "Not bad, not bad at all. Heck, I'm impressed you pulled it off! Although you didn't make a very smart choice of test subject." He stomped a foot twice.

Something in the nightstand thudded twice. The twins jumped. Bill laughed at them.

Mentally cursing himself for having flinched, Dipper straightened his back and glared at Bill. "You're just mad you got jerked around like a puppet! What's the matter, Bill—you can dish it but you can't take it?" Mabel looked at Dipper like he was crazy.

Bill's indulgent smile cracked, dropping into a snarl of rage. He shifted his weight toward them. Mabel dropped into a judo stance and Dipper sucked in a breath to shout for Stan.

Before anyone could launch a full attack, Mabel took a shaky breath in, forced a nervous smile, and said, "Bill, hey..." (His eyes snapped to her face like a predator that just heard a twig snap.) "This was—just a funny prank, and we're all cool? Right?"

"Mabel," Dipper muttered. "Shhh!"

But Mabel kept looking at Bill. "Right? Buddies?" She held up her arm, showing Bill her friendship bracelet.

Bill stopped and rocked back on his heels. He gave Mabel a long, hard look—like he was seriously considering whether to accept the reality she was inventing. "Yeah. Real funny." Smiling through grit teeth, he said, "You know—it's been a while since I've had my energy strung between two vessels. I didn't even know what that experience felt like for a human! Very interesting. Educational. And it was nice to feel weightless again for a second. Even if the landing was a little rough." He licked the blood off his teeth. One of the teeth shifted. "So—thanks so much for spicing up a boring night. It's been a real blast. Hasn't it." He stared at them like he expected an answer—and possibly like he planned to strangle whoever answered first.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper shook his head slightly. Mabel looked Bill in the eyes again. "Yeah! Big blast. So, you're not... mad. Right? Nobody's mad!"

Bill stared her down for a moment longer; and then said, "Sure, kid! It's all fun and games!" He forced a laugh—and then another, longer one, hahhh, like he was exhaling all his rage. And just like that, he was back to normal. "I'll admit it—for a second there, you almost got me good! Not bad at all." He held out his hand insistently. "And now the game's over, so you're gonna give me that toy so I can neutralize it. Aren't you?"

Dipper bit his lip, looking past Bill toward the stairs. He could yell for Stan; there was no way Bill could kill them before reinforcements got here—

Mabel elbowed Dipper's side and whispered, "We can't keep it."

And she was right. Now that Bill knew about the doll, he'd be spending all his time plotting how to get past them to take it, and they wouldn't have a second's peace. Either he got it now, or he got it later. Bill wouldn't rest until the doll was out of their hands.

Because he was terrified of it. Why wouldn't he be?

"Yeah," Dipper sighed. "Game over."

"I'll get it." Mabel peeled just enough duct tape off the night stand to wiggle it open a crack and try to squeeze her fingers in. Bill stretched his hand toward Mabel, and the doll stretched an arm out of the drawer. Mabel flinched in surprise, but grabbed the arm and yanked the doll free.

"Ow." Bill grabbed his shoulder and rolled it gingerly. "Careful, kid, are you trying to dislocate my arm? I don't mind popping it back in, but eventually that socket's gonna wear out."

"Sorry! It was a tight squeeze." She held the doll over Dipper's suitcase shield. "Here."

Bill snatched it from her hand. "Thanks a million, star girl." He favored them both with his most nearly-charming, far-too-wide smile. "Good night, kiddos. Have sweet dreams."

"You too," Mabel said weakly.

Bill left. Dipper shut the door. He and Mabel both heaved a sigh of relief.

From the loft over the attic, Bartholomew called, "Is he gone?"

"What are you doing up there?" Mabel asked. "Barty-mew-mew the scaredy-cat."

"I'm not fighting that guy, I'm porcelain and he's crazy."

Dipper flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Welp. I'm gonna have nightmares about Bill chasing me up the stairs."

Mabel sat on her own bed. "He just wanted to terrify us. And to keep us from seeing we'd terrified him." She fingered the star beads on her friendship bracelet. "He wouldn't have hurt us, I'm sure of it."

"Wh—seriously? You don't think Bill—"

"I know! But he's changed a tiny bit! He'd hurt anyone else, but he won't hurt us," Mabel said. "Or—well, me, at least. But I think he'll leave you alone too if I'm with you!"

Dipper pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her. "If he'd caught us on the stairs, do you really think he wouldn't have tried to tear us apart?"

Mabel considered that; and then reluctantly admitted, "He wouldn't hurt me as long as he remembers he doesn't want to hurt me."

"Yeah, well. I wouldn't count on him remembering when he's mad." Dipper slid under his covers and rolled over. "Barty, can you get the lights?"

"Sure, one second." All the lights and lamps in the room flickered ominously; and then, with a sinister pop, snapped off without being touched.

"Thanks, man."

Mabel didn't climb into bed. She was staring at her fingernails. She'd painted them the same colors as Bill's; but she'd used a black marker to draw spirals on his, and he'd drawn stars and sloppy tiger stripes on hers. In the dark, the colors were all faded.

This time, just once, maybe she and Dipper were the bad guys. He might disagree—he'd actually been puppeted, maybe he saw this differently from Mabel—but that probably didn't make it okay to do it back to Bill just for fun. They should've saved the poppet for an emergency. And the cancan, she decided, was definitely too much.

She smoothed out her covers; then she pulled up her knees to her chest, hugged them, and stared thoughtfully down at Bill's face in the middle of her zodiac blanket.

####

In the dark and quiet of the downstairs bathroom, Bill sat cross-legged on the toilet lid. He held the doll in his cupped hands. Soon, he'd disassemble it—but not yet. Tonight, it was his tool. He shut his eyes and focused on it.

There was the thinnest thread of energy, channeled through his shed hair, connecting this doll to him. He studied the thread, feeling it in his mind, exploring it, strengthening it—until he could almost feel it tugging on him.

And then he started psychically groping for similar connections.

He set the doll on the floor, on top of the drawing Mabel had given him.

His other eyes—the billions of depictions of his face scattered across this planet—weren't meant to be used in this dimension. They were designed like windows he could peer through from the Nightmare Realm; here on Earth, he was on the wrong side of the windows to see through them. And he wouldn't be surprised if the Axolotl had somehow found a way to blindfold them on top of that—after all, he seemed to have done the same to most of Bill's other abilities.

But Bill was resourceful, he was stubborn, and he didn't have anything better to do.

He focused all his energy on trying to feel the drawing the same way he felt the doll, searching for a connection between this body and that face—and he searched, and searched, and searched.

He wasn't sure how long he tried. At least a couple of hours. Straining, straining—for nothing. His head hurt.

What was the difference? The doll was shaped like him, the drawing was shaped like him. What did the doll have that the drawing didn't?

The hair. A bit of his flesh.

Bill knelt over the picture, studying it in the dark. He opened an eye wide, wiped a fingertip across the surface of his eyeball to collect his tears, and pressed it to the drawing's eye.

He could feel a thread of energy stringing from his eye to the paper.

He climbed back on the toilet lid, shut his eyes, and focused on that thread. With an effort that threatened to split his head in two, he pried open his inner eye. And then he was staring up at his own human form from the drawing on the floor.

His body was shaking. His head was throbbing. He wobbled dizzily on the toilet; and as he saw himself topple off, his trance broke, the vision disappeared, and he blacked out. White spots burst behind his eyes.

When he next opened an eye, the room was spinning. He shut his eye. It was several minutes before he could sit up without being sick. He leaned against the wall and let the sweat on his forehead and cheek soak the old wallpaper.

The white spots he'd seen as he passed out were his distant all-seeing eyes.

He'd done something tonight. That was good. But there was no way he was seeing through any other pictures like that. He needed something he could focus his power through, like an antenna.

He needed gold.

####

(Last chapter of the year!! If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts & comments! Thanks!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

362 notes · View notes

stevesbipanic · 1 year ago

Text

The pen didn't have a lot of ink left, but it would do. He'd taken a notebook from Max's desk as well. He had to write these things down, just in case.

"Just in case I don't make it back there's some things I wanted to tell you. One, I'm sorry I didn't come home, I'm sorry I ran and left you to deal with my mess again, I didn't kill Chrissy and I hope you know that.

Don't blame yourself for being on the night shift, from what I understand it would've happened anyway, I'm glad I could make her laugh before she died. You're going to have some people visit you, if they make it instead of me. You can trust them, just listen to Dustin, he's a good kid and knows good people. Yes, even Steve Harrington, if anyone is making it out alive it's him, I'll make sure he gives this to you.

Give my stuff to the boys, everything, the books, the rings, the records. I want them to have me in some way when I'm gone, especially since I won't get to say goodbye. Check on them now and then will you? I'm sorry I can't be around anymore to protect them.

Get out of Hawkins, I don't need a grave, I don't need you stuck here mourning. Escape this cursed town like I always wanted to, go visit Ma in the mountains and tell her I'll be seeing her soon.

I'm sorry,

Eddie"

Steve knocked on the side of the caravan and Eddie jolted looking at him.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, Stevie, don't worry, could you do me a favour though?"

Steve gave him a soft smile, "Sure, Eds, anything."

"Give this to my uncle, if I don't make it back."

"You'll see him yourself soon, I promise."

Eddie had given him a sad smile at that, and it had burned into Steve's memory just as the piece of paper now burned in his pocket. He knocked on the motel door. It opened and Steve took a deep breath.

"Hi, Mr Munson, I have a message from Eddie."

#the stemmed from me thinking wayne gave all the boys eddies rings #and thats y dustin has two rings #stranger things #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #open ending #maybe the message is the paper #maybe the message is that eddie is hurt but alive #steve harrington #steddie

248 notes · View notes

iwishthebestforyou · 2 months ago

Text

smau account: @penelopeswifey

It still hurts, watching him fade away

kazuha x gn!reader // I didn't reread it before I posted it, so probably isn't that good

sypnosis: your childhood bestfriend — who you've had a BIG crush on since kindergarten is moving away soon. With the remaining time you have to be near him, you make it a mission to confess before he leaves.

angst btw

You fiddled with your pen as your teacher continues speaking about a topic you couldn't care less about, your mind on a whole different topic.

Staring at the window beside your seat, looking out at the view. It was already the end of your senior year, exams are piling up and it seems spring is coming to an end.

Your eyes left the windows view and stared at the career test on your table, the small piece of paper felt heavier than it should have. The simple questions make you feel pure dread.

Looking around the classroom, everyone was writing down their hopes, dreams and ambitions on that paper. While yours laid empty.

Sighing deeply, as the bell rang signifying the end of the class, finally. Your paper was still empty so, guess you'll turn it in tomorrow.

Walking out the classroom, you watched everyone walk by. Everything felt so fast, like time was mocking you as it flew by, the people around you seemingly adapted to the fast currents of time, while you.. you're still stuck here. Still stuck never knowing where you're gonna be..

Your deep thought process was interrupted by a tap on your shoulder, ah—

Its him. Kazuha.

The man you've grown to love for years, your childhood crush up until now. It may seem silly, but you've loved him ever since you were a child. Ever since he helped you up that day when you sprained your knee, that memory still perfectly in touch, the way he cried harder than you did despite you being the one injured.

It was meant to be right?

You smiled at him as he chuckled

" Just what are you doing here, standing around here hm? Waiting for me? "

He teased, words casual like always. He had no idea how much it affected you — you hated how he could say such words without being affected, while you were a mess just from a simple sentence.

" No way! I was just thinking... " You said, defending yourself from the accusation that he gave. You're not waiting for him!

" Thinking about what? It's not like you to be so lost in thought.. " He said, responding pretty quickly, as his face turned into one of curiosity.

Your face started to heat up.

" It's nothing.. it's just about the career thing.. that stupid test. " You said, looking at him and you felt the butterflies erupting in your stomach, God, how could he just stand there and look so.. so beautiful?

His eyes softened, nodding in understanding before looking at the window, the sun now annoyingly bright.. but he didn't seem as affected as you.

" I already filled that out. I'm moving abroad, I don't think staying in one place is my thing .. " He said a soft smile on his face and yours faltered.

Huh? He's moving?

Your breath hitched before you quickly repeated

" Abroad? " ..

" Yeah. " He said, looking at you.. but it felt like a knife was twisting in your chest.

" Oh.. good for you! " You said, forcing a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

The rest of the day passed in a blur after those words. Moving abroad?.. You felt the weight in your chest grow heavier.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about this before.. people leave, plans change and he's no different, you always knew he had bigger dreams than this small town.. He has to do what he can to get a good future, no?.. but hearing him say it so casually made it feel so.. feel so weird.

You had one month.

Your eyes lingered on him as he walked ahead, the sunlight catching his hair in a way that made your heart ache even more. You clenched your fist, a new found determination.

One month to say what you’ve been holding onto for years.

One month to say I love you.

You can do this.

As days flew by, you found yourself clinging to every moment with Kazuha. The playful teasing, the comfortable silences everything about him became a little more exciting, a little more bittersweet, knowing that by the end of this month you won't be able to see him as freely, each playful remark, each smile a silent plea for him to realize your feelings.

You tried to confess in small ways, complimenting him, subtle hints on reconnecting after graduation, but Kazuha seemed oblivious. Or maybe he just didn’t feel the same. The thought ate you alive, but there's only a few weeks left.. you cant back out!

" Are you going to the festival? "

Your friend asked, as you snapped out your thoughts and looked up at her. Nodding absentmindedly.

" Ah.. yeah. "

Your town had an annual festival, fireworks would be lit up, the whole town would be there and it would mark your last festival before you enter adulthood.

As the days continue passing by, You had gathered the courage to ask him to the festival, determined to make him yours by the end, this would be your final attempt..

Now.. it was the day of the festival.

The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, lanterns glowing in the dusk, and the scent of street food filling the air. It was the perfect setting, almost like something out of a movie, the perfect setting to confess.

" Ah, this place is beautiful as ever.. " He complimented, looking around.

Kazuha walked beside you, seemingly carefree as always. Talking about his day, his poems.. you barely listened, heart racing thinking about what could happen tonight.

You guys took photos together, played games.. everything a couoke would do. You felt warm, really excited. Happy to be with him.

" The fireworks should start soon.. " You said, the fireworks starting soon also signifys your confession. You can do this. Your ready.

You both found a quiet spot away from the crowds, it was a secret spot you looked for weeks before the festival, just so you guys can have this moment. A high top that overlooked the town.

The countdown begun, the countdown..

5. the crowd started, as you started building up your courage..

" 4! " The townspeople screamed, your mind screaming at you to just do it already!

" 3! " No regrets this time. C'mon. Just say it.

Your eyes looked at him, face scrunching in determination.

" 2! " You can do this.

Before the final number, You stole a glance at Kazuha, his face illuminated by the flickering lights, his expression peaceful, a glint of excitement in his eyes at he stared at the sky expectedly.

Your heart pounded. This was it.

You opened your mouth, the words sitting heavy on the tip of your tongue. I love you.

Your hand trembled as you reached for his. The distance between your hands was so small, yet it felt like an ocean. But before you could close the gap, a wave of fear crashed over you.

What if telling him would change everything? What if he didn’t feel the same, and this comfortable space between you shattered? Every single moment from before up to now would be useless. No way, you can't handle that. You didn’t want to risk losing him, even if it meant never knowing.

You hesitated, fingers curling back into your palm. The words died in your throat, swallowed by the sound of the fireworks exploding in the distance.

Kazuha turned to you, smiling softly, completely unaware of the mental battle in your head,

You forced yourself to smile back, the ache in your chest growing.

The fireworks lighting up the sky and the people cheering in joy, it felt like the world was mocking you.

"Enjoying the fireworks?" he asked, his voice casual and soft, the same voice you wish you could forget right now.

You nodded, unable to trust yourself to speak, feeling something welling up in your eye, looking away from him.

The fireworks continued to light up the night sky, but you couldn’t bring yourself to watch them anymore, the moment was quiet. If maybe in different circumstances it would've been a romantic moment. But right now, you felt so far from him.

You had your chance and you let it slip away.

As the fireworks bloomed in the sky, casting their glow over the town, you felt the weight of the silence pressing harder against your chest. You’d practiced this moment in your head a hundred times, imagining the perfect scenario where you’d gather the courage to say the words.

Just 3 words.

But now, standing beside him, it felt impossible.

Kazuha leaned back, a soft smile, letting out a soft sigh. He seemed content, his eyes reflecting the colors above. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice low and content.

You nodded again, still unable to speak, eyes looking away. You couldn't bare to look up at the sky. The ache that had been simmering in your chest all month— maybe years, had finally turned into a dull, throbbing pain. How could you stand here, so close to him, and still feel so far away..

Isn't he supposed to be your safe person?

Another firework exploded in the distance, removing you from your thoughts, followed by a round of cheers from the people down below. The world seemed so full of life, moving together. But here, in this quiet corner with Kazuha, all you could feel was the passing of time slipping through your fingers and the fear of what's next.

You tried to focus on the present, on the warmth of the moment, but your mind kept spinning back to the what ifs.

But each question led to another knot in your stomach, each doubt pulling you further from the idea of confessing.

As the last burst of fireworks lit up the sky, Kazuha stood up, brushing the dust off his pants. He turned to you with a soft, gentle smile—the kind that made your heart flutter and ache at the same time, he pulled you up. The touch making you feel horrible and warm.

"Thanks for today," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. " I had a lot of fun. "

How could he just smile like that?

You managed a small smile in return, trying to ignore the tears threatening to spill over.

" Me too ."

For a moment, you stood there, staring at him, hoping maybe, just maybe.. he’d say something, say that he understands the feelings lingering between you. But he didn’t.

Instead, Kazuha gave a small wave, turning back toward the festival lights. "Let's head back. It's getting late."

As he walked ahead, your gaze followed him, the words you could never say caught in your throat. You had your chance, and you let it slip away. And now, all you could do was watch as the one person who meant the world to you disappeared into the crowd, the distance between you growing with every step, he was moving on. Just like everyone else.

He was going home and in the heat of moment you screamed at him from afar,

" Kazuha! The moon..! The moon is beautiful tonight!! "

You yelled, smiling at him with a pained look, a desperate look. Just maybe— Maybe!

He looks back at you, an unreadable expression on his face. He sighed before flashing a soft bittersweet smile and yelling back.

" I prefer the sunset. "

The tears you've been holding back all this time finally spilled, all your emotions hitting you. Sobs coming out as you looked down.

— And just like that, that marks the end of your crush on Kazuha, a crush that lasted from kindergarten to now, your eyes fixed on his figure that slowly got smaller the further he got.

A painful reminder that your no one special in his life, when in yours he was the most special one. You will fade into his memories, staying as someone in the past, never the present.

And so, you stayed there, standing alone under the empty sky, watching the flickering glow of the festival fade into the night. He was moving on, just like the sunset.

And maybe.. maybe it was time for you to do the same.

#angst #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact #iwishthebestforyou #genshin x you #light angst #kaedahara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha #kazuha angst #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x gender neutral reader

46 notes · View notes

jinisnuggets · 5 months ago

Note

Hello I could request a idol!Jake x mangaka!male!reader and the reader is introvert ( fluff please )

✧ ˚ · . 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

ᴾᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᴵᵈᵒˡ! ᴶᵃᵏᵉ ˣ ᴹᵃⁿᵍᵃᵏᵃ! ᴹᵃˡᵉ! ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᴳᵉⁿʳᵉ: ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ, ᴬᵘ

ᵂᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: ².¹ᵏ

ˢʸⁿᵒᵖˢⁱˢ: ᴮᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᵃⁿᵍᵃᵏᵃ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒ ᵉᵃˢʸ ʲᵒᵇ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵃˢᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵖⁱᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ᵖᵉⁿᶜⁱˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢˢᵉᵐᵇˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵃˢ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʰᵃʳᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ⁱᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈ, ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ; ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵃⁿʸ.

ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᴺᵒᵗ ᵃ ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ: ˢᵒᵒᵇⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴳⁱˢᵉˡˡᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ, ᵒᵛᵉʳʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ? ᴺᵒᵗ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ, ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠʸ :)

ᴺᵉᵗʷᵒʳᵏ: @starlit-network

ᴬ/ᴺ: ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱˢᵗᵍ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗʳᵒᵖᵉ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ˢᵒ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ᵈᵃᵐⁿ ᶠⁱᶜ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ. ᴵ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ˢʰᵒʳᵗ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ʳᵉqᵘᵉˢᵗ ⁱˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ :ᴰ

Planning, drawing, writing, new page, repeat. Unfortunately, those 6 words were all you needed to say in order to describe your regular schedule. Everyday was the same. Sometimes asking if you would ever have a break, or ever be successful enough in order to have your manga have its own anime adaptation, it'd be a huge step forward and might end up bringing in enough money so you didn't have to constantly work on a new series.

Unfortunately, despite the numerous amount of animes that existed; the chance of getting contacted by a producer was rare. And even though your two series were pretty big among readers, the day you'd receive a call or even just an email would likely never come.

You wrote away, brainstorming new ideas in this competitive industry. Your newest manga, had recently come to an end, ending at the manga number of 34. You had to admit, you were pretty happy with how it was written, especially since recently you seemed pretty dry and void of motivation.

The public seemed to agree, approving of the manga and giving you the thumbs up to reassure you that it was indeed a well written series. The pressure was a bit much, after finally finishing an almost 6 year series you were already seeing posts online titled:

“Can't wait for L/n Y/n’s next manga!”

“If he releases a new manga then damn right I'm buying it.”

Seeing those posts made you feel bad, causing you to pick up a pen and notebook and start brainstorming.

“You're going to write another one? That'll be 3 series!”

Hand up to your forehead, sighing at your own ideas as you crumbled the piece of paper and threw it away. “Well that's the plan but with how terrible I am at coming up with ideas I'm unsure if there will even be a 3rd series.”

He looked at you and leaned his back up against your bed frame. You found yourself with some of your friends, both in your house to keep you company and to help you think of a manga plot.

Footsteps approached the room, entering and holding a bag of snacks enough for the 3 of you. “Yeah well, your past 2 series have had a large audience, so if you end up writing a 3rd series chances are there's going to be a good chunk of people rushing to libraries to purchase it. So you should think of something that'll attract attention to those in your fan base along with those who aren't.”

“Thank you for the help Aeri…” you muttered to which she smiled, closing the door behind her and pulling over a chair to sit near the 3 of you.

Soobin and Aeri had been your friends since middle school, they knew you wanted to write manga series later on and supported you the entire way through. The 3 of you were inseparable and had stuck together the entire way through.

Pressing your face up against your arms and covering yourself with it, you tried to restart your mind and clear it, that way it'd be easier to communicate a proper plan for the manga.

“What if you try to make it based on an event that happened in your life..?” Soobin questioned, lightly rubbing his cheek as he leaned over to grab a granola bar from inside the bag.

You turned your face to look over at him, and chuckled.

“What type of event…? My life up until now hasn't been very eventful, so I practically have nothing to write about…”

Aeri looked down at the two of you and put her arm up to her chin, “Think a little outside the box…”

You lifted your head and gently sighed, “I'll think of something. What do you guys say we watch a movie or a drama?”

_____

Getting out of your car and approaching the doorway entering the restaurant and finding yourself a comfortable seat to relax in.

Ordering your food and opening up your phone, scrolling through the latest news and lightly vibing to the music in the background which found itself playing in the restaurant speakers.

“That's the group that has been going viral lately right!?”

You glanced over at the table which the talking came from, spotting two friends with their eyes glued on the TV. You couldn't help but grow curious, looking up at the TV screen and seeing an idol group performing their most recent song on a music show.

You would be lying if you said that you didn't like Korean music, because you truthfully really enjoyed it. However it was the least of your importance at the moment because your full focus was on your phone.

Or at least… it should've been.

Suddenly, a soft, soothing voice touched your ears. Causing you an odd sense of relaxation as you found your own eyes tracing over the screen that was permanently stuck onto the wall.

His face… caught you a bit off guard. He was handsome but you got an odd sense of deja vu looking at him, maybe it was nothing and it was just your mind playing weird tricks on you. But this was not one of those cases because you truthfully did recognize him.

This was Sim Jake, a student that you knew from highschool and actually became quite fond of. Other than the fact that you both ate lunch together sometimes and talked every so often, you wouldn’t really know whether you could consider him a friend. Occasionally the atmosphere was a bit tense between the two of you, maybe that was because you grew feelings for him at one point throughout the school year but never spoke about it to anyone except Aeri, and well, you hinted at it to Soobin and by now you were almost certain that he had caught on.

Sim Jake had moved to Korea around mid school year for unknown reasons. There was rumor that he would become an idol, but nothing was ever confirmed; and well, rumor was rumor so you should never completely believe something.

Seeing him on TV felt almost… surreal. Looking at someone who you had met before and had actually spoken to, someone who you walked the same hallways as. You never thought that you’d experience something like that, you truthfully really did feel very proud of him, for achieving something that seems somewhat impossible.

But seeing your old classmate was not the only thing that came out of going to your local diner that night, because you also found yourself with a new idea.

_____

“Is that manga interesting?” Jungwon leaned over, coming to Jake’s shoulder and resting his head on it.

“Yeah, It’s from my favorite mangaka too, I heard they’re actually working on a new series.”

Jungwon looked up at his member and smiled, watching the pages and lightly reading them as the sheets flipped every 7-15 seconds.

Enhypen had recently finished performing on the stage of a music show. It had been a long night of dancing and singing along with cheering for other groups present. On the cold night, they all found themselves going back to the company on the bus, all members slightly shivering as they covered themselves with blankets.

“What’s the manga about?” Jungwon asked, attempting to keep the conversation going as he actively listened, trying to keep himself awake.

Jake loved to talk about his mangas and this being his favorite series, he of course would become excited the moment someone asked such a question. It was such an easy answer for him, and Jungwon listened to everything he had to say, smiling every so often at the quiet excitement that Jake expressed despite being unable to be loud due to some of the members already being fast asleep.

Jungwon pointed over at the cover, signaling the author’s name as he quietly muttered, “Is this their real name? Or a fake one?”

Jake chuckled ever so slightly, “It’s a pseudonym. Many mangakas use them because many like to keep their identities secret. Actually many fans have no idea what their favorite author looks like due to privacy reasons. The closest we’ll get is by these.”

He skipped to the end of the book, pointing at the little representative character that delivered a message to a reader at the end of every manga. Jungwon chuckled as he shut his eyes, making Jake remain silent as he stared at the manga. Despite being in the dark, Jake illuminated the book with a UV light, the type you would use for the visibility to the ink of an invisible pen.

“Y/n, would you like to eat lunch together?”

“Right now? I’m drawing-”

Jake frowned, looking down at you. Sighing, you gathered your supplies and followed him out of the classroom. Stopping to put away your sketchbook and other art necessities back into your locker, as well as pick up your own lunch bag in the process. You followed him out of the school, finding a bench under a tree where the breeze felt nice and cool.

“Why don’t you eat lunch with someone else?” you questioned, biting into the sandwich that you had brought as a bit of a lazy lunch.

“Because I don’t know you too well. In addition, I find myself intrigued by you. You’re always drawing and I wanted to ask, is there a reason behind it or is it just a hobby?”

You flustered a bit, a lot of people have watched you draw and have complimented you on your skill.

“Y/n you should put up your art in a museum!”

“You should write manga when you feel ready.”

“Work as an animation producer when you get older!”

Not to mention the amount of people who had asked you questions that you were almost tired of hearing. Being an artist came with its downsides but it was always good to have an extra skill which could potentially be a career, and pretty well paid as well,

“Well, I guess for now it’s just a hobby.” you muttered, looking down at the food inside the container. Picking up your chopsticks, beginning to eat once again, picking at the rice softly.

Jake’s gaze stayed on you, he sighed and looked forward, “I guess so, you’re practically an art genius so if you decide to start a career from it I bet it’ll pay off.” he added, mouth becoming a small smile that had been directed at you.

Nodding, you thought for a moment. “I don’t really find myself interested in art in terms of career. I think there’s better things out there… you know?”

Jake agreed, opening the small bag of cookies that he brought and handing you some. “Well, I get what you mean, if you turn a hobby into a career then it’ll start to feel more like an obligation rather than something fun. But I think it’s better in a way. If you’re good at something then it's something to take advantage of.”

Staying silent for a moment, you eventually muttered a small ‘I agree’ before going back to eating, he noticed and beamed ever so slightly.

“Y/n!”

Looking up from the pages that you had been working on, you held the pencil and looked at your lover who had been laying on your bed, staring at you knowingly. He was mainly there to keep you company and it had mainly been you who asked for it. It got lonely sometimes after all.

“What is it?” You asked, taking the opportunity to stretch and lay down on the floor for a quick moment, just to redeem yourself from the stress of continuously drawing.

“You've been working on that darn manga for so long, catch a small break.” He scolded, making you laugh in response as you glanced over to the shelves full of mangas that you had written.

3 series, 72 books total that came with multiple awards. Many action figures that had come from the anime production of your most recent complete series which gained an audience you never expected to receive. It gained attention from multiple celebrities and became one of the most popular anime series internationally.

Not only that but it helped your 2 previous books get much more recognition, which ended up causing your second to become adapted into a video game, which was very well made and had a wide variety of players.

“Well, this might be the last series I write. If not then I might stick to the number 5, that collection is becoming a bit big don't you think?” you asked, still looking over to the shelves that separated each of your series, holding figures, posters, fanarts, and of course, the mangas.

Jake nodded, smiling as he went down and gave you a small kiss on the forehead.

“You're doing great Y/n.” He muttered, making you glance over and kiss him on the lips. It was a feeling you enjoyed, as the feeling of his touch and arms comforted you.

“Thank you. I'll continue trying my best, I promise”

74 notes · View notes

sydsaint · 1 year ago

Text

Please! I just wanna give him a big ol' hug

Summary: The reader makes an attempt to comfort Max after the incident at Worlds End.

There isn't a feeling in the world worse than having to stand by and watch someone you care for get their heart broken by someone they trusted. But that's what you're here doing. AEW's Worlds End PPV special is closing out and you're stuck between Excalibur and Nigel watching Max get the crap beaten out of him by the man that was supposed to be his best friend. Adam Cole.

"I have to say, I feel a bit bad for the lad." Nigel admits as he begins gathering up his papers from the desk.

"Yeah, me too." Excalibur agrees while doing the same.

You fidget with a pen in your hand, trying your absolute best not to vault the table and rush to help Max. "A bit?" You shoot a glare at Nigel.

Nigel shrugs and slips off his headset, ready to head backstage. He walks away from the desk and Excalibur does the same. You watch the pair walk off chatting with one another and scoff. Sure, Max isn't exactly popular with either of them. But for them to not even offer the fallen champ a consoling glance is utterly ridiculous. In your mind anyway.

Cautiously you make your way around the commentary table and head toward the ring. Adam Cole and his new posse of goons have slinked back into the darkness for the moment and Max is sitting defeated on the floor near the ring steps.

"Do you need some help up?" You walk over to Max quietly with a sympathetic smile. You have no idea how Max will react to the offer of help. Not after everything that's happened to him. But you have to at least try.

Max looks up from the floor with red and puffy eyes. "Y/N? What do you want?" He asks you, shifting his body to point away from you.

"I just wanted to see if you're alright." You reply. "That beating you took looked rough. And the thing with Adam..."

Max scoffs and shakes his head. "I shouldn't be surprised at this point." He sneers. "No one ever stays. Not my fiancé, not my friends, or people I thought were my friends. No one." He sighs deeply. "I'm just a loser that's destined to be alone. And I'm not even a champion anymore. So there goes the fans as well." He looks out at the crowd now starting to spill out of the arena.

"I'm here now." You reply and kneel down so you're not towering over Max. "And I know that we don't know each other that well. But I want to help if I can." You offer Max your hand to help him up. "At least let you know that you're not 100% alone."

Max looks at your hand and then back up at your face. He repeats this a couple of times before reluctantly taking your hand. You pull him up to his feet and walk backstage with him.

"I'm sorry that you lost." You speak up while you're walking. "I know what it's like to have a friend stab you in the back like that. In fact, I'll never wrestle again because of it." You laugh at your misfortune.

"You used to wrestle?" Max glances at you.

You nod, briefly recalling the painful memory in your head. "Yep. I worked for ROH before Khan bought it out. I was helping out this new girl. Showing her the ropes and stuff. And she stabbed me in the back during a ladder match for a title opportunity. Threw me off a 15 foot ladder and into a pile of smaller ones." You explain. "She went on to win the title, and I damn near broke my spine."

"Damn." Max replies. "I had no idea. I just thought you had always been in commentary and backstage stuff." He admits.

"It's fulfilling enough work." You shrug. "Sure, it'll never beat being in the ring. But at least it's still a part of it, right?"

Max nods and the two of you come up on the locker room area. "Thanks for talking with me." Max stops in front of his room and turns to you. "I...I needed that." He admits.

"No problem." You nod. "I know when it happened to me all I wanted was someone to talk with. Someone that knew what I was feeling. So if you ever need some company, just shoot me a text or something." You offer with a soft smile.

"I think that I'll take you up on that, thanks." Max nods. "I'll see you later, Y/N."

You step back from the door with another soft smile. "Mhm. Take care, Max. And hey, try not to beat yourself up too hard." You add before you turn and walk off.

Max lingers at the door and watches you disappear down the hall. That sinking feeling in his chest lightens a bit as he watches you walk off. No one has ever shown him kindness and an willingness to just be there for him before.

It's addicting.

Max finds himself smiling a bit as he heads inside his locker room. He's lost everything tonight. So why the hell is he smiling? What have you done?

Given him hope, that's what. And hope is a dangerous thing for a man that's already lost so much.

#wrestling #aew #all elite wrestling #aew fanfiction #aew fanfic #mjf #mjf x reader #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fic #maxwell jacob friedman #mjf aew #syd's wrestling fics #aew wrestling #baby needs a hug #i will protect him at all costs

154 notes · View notes

valerielovebug · 24 days ago

Text

✧Doves and Serpents✧

Larissa X Fem!reader

I have the song "Be My Baby" by the Ronettes stuck in my head, I have to try and sneak it in. (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) !NOT PROOF READ!

Word count: 2.4k

☁️ Warnings: One pitiful reader... Mention of death, No more I think?

Medusa had spent centuries in her stone gardens, vines crawling up the statues of children, men and women, young and old. It was lonely, far more than you could imagine; no friends, no family, only the cold breeze and the lifeless eyes of stone.

Saddened souls pushed into the ocean's waters with crashed ships that were manipulated by waves. The cycle never ended, until one day it did.

✧

Nevermore. The school for outcasts, crazies, freaks.

You ran up the stone stairs of the school, holding on to documents and papers for dear life; stumbling over your feet as you pushed up the papers with your leg, fixing your hold on them as you lifted the now-freed hand to the old, wood door, knocking on it a few times.

You stood there awkwardly, waiting for a response before the doors opened, revealing a tall blonde woman with wine red lips and cerulean eyes. "Oh! You must be the new History Professor, yes?" The woman spoke, her voice elegant and charming, smooth like the ripples of water. She was obviously an English woman, honestly, the entire town was American and English in the land of Romania. It was like their own little world in a different setting.

"Yes- Yes, I must be." You muttered, considering you were only starting your first day. Nerve wracking.

The woman only seemed to smile, obviously understanding and familiar with the nerves that seemed to radiate off of you. "My name is Larissa Weems, you can call me Larissa, if you'd like." She hummed, stepping aside, gesturing you into her office.

You slowly stepped in, looking around at everything. The ceiling was nothing but a bunch of mirrors, there was a giant Medusa head with a fireplace in the mouth of it with a vintage chaise in front of it. A cozy combination.

Larissa walked to her desk, "Have a seat, please." She spoke, yet her words fell on deaf ears as you admired the fireplace. "That's Medusa, isn't it?" You muttered, slightly stumbling over your own feet at a failed attempt to take a step back.

"I... Yes, it is... Or, I assume it is. I've always considered it to be." She spoke, squinting her eyes and tilting her head as she watched you in bewilderment. "Please, Professor, I insist that you take a seat." She repeated, her tone was soft but it was painfully clear to see that she was growing impatient.

You caught yourself and looked at her, your face flushing in embarrassment. "Oh, yes-! Forgive me, I apologize!" You stammered, quickly taking a seat in the chair that was opposite of her desk, picking at your nails nervously.

You held your papers in your lap, your fingers stumbling as you tried to fix their order. "It's quite alright, professor." She sighed, tapping her pen. "Since it's your first day, I'm going to monitor and help you along the way, is that alright?" Larissa hummed, tilting her head with a sweet, charming smile.

You hesitated, the weight of teaching a class with new students in a new land, along with the pressure of the principal watching you stumble over words? "Yeah, sounds good!"

✧

It was not good. You dropped a few papers here and there, making the students giggle as you stumbled over your words all at once. You almost even tripped over your own desk... You looked pitiful, but over all, the students understood what you were explaining and teaching. A few raised hands quickly fell when you finished your sentence, making look feel proud in being able to answer their questions without them having to ask it.

One of the students questions made your brain short circuit. "How does electricity know where to go in the wires?" The question was, making you take a breath in disbelief. "This... This is History class...?" You muttered, pointing to the board that had small drawings and sentences about the Italian catacombs.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes slightly squinted. Your mouth fell open just a bit, "I... That's science... You'll have to ask Mr. Hummer..." You spoke gently, taking a small sip of your still-hot honey and milk tea.

The bell suddenly rang as you were mid-sentence about how the Catacombs in Italy were used, making you sigh and nod, yelling out, "I'll see you tomorrow, then!"

You grabbed your binder, tucking a few art pieces into the pocket of the folder, along with some actual history papers on the other side before closing it. Your hands reached for a book that was on your desk, touching only cold wood. You looked up, meeting Larissa's concentrated face as she flipped through the pages with her fingers.

"Weems!" You squeaked, watching her go through your personal history book, full of your writing and self-drawn illustrations. A lot of it was random, from the Italy Catacombs, to the Holocaust, to the guillotines from France.

She turned to a page in the guillotine section, "Was Anne Boleyn's mouth really moving after decapitation?" She questioned, looking up from the book and to your pretty eyes. A faint smile graced your lips, "Well, it's a story that's exciting to think about... But it seems highly illogical that it actually happened." You replied, not wanting to seem desperate for the book back in your hands.

"After decapitation, the head is still conscious for maybe 25 to 30 seconds. Though, you have very important muscles in your neck that are needed to be able to move your mouth. So, using that logic, her mouth was most-likely not moving since her neck was severed." You rambled, obviously fascinated by the idea, but not able to deny the facts.

It would be nice to be able to believe impossible things, but even so, you had always liked to be logical about things. "It's an amazing story, fun to believe and think about... But science has to ruin things for you." You hummed, slowly extending a hand, silently asking for the book back.

She gave a small huff but reluctantly placed the book back into your hands, her fingers lingering on the brown leather. “I hope someday you’ll lend it to me, your illustrations are beautifully drawn.” She spoke with a kind smile, clasping her hands together in front of her as she looked down at you. There was a little shimmer in her eye, one that was filled with curiosity and intrigue, which made you slightly flustered.

“Oh, it’s just common information… I can give you the sections and they’re easy to find on Google?” Lie. The information was on google, but it wasn’t easy to find. You had gone down rabbit hole after rabbit hole, taking information from every website you came across and then matched up what made sense. Only when everything matched up in perfect understanding did you write it down. A history buff at its finest, you supposed.

A disappointed frown snuck onto Larissa’s face, making you slightly wince at the fact you had upset her. You looked around awkwardly, obviously not easy to convince, no matter how badly you wanted to give in. History was important to know, and fun to teach and explain, but by the Gods- you were attached to that book. It wasn’t even finished and yet it had taken you about a year to get as far as you were, spending maybe a month on each subject before writing down what you knew, along with drawing the illustrations.

“I uhm… It’s a very important book to me… I’d have to be sitting right beside you in order for you to look at it.” You spoke shyly, not wanting to upset her any further. She only hummed, biting the inside of her cheek as she looked at you, making you feel incredibly small, which was not on your first-day bingo list. “Is it a finished book?” She questioned, her voice kind despite how you felt.

You hesitated, knowing that it was thick enough to compete with the fifth book in the Harry Potter series, which held 912 pages. “Uhm…” You trailed off, looking at the book. “There's maybe two or three more things I have to write down before I move on to the next journal…” You spoke with a subtle shrug, looking up at her, noticing her eyes soften.

“I see… Well, when it’s finished, perhaps we could read it together in the library? I find it very intriguing since you were the one who wrote and illustrated it.” Her voice was kind and understanding, but mainly patient. A small smile formed on her vermillion lips, making your heart flutter in pride.

It was an enticing offer, an offer that honestly made you feel special. The idea of being close to her in order to read the book made your nerves slightly spike, since you didn’t really like people in your personal space. Yet the idea of being noticed for simply writing history articles in a journal did excite you, more than you cared to admit. “Yeah… Sure, that sounds alright… I can estimate that it might take me a few weeks to finish it since there's so much history on the dancing Plague of 1518.” You finally spoke, looking down at the book as you placed it into your bag.

“The dancing plague?” She questioned, obviously baffled at the idea of dancing being a horrible plague. It made you genuinely smile, the thought of introducing something new to her and being able to teach it to her in a depth that not many would be aware of. (Considering all the time it took to surf the web on a single subject took you weeks and only a day or two to write things down and illustrate.) You nodded your head slightly, “The name speaks for itself. Though, I’d be glad to teach you all about it when we go over my book whenever it’s fully finished?” You hummed, obviously excited to impress your boss with information she never knew existed.

Her smile widened, excited by your offer. “Yes! That sounds exciting! I’m sure you have some other history subjects that I’m unaware of, perhaps you could show me them?” She quipped, her pearly white teeth charming you, the way her eyes slightly squinted and wrinkled the corners of her eyes, it was prideful to say that you were the one to make her smile so big.

You nodded kindly before letting out a hum, “It’d be an honor… Dinner is starting, I think.” You muttered, looking at your watch, still getting used to the schedule, “Also, I haven’t gotten a spare key for my room… would it be alright if I made a copy? I tend to lose things a lot.” You added, looking up at her from your watch, reaching for your bag but horribly missing, making you look down and sigh.

“Yes, I believe it’s chicken and dumplings tonight, a warm welcome into winter, don’t you think?” She spoke pridefully, slightly lifting her chin. It made you smile, seeing how happy she was with her dinner choice. “A warm welcome indeed, perhaps I can suggest Risotto for another dinner? It’s a great Italian dish.” You muttered, picking up your satchel bag, putting it on your shoulder.

She tilted her head, studying you for a moment. What an odd thing, you suggesting an Italian dish other than pizza, lasagna, or spaghetti? You didn’t even sound Italian, but, then again, no one in their town spoke Romanian or had a Romanian accent. “That sounds lovely… I’ll suggest it to the chef.” She muttered, looking down at her red painted nails. “Would you like to walk down to dinner with me? We can stop by your room so you can lay your stuff down?” She suggested, looking at you curiously.

A simple smile graced your lips, “No need, I’ll take my stuff with me.” You hummed, grabbing your drink bottle, gesturing towards the door, indicating that you were ready. She nodded and walked out of the classroom, waiting patiently as you closed up your classroom, but not locking it just in case a student forgot anything. You turned to her and walked along with her, making sure to keep the same relaxed pace with her strides. The air was light, yet it was an awkward quiet. “What made you want to become a History professor?” She spoke, breaking the treacherous silence.

It took you a moment to think about your answer, finally opening your mouth to speak. “It was never really a part of the plan, if I’m being honest. My dream was just to be a poet or an author, but my complex dream was to be an astronomer. Which, it’s not going to happen since I'm pretty bad at Math.” You muttered, slightly shrugging, “Yet, the thought of working in this huge gothic highschool was also pretty cool. Not to mention the students are nice and reasonable.”

Her smile widened at the mention of her students and her school, it was something she prided herself on; rightfully so, too. She looked at your face, admiring the beautiful color of your skin, then your eyes. “You look like a History professor.” She hummed, making you slightly confused, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You turned your head in silence, trying to figure out how you felt about that. “It’s a compliment. It makes you silly smart on topics for listeners.” She spoke, gently bumping your shoulder with her arm.

A little smile formed on your lips, it wasn’t usual for you to talk a lot, usually you were the listener when others spoke. But, at the same time, you would get really heated when a certain topic was brought up, especially when you argued with people during back-and-forth debate. “I suppose so.” You muttered, glancing over at her with a little sparkle in your eyes.

It was clear that you and the principal would get along well, but only time will tell. Dinner was filled with discussion between you and Larissa while sweet songs played from one of the student’s speakers, “DJ” was her name, or at least her nickname. This time, the song theme was “Vintage” from what the girl called it, making you smile and shake your head as the playlist shuffled through Frank Sinatra, Tim Curry, Elvis Presley, and The Ronettes. The Ronettes were currently playing, “Be my Baby” while some of the students danced around. You looked at Larissa, biting back a grin as she held her bowl to her mouth, drinking the remaining broth from her chicken and dumplings.

It was endearing, and that’s when you decided, this place was your forever home.

✧

Do we want another part? 乁⁠[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]⁠ㄏ Requests right Here!

Tag List: @barbarasstar @anothersapphicgirl

Also: @milfsloverblog bc I wanna know if she's proud of me (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

53 notes · View notes

yutxsgf · 1 year ago

Text

Kirishima fucks up and Bakugou and Kaminari are there to sweep up the mess and fix you out of your feels.

Cw; fluff, Café worker au, light hurt/comfort.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

You and Kirishima had been friends throughout middle school, and it stayed that way. The light and happy feeling of being with your best friend. The soft smiles and the silly laughs, it felt great. Heavenly even. That was how it was.

Until you introduced them.

"Hey, I'm Mina Ashido! I've seen you around before, haven't I?" She said with a bright smile before sticking her hand out to the blank spikey haired boy.

Kirishima froze before clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck with a smile, "O–Oh, yeah! Nice to meet you, I'm Eijiro Kirishima." He replied with a sheepish grin.

You watched silently at the greeting, smiling at the smooth greeting, it seemed pretty nice. You were somewhat excited, you were thinking of being the awesome trio at Mustafa Private Middle School.

But that wasn't the case. Not at all. You never expected to be the one left out on hangouts let alone left behind. You never thought you'd be the one to feel that prickling pang of jealousy and pain as you watched your bestfriend and your other friend laugh and share a popcorn bucket at the movies. You were stuck on the end side as both of them sat by eachother, laughing and giggling at the movie loud enough for several people to give them dirty looks.

It wasn't as fun when you were on the butt end of it, was it?

This went on and on, and each time, you felt little bits and pieces of your enjoyment that was there before, shatter and fly away. It hurt, so bad, more than anyone could imagine. And it didn't help that you liked your bestfriend too.

You sighed before getting up off of the round, metal Café chair and grabbing your belongings. You had been mulling and thinking too much. People had offered you several little snacks when they caught you shedding a couple tears, which made you feign a smile. But the thankfulness and prick of gratefulness didn't last forever, which is why you decided it was better to just sulk at home and not embarass yourself.

You were about to ditch the Café before you heard someone yell. You whipped your head back at the voice, which was apparently the Café counter.

"Hey, you." A blonde guy called out with both palms on the counter as he looked at you. You glanced around before pointing at yourself and slightly tilting your head.

The worker nodded and grinned, "Yeah, you, c'mere." He motioned for you to come closer before dipping behind the small glass panel that slightly hid the drink he pulled out from behind it.

You slowly walked closer, clearly confused on why you were called out. Maybe it was because you stayed too long. You really didn't hope so, you were definitely in no mood to get an earful.

"On the house, hate seein' pretty people like you sob in here." The blonde said before sliding a [Favorite drink] to you with thin caramel lining that made up a small happy face.

You stared at him for a brief minute before pursing your lips, trying to decide if this was worth your smile right now or not. If you could even muster up one.

But, after a couple seconds, your body decided for your as a warm smile tugged at your lips causing an instant reaction from the blonde boy as his grin got wider.

"I– T.. Thank you." You said softly, taking the drink and pulling it closer before taking a sip and immediately feeling a tad better than you had before.

He tipped his little worker visor before flashing his amber eyes down at you with a soft smirk. "The names Kaminari. Denki Kaminari." He said softly.

You chuckled quietly, "[L/N], [F/N] [L/N]." Kaminari perked up before snatching an order paper and grabbing a pen from the table and writing down his number.

He slid it against the table towards you with a soft grin, "Use it however you please." He mumbled softly before making soft eye contact with you.

"Dunce face, God damn it! You better not be flirting with another customer again." A voice boomed from the back before a loud slam was heard. Everyone, including you and Kaminari whipped their heads over to whatever made that noise.

Another worker came from behind the wall before his eyes instinctively met the front of the counter, soon finding their way up to your slightly flushed, puffy face and just as puffy eyes.

He sucked his teeth before dipping back behind the wall and coming out with a duck themed sugar cookie and sliding it across the counter before stopping right in front of you.

"Damn Bakugou, didn't expect you to be the–" The darker blonde was quickly cut off with a cough as the other worker shoved an elbow into his abdomen, effectively shutting him up.

"Don't be goin' to a Café just to mope around n' not buy anything. That's just bs." The ash-blonde mumbled the last part before going back behind the wall with his hands shoved in his Café designed apron.

Your eyes followed him until he was no longer in sight, you were clearly slightly baffled with the mixed signals. Your attention was quickly snagged away from the ash-blonde to the Darker blonde that was clutching onto his stomach.

"Don't mind him, he's always like that." He wheezed out, giving his best attempt at a grin as he stared at you for a moment.

You chuckled for a moment before clearing your throat and straightening up as your expression took one of worry and concern, "Are– Are you.. alright?"

"Don't worry, 'm fine– He always does this." He spoke before coughing and straightening up. He cleared his throat before smiling warmly. "What I think Bakugou over there was tryna say is, don't be upset, everything's gonna turn out fine. Well, whatever youre goin' through will be." He shrugged with a hum sounding like the words 'I don't know.'

You smiled softly before nodding, "If that's the case, send him my thanks." You gave a farewell nod before turning around and making your way towards the Café doors.

"Will do." Was the last thing you heard before the small bell at the top of the double glass doors rang. You felt lighter than before, a little out of the dumps. You glanced down at the drink and little snack with a soft smile before taking a sip.

Maybe today wasn't going to be as bad.

And from that day on, you became a regular, always going back to that same Café to see those very blondes. At one point, they began to memorize your favorite drinks almost by heart just by simple glance at your expression.

You'd always pick the table closest to the counter so they'd always have the chance to start up small talk at times, and Kaminari took all the chances he could get.

Bakugou on the other hand, acted as if he didn't want you there which would normally hurt– if he didn't occasionally sneak you a couple cookies and small cups of whip cream.

"So how is our lovely regular doing today?" Kaminari asked with a soft grin as his chin resting in the palm of his hand for support atop the soft beige marble counter.

"I'm doing okay." You replied, making your way to the blonde as your other favorite blonde walked around behind Kaminari while making drinks for the other stray customers.

"Glad to hear." He beamed you a closed eye grin before spinning on his heel and making his way over to the drink station. Presumably to make your drink.

"Whaddya think you're doing, idiot. Go talk to them, I'm making the damn drink already." A harsh whisper was heard from Bakugou as his hands quickly worked at what looked to be a latte.

Kaminari silently mocked him before rolling his eyes and walking back to you. His expression shifted to one of softness as he saw you glancing up at their temporary sanrio menu.

"Thinkin' of buying one of those chibbi thingies from our menu today?" He asked, placing both of his palms on the edges of the counter as he leaned forward ever so slightly.

You pursed your lips in thoughts before smiling softly and nodding, "Yeah, can I get a... [Favorite sanrio character] themed bubble tea? Along with a [F/S/C] sugar cookie?"

"Coming right up beautiful." He responded with a wink before dipping in slightly behind the wall and shouting your order to Bakugou. Whom responded with a very vocal, "Don't yell at me, damn extra!"

You chuckled before glancing behind you at the sound of the little bell ringing as people entered. You were always a nosey one.

And then, your heart dropped.

You watched in slight horror and both Kirishima and Mina walked inside the Café arm in arm with cheerful smiles. You practically froze in place as you slowly turned your head towards the counter, praying to every deity there was that they wouldn't recognize the back of your head.

"Woah, what's wrong with you?" Kaminari questioned, cocking a brow as he stared at you with your sugar cookie in hand. His expression started to lace with concern as you remained silent and frozen.

"[L/N]–" You quickly shut him up before he could finish calling out your name by sending him a death glare that could send a small shiver down Bakugou's spine.

Kaminari quickly stayed silent before hesitantly glancing behind you to welcome the new customers before he too, froze in place.

He laughed nervously before pursing his lips, "Oh– Uh, hey! Your shift started 5 minutes ago [False name], come on." He ushered you over to the little gate stiffly, and you quickly complied.

You quickly, yet semi cautiously made your way over to the gate before pushing your body into it as it allowed you inside. You booked it behind the wall that always hid the rest of the small storage area only to be met face first into a thick pole.

"What the hell?! The fuck're you doin' back here? And watch where you're going!"

You glanced up at said pole that had two drinks up in the air as he beamed you a confused scowl. You quickly backed up before placing a hand over his mouth and glancing behind you where Kaminari stiffly took the pair's order.

Bakugou stayed still for a moment before placing both drinks on a nearby counter and grabbing your wrist. "What the fuck is going on." He said in a harsh whisper.

"The– Youknowthosepeopleitoldyouaboutthatleftmeforeachotherafteriintroducedthem?yeahwelltheyrehereandkaminarihel–"

"God damn it– Slow down idiot!" Bakugou said as he covered your mouth with his hand. He sucked his teeth before slowly retracting his hand from your mouth.

You remained silent for a moment before taking a calming breath and looking up at him, "Remember when I came in here crying?"

"Yeah, you looked like a fuckin' pimple with all that puffiness." He teased with a grin before clearing his throat and allowing you to continue.

You gave him a sharp look before huffing and continuing, "Well that reason why I was crying is here and talking to Kaminari."

Bakugou thought for a moment before pursing his lips in hesitancy. His expression of thought quickly turned into a narrow one as he shoved you out of the way and left from behind the wall.

You watched in terror as Kaminari tried to hold Bakugou back from blowing the whole counter along with Kirishima and Mina away. If this was a clean show, all you'd be hearing was that annoying beep.

"Bakugou– C'mon bro, fuck! Calm down!" Kaminari shouted, holding Bakugou by his the crooks of his neck as the ash-blonde's hands started sparking and popping. All you could hear was loud, violent I'll kill yous and Bastards along with streams of something that sounded like it could come out of Satan's mouth himself.

"Bakugou.." You said under your breath, walking slightly towards the chaos behind the counter. Both blonde's heads whipped towards your direction and froze.

What you didn't know, was that you walked a bit too far and you were now in view for both Mina and Kirishima to spot you and also freeze.

By now, all customers either began recording or scrambled away as far as they could from the very lively Café. But that was the least of your worries the moment you heard his voice.

"[Name]..?"

Your head whipped towards the voice with an expression that could break a man's pride. And well, it did. Throughout all Bakugou's stream of curses, all you could hear was Kirishima's small curses about how crazy your blondes were.

You stared at him as if he were crazy, insane, an outcast, like he didn't belong, like you didn't know who he was, like you disgusted by him, like you hated him. At this point, you could care less about the terrified Mina behind him, the only thing that went through your mind was the betrayal and the fact Bakugou lashed out on someone on his shift. For you.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out."

"[Nam]–"

"Get. OUT."

All eyes and phone cameras were on you now, your shout having gained the attention from everyone. You pointed towards the double glass doors and sent him a glare of despair and hatred.

Kirishima recoiled at your sudden volume before Mina stepped in front of him and looked at you with confusion and sorrow. "[Nickname], what's going on with you..?"

You ground your teeth within your mouth briefly before turning away from her and walking behind the wall again. All you could hear afterwards was Kirishima beginning to call your name before getting stopped by a loud slam on the counter and a loud "Get the fuck out."

You sat quietly on a chair in the corner as you stared blankly at the wall infront of you. You counted atleast 104 cracks in the wall and about 3 faded ash marks on that very same chunk of wall.

"[Name]."

You flinched at the sound of your name before instantly calming down at the sight of Kaminari and Bakugou standing by you.

"Are you– Are you okay?" Kaminari said softly, coming closer to you and placing a warm hand on your shoulder as his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

Bakugou came closer before shoving his hands in his pocket and leaning against the wall in front of you with a soft scowl. "If you're worried about those bastards, I scared 'em off 5 minutes ago. Damn extras are so damn persistent."

You chuckled softly for a second at his last remark before clearing your throat and glancing up at both Kaminari and Bakugou. You slowly nodded before sighing, "Yeah.. Yeah, I'm okay. But, I just– I just wanna thank you both for what you did back there.. Helping me and stuff.. Just– Thank you. I really appreciated it."

"Don't be getting all sappy on me now, [Name]." Kaminari teased before ruffling your hair and grinning softly at you. "Plus, it was the least we could do for our favorite customer. Don't tell Amari I said that, she always tips me an extra five bucks whenever she comes here."

You laughed for a moment before smiling softly at both of them, "Noted." You let out another content sigh, feeling lighter than you did during the scenes of drama.

"Tch. Whatever, they deserved it. Wasn't like I was doin' it for you anyway, I got a lotta pent up rage dealing with those damn complaintent customers." Bakugou scoffed before turning his head away to look off to the side. "N' don't worry bout the Café cause I know damn well you will. Our manager will deal with the shit that comes with our mishap."

You couldn't help your smile as it widened at Bakugou's choice of words. After becoming a regular and always speaking with the two, you've come to learn what Bakugou truly means with his words. And this one meant, you're welcome and it's okay.

You stood up slowly before turning towards Kaminari and standing in front of him, just keeping eye contact before wrapping him up in a tight hug.

He grunted quietly in shock before grinning and instantly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. "God, I thought I'd never be able to do this." He whispered.

After a couple moments of content, you slowly pulled away and grinned at Bakugou, who was scowling harder than he was earlier.

You laughed before leaping forward and wrapping your arms around Bakugou's neck in a warm, happy hug. Bakugou grunted as well, a little louder than Kaminari before scoffing and hugging you back tighter with his arms around your waist.

"You're welcome nerd." He whispered in your ear as he leaned his head towards the crook in your neck.

Kaminari stood there with his hands on his hips, giving Bakugou an I-know-you-feel-it-too look before straightening up and clearing his throat as Bakugou glared at him.

You and Bakugou had a little bit of a longer moment as you both hugged in silence before you pulled away. He took the chance to ruffle your hair before shoving his hands in his pocket and leaning back against the wall.

"So.. whose up for a festival night?" You ask with a soft grin.

229 notes · View notes