#buy ground coffee online | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ew-selfish-art · 7 months

Text

Dp x DC AU: Danny didn't want to rely on his rogues, but Tucker's computer skills only got them so far and if the media black out continues... Danny knows it's not going to be pretty for them. Nightmares begin to plague the Justice League.

---

Danny gets back from a shitty conversation with Clockwork and in his frustration, accidentally sets off one of the new GIW sensors that his parents allowed to be installed in the lab. Their collaboration seemed to be going no where but when Danny had new holes blasted through him... it must be going somewhere. Damn it.

The commotion is loud enough that Jazz hears it from her room above the lab (he knows she listens to more than just the lab... it's cause she cares, even if it is a bit invasive.) and rushes in to play the distraction while Danny gets away. This time it works- the Drs. Fenton might have the worst aim in the city but they demand all shots cease if a civilian is nearby- Next time his mom might be aiming her gun at him and not the ground. Danny decides he'll buy Jazz a coffee on his way home.

But first, new holes. Yikes. That like, needs medical attention- He heads to Tucker's place and he's pretty sure Sam is already there.

"Danny! What the fuck, did Clockwork-" She starts, her meticulous cat eyeliner making her glare all the deeper.

"Nah, it's the stupid GIW sensor, the stupid one I told you guys about that has a spring lose in the back?"

"I thought we decided those weren't a concern?" Tucker looks him over, face covered in undisguised and very blatant concern.

"Yeah well, Clocky pissed me off so I forgot about them when I came back in through the lab portal-"

"you were supposed to be practicing making your own." Sam interrupts.

"-And when I did, the thing got knocked and I was swatted like immediately. Jazz launched herself into the lab so Mom made them stop shooting and it gave me enough time to get out." Danny continued to explain, ignoring his friend's 'i told you so' faces.

"Dude. We're pushing it close this week. Sam already had a confrontation with the lab guys and I already got blacklisted on my new persona accounts. We're like seriously threading the needle for getting caught." Tucker, pulls his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose and Danny and Sam both get what he's really saying. They need to lie low.

"What did CW say to piss you off?" Sam asks after a silent moment.

"He said nothing really, just like he always does, but insinuated I should try getting a rogue to help." Danny sighs.

"What, Like getting Ember to announce the GIW invasion on her tour? We already agreed that-" Sam is getting angry as she speaks so Tuck cuts her off- "It's a bad Idea. She is- They are all just as likely to get captured and hurt as you are if you go out of town." He comes to the same conclusion they've agreed on for weeks. No rogue involvement.

"Maybe we just need to sleep on it... Hey... wait." Danny sighs, but then his gears start to turn.

"Nocturn. We need Nocturn to help us. He can get the message out through dreams." Danny comes to the new conclusion and his friends look hesitant but at least like they're considering it.

"Isn't he an ancient? He's not going to help us for free." Tucker, ever the Egyptian god in these moments.

"Most people don't take their dreams literally." Sam, ever the skeptic in these moments.

"Yeah but, if they dream it enough times, and they're the right people to do something... they can look it up and then at least see that there is a problem?" Danny sounds hopeful and its the first time he's sounded that way in months.

"What, you're gunna give Batman nightmares?" Tucker snickers but Sam looks inspired.

"That's exactly what he's going to do. We need to haunt the Justice League. They'll see past the fake facade the GIW put up online and they'll be able to get the right legislation passed." Sam is practically buzzing.

"Okay, so lets get scheming- What do you get the primordial beast of the unconscious? Should I google 'what to get someone who has everything'? " Danny laughs.

_____

Bruce and his children rarely do feelings when they have breakfast in the morning after a night of separate patrols, but it seems as though the room is plagued with unease. Tim looks about as tired as ever, so his unease is probably attributable to WE board meetings, but its unlike the rest of his children to be so... disturbed. For some reason, after Alfred has excused them all from eating more than a few nibbles, they make it to the cave. Bruce is glad for the noise his children bring.

The nightmare's he's been having are following a dark plot. A town, a boy who looks like he was kin, and so, so much death. Bruce has had vivid dreams before in life, but this nightmare is... unreal. He tries to remind himself that it's just a nightmare.

When his JL emergency communicator goes off at the computer desk, he's not expecting it to be Dinah Lance. She and her Birds are typically wary of him in Gotham, even if they work well together in the League. He answers it like he would any Batman call, with silence.

"Bats, we have a problem. Any chance you've been having weird dreams about a kid getting experimented on or a town being burned down? Ghosts? Lazarus portals?" Dinah sounds exhausted, but Bruce snaps to her voice with rapt attention. As do all of his children.

"I-" Bruce takes a look around the room, everyone's heads except for Tim's nodding up and down with distress," We all have."

"Something tells me that they whole JL is. Everyone I've talked to this week has had a variation of the same dream. We either have a telepath trying to tell us something, or something even worse than that."

"I'll call emergency meeting, we need to collect details and try to determine the complete message."

"I'll send you what I've noted down so far, sans personal details of course, it's definitely in a town called Amity Park though. My client this morning saw the sign."

Batman grunts and the call ends. It's time to get to work.

----

When the Justice League finally arrives, the town is glowing, and everything feels like... sleep. smothering. snoring. smoking. smoldering.

And then, despite the exhaustion that echos within them, the trudge onwards. The noise of laser guns certainly wakes them up a bit.

#tim hasn't seen shit cause he never sleeps but he has the same energy level to get shit done #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #dinah lance #nocturn haunts the JL #its up to you to get angsty with the demand he made in exchange for helping team phantom #nocturn is such a fun villain concept but like he's an information outlet so...#Lots could go right or wrong with this plan #tim drake x sleep is something i'll never ship tho #fentons working with GIW could be as benign or evil as wanted #is jazz in peril after this??? PERHAPS

2K notes · View notes

bleedingoptimism · 21 days

Text

Eddie manages the band's TikTok when they are on tour. The content is mostly behind the scenes of them on the road, news about where they will be going next, band practice, jam sessions, etc. The boys have been friends since high school and get along amazingly, like family. But also like shit, just like family. So there are also videos of Eddie laughing while Frank yells at Jeff for farting on his pillow in the tour bus or Eddie filming himself while running as Gareth chases after him for eating the last cookie. HIS last cookie.

The channel is pretty popular even though it doesn't update often. And the links to their merch store and ticket store while on tour, help a lot with the band's expenses. Music being online makes people buy fewer albums and vinyls. And Spotify paying 0,03 cents per song makes being an up-and-coming band that needs money to rent a studio for recording, bus fares, hotel accommodations and to pay the roadies and technicians… kinda hard.

But the TikTok helps! So Chrissy, Eddie's best friend, Gareth's fiance, and their manager, suggests that Eddie keeps the TikTok going while on break from tour.

It doesn't take long to come up with the perfect idea. Restoring Eddie's old van to make it a small house on wheels for road-tripping. But they’ll need a handyman, someone who knows what they are doing.

Luckily, Chrissy has a solution to that. Her cousin Vicky, just came back from traveling the coast on a huge RV with her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s best friend and, according to Vicky, the man is an expert. He built the whole thing himself, from the ground up. So Chrissy tells Vicky, who asks Robin, who talks to Steve, and the meeting is set up.

On the day of the meeting, Eddie parks the van outside his place, sits on the back, and hits record on his phone, “Morning!” he says to the camera, squinting one eye as the sun hits his face because it’s actually noon, “I’m gonna do something fun during the tour break and I wanted to take yall with me. You see, ever since I was young, I've had this dream. Well, other than becoming a musician who can live off his music, thank you for that by the way,” he smiles and tips an invisible hat towards the camera. “The second thing I've always wanted is having one of those built-in movin' houses, a little RV, a camping van, you know the ones” he wiggles his brows and moves the phone a little around him, to show where he’s sitting so people know where he’s going with this.

“Sooo I asked a friend of a friend of a friend, who is an expert on making dreams come true, to help me and we are gonna mod my van. My lovely Haley, my faithful baby, who has been with me since the beginning… I'm scared. This dude better be good.” he laughs nervously.

part two -> 📱💞🚙

And then his focus shifts to something behind his phone, “Oh, here he comes now!” he waves enthusiastically and keeps looking, either forgetting he’s still filming his reaction or too distracted to save face, he squints a little and then frowns, blushes and, chuckles nervously again, “Oh no. he’s hot.”

☕🥐💕 coffee? by the lake's shore?

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #corroded coffin #im in a rockstar eddie doing mundane things kick #i wrote something

753 notes · View notes

houseofanticipation · 7 months

Text

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

#r@pe fantasy #r@pe kink #cvmslvt #cvmdump #rapekink #rapetoy #breeding toy #mind conditioning

709 notes · View notes

thrivemarketuk · 2 years

Link

Halal And Tayyab is one of the best online stores to buy Roast and Ground Coffee Online in the UK. buy in bulk at wholesale prices.

#Buy Roast and Ground Coffee Online UK

0 notes

writers-potion · 8 days

Note

Hiiii

I don't know how to make the two love interest meet. I don't know if you understand without it actually being awkward or flat

Meet-Cute Ideas

Before I dive into meet-cute examples, let's look at some general tips for meet-cutes:

Four Different Kinds of Meet-Cutes

Pull/Pull Meet-Cutes where the two characters are instantly drawn toward one another.

Push/Push Meet-Cutes where they are opposites that push away from each other at first.

Push/Pull Meet-Cutes where one character falls for someone with no reciprocal interest (at first).

Neutral/Nervous Meet-Cutes where neutrality and nervousness create a cute scenario for characters destined to fall in love.

How to Avoid Cliche Meet-Cutes!

Subvert audience expectations by making them believe a cliche meet-cute is coming, and then adding a creative twist to make yours stand apart.

Place meet-cutes in unique locations.

Put characters in different scenarios and situations.

Meet Cute Ideas

A is in the waiting room of a hospital while their grandmother goes through a routine procedure. B walks in and sits across from A, head in hands, obviously distraught — “I lost the baby,” B whispers.

You accidentally sprayed them with yogurt when you opened the lid the wrong way.

Studying at the same table in the library, you see they are pulling the same study resources as you.

They mistook your bowling ball for theirs in the shared ball return.

They caught you when you slipped on ice and nearly fell over.

Accidentally stepping on their heel in a crowded room.

You both do the side-to-side dance when you try to pass them in the grocery store aisle.

Humming a song and having them begin to hum with you without thinking.

Tripping while getting into your seat in the theater and spilling your popcorn on them.

You matched with them in an online chat roulette room.

Both of you wore the same ugly Christmas sweater to a party.

A likes to visit the local humane society to say hello to the animals. On this particularly normal day, something especially abnormal happens — one of the dogs speaks. “Help me get out of here, will ya?”

A finds a book of magic in their grandparents attic. A takes it to a Wiccan shop and hesitantly asks B, the shopkeeper, to take a look at it. B takes one look at it and in hushed tones asks, “Where did you get this?”

They cover the small amount of change you are short on for a purchase.

You both go to the counter, having the same type of coffee called for pick-up.

A is walking down the street and notices B, who is staring at a large graffiti mural, tears streaming silently down their face. The mural reads, “you are alive.”

They pull you out of the way from the busy bike path.

They see your ice cream drop to the ground and buy you a new one.

You see your favorite book on their desk during class and ask them about it afterwards.

You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it's not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought.

Almost spilling a drink because you met their eyes and got distracted thinking how cute they are.

Getting paired up in a line dance.

Happening to sit next to each other on a park bench, reading the same book.

Being paired up at a beginners ballroom dancing class.

Sharing an umbrella at a bus stop as it snows.

They get your attention and return your phone that fell out of your pocket.

You help catch their dog when the leash slips from their hand.

They ask you to pretend to be their date at a bar to prevent an ex from talking to them.

You help pull a loose thread off the back of their shirt.

Meeting their gaze after throwing a coin in a wishing fountain.

Sitting next to each other at a very boring meeting and bonding over your shared lack of attention.

You wear matching masks at a masquerade party.

Holding the elevator for them and getting off on the same floor.

Bumping into each other while trying to pass through a doorway.

They jump into your car breathless and tell you to keep driving.

You throw a snowball at a friend but miss and hit them instead.

The two of you wear costumes from the same fandom at a costume party.

You help a lost child find their parent together.

Walking into the incorrect bathroom and meeting eyes with them before quickly realizing the mistake.

You help catch their hat as it flies away in the wind.

The person sitting next to you on the train is wearing clothes that match your lucky colors from your fortune that morning in the paper.

They knock on your apartment door instead of your neighbor's.

You both reach for the last umbrella in the store on a rainy day.

You fix your hair in the reflection of a window to see them smiling at you through it.

You get scared by them in a corn maze and lash out and hit them, quickly followed by apologizes.

A spots B writhing on the ground in pain and rushes over to help them — but it turns out that B was actually just filming for a prank video. A gets so mad and upset that B is forced to calm them down as a crowd is beginning to form around them.

Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation.

A stops at the pub near their house to pick up some food on the way home (they make the best fries in the neighbourhood) when A receives a phone call – and some terrible news. A starts crying and B, the bartender, asks A what’s wrong. As A opens up to them, B gives A a drink on the house, and helps talk them through it.

You both reach for the final donut in the case at a bakery.

Getting paired up on an amusement park that requires even numbered riders.

203 notes · View notes

cyborg-franky · 11 months

Text

Shopping Trip With One Piece Characters

Part of a trade with the awesome @softcenteregg

Doffy - The very definition of “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Has money but you will have to pay for him all day when it comes to lunch and drinks.

Will be sitting at a restaurant at 11 am with a cocktail as he tells you about his week, regardless of if you asked or not.

Checks out the mall hotties.

Laughs when people open push/pull doors wrong.

Always has a cocktail or a Starbucks clutched in one hand, waving his credit card around in the other hand.

Rude to salespeople.

You will be dragged through the mall for hours because he needs to go into every designer shop he can and try on at least seventeen pairs of $400 sunglasses or he’ll die.

Will be the most overdressed person in the area,

When your having lunch with him and he sees someone he doesn’t like, he will be like “Oh hey! Been so long since we hung out, should do it again soon!” then soon as they're gone he’s dishing the dirt.

Also, you will carry his bags, thx.

Roger

Makes you wish you could get those reigns for kids but in adult sizes.

In fact, the entire trip is like taking a child out for his birthday.

Ever seen a huge bearded man grinning in pure glee at the new limited edition Build a Bear products? Ever seen one make like 12?

Do yourself a favor and limit his booze and sugar intake.

Is confused he can’t do a pub crawl in a mall.

Buys alot of those ‘alcoholic chocolates’ by the box load in an attempt to get a nice buzz going.

Thrift shopping but he will try on everything he can.

Does not know how to dress but does it with style, oddly enough.

You won’t get a chance to sit down or rest unless it’s dinner time.

At least he’ll sleep well tonight.

Kid

Hit’s all the stores that sell music and band merch.

Will snort at people who buy things he doesn’t like.

Throws around words like ‘poser’ and judges everyone.

The kinda metal kid who hangs out at the mall with all the wallet chains looking like their parents grounded them, but in their late 20s.

Will spend hours looking for CDs and just say he’s too broke and he’ll download it online anyway.

Walks around the mall trying to find the right shade of lipstick with Killer, both their arms and hands are covered in testers before they both just get more black nail varnish and the same shade they always buy.

Has a reusable plastic cup that's full of jack and coke.

Taunts mall cops.

Killer

Imagine all of the above but he also spends alot of time looking at fancy new cook wear.

Will spend nothing on food all day but will drop $90 on a brand new crockpot or air fryer for the kitchen.

Very metal of him.

Thatch

Thatch is fun to go with.

Treats you, buys the coffee and lunch.

Is happy to do whatever you want as long as he gets to check out homeware sections while you look at your things.

You will never lose him behind shelves because you can always see his hair.

Like Jaws but with hair and ozone layer murdering levels of hairspray.

Will flirt with staff, will get talking to them for far too long, and hold up the line.

The type of person who has alot of change and makes it a personal challenge to count out change exactly.

Will carry your bags though, he’s a good boy.

Bit judgey on eatery places pastries.

Shanks

I hope you enjoy getting nowhere because when you're at a mall with Shanks or out and about in town you will be stopping every ten steps because someone recognises him and comes over and chats.

Has no concept of how long he’s been talking.

Is the type to have a pint with breakfast or brunch when you guys hang out.

Sale on ugly pants? He’d push you down to get there first.

Always texting the gang when he’s out.

Lol Benn guess what, I saw Buggy and he was with that guy, you know, the one with the hook, lol lol

Will drop Uta off at the mall kids' soft play area even though she’s 18 and still forget to pick her up before leaving.

Ace

Low key baits mall cops by loitering around and looking like an issue but has no intention of being an issue.

Might skateboard inside the mall.

Poses with ‘no skateboard’ signs.

Hopefully, there isn't an arcade in the mall because if you had any intention of getting things done today, that won’t happen now.

Hungry every 20 minutes and has to grab snacks.

100% the kinda friend/boyfriend who sits on the seats outside the changing rooms holding all the bags and groaning, acting like it’s the worst thing in the world.

Is one of those people who opens push/pull doors wrong.

Marco

After taking five minutes to park correctly he’s happy to go with the flow.

Likes to have a coffee and a people watch with you, chatty and social.

But he will drag you to shoe stores and you will be sat there for ages as he tries on every strappy sandal in the place, walking up and down and asking you what you think.

“I like this one but I don’t know if it makes me too tall yoi.” while you can’t for the life of you tell the difference between that pair and the last 40.

If you meet him at the mall he might be late, very much the shows up 20 minutes late with Starbucks.

Has a tendency to wander off in shops and you spend half your time looking for him.

Doesn’t give a warning when entering a shop if something shiny caught his bird brain.

Benn

He hates the mall.

Imagine a dad who has to take his teenage daughter clothes shopping and that’d basically be him with Shanks.

Benn is a very ‘I know what I am here for’ in and out kind of person but he doesn’t mind going to other places with you.

Ignores staff-only signs when he knows there is a smoking area on the other side of that door.

Is the person to remind you of the ‘insert thing here we have at home’ and is a shop sensible person, though he won't say anything if you do buy another T-shirt that looks exactly like the one you already have.

Pretends to be annoyed at carrying the shopping, but he offered and he likes to help you out.

If you complain about your feet hurting he’ll helpfully tell you he told you to wear your other shoes.

Sabo and Luffy

Banned

Both have their pictures up in the security office.

Sabo for giving the mall cops the finger, graffiti, and shoplifting.

Luffy peed in the fountain and kept stealing pick-n-mix.

550 notes · View notes

thatstonedwriter · 5 months

Text

⋆｡「 Affection Prompt 3 」⋆｡

◉ Sinopsis; Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them

◉ Feat; Loona

── ˙•˚∘✮🌙ᯓ🪐˙•˚∘ ──

Loona hates when she's needed for a mission in the Human Realm. I mean, the whole point of being a receptionist is to sit around and do nothing (at least in Loona's opinion). So you can imagine her annoyance when she stepped through the portal and transformed into her human disguise.

Loona's role in jobs is relatively simple. As long as nothing goes wrong, all she has to do is sniff out the targets and report back. Since Blitz, Millie, and Moxxie would handle the rest, Blitz promised Loona that she could have some time to herself Luckily, their job was in a city, so Loona wouldn't be too bored. After buying coffee, Loona roamed the streets, taking pictures to post on her Sinstagram

That's when she walked by a window display that caught her attention. Sitting in the window was your favorite, limited edition plush. She'd only recognized it because, a week before, you were online shopping and lamented how the plush immediately sold out after being released.

Loona rushed into the store, grabbed the plush from the display, and ran up to the counter. The employees were too intimidated to tell her that the window display wasn't actually for sale. While it was a bit on the pricey side, Loona knew it would be worth it to see the look on your face.

Thankfully, Blitz, Millie and Moxxie were quick, and it wasn't long before they were back in Hell. After work, Loona headed straight to your apartment, holding the plush behind her. When you opened the door, Loona held it out, hoping you'd like the gift.

Maybe "like" is an understatement. You practically tackled Loona to the ground with an excited hug. Your squeals and giggles of delight were all Loona needed to know that buying this gift was absolutely worth it.

── ˙•˚∘✮ 🔭๋࣭ᯓ🌙˙•˚∘ ──

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss headcanon #saying i love you prompts #nonverbal affection event #loona helluva boss #helluva boss loona #loona x reader #romantic headcanons #romantic relationships

76 notes · View notes

firefly--bright · 2 months

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧!

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern smau.

⁀➷ introducing ; apartment 201 !

⁀➷ jean boy!

has vinyls stacked up against a wall.

proud plant dad (after many failed attempts at it)

went to one (1) tame Impala concert and made it his entire personality for two whole years.

an "old soul" is what he likes to call himself, but in all reality he likes to grumble alot. regardless, after his friends make their way into his heart, there's no getting out. he's not the best at uttering his words out loud in a way that makes sense, but his love is ever-present. its everywhere until you're covered with it, littered in the ground and in the laundry that he complains about, in the takeout he buys, in the little lamp he keeps on so that Connie doesn't hurt himself when he reaches home late.

⁀➷ constance springer!

has a meme account on Instagram that he takes way too seriously

"I'm a...niche mirco celebrity.. influencer. i want free nachos in this fine establishment."

second year set and film design major in University of Paradis

chronically online but not in a creepy way, he swears

almost failed 8th grade because he "forgot" about the exams

self-proclaimed aux guy in every road trip. despite all his jokes, it's easy to love him. he's light of the party, and even if he's not the smartest academically, he's smart emotionally and offers surprisingly good advice, and will always be determined to put a smile on everyone's faces despite any adversity.

⁀➷ sasha braus!

won a hot dog eating competition in 7th grade against grown adults. the trophy rests in her closet at all times.

if Connie is the life of the party, she's the encore.

hoards twice posters and photocards. she made Connie, marco and jean listen to it and now they're hooked onto it too, although not as much as her

doesn't know how to spell, barely uses any punctuations ever

once she starts talking, it's really hard for her to stop. but even during her rants, youd find her making a note of anything and everything. nothing can escape her watchful eye, and she'd offer you a helping hand even if her own hand was chopped off. lives and breathes in the kitchen and believes that the kitchen is the heart of the home. her love is radiant and within your grasp at all times, not leaving, always patient.

⁀➷ marco bodt!

has a dog (golden retriever) named polo. if it wasn't obvious.

has always loved and been surrounded by animals. doesn't like crowds but he loves hustle bustle because it feels like home to him

coffee addict

dad friend. always has bandaids, aspirin, and gum in his pocket.

his glasses are always smudged with fingerprints, jean has to remind him to clean them

very intuitive. knows other people's emotions and behaviours probably more than he knows his own. loves his friends in the deepest and purest form, his comfort lies in spending a night in with them. his love is like when your favourite song comes on in an unexpected setting - you didn't know you needed it but it would put a smile on your face nonetheless.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ previous episode! (introducing; the homeless) ➷ next episode ; pilot!

⁀➷ fic playlist ➷ fic visuals

⁀➷ series masterlist ➷ main masterlist ➷ enter my taglist!

⁀➷ taglist ; @mrsnobodynobody , @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @cherrypieyourface , @jeanscremebrulee

line dividers by @peachesofteal

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #fireflys rambles #jean kirschtein #marco bodt #marco bodt x reader #sasha braus #sasha braus x reader #connie springer #connie springer x reader #aot smau #attack on titan smau #snk smau #shingeki no kyoji smau

25 notes · View notes

whataperfectwasteoftime · 1 year

Text

Common Grounds / Chapter 4

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: T (for now... you know me, this will go up)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Food mention, slow burn, angst, unrequited crush, rude customers, protective!Marcus, mentions of breakups, we get a peek at reader's past, bad exes, one (1) hug.

Summary: As the weeks pass, you try to be what Marcus needs most: A friend. Then, you have one awful day at work...

A/N: We're getting closer to getting these two together!!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter

You throw all of your inconvenient emotions surrounding Marcus into painting. It’s almost like meditating; you can mull over your thoughts without really dwelling on them when there’s a paintbrush in your hand. They show up on the canvases, though–dark shadows, bright pinpricks of light, grays and browns melting into vibrant color.

You bring a few of them to work the next day, wanting to switch out some of the old paintings that have been hanging in Common Grounds for long enough. Your heart pounds when you see the familiar silhouette of Marcus through the glass as you’re still finishing up that morning’s baking. He’s earlier than usual. He notices the change immediately; his eyes flicking over to your paintings, an appreciative smile spreading over his face when he sees the new ones.

When he turns to look at you, his smile only widens. You half-expect him to bring up your unexplained outburst and retreat from yesterday, but he only greets you warmly and asks about the paintings.

“New ones?”

“Yeah, I like to swap them out every month or so.”

“The one in the center is incredible,” Marcus says emphatically. “Hey, are any of them for sale?”

You shrug. “I mean, technically, they all are. No one really buys them, but they’ve all got prices listed. I get most of my traffic from online sales.”

“I’ve been meaning to buy one,” Marcus confesses. “And then life kind of… got away from me,” he says with a little self-deprecating laugh. “I love that new one, though. Could I… could I buy it?”

You narrow your eyes in confusion. “You mean like… now?”

Marcus shrugs. “Why not? I love it, my walls are depressingly bare, and I want to snatch it up before everyone comes in asking about it.”

You laugh. “Marcus, that has literally never happened in the five years they’ve been hanging here.”

“It’s just a matter of time,” Marcus promises, taking out his wallet. He thumbs through a collection of crisp bills and hands you twice what you’d specified on the sticker below the painting.

You gawk. “Marcus, no. That’s–that’s too much–”

“Then don’t undersell your art,” Marcus says with a wry smile. “I’ll have the usual, plus uhh…” he scans the offerings, “...a piece of zucchini bread, please.”

At a total loss for words, you press the buttons on the register, accept Marcus’s card, hand it back, and start his coffee order all with your mouth hanging open like a fish.

When he has his drink and the little white pastry bag, Marcus walks back over to your paintings and looks back at you with one eyebrow raised. You smile disbelievingly, walking over to him and taking the painting off of the wall.

“Marcus, you really don’t–”

“It’s perfect,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

Then he leaves.

The thing Marcus needs, you decide–far more than a partner, a girlfriend, or even a fiancee–is a friend. You can understand it–moving to a new city and having no one–it’s a lonely existence. And it explains why Marcus, more often than not, spends quite a lot of time at Common Grounds. It’s not simply to talk to you; he’s made a friend in Sam as well, bonding over a shared interest in old movies.

Sam, a film school graduate, is overjoyed to find an audience in Marcus, who not only tolerates their soapbox rants about cinematography, but encourages them wholeheartedly, laughing out loud at some of their scathing opinions on contemporary franchises.

It’s Sam who eventually gets Marcus to slip the information that he’s an Art Crimes detective one morning as the three of you converse one slow Thursday. You and Marcus lean casually against opposite sides of the counter with Sam sitting nearby on a food cart, swinging their legs as they talk.

“I can’t stay long,” Marcus is saying over a bite of chocolate croissant. “I’m supposed to be at the National Gallery of Art to review some security footage.”

“Why?” Sam asks bluntly.

“They had a close call the other night,” Marcus explains. “Someone broke in and had started to cut a painting out of its frame when they were caught by the security guard.”

“Oh!” you exclaim. “But… the painting–is it damaged?”

“Minimal,” Marcus answers. “There’s a pretty good gash through one side of it, but a restorer should be able to stitch it back together and hide it pretty well. It shouldn’t even be visible when it’s back in the frame if they do their job well.”

“Wait… what do you do?” Sam asks.

Marcus smiles widely and flashes his badge. “FBI. Right?”

Sam glares at him.

“Okay, okay. I’m in the Art Crimes division,” Marcus relents. “I lead a task force to deal with international art theft.”

Your eyes snap up to his. Suddenly, his interest in your art makes sense. The feelings you’ve been trying to push aside for weeks in favor of being the friend that Marcus so clearly needs are back in an instant when you remember how his eyes had lit up when he’d talked about art, how he’d complimented your technique…

“No kidding,” you find yourself saying breathlessly.

“I’m sure you're disappointed,” Marcus jokes.

You laugh. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“People usually see the badge and assume I’m involved with some classified shit,” he says with a crooked smile. “When really I spend most of my days reading provenance papers and trying to find forgeries and stuff like that.”

“I like that better,” you say. “Making the world better, one recovered artwork at a time.”

Marcus laughs. “Now you’re romanticizing it.”

“No, if she were romanticizing it, she’d be imagining you running around with bullwhip,” Sam quips.

Marcus chokes slightly on his coffee, the tips of his ears turning pink, and you try your best to give Sam a death glare without him noticing.

“A–a what?” Marcus sputters, chuckling.

“You know,” Sam says expectantly, “Indiana Jones.”

“Oh,” Marcus starts laughing. “Jesus, apparently I need more coffee.”

“That’ll cost ya,” Sam says.

“Will it, now.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of how this whole system works,” you say. “You give us money, we give you coffee.”

“It wounds me that you see this as purely transactional,” Marcus teases.

“You’re breaking my heart,” Sam deadpans. “That’ll be $5.67.”

– – – – – –

You should have known it was going to be a bad day when you woke up to a text from Sam.

Sick AF, gonna have to call off today. Sorry. <3

Some things are omens.

Still, it’s with a swing in your step that you open up Common Grounds and start your morning routine. Things are going pretty well for you, all things considered. You’ve got a good, steady job, you’re feeling better mentally than you ever used to, and now, you have a new friend in the form of one devastatingly handsome FBI Agent. The latter has been a muse for you in the evenings, too; you find yourself painting more and more, inspiration striking almost daily, and there’s been a corresponding uptick in online sales.

Marcus is, as always, a welcome distraction when he comes in. You groan good-naturedly about facing the rush alone, and he lends a sympathetic ear. He even stays a little longer than usual, sitting at the closest table to the counter and reading something on his phone. You can’t help but steal little glances at him, even when the rush begins, looking at the way a stray lock of hair keeps falling down his forehead, the way he licks his lips occasionally, the way his leg jiggles absentmindedly as he reads what looks like a news article.

The swell of customers reaches a crescendo, and you’re more than a little frantic–it’s rather difficult to keep up when there’s just one of you and no one to restock. When one of the milk dispensers inevitably runs out, you have to dash to the walk-in cooler to retrieve it yourself, leaving a long line of people waiting. You try to keep the frustration off of your face as everyone watches you wrestle the fifty pound bag into the machine.

“Excuse me?” an annoyed voice calls out from the middle of the line. “Some of us have places to be.”

You paste on the fakest, most irritated smile as you take the next person’s order. And the next. In between darting from the espresso machine back to the register, you lose track of Marcus. Is he still here? Unlikely. You barely have time to think about it, so the question is fleeting. When the man who had snapped at you steps forward, a sour expression on his face, you say sweetly, “And what can I get for you today?”

“Took you long enough!”

Your smile widens. “We’re a little short-staffed this morning.”

“I missed the part where that was my problem. These places and their mocha-frappa-whatevers. Do you have coffee?”

“We certainly do have coffee; what size would you like?”

“Is ‘small’ still a size, or are they all in Spanish or something?”

“Small coffee,” you repeat, trying to keep the anger out of your voice. “Will that be all?”

“It needs to come out fast.”

You ignore the order. “That’ll be $2.10.”

“What? What a crock of shit! I–”

“That’s enough,” a quiet voice interrupts the now red-faced customer.

“Who the hell are–”

“Buy the damn coffee or get out,” Marcus says lowly. “You’re holding up the line.”

“What are you, her boyfriend?” spits the other man.

“I’m just interested in how the city’s service workers are being treated,” Marcus replies cooly, one hand smoothing down his suit lapel in a gesture that looks absentminded, but immediately draws attention to the FBI badge clipped to his pocket. The man eyes it warily. “Hand her the money or leave the store, please,” Marcus says.

Lips pursed, the man hands you his card. You swipe it, and hand it back, then pour him a cup of coffee, handing him that as well.

“What do we say,” prompts Marcus.

“T-Thank you.”

“Why don’t you find another coffee shop next time?” Marcus remarks. His tone is still light, but there’s just a hint of something else underneath. Something vaguely… threatening.

It’s unbelievably sexy.

When the man leaves, Marcus holds up one finger to the next person in line–who looks sympathetic to your plight–and steps closer, putting his hand on your arm.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Do you need a minute?”

You shake your head. “Nah. Assholes like that are a reality of the job.”

“They shouldn’t be,” Marcus says emphatically. “Get a drink of water or something, all right? You’ve been running around like crazy. No one here minds, right?” He looks over the line.

Even if anyone did mind, you highly doubt anyone would raise any objection, not after Marcus’s cool, calm takedown of the rude customer. You nod gratefully, and quickly fill a cup with water, taking a few long sips and a couple more deep breaths.

When you return, Marcus smiles warmly. “I’ve gotta get to work, but you call me immediately if he comes back,” he says, sliding a business card across the counter. “Or if you need anything else.”

You nod, pocketing the card without looking. Marcus leaves, shooting one last glance over his shoulder just before the door closes.

You look up at the next customer with a weak smile.

“What can I get started for you?”

– – – – – –

In retrospect, you wish that one rude customer had been the worst thing to happen to you, today.

When you finally toss your dirty apron into the bin at the end of your shift, you stretch your lower back with a tired groan. What a morning. You feel more than justified in going home, taking a hot bath, and sitting on your couch under a blanket with a hot tea for the remainder of the afternoon.

You can almost smell the lavender bath bombs you like as you speedwalk around the corner. The stress of the day is already starting to melt just at the thought of relaxation, but then you hear a familiar voice–one you haven’t heard in over a year–call out your name.

It sends a hot spike of fear down your spine.

You whip your head around, and sure enough, it’s him.

Your ex.

“I don’t have time for this, Derrick,” you say tiredly.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Derrick, as usual, ignores you. “Still working at that dump around the corner?”

“Did you come all the way across town to insult an inanimate object, or is there something else you want?” you mutter.

“I was in the area,” Derrick says with an exaggeratedly light tone. “Thought I’d check on the woman who lived with me for three fucking years and then left without a trace.”

“We’ve–” you swallow. “We’ve gone through this, Derrick, I–”

“Want to know how much of a mistake you made? Derrick interrupts. “Remember that account I was working on right before you pulled your little escape routine? I just closed it. Two mil, sweet cheeks. What do you think of that?”

You bite back your anger. He used to do this when you were together, too–hold his money over your head. List off all of the things he provided for you whenever you’d get angry about something he did. Oh, he forgot your birthday? Well, he did buy you that designer purse, those Jimmy Choo heels. He did pay your insurance and your phone. But sure, sweet cheeks, be made because he worked late on your birthday. He was going to buy you those massive diamond earrings you’d been eyeing in the jewelry store window, but now he’s changed his mind.

“If you’re just going to taunt me, I’m going to have to ask you to leave me alone,” you say loudly and firmly.

“What’re you putting away, hmm? Can they afford to pay you more than minimum wage? How fast did you eat through that savings account that I helped you build?”

“Derrick, leave me alone–”

You start to back away, but Derrick reaches for your wrist, and your eyes widen in trepidation. He’s never gotten physical before, but what–

“Get your hands off of her.”

You whip your head around, and fuck, it’s Marcus. Again. Walking quickly toward the two of you with fire in his eyes.

“Mind your own business, asshole–”

“Marcus!” you exclaim, interrupting Derrick. “There you are! Are you ready to go home?” you shoot him a pleading look, hoping that your ex can’t see.

Marcus looks into your eyes for just a moment before easily slipping into the role you’d just handed him. “Here I am, honey.” He smiles and puts his hand around your waist. “This must be him.”

You know Marcus has no idea who Derrick is, but you nod. “Yeah, this is my asshole ex.”

“Whatever,” Derrick spits. “You never had it so good. I’m sure Mr. Government Salary pays all the bills,” he says derisively, waving his hand at Marcus’s badge.

Marcus releases your waist and steps nose-to-nose with Derrick. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says quietly. “You’re going to leave, now, and you’re never to come looking for her again. Ever. Do I make myself clear?”

“You don’t need to threaten me, asshole, we were just talking,” Derrick says, but he backs away with a frown.

Marcus doesn’t say anything further, just watches calmly as Derrick keeps backing away, then finally, with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand, turns and stalks down the sidewalk.

The overwhelming shittiness of the day finally catches up with you, and you feel the tears start to rise to your face.

Marcus whirls back to you, his face crumpling when he sees you crying. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” he says, his hands coming to your shoulders. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sniffle. “It was just a bad day, and he’s basically guaranteed to make a bad day worse.”

Marcus’s hand trails down your arm to your wrist, where Derrick had grabbed you. “Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head. “No, he’s just… empty threats and blustering.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcus murmurs again. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” you shrug. But then you glance down at his hand–warm, strong, and comforting–on your shoulder. “C-Can I–” you start.

Marcus nods at you to continue.

“Can I have a hug?”

Marcus’s arms immediately wind around you, and you’re surrounded by him. Oh, he gives the best hugs. He presses all of you into his chest, one hand gently cupping the back of your neck and one hand around your waist. He’s warm and soft, his cologne smells incredible, and you melt into his embrace.

“Thanks for playing along,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Of course,” Marcus says, and you can feel the rumble of his words against your cheek. “You don’t need to pretend to be with me just to feel safe,” he says. “I would have taken care of it anyway."

You feel sheepish at his words. It's true; you didn't need to pretend that Marcus was your boyfriend. But in the moment, you wanted the extra layer of safety.

"Sorry," you murmur. "I shouldn't have–"

"Don't say sorry," Marcus assures you. "Besides, I thought the note I left you on my card made it pretty clear how I'd feel about that."

The card! You'd slipped it into your back pocket without reading it, and by the time the rush was over, you'd forgotten about it completely. You pull back from Marcus’s arms and reach for it now.

The front of his card has his full name, title, work extension, and email. When you flip it over, there's a message waiting, written in neat, tiny handwriting.

I’d say it’s about time I gave you this ;) Sorry I took so long. xo, Marcus

His personal cell is written below.

Your eyes dart up to his, barely daring to hope–

"Sorry I took so long," Marcus says, repeating the message on his card. "I wanted to be in the right headspace. You deserve that."

A smile slowly spreads across your face. This day–which has been an unmitigated disaster–might be looking up.

"I thought I'd be giving it to you in much different circumstances," Marcus says with a smile, "and not as a result of some asshole at the counter."

You laugh disbelievingly. "I guess that means you came to my rescue twice in one day."

"I won't make a habit of it," Marcus teases, but then he sobers. "No, belive me, I'd do it twenty more times if you needed me to. Although," he chuckles, "I hope not, because I wouldn't get much else done."

The tease suddenly causes you to remember what time it is. "Hey," you say, "why are you here and not at work? It's the middle of the day."

"About that," Marcus says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I had meant to catch you before you left, but I had a meeting run long. Glad I was able to find you."

"Oh," you breathe. "Why?"

"Well, I thought with the morning you had, it felt like a good day for ice cream. What do you think?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, what do you say? Ice cream, you and me. Right now."

You can't help the massive grin that explodes into being. Marcus smiles back, big enough that his little dimple shows.

"It's a date."

Next Chapter >>

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

287 notes · View notes

itsyourstarboy · 1 year

Text

Freebound

(Redacted Audio fanfic—1247 words)

Summary: Its the moonbound solstice, and Freelancer is freebound. Watch them cause chaos, on accident and on purpose.

Read here on Ao3

—

The sunlight streamed through the curtains above the bed, cascading a golden glow across the room. Gavin, still dazed with sleep, stretched out an arm to pull his deviant close. His outstretched hand met cold sheets, and his brow furrowed as he felt around, cracking an eye open in confusion.

“Deviant?” He softly called.

When he was met with silence, he got up. It wasn’t like them to leave him in bed all alone. Quickly finding his pants that were discarded the night before, he exited their bedroom. Where were they?

As he neared the kitchen, he picked up on their aura. It was bouncing off the walls, feeling strong one minute, and practically nonexistent the next.

“Deviant?” He softly called, again.

They turned to him, a small smile on their face, “g’mornin’.”

The kitchen was… well, it wasn’t a mess, per say. It was… different.

“What are you doing in here, love?” Gavin asked.

“I’m rearranging the cabinets.”

“At 7am?”

Freelancer stared at him for a moment, “yeah.”

Gavin suppressed a chuckle, “may I ask why?”

“Well, I woke up this morning and I felt like I had bees in my bones, so I went to the grocery store down the street to buy six pounds of butter. Then when I got home, I accidentally set the couch on fire. Went shopping for one online, but I think I ordered 20.”

Gavin was speechless. “H-how long have you been awake?”

“1:14 am,” they laughed out in a sigh. They looked so tired.

“When you told me the solstices were often… interesting for you, this is not what I expected.”

“There is never a way to predict what may happen, I am a slave to my core for the remainder of this solstice. I think I just caused the large oak tree outside to become an even larger oak tree.”

At that, the ground shook, and Gavin’s eyes went wide.

“How about we go back to bed for a bit?”

II.

Lasko was doing paperwork on his coffee table. Nothing too strenuous—he was sunbound after all—just some stuff to keep him occupied while he felt like a dry apple slice.

Freelancer walked in the door, “hey, Lasko-babe.”

“Wh- oh. Hi, Freelancer. What are you doing here? And why didn’t you knock? N-not that I’m upset you're here, I mean, I-I’m always happy to see you, it’s just that you’re not exactly the type to just invite yourself into someone’s apartment… At least- at least I think you're n-not… are you?”

They sighed with a tired smile, “yeah I know, m’sorry. I would’ve knocked, but it’s too… too much. Too noise. M- no- that’s not… words.”

Lasko stood as his friend swayed on their feet, “are- are you f-feeling? Alright? Pft- no, what am I saying? Of course you’re not, it’s the solstice. Com- come sit down, how did you even get here, anyway?”

“Mmm,” Freelancer hummed as Lasko forced them to sit on the couch. They immediately sunk into the cushions, “I was feeling up, an’ I wanted to come hang out with you, but halfway here I felt not-up.”

“Not-up?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean- I guess that makes sense? Y-you are a freelancer, so you’re going to feel all kinds of… ‘ups’ and downs. M- Magically, anyway.”

“M’yeah, my magic has been ups and downs,” they mumbled, leaning into Lasko as he sat next to them. “I used psychokinesis to launch my phone into orbit.”

III.

Huxley was laying on his side, his head propped up on his arm, and his fingers threading through Damien’s hair. He was happy taking care of him like this. Right here, in this moment, with his boyfriend curled up next to him.

There was a knock at the front door.

“Are you gonna get that?” Damien mumbled when Huxley made no attempt at getting up.

“No,” he sighed contentedly, “whoever it is can just come back later.”

It would turn out that Huxley wouldn’t need to get the door, as whoever had knocked opened it for themself.

“The heck…?” Huxley said, sitting up slightly.

A familiar voice rang through the house, “Huuuuux? Damiiii?”

The two boys sighed in relief, glad that the home intruder was just Freelancer. Sweet, innocent Freelancer-

“Are either of you here? I think I drained the town's water supply.”

Huxley immediately sat up, telling Dames that he would be right back. The fire elemental could only let out an affirmative hum in response as he tiredly laughed at the freelancer's antics.

Entering the front room, Huxley found Freelancer hovering by a window.

“Freelancer? Dude- why are you all wet??”

They turned to him, panting heavily, “I was walking here from Damien’s place, and the Dahlia Spring decided to start chasing me, so I started running, but that made the water faster, so I jumped into your neighbor's pool to escape.”

Huxley slowly approached the window, “holy shi- Freelancer, the entire street is flooded!”

“I knowww,” they whined, “I’m sorry. I would clean it up but I’m afraid I’ll level the entire neighborhood.”

“Okay, well… let- lets just get you dried off,” Hux said, taking Freelancer’s hand to lead them to the bathroom.

“Wait, wait,” they pulled away, “is Damien here?”

“Uh- yeah, he’s resting in the bedroom.”

Freelancer made their way to the room and peeked their head through the doorway to see Damien all bundled up, “oh god that’s adorable. Is he wearing your sweatshirt??”

“Shut up,” Damien groaned, his voice all muffled from the blankets. “Why are you here?”

Huxley appeared next to them with a towel, “jeez, dude. You’re freezing.”

“It’s the solstice,” Freelancer answered, stubbornly trying to push Huxley’s hands away as he desperately tried to dry them off. “I remembered that you’re sunbound, so I was like ‘Fireboy must be feeling like shit right now, and I, too, feel like shit,’ so here I am, to feel like shit with you.”

Freelancer paused, hissing in disapproval, as Huxley ruffled their hair dry.

“I went to your place first, though. Let myself in. I cleaned everything.”

Damien sat up a little, propping himself against the pillows, “you… cleaned everything?”

“Yeah,” they wavered, leaning against the wall, “and then I remembered I was looking for you, so- oh god-” they keeled over, “I’m gonna throw up-”

Before either of the boys could react, Freelancer had run to the bathroom.

IV.

Damien’s phone buzzed with notifications from the group chat.

Gavin: does anyone happen to know where the freelancer is? I swear I left them alone for five minutes

Lasko: yeah don’t worry they’re here at my place

Lasko: they randomly showed up and eventually passed out on the couch

Lasko: sorry I would have told you but I was doing paperwork

Gavin: it’s alright as long as they’re safe

Damien: Lasko, I think you should check your couch.

Lasko: what?

Lasko: why?

Damien: Just do it.

Lasko: um…

Gavin: ???

Lasko: I’m so sorry

Lasko: they’re not there

Lasko: I lost them

Gavin: how did you lose them!?!?

Lasko: how did you???

Damien: Calm down, they’re here at Hux’s place.

Damien: They showed up a couple minutes ago.

Damien: They’re puking in the toilet.

Gavin: oh thank god

Huxley returned to the room, a sleeping Freelancer in his arms, “Dames, they tried to escape through the window, and when they couldn’t they said, ‘I’m going to stop existing now,’ and passed out.”

Damien looked back at his phone.

Damien: Please come get them.

—

#redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted fanfiction #redacted fic #redacted writing #redacted freelancer #redacted damien #redacted lasko #redacted huxley #redacted lasko moore #lasko moore #redacted gavin #redacted solstice #redacted moonbound #redacted sunbound #redacted freebound #redacted damn #redacted demons

175 notes · View notes

trishlia · 1 year

Text

Coffee Crush.

characters: chandler bing, monica geller, rachel green. (chandler x yn)

context??: one shot, cute adorable stuff idk.

words: 594 (its so short I'm sorry)

a/n: sorry for not posting or being online!! I've been busy for the past few days. qwq please enjoy this and give me some ideas to write more!! ty for the likes from my previous chandler one shot! (I read it and I cringed so bad qwq)

*** y/n pov first person.

I walked across the streets and enter inside a coffee house, Central Perk. I'm a usual customer there, I buy myself a cup of coffee and head to work. I don't go there just for a coffee though.. A person. A tall man, a tall brunette who sits on the orange sofa at the end of the coffee house. Who make sarcastic jokes to his group of friends. Its just a coffee crush though, it's not like I get to be with him. It looks like his close with the black haired girl. I'm pretty sure her name is Monica.

As I order my latte, I sat beside the window, near the coat hook and read the daily news. I'm usually early and wait for the man, but its mostly because I'm always running late. The waitress came to serve my coffee, its one of the brunette's friend, Rachel's her name. As she place my coffee on the table I checked to see if it were the correct order. Gladly it was.

The man I've waited walks in the coffee house with his friends, they all sat down at their usual spots. The brunette sat close with the black haired girl, I'm not gonna lie, I'm jealous but at the same time I'm happy he has someone. I continue to read my paper as I take a sip of my coffee, I was pretending to mind my business when I'm actually just listening to the man's voice. He did a sarcastic joke which made me laugh behind the paper.

After a couple of minutes, I glance at my watch. I should be heading out finding a cab before traffic gets worse. I finish my latte, fold the newspaper and place it on the table. I stood up from my seat and pay the cashier. I was about to head out as I wore my coat when suddenly somebody touched my shoulder, 'Uh, hi.' he said.

I turn to see who it was, a tall brunette, the brunette who I listen to everyday in the coffee shop, the brunette I wait every single day just to see him from a far. 'Oh- h-hi.' I stuttered. It's not normal for a girl to get interrupted by a man they've been spying.. or stalking.

'Hi, hi. Uhm, Chandler. Chandler is my name, uhm. Hi!' He also stuttered which made me force to hold a weird smile that is creaking from my face. 'Nice to meet you, Chandler.' I greet him, funny how I knew his name before I even get to meet him properly, 'Y/N, if you're wondering. How can I help?' I asks the taller man, I said way to fancy for a guy like him. God, why am I so awkward?'

'Y/N.. It's uh very nice name. Well, I thought I could uhm, ask you out? Like a date. If you can, of course.' He said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. I stared at him like it was a dream come true, 'Sure!' I replied, 'What time?' His nervous emotions turns into something positive than before, 'What about 5 pm, today? Dinner's on me.'

'That'll be great.' I said, 'Wanna meet up here?' I point my hands to the ground. 'Yeah, see you, Y/N.' He walked away and did a hand motion dance to his friends. I smiled widely and walked out of the coffee house fixing myself into my jacket as I try to find a cab. I guess I have some luck in life after all.

#chandler bing #chandler x reader #friends #one shot

81 notes · View notes

merakiui · 1 year

Note

omg i loved the discord mod idia post !!! he's so slimy [like the meddling tweels hehe] but he tries so hard 😔😔 and omg the tags?? depraved discord mod azul?? can we pls hear your thoughts on him :oo

(also i hope you're doing well!!! :D)

Discord mod Idia is so gross and slimy, but we love him. <3

Now as for discord mod Azul!!!!

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied kidnapping)

Outside of being a mod, he’s actually really successful. He either runs an entire corporation or he has a high-paying position at one. You probably work alongside him. Maybe he’s a coworker you occasionally talk brief business with when you happen to find yourself in the elevator with him, or you meet at the ground floor coffee shop just below the company’s floors. You’d never expect he’s the mod you’re in an online relationship with. You’d never expect that this silver-tongued, pressed suit-wearing individual is a filthy Magicord mod in private, who you met in a server designed like a deep-sea lounge after breaking a few rules and he’d so kindly decided to spare you.

This person who is absolutely ruthless when it comes to climbing the social ladder and annihilating any competition is the same one who texts you day and night, referring to you as his precious angelfish, his beloved pearl, his sweet siren. The man who stole that promotion from you—who proceeded to pat you on the back with a consoling smile that jeered ‘better luck next time’ when you fretted over the news—is the exact man who spends absurd amounts of money on you, who listened to you touch yourself while whispering filthy things into the mic during a heated VC, who tells you of everything he wishes to do with you when the two of you finally meet.

You don’t even know his real name and he doesn’t know yours either, and you certainly have no idea that he’s that annoying coworker you hate with a passion. He calls himself Sea Witch on Magicord, which is fitting for the server’s marine theme. It’s actually a very cozy place! Lots of people hang out in VCs, it’s organized into labeled sections, and it’s got very good security measures. There’s a vice-mod who’s simply named J and another (not truly a mod but he claims he has mod abilities) user who goes by all sorts of names. It’s always changing. Just last week he was sneakerluvr42069 and now he’s tastykoebi. You haven’t had many exchanges with either of them, but it seems like they know Sea Witch well. Either way, the connection doesn’t mean much to you. You’re just glad he’s so willing to buy you anything and everything you ask for.

You once tried to dig a little deeper—to find out just who Sea Witch is. When you asked him what he looked like, he’d simply turned the question on you. You rarely send him photos of yourself, but when you do they’re usually explicit (most are of you in the lingerie and other outfits he buys you) and your face isn’t shown. He thinks you have a very desirable body. You’d like to see his, but he’s always evasive with any questions regarding who he is behind the Sea Witch mask. He must have a cushy job if he’s able to spend large amounts on you. When questioned about that, he just joked about how having a tongue of silver helps. You wonder what that truly means.

Beyond Sea Witch, Azul is actually surprisingly normal on the surface. He has his eccentricities, but most of these are hidden behind a disarming persona. He drapes himself in finery: golds and silvers, luxury brands, expensive colognes—typical rich normie stuff according to Idia. Azul hates going out in public. He hates having to smile and act kind at the office. He hates his coworkers. He hates having to put in so much effort just to look a certain way. He’d prefer to spend his time inside, reading, watching TV, messaging his angelfish. He loves his days off the most because he’s free to be as introverted as he wants without having to act. It’s just him, the comforting confines of his home, oversized pajamas, and a day free of responsibilities.

Azul usually spends these days talking to you, and when you aren’t available he’s taking up new hobbies with you in mind. He’s started tending to houseplants after you mentioned it briefly during one of your conversations. He’s also trying to get into miniature cooking because you sent him a compilation video of it and he wants to impress you with his talents. And he’s always browsing erotic sites to find the toys that fit your preferences. He wonders how you’d look in handcuffs, in cosplay, in collars and blindfolds. Most of all, he wonders how you’d look with his tentacles wrapped around you.

Azul doesn’t send you many pictures of his real life. He fears you might try to pry again and he doesn’t want that. It’s much better if you love Sea Witch instead of Azul. Sea Witch is mysterious, cool, unique, attractive. Azul is…Azul. He’s not very good at romance. He’s not very good with confidence, but Sea Witch is. Azul can act all he wants, but it’s impossible to feel happy with himself no matter what he does. When he’s Sea Witch, he can spin all sorts of tales without having to attach his appearance to any of it. You can love him for his money, his sense of humor, his taste in aesthetics, and he’ll never have to show you his face! Of course there are days when Azul peers at himself in the mirror and is struck with a sudden surge of confidence and he considers sending a spontaneous selfie or, Great Seven forbid, a dick pic. Really, he has so much class and a dick pic is just not the path he wishes to travel. Besides, scanty images are what you do best, not him. He’d much rather admire the artwork than become it himself.

Plus, when the two of you meet and he decides to keep you, you’ll get to see it in person. Surely that’s better than some grainy photograph. It’d look much nicer inside you, a good, snug fit. :)

To say Azul likes you would be a very big understatement. He’s infatuated, so much that he often messages you whenever he has the chance. You’re the first thing he thinks of when he wakes and the last thing he considers when falling asleep. He’s even taken to talking to you during work hours, his phone brightness dimmed to prevent any nosy onlookers from glimpsing his private exchanges. He realizes that texting and occasionally voice calling isn’t enough. He really wants to meet you in person. He wants to touch you, kiss you, hold you. He’s certain you’ll want that, too.

Azul just needs to finalize what remains of a secret space within his home. It’s just temporary, as all pain often is, and you won’t have to stay there forever if you can promise to be good for him. He’s always had this little fantasy, and it’s only grown with each passing day. In it, he’s married to you and you wait diligently for him to come home from work and you’re clawing at him for affection the minute he steps through the door. In it, you’re nothing without him. You crave his love, his touch, his dick. You kiss him all over, breathless and sloppy, as if he might vanish from your sight if you can’t pin him down with enough saccharine smooches. You always tell him how much you adore him, how you’ll always be here for him, how you’d never think of leaving him. Aside from the happenings of sweet, fluffy love, the two of you fuck on every piece of furniture, in every room, against every surface. He always cums inside. You always hold him close and praise him and tell him his dick is big and you love it and you love him and… It’s a really good fantasy! He’s working so hard to make it a reality.

And in this perfect dream of his, he’s all you’ll ever need. This one is important! You don’t need anyone else. You’ll only need him. You don’t need friends or family. You don’t need to work. He’ll give you a comfortable life that’s filled with affection.

So naturally Azul is livid when you message him saying you no longer wish to continue this relationship. You thank him for his time and everything he’s done for you, as courteous as ever, and then you unadd him. You wash your hands of him. You cast him aside. You leave his server, you stop contacting him, and you disappear. And his hearts—all three of them—shatter. Outside of Sea Witch, he’s lonely. He has no one who waits for him at home. He has no one who’ll cook him homemade meals, each made with love and care. He has no one who he can delight in married life with. He’s all alone.

Azul’s miserable. It’s hard to tell at work because he smiles through the suffering so that no one will suspect anything. He’s not sure what happened to his angelfish. Even Jade and Floyd were unable to contact you or find any traces of your user in other servers. He’s considered enlisting Idia’s help, but then that would mean he has to admit that he lost you. That he wasn’t able to retrieve you. That you’re drifting in a vast sea of people—of potential suitors! So he does what he does best: he thinks and he plans. He considers every plausible explanation, and within the month he’s arrived at many conclusions. Each is more frustrating than the last. He hates to think that you’d leave him for someone else. Honestly, what went wrong? What did he do incorrectly? Surely there was a part of him you found undesirable. Surely it’s his fault you left. There has to be a reason for all of this, but it’s been a month and there’s still no trace of you. His sanity is beginning to splinter.

When he hears a familiar name weeks later, his mind still in eternal mourning mode, he perks up at once. Someone’s talking about Sea Witch. Online dating. Uninstalling Magicord. Weird vibes. Wanting a face to face connection instead of something long-distance. Azul can’t believe his ears. Is this a coincidence? Is he just hearing things? Has he gone insane or has his angelfish always been this close?

You and the colleague you were talking to are gone before he can turn the corner and get a look at you. But hope is already sprouting within him. If what he heard is true—if you’re really his angelfish—then his life just got a lot better. He’ll find you, and when he does he’ll finally be back on track. He’ll finally get to begin his dream life with you.

And you’ll learn to love the man behind Sea Witch.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #h2o2-and-baking-soda #i am doing well! i hope you are also doing well!!! :D #now who else is on the list for creepy perverted discord mod? let’s see~~#riddle rollo cater rook lilia che’nya… orz

273 notes · View notes

ladytauria · 6 months

Note

trick or treat!

thank you for asking! 🎃

have a snippet from the vampire!tim wip~ tentatively titled icy hands, icy heart, and based around this summary:

Tim assumes the others know he’s not, and never has been, human. He's wrong.

tentatively am thinking it's going to be jaytim but right now all i have is 2k words of jason, damian, and duke discovering tim's vampirism, and tim discovering that, in order for people to know things, you have to tell them.

in his defense, he did tell alfred, bruce, and dick. (& maybe babs)

“So you’ve been a vamp this whole time?” Jason is scrutinizing him—particularly his neck.

“I was born one.” That gets Jason’s eyes on his face again.

“Vampires can have babies?” Duke blurts.

“Yes,” Tim says. Though not without difficulty. If one of his parents had been human, it would have been easier—but they weren’t, and it hadn’t been. His parents were… protective as a result. Their jetsetting hadn’t been born out of a desire to see the world at any cost—though, Tim was sure it factored in—but, rather, decreasing the possibility they could be exposed. It’s hard to suspect someone of vampirism if they’re never around, after all.

That was also why they had so little in the way of domestic help—especially after a near-miss with Tim’s last caretaker. And why they moved him schools so often. (He had to miss so many days, especially in the summer and spring months, when everything was bright and sunny. Online school would have been easier, perhaps, but inspired its own problems. Tim needed to be as normal and human as possible.)

Tim isn’t sure those had been the best decisions—and neither, in the end, had his father. But it was too late to go back and change them now.

“I’ve… definitely seen you out in the sun,” Jason says, though he sounds as if he’s suddenly doubting his recollection.

“You have,” Tim agrees. “It’s… taxing. I have to feed well before I head out, and even then, I make sure to cover up as much as is reasonable. It helps that Gotham is the way she is, though.” Nearly perpetually cloudy, the sky clogged with pollutants despite environmentalists’ (and Wayne Enterprises’) best efforts.

“I’ve never seen you drinking blood, though,” Duke says.

“Yes you have,” Tim counters. “You just didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. I don’t usually feed from people. I buy pig’s blood from a local butcher.” A discreet one, who catered to people like Tim. “I don’t drink nearly as much coffee as it looks like I do.”

“Oh.”

“But you do drink coffee,” Jason says, the skin around his eyes creasing suddenly. “Don’t you?”

Tim remembers the bag of expensive coffee grounds Jason left at the Nest, a few weekends ago, and smiles. “Yes. I can drink and eat human food. Mostly for the taste, but I do have to be cautious with caffeine and alcohol. Hits my bloodstream much faster, you understand.”

“You don’t feed off of humans?” Damian asks, scrutinizing him again.

“Not usually,” Tim repeats. “There have been a couple of emergencies, and I’ve had to drink from Bruce and Dick a time or two.” And, of course, there had been Tam, during his time away. That had been the most he’d ever fed from a human before, and he understood why some of his kind refused to feed from anything else. The taste had been exquisite, and the power—

Tim mentally shook himself.

“What about…” Duke gestured vaguely towards the medical bay. Everyone—except Tim—had a cache of blood there, to be used in case of emergencies.

Tim shakes his head. “Too processed. It’s like eating a snack cake, except it also tastes disgusting.” He had tried it once, during that first emergency. He hadn’t wanted to bother Bruce. Just the smell had made him want to wretch, but the actual taste? Ugh. And even draining the entire bag had done very little to quell the hunger. He hadn’t tried it again since.

Jason snorts. “Tracks, I guess,” he says, like he’d never thought of it before. Which, to be fair, he probably hadn’t. “So, s’that how you were able to stalk us for so long? Vampire magic?”

Tim snorts. “Oh, no, I didn’t have the energy for that,” he says, shaking his head. “It maybe helped that my reflexes were quicker, and I was still a bit faster than a human kid, but. No, that was all me.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have the energy?” Damian crosses his arms. “You were going out into the field impaired?” Despite being a head shorter than Tim, even with Tim being seated, he still managed to look down his nose at him.

Aw. Baby bat is worried.

“No,” Tim says. “Well—yes? I guess? Kind of?” He grimaces, and tilts his head. It’s been a long time since he’s had to explain any of this. “My parents didn’t want word getting out that we were vampires. There’s a lot of stigma, still. Few bad apples spoils the bunch, you know how it is. So, we pretended to be human, as much as possible. That meant I had to go to school. During the day. Which, like I said, is draining. I wasn’t—“ He paused, raising his cup to his lips. It’s coffee, this time, though now that he’s no longer consumed by his work, he can tell he needs to switch to blood soon, if he wants enough time to get down to normal strength for patrol.

“I wasn’t impaired in the way you’re thinking. By the time it was time to chase Batman and Robin—or, later, be Robin—I usually had time for a nap and some blood.” He didn’t always take the nap. “I wasn’t at ‘peak performance’ per se, but, I wasn’t exactly impaired, either.”

Damian’s face is pinched.

Tim sighs. “Look, physically, I was fine. Magically, I couldn’t do much. That’s all that means.”

The skepticism on Damian’s face gives Tim a bad feeling. Oh well. That's future Tim's problem to deal with.

#ngl it was v hard to cull the snippet down to this #but i think!! i have shared the beginning section somewhere #i will try to dig that up #asks and answers #lovely anons #icy hands icy heart #tauriawritesfanfic #also this is kinda rough i’m sorry #a lot of the repetition will be fixed once i do edits <3

28 notes · View notes

quanticowrites · 2 months

Text

Conflict of Interest (Jessica Knight x Reader)

•• Hello! This if for an Anon from January 2023. Sorry for it being over a year before I got to this, also that it's not very long! I hope you enjoy! 🩷••

“Hey!” You jumped at Jess’s hand on your shoulder. “(Y/n)!” You laughed and turned towards her where you were waiting at the coffee cart in the Navy yard.

“Jesus, Jess!” She laughed.

“I gotcha good, huh?”

“Yeah. We got a case?” She nodded.

“Yep, better get that coffee to go.” She headed back towards the entrance that led to the squad room.

“God, I hope I wasn’t blushing…” The way Jess was with people, she would see right through you if you showed any indication of liking her. Wasn’t dating a coworker against Gibbs’s rules? You saw how well it had turned out for Tony and Ziva. Well, you couldn’t say that now. Things did work out for them in the end. But when they were here, god, it was so awkward since neither one wanted to admit to the other. Especially not in front of the rest of the team. As soon as the cup of coffee hit your hands you took off to the squad room to grab your gear and ran out to the van out front. Nick reached over Alden to honk the horn as soon as he saw you running.

“Come on, slow poke!” You whipped him the bird with your other hand as you climbed into the back of the van and buckled yourself in.

"Finally! We've been waiting forever!"

"Shut up." You chided back as you buckled in. "All good, Alden."

"Alright, children. Play nice back there."

"Haha."

"Hey, (y/n)."

"Yeah?" Jessica smirked.

"What were you thinking about back at the coffee cart?"

"Nothing. Just zoning out." You hoped she would buy that.

"Hmm. Not buying it." Fuck. "You seemed too deep in thought to be zoned out."

"Your favorite football team lost this weekend?" Nick suggested and you laughed.

"No, I wasn't thinking about that." You leaned back. "Thanks for reminding me about that though."

"You're welcome."

"No, I was thinking more...personal." You locked eyes with Jessica. "Do you have a boyfriend, (y/n)?" You chuckled.

"No, definitely not."

"Girlfriend, then?"

"Not at the moment."

"Ah~." She perked up. “So that's what's happening.”

“I'm lost,” Tim stated. “What's happening?”

“(Y/n) has a crush.” You scoffed.

“No, I don't!” Jess laughed.

��Your body language says differently! I just have to figure out who.”

“But I don't-”

“We're here!” Alden said, putting the van in park. “Thank god.”

The team split up with Alden and you talking to witnesses of the assault while Nick and Jessica collected physical evidence. Tim was combing through the victim's social media on their laptop. Allegedly, the assault came from someone they'd been chatting with online about selling some old coins that originated in Europe. At least the meet-up had been in a public place. You didn't want to imagine how this would have gone down if they'd agreed to meet up at the Lieutenant's house, or vice versa.

“So, is it someone at NCIS?” You looked up from your notepad. Making your notes based on what the witnesses had told you.

“What?”

“Whoever…you're into.”

“No.” He smirked. “That wasn't very convincing was it?”

“No.” He sighed. “You know, I don't have quote-on-quote rules like Gibbs. I don't care if-”

“I don't have a crush on Jess!” Your voice rose. Your hands slightly crumble the sides of your notepad. “Shit. That was loud, wasn't it?”

“It's a good thing Jess is way over there.” He pointed and you looked. She was taking pictures of blood stains on the ground. “Because, yeah, that was loud.”

“You-” You pointed at him. “You can't tell her!” He put his hands up, smiling.

“I won't! But you know now that she's on the hunt it won't take her long to find out you like her.”

“I know!” You groaned. “I feel like I'm back in junior high with Missy Douglas.” He laughed.

“Missy Douglas?”

“She was head of the cheerleading squad.” You shook your head. “But my point is…I don't know what to do.”

“Talking usually helps. The worst she can say is no.”

“Exactly!” He nodded before putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Take it from someone who's got a few years under his belt. Also, someone who's been married. Communication is the key to everything.” You hated that he was right, but Alden was right. You were an adult! You needed to talk your feelings out.

“You're right. But, was that also just a fancy way of saying you're old?” He snorted.

“Touché.”

As far as cases go, you don't normally have one wrap-up over the course of a day, but sometimes the universe gives you a gift. Like the suspect turning themself in because it turns out they're allergic to the material of the coins and they thought they were dying while breaking out in hives. They were just mildly allergic, but no one stopped them from telling their story.

“Well, it was a great day everyone. I'm off to Paw Patrol Live with the twins.” You smiled.

“Have fun, Tim! Be sure to buy Morgan and John everything they ask for!” He blushed before heading off. As a Dad, he just couldn't say no to those two little energy balls. Nick had already dipped, so that left you and Jess in the squad room.

“I think I figured it out.” She said and you laughed.

“You have, huh?” She nodded, walking from her desk to the front of yours.

“Yeah.” You stood up and took a chance.

“Jess, I-”

“(Y/n)-” She nodded. “Sorry, you first.”

“I like you.” You said, not adding any useless words and just getting right to the point. “I know being on the same team is kind of a conflict of interest but…I need to let you know how I feel.” Her shoulders relaxed and she let out a laugh. Not a condescending laugh, a bubbly laugh that sounded like she hadn't heard such good news in forever.

“If liking each other is a conflict of interest, I can't wait to see what happens next.” She was so quick, that you barely registered her leaning over and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“W-Wha…”

“Let's start with dinner.” She twirled her car keys in her hands. “I'll drive!”

Tag list:

@stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm , @diaryofafan17 , @emmitheacefangirl l, @a-sad-excuse-of-everything , @marennnx

#jessica knight #Jessica knight x reader #ncis x reader

13 notes · View notes