#because chances are you will probably see the word 'parents' somewhere next to the words 'million dollar loan'

[andthebeanstalk]

My first time watching Glass Onion it was obvious that Miles' speeches were bullshit, but I still searched for any hidden meaning there might be.

The second time is a different experience though because every time my brain starts to search for meaning, I feel like Benoit Blanc discovering that no, there is absolutely no hidden meaning.

It's bullshit it's all nothing nothing nothing! It is just how you end up talking when everyone reacts to your self-aggrandizing word vomit like it is actually wisdom.

Also, legit, when Miles gave his stupid bullshit speech about what the word 'disruptor' means to him, I shit you not I was like holy shit am I back in business school right now?!

Miles must have given speeches like that at 100 business school graduations, goddamn.

Like, the motherfuckers really do sound like this. We didn't have any billionaires come, but we had a lot of millionaire guest speakers in my classes, and they fucking talk like that.

They all think they're rugged capitalists, but they're just glass onions!

[wheresarizona]

but I would die for you in secret

summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)

word count: 7.1k+

a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist - One Shot

The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.

To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.

Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.

So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.

Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.

If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.

You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.

There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.

It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.

Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.

That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.

It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.

Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.

Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.

The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.

The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.

And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.

It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.

Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.

For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”

“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.

There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.

“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.

You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.

“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.

“No-none,” you stammer.

His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”

His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.

His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.

Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”

Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.

Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.

“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”

The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”

“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.

“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”

He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.

It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.

The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.

You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”

His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”

You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.

Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.

“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.

“Yes.”

The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.

The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.

He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”

His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.

His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.

You’re so close; you’re just needing—

Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”

That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.

A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.

It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.

Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”

His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?

He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.

All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.

His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.

When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.

Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.

He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.

“What did you say?” you ask.

“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”

The question has your tight walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.

The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”

“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”

He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.

The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.

For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.

It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.

Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.

“Joel?” you break the silence.

“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”

His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.

“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.

You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”

His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”

“Well, there’s Ellie—”

“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”

“Yes.”

“So, you have feelings for me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love me…?”

“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.

One word has your heart picking up in speed.

“I love you, too.”

His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”

A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.

“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”

His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”

Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”

He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.

This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.

“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”

His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.

“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”

“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”

Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.

“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”

“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”

Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”

“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.

“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”

“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.

You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”

“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.

“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”

“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”

“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”

You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.

“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.

“I do,” you reply.

“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.

“‘Cause no one else can?”

He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.

His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”

And something about that declaration thrills you.

“I’d like that.”

He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”

You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.

The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.

All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.

From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.

Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:

It was time for him to tell Ellie.

Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.

If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.

He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.

He hates that.

He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.

When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.

He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.

The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.

It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.

It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.

His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.

“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.

“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.

“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”

He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”

She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I asked you first.”

She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.

“I was at the same place you were.”

He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.

He meets her eyes. “And that is?”

She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”

“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”

“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.

“You done?”

“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”

His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”

“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”

“Were we really that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”

“What topic?”

“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”

He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”

She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”

“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”

His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”

“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”

“You’re what?!”

Masterlist - One Shot

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

[7brownsuga7]

Can you write a fanfic of yandere jk or taehyung with reader as their daughter in law whose husband can't get her pregnant because he is suffering from Azoospermia (low sperm count) but their family is really strict about continuing their family line, as he is their only son so jk or tae decided to take matter into their own hand. Please consider this!! I am really looking forward to it.

Hey!! Omg I found writing this so fun, I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it! I couldn’t decide on Jk or Tae lol I’m indecisive as fuck.

Tae|JK

Word count: 2k +

Genre + warnings: smut drabble- minors DNI. Smut, angst, unprotected sex, breeding, daddy kink, yandere, infidelity, taboo, forceful, dominance, praise kink, he kind of takes advantage of her??? But consensual

Updated: pt.2 here

“Shhh, you’re doing good sweetheart”

You would have never thought you’d hear those words come out of your father-in-laws mouth, matter of fact you never thought he’d be fucking you in the same room you share with your husband.

When your husband told you about his situation, you couldn’t help but to feel overwhelmed with so many emotions. You sat on your bed crying your eyes out at the situation you and your husband were in. Although it was a personal situation between you and your husband, it also meant that his family line had a low chance of continuing, and you knew how strict his parents were about that. You was currently somewhat home alone, your husband having stormed out and wanting some alone time and his mother out for a dinner with her friends. His father was probably somewhere in his office like he is most of the time.

You muffle your cry with your hand, tears staining your burgundy night dress as you lay back and let your cries sing you to sleep.

During the night after a long and stressful phone call with his son does your father-in-law walk into your room to see you asleep in your dress, bare thighs exposed for his wondering eyes to see. His cock hardens just from the sight of your ass peaking out from under your dress.

You look so innocent and sad. Hurt and lonely. If only you knew of the things he could provide for you. He’d never let you lay here alone, tears staining your cheeks.

He was already furious with his son, yes the situation not being his son’s fault at all, but now he had to take things into his own hands for the sake of continuing his family line. He would never admit it was also a reason to fuck you. Something he’s been longing for since his son brought you to their home. He had an infatuation with you. He’d touch himself just thinking about your pussy wrapped around his cock. The fact that you was so innocent and oblivious to his intentions made him all the more crazed. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to fuck you, it was a miracle waiting to happen.

He reaches the bed, your below him unaware of his cock that hardens in his black slacks. His large hand caresses your leg, feeling the goosebumps that appear instantly. He smiles when your eyes flutter open, his hand coming up to your cheek to softly stroke it.

“I’m here” he coos, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do” you admit. Your eyes watering again just from the mention of the situation. You stare up at him with your wet eyelashes, and all he can think about is how you would look watching him as he shoves his cock down your throat. He knew he’s being insensitive towards the situation, but he can’t help himself to think these thoughts when he’s around you.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll sort it out” you sniff at his reassuring words. It’s as if you’re talking to your husband right now. The resemblance is so uncanny. The tears that stream down your face are wiped away by his fingers, his suggestive words of, “I know, I know” and “come here” calm you down a bit.

You scoot closer to him, unaware of his intentions as his hands creep up your dress towards your bare pussy. You sniff, holding back a moan as his fingers brush against your wet folds.

“Let me make everything better” his lips brush against your neck. You nod, biting your lip as his finger enters you.

So tight and wet, just as he expected.

His finger works its way in and out of you, his eyes on you as you continue to breathe heavily at the use of his fingers. As much as he wants to continue this, his main goal is to fuck you. To breed you matter of fact. He can’t wait to fill you up, to feel your bare pussy wrapped around his cock as he fucks you. He was pissed that his son had gotten to you first. But he’d be the actual one to breed you and that was more than he can ask for.

“Lay back for me love” he urges, too eager to stretch you out with his cock.

You comply, dress bunched up as you scoot back on the bed. His tall frame leaning over you as he watches you in awe. Your bare pussy open for him to see. It glistening under the dim bedroom lights from your wetness. What he would do to taste you, but he knows he has priorities. Hopefully another day.

His hand moves your legs apart, properly exposing you for his hungry eyes to see. He eagerly unbuckles his belt and allows his cock to breathe from the tight space it was in in his slacks.

He strokes his cock along your folds, collecting your juices before he lets his tip enter your tight pussy. It’s like the air is sucked out of you when the rest of his big, hard cock enters you. Stretching you out just like he wanted. It pushes into you and you lay there wondering how much more of him is left, you can barely take what is left inside you.

Tight.

So tight.

Every inch that pushes into you, stretches you out so gracefully you’re a whimpering mess. He grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. His strokes becoming more hard and fast as you adjust to his size.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long” he coos.

He can’t believe how good you feel. Your walls closing around him with every stroke. Your tight walls gripping around him has him ready to risk it all. He never knew just how addicting you could be. He’s so eager to fuck you. As each whimper leaves your lips, his hips move at a more forceful speed. He’s unable to hold himself back and he’s not even ashamed of it. He’s not sure if this is the only time he’ll get to fuck you so he wants to make the most out of it before this night comes to an end.

“Shhh, you’re doing good sweetheart”

Your breasts fight to spill out of your dress as his thrusts cause your body to jolt.

You cry.

You cry because of the sting you feel caused by his cock stretching you out. The pleasure you feel making it almost unbearable for you to take any more. His strokes so precise and officiant that your moans turn into cries all together.

You cry because you feel guilty, but it’s too good to stop now.

He sees you cry and wonders why. He’s aware that he’s taken advantage of your weakness, you being fragile has allowed him to take advantage of this situation, and he’s happy that he did. His dreams and fantasies coming true.

“It’s okay, daddy’s got you”

His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away your tears before he leans down and grabs your thighs, lifting you up with his cock still inside you.

“Please ugh” you choke out as his hands grip onto your ass, lowering you down his long hard length. You try to lift yourself up, unable to take him, but he just lowers you back down at a quicker speed.

“P-please I can’t” his cock continues to penetrate you which leaves you gasping for air, tears still running down your cheeks as he completely takes over.

Your pussy is soaking, running down your thigh and onto his pelvis. The slushing sounds you create prove that.

“Look at how you take my cock so well” his neck bends down slightly to capture your breast in his mouth as he sucks on it. You let out a moan, your pussy clenching around him causing his moves to falter.

“Fuck you’re so tight” he nips at your nipple which causes you to yelp in surprise, especially when he slaps your ass.

He throws you back on the bed. Your dress barely covering your body anymore as your breast spill out from it, the dress bunched up around your waist exposing your lower half to him. You’re a panting mess, not knowing what he’s going to do next as he slowly walks over to the bed, dark eyes watching you like you’re his prey.

“Lay on your stomach and arch your back for me princess”

If only he could have you in every position known to man, he would in a heartbeat. He wants to fuck you in every position his son has had you in. However, time is of the essence.

But when you lay before him, face down ass up, your head resting on your silk bed cover and hands placed helplessly in front of you as he enters you from behind, does he battle with himself to risk everything. Your bare pussy and ass exposed for him to see, and oh was it a sight. He’d only imagined what you’d look like bent over for him, but now he has the honor of having you for the night. His strokes are slow and precise. He’s managing to hit every spot so gracefully it already has your knees ready to give out. His large hands rest on each side of your ass, guiding your ass towards his hard length.

You whimper when he enters you again and again with more force. The way his fingers dance along your bare back have your toes curling and you wonder if you’ll be able to recover from tonight. He readjusts your dress so that it slightly covers your ass, but it only slides back down your back with every move he makes. The way you feel wrapped so tightly around him has him ready to risk it all, your juices coating his cock with every stroke while you grip around him.

“You’re such a good girl, hmm?” He bites his bottom lip as he watches his cock go in and out of you, your pussy gripping onto him in ways that make his head spin. His cock can’t even go all the way in, he chuckles to himself at the thought of you whimpering when he hasn’t even got all of him in you. Your moans and whimpers are like music to his ears, encouraging him to fuck you recklessly.

“Such a good girl letting daddy fuck you like this”.

Your arms stretch out in front of you grasping onto your covers in a somewhat pathetic attempt to relieve yourself from his thrusts. You try to escape, moving your hips forward but with his firm grip on your hips, you’re not going anywhere.

“Don’t run, show me that you can take it”

You’re sensitive and overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving, with the added force it’s a whole new experience for you. You’ve never been fucked like this, even by your husband. You’re unsure if you should even be thinking about him right now with his father fucking you as recklessly as this.

Your moans are muffled by the bed covers , your grip on them tightening as you can feel him in your stomach. Your orgasm is quickly approaching with each thrust. It’s when he grunts and slaps your ass that has you weak, but when he rubs your puckered hole with his thumb, that’s when you lose what’s left of your composure. You start mumbling your words, edging further and further up the bed as you try to escape his cock that continuously rams into you. Pussy clenching as your orgasm subsides, you yelp out when you become overly sensitive.

“Please please please, i”

He pushes you down by your back, forcing you to lay on your stomach, his hand grabs your hips adjusting them so your ass is slightly up. You’re silent as he slowers his pace, providing you with slow strokes that have you lost for words. You’re sure you’re going to cum again. He watches as his cock disappears in you. He can watch you take him all day.

“You’re so wet sweetheart, look at you” you feel his hands grabbing your wrists and holding them in place as he is positioned on top of you, him sliding into you from behind. You’re so fucked out you can’t utter a full sentence, just mumbles and whimpers. He’s so big and he’s stretching you out completely. You’re tired and are surprised that you’re able to take him let alone take him for this long. You collapse on the bed, knees giving out causing you to be laid flat out on the bed. He holds his cock, guiding it in and out of you, watching as your juices mix with your cream coating the base of his cock.

“Fuck y/n” he looks up at the ceiling trying to prolong his orgasm that he knows is approaching. He doesn’t want this to end just yet, but the way you lay in-front of him, your sensitive pussy stretching around him, he knows he’s close.

You both continue in that position, his grunts continuing as he uses both arms to keep himself up. A slap to your ass is delivered before he tells you to turn around. You comply chest rising as you watch him guide his cock along with your entrance. He watches you with low eyes, as you watch him back. Your breaths in sync as you wait for him to slide it back in. And he does, so slowly it’s almost agonising. You both watch as he enters you, you can’t believe how big he is. He stops when he’s mostly inside of you, his hand holding the rest of his length as he guides it in and out. He closes his eyes for a moment, unable to watch your eyes and your lips and the way your face is still stained in tears. You’re intoxicating.

He lifts your legs up so they are both in the air, allowing him more excess to your pussy. What a sight it is, the way it’s swollen and glistens before him. The way it wraps around him so perfectly he’s sure your pussy was made just for him.

He watches you with so much intensity that your eyes flutter closed. “Open them for me, I want you to watch” you nod watching him before you look down and watch each thrust.

You know he’s close when his thrust become more intense, he shoves his cock deep inside you not caring about your sensitivity. His skin collides with yours, creating no room for you to escape his thick length. You can’t believe that your orgasm is approaching again, you don’t know how much more you can take, you’re already fucked out.

His eyes never leave yours, the intensity and lust behind them, and the way he’s buried deep inside you causes shivers to run down your spine as your legs shake. “Good girl, let it out, let it out” he coos as he strokes your cheek.

It all becomes too much for you, your words and breath stuck in your throat. You feel everything so intensely.

“Shh, you got it. Im almost there”

And with a few more strokes, he is because you feel his cock twitch and a warm liquid engulf you. “Fuuuck”. He continues for a moment, riding out his orgasm. Eventually he pulls out, and you both watch as his load drips out from inside of you. He hold his dick in his hand and allows his red sensitive tip to rub against your hole, his cum coating his tip. “Look at that” he smirks.

“I told you I’d make everything better”

[eunoiaflow3r]

mine - ron weasley x reader

requests open

taglist

warning(s): language, smut

word count: 1.9k

request(ed): fic where you saw ron and Hermione getting too close so you got mad and he was angry at you and gave you a punishment + Can you do anthor ron fic where the reader got jelly because she saw hermione and ron get close so she ignores him and he gets angry and puts her in her palce

summary: Y/N gets jealous and Ron has his way of reassuring her…characters 17+

—————————————————————

You weren’t even the one to notice it at first. Luna was at your side while you two studied on the lawn. There was a quiz in herbology and you desperately needed her help.

“They seem quite close.” Luna comments. You follow her eyes across the way to see Ron leaning against a pillar and Hermione in front of him holding her books and laughing at a joke he undoubtedly told. He smiled brightly and you watched as she leant out her arm to touch his.

Your heart kind of dropped but then you reminded yourself that they were friends. Just friends, and you didn’t need to worry.

At dinner you sat next to him and he pressed a kiss to your cheek and had his hand on your thigh as you two ate. You talked about your day and everything was pretty normal and you forgot what happened earlier - it became irrelevant, until the next day.

You didn’t see Ron at breakfast…or Hermione. Harry told you that they were in the hall studying for his test and normally it wouldn’t bother you except for the visuals you had of them yesterday. You trusted the both of them, sure, but it didn’t stop an insecurity from growing. You aren’t the type to compare yourself to another girl, but you can admit that his recent actions are hitting some kind of nerve.

———

“Hello Y/N!”

“Hi Y/N!”

Fred and George came over so that you were sat in the middle of them. You were on the couch in the Gryffindor common room writing a letter to your parents.

“Hey George, Fred. What are you guys up to?”

“Bored.” Fred answers.

“Are you doing anything interesting ?” George asks.

“Just writing.” You say.

You talk to them for a while until you all looked towards the portrait as it opened. You heard giggling and waited to see who would come out - Ron and Hermione. They both carried snacks and shared a bag of crisps.

“Hmmm.” Fred hummed.

“Hmmm indeed. They look cozy.” George whispered.

They both got up at the same time and rubbed Ron’s head as they left - probably to cause trouble somewhere. Hermione waved to you before going into her room, and Ron sat in the seat next to you, offering his crisps. You decline and feel yourself become stiff.

“Missed you today.” he says, going in to kiss your neck.

You move slightly so he doesn’t get the chance. “Where were you?”

He looks confused for a second at your movement but doesn’t comment. “With Hermione…and Harry. I’m sorry I’ve been distracted today.”

You hum. “Okay. I’m going to bed.”

“Already? It’s not even late yet.”

“I’m tired Ronald. Goodnight.”

You never called him by his full name but you must admit you were irritated. Yes he’s allowed to spend time with his friends, he doesn’t have to be around you 24/7…but them being so close just made you feel weird.

The next morning you woke up late…barely slept - tossing and turning thinking about Ron and Hermione. It made you sick to your stomach how seeing the two of them made you feel. And how could you even say anything? You would seem like a bad girlfriend if you brought it up. So you wouldn’t.

When you arrived at breakfast you saw Hermione next to Ron and Harry across from Ron. Hermione was stealing food off of Ron’s plate and he would pinch her every time she tried causing her to giggle. You couldn’t watch. It just seemed so flirty to you and you couldn’t stand it.

You decided to sit next to Blaise, as you haven’t caught up with him in a while. Yes he was friends with Draco and Pansy, sworn enemies to your friends but Blaise didn’t care about any of that. You two have been close since childhood. You told him what was troubling you (quiet enough so that Draco and Pansy couldn’t hear) and he told you that your feelings were valid. That Ron seemed good enough but his actions can definitely seem off putting.

———

Across the hall Ron watched as you sat next to Blaise and began to talk. He was aware of yours and his relationship but he didn’t understand why you’d rather sit next to Blaise than him. He was also confused as to why you were late to breakfast and short with him last night. It wasn’t until he saw Blaise whisper something into your ear that made you giggle that made him angry.

“Why is Y/N sitting over there?” Ron asked no one in particular.

Harry turned and saw and so did Hermione.

“That’s strange,” she commented. “I haven’t seen her much at all these past few days actually do you think she’s been with him?”

Ron didn’t like that comment. He wasn’t jealous, no, but it did irk him a bit. He’s been with Hermione and Harry…does that mean she’s been with Blaise?

When he saw you in the hall a few hours later he tried coming up and talking to you but you just gave him a quick look and walked away. That pissed him off. Now he realized what you were doing was intentional. He just couldn’t figure out why.

It happened again during your last class which you conveniently had together - you avoided him. Made sure that you always seemed to be busy in conversation with someone else so that he would look like the asshole if he interrupted. You were being coy and he knew it.

———

You had managed to ignore Ron all day. That was Blaise’a advice. Yes, it was petty, but you were mad. Give him a taste of his own medicine. It hurt because you missed him, and you thought about how this might push Ron towards Hermione more but if Ron didn’t notice your absence then you shouldn’t be together.

You sat in the common room, playing a game with Luna when Ron made his way over.

He leans down so that his lips are next to your ear.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You roll your eyes.

“And so what if I have? Didn’t think you’d notice anyway.”

He clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything for a moment. You got nervous but continued your game.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

“I’m playing this -“

“Y/N.”

And that’s all it took. You followed him into his room and watched as he cast a spell to lock the door. You took a seat on his bed and watched as he took his robes off and began loosening his tie.

“So what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” You say.

“Don’t say that. I know it’s something, don’t lie to me.”

You cross your arms and stare at the floor.

“If you can hang out with your…friend…Then I should be able to hang out with mine, right?”

Ron took a moment to thing as he leaned against his dresser so that he was sitting on it. Then it clicked for him. Hermione. Blaise.

He grinned, but you could tell he wasn’t happy.

“So, you see Hermione and I together, and instead of communicating your feelings, you decide to make me jealous and angry by hanging out and flirting with Blaise?”

“I wasn’t trying to - wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I went to him for advice.”

He shakes his head. “What I’m hearing is you don’t trust me. Don’t trust me enough be loyal and respect your, our, boundaries.

I don’t want anyone but you, and I thought we were on the same page. I love you. Don’t want anyone but you, wouldn’t even dare look at anyone else the way I look at you. You should feel comfortable enough to talk to me when you’re feeling some kind of way.”

You were silent. He was right. You should have just talked to him. He would have understood.

“I’m sorry.” You say.

He nods towards his bed. “Undress please.” he comes closer as you do. “Obviously I have to show you to trust me.”

You have to admit, you were excited, but nervous.

He moves you up so that your head was on his pillows and he was in between your legs. He leans down so that his lips were right above yours and waits until you make the first move. You lift your chin up and he kisses you, hard, and passionately. His hand makes his way up to your neck and squeezes gently which makes you moan into his mouth. When he takes his hand away you whine until he pulls away and pulls your arms so that they’re above your head.

He removes his tie and ties your wrists to the headboard.

“Ron, please…”

He knew you loved to touch. Loved your fingers in his hair or on his back, around his neck. He was taking that privilege away and kissing down your neck. He took a moment to take one of your nipples into his mouth while he massaged the other. When he was done, he switched sides until finally he was ready to leave more wet kisses down your body.

When he got to just below your belly button he took his thumb to rub at your clit. You moaned and tried to pull your arms away from the headboard. You wanted to touch, so bad.

“Ron, oh God.” You whined.

He kept rubbing as he back up so that he was on his stomach, arms positioned under your legs, hands on your breasts, and face near your heat.

He leans down and licks a stripe up until he gets to your clit - there he sucks until your moans turn into pleads.

You try to close your legs or move but he holds them apart as he continues the pressure against your clit. He brings his middle and ring finger to your mouth and tells you to suck while he starts to flick his tongue against you. Once he’s satisfied he brings his fingers down to gently press against your entrance.

Ron puts one finger in and you moan.

“Ron! Please, please, please, more.”

“You think you deserve more baby?” He moans into you. “Think your pussy deserves to cum tonight?”

Your whine is nearly a cry. You’re just wishing and hoping he adds another finger.

“Tell me who I belong to Y/N. Let me hear you say it.”

“Mmmm. You belong to me Ron please, more.”

“I belong to you hmmm? Say it louder, I wanna believe it.”

“Fuck, Ron, You’re mine Ron please, please, please.”

He adds another finger, and continues a steady rhythm while pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs.

“And you belong to me baby. You’re all mine, and you’re gonna gonna cum on my fingers, okay? Want you to cum for me, can you do that?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes please Ron I wanna cum for you.”

He brings his tongue back to your pussy and begins licking your clit fast while pushing his fingers in and out of you curving them slightly as to hit your g-spot.

“I’m close Ron, fuck! I’m close, I’m close, I’m close.”

Ron practically grins against your pussy and goes faster.

“You’re close? Cum for me baby. Cum for Daddy, wanna taste you on my tongue.”

He continues and you fight against the restraint as you moan loudly and cum. Your fingernails were dug into your palms and there were nearly tears in your eyes. You felt so good. He made you feel so good.

He got up so that he could untie you.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was anyone’s but yours. No one can ever compare to you. You’re forever mine, and I’m eternally yours.”

——————

The End😭 Goodnight y’all. I suck at endings.

[roosterforme]

The Curveball Part 2 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob got Molly's phone number, but he hesitated, and now it could cost him. When he finally manages to go on a date with her, he should have done a better job of preparing his heart. Because he's completely hooked on Molly, but he's not the only one. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, eventually 18+

Length: 5500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

When Bradley needed a few days off from tee ball to go to Lemoore, Bob was thankful that Molly's sister was able to step up as Team Mom and help him prepare for the game on Saturday morning. 

It had been two days since he saw Molly. Two days since she kissed him goodnight in her car before he got into his truck and drove home with an erection. Two days since he managed to somehow not completely embarrass himself in front of his dream girl. 

But now her phone number was burning a hole in his pocket. Bob wasn't smooth. He wasn't sure what he should do next. Maybe waiting to see if she showed up to another practice was his best bet? Or was he supposed to call her today? Was she at work at the hospital right now? Maybe he should text her first instead? 

Flirting. Romance. Asking a girl out. He never did these things right. And Molly wasn't just someone random girl that he could try those things out on and not worry if he messed up. No, she was Molly. Bob would be lucky if he even got one chance with her. 

"I'm here to help," his Team Mom told him as he set up home plate.

"You're a lifesaver," Bob replied, handing over his clipboard. "Can you read down the list and check everything off for me?"

"Sure," she replied, following him as he set up cones. When she got to the bottom of the list, she asked him, "Did you remember to text the parent who volunteered to bring the snack?"

Bob groaned as he set down the last base marker. "No. Bradley usually does that the night before, and I promised him I would remember to take care of it this week."

"That's okay," she told him quickly. "I have bags of goldfish crackers in my trunk as an emergency backup plan."

Bob felt so relieved as he said, "You're the best Team Mom in the history of Team Moms."

She giggled, and he smiled at her. She sounded like Molly when she laughed. But then she said, "So, I talked to Molly a little bit this morning."

"Really?" Bob asked, picking up the tote bag of balls and looking at her like he was hanging on her every word now. 

"Mmhmm. She's kind of wondering why you haven't asked her out yet. She gave you her number. And it's been two days."

He was so flustered, he dropped the bag, sending balls rolling in every direction. He scrambled to pick them up, and she knelt to help him. "Does she really want to go on a date with me? Like just me and her?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Bob. Probably more than one."

More than one. More than one date. Bob had only ever been on a handful of first dates and even fewer second dates. He wasn't the type who kept women coming back for more. He was too quiet and reserved. Too meticulous and not loose enough. He was probably honestly boring. But Molly wanted to go out with him, probably more than once. 

"Bob," she said, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Her feelings are a little hurt that you didn't text her yesterday. If you like her, you need to make a move."

Bob had hurt Molly's feelings. He'd had his phone in his hands so many times last night, just looking at her contact name and number. But he never did anything about it. And now the game was about to start, and Bob's phone was buried in the bottom of his gear bag. He was tempted to dig it out now and text her, beg her to let him take her somewhere on a date. 

Then the game started, and he went into coaching mode. But Molly was never far from his mind. When the game ended in a victory for the Tiny Eagles, Bob told her sister, "I'm going to text Molly right now. Does she have a favorite kind of food? And a favorite type of flower?"

She pressed her lips together, nodding and looking pleased. "Sushi. And those really ugly multicolored carnations." 

"Thanks," Bob said, forcing himself to take his phone out right now. As he walked back to his truck with all of his gear, he typed out and deleted several messages. Nothing sounded right. He might need to call Nat for help. God, even fourteen year olds knew how to flirt over texts. What was wrong with him?

Bob tossed everything into the bed of his truck and took a deep breath. Then he quickly typed up a message and hit send before he could rethink it. 

Hi, Molly. It's Bob Floyd. If you have an evening free this week and are interested, I would love to have dinner with you.

Then he stood there and nervously reread the message, already silently pleading for a fast response from Molly. Because maybe everyone else was actually wrong, and she was laughing right now at the idea of going out with him. At the thought of going out to dinner with a man who had to spend a full minute trying to come up with a response every time she spoke, because he got so flustered. 

He tossed his phone into the cup holder and drove home. And not that he was counting, but it took Molly six hours and three minutes to respond to him. And when she did, his hands started sweating.

Molly: Coach Cute Glasses! Sorry for the late response, I'm working a double today. On my lunch break now. Dinner? This week? Are you sure you want to? You don't need to feel pressured to go out with me just because my sister is a bully.

Bob dropped his phone onto his kitchen counter. Molly thought he only texted her because her sister told him to. No, this was bad. But she wasn't completely wrong. He just didn't know he should have contacted her already. 

Before he messed this up, he called Nat. She already knew about his crush on Molly. She kept calling him Cassanova at work. But Bob knew that Nat would help him without picking on him too much.

"Nat, I didn't know I was supposed to text Molly right away!"

"You didn't text her yet?" Natasha asked so loudly through the phone that Bob had to remove it from his ear.

"I sent her a message this morning. I asked her out to dinner."

Nat practically screamed. "Bob! You should have texted her like ten minutes after she left you at your truck on Thursday night."

"Nat, I don't know how to do this!" Panic rose inside him.

"Okay. It's okay. What did she say to you?"

Bob went into every single detail he could think of and sent Nat a screenshot of his text with Molly. And then Nat did scream at him.

"Text her back this instant! She's so unsure, Robert Charles Floyd! You need to reassure her that you've had a boner in her honor for weeks and would like nothing more than to wine and dine her!" Nat huffed as Bob juggled his phone and started to draft a text to Molly. "Between you and Rooster, my hands are full. And yet I'm the one who's not getting any pussy? Unbelievable."

Bob took a deep breath, verified his response with Nat and then ended the call. Then he hit send.

I've been thinking about you a lot. Pretty much nonstop. I want to go out with you if you're interested. 

And then Bob stared at his phone for sixteen full minutes until Molly wrote back. 

Molly: Thursday night? I could meet you at tee ball?

And just like that, Bob had a date. And now he needed to get a reservation at the best sushi restaurant in San Diego.

-------------------------

Molly: Well what do you think of when you think of me?

Bob was on cloud nine. He and Molly had been texting constantly for days. Sometimes it was just a quick greeting. Sometimes it was flirty. And last night she sent him a selfie of her at work during her overnight shift. She was smiling in her maroon scrubs with her name embroidered on the top. She looked sweet and happy, and Bob had shamelessly masturbated to the photo. 

When I think of you, I think of how bad your driving is.

Molly seemed to like it when he teased her. She told him over and over again how funny he was. Bob had never been this charming before. 

Molly: You fly in a fighter jet, Lieutenant Floyd. Get over yourself! No wait, I'll bet you drive like a grandma. A grandma with a big, huge.... pickup truck.

Bob was laying in bed now, so excited for dinner tomorrow night. 

You'll find out tomorrow when I drive us to dinner.

Molly: I can't wait.

After work on Thursday, Bob showered in the locker room, but instead of the baseball pants, he changed into jeans and a soft undershirt. He had a dress shirt hanging in his truck that he would put on for dinner. He just hoped he didn't get too sweaty at practice.

He took more time to fix his hair than he ever had before. It felt important that he looked good tonight. He had a vase full of the ugly flowers that Molly liked. Apparently you could only buy them at the gas station, and Bob laughed when they came to four dollars for a bouquet of a dozen. He bought three dozen flowers for Molly last night and put them all in an oversized vase. He carried them in to work this morning and left them in his locker all day so they wouldn't wilt. When he was ready to leave for tee ball, he grabbed the vase out of his locker along with his keys and wallet. 

When Nat saw him in the hallway, she squealed. And then her eyes went wide. "Bob, no. Those flowers are hideous. You need to stop and get her something better!"

He laughed at the appalled look on her face. "She likes these ones. I verified it with her sister. Even sent a photo to confirm."

Nat studied him for a minute. "She likes ugly flowers and top tier sushi? And she's hot. And she thinks you're charming. She's quirky, Bob. Molly sounds like a treat. Like somehow... this makes sense to me." She patted him on the chest and then added, "Have fun! Don't forget some condoms!"

Bob gripped the vase in both hands before it could drop to the floor. Was he really supposed to do that? Stop and buy condoms? For a first date? Surely Nat was out of her mind. Bob laughed and headed outside to his truck. He buckled the vase in with the passenger side seatbelt. 

"Condoms," he murmured, blushing. He was just hoping for some more kisses. He was going to let Molly take the lead on everything physical, and maybe after a few weeks and a few more dates, they'd start to need condoms. If he was lucky. If she wanted to keep seeing him.

When Bob got to the ballfield, he still felt calm, collected. But when his eyes caught on that blue car, his heart skipped around in his chest. Because there was Molly, and his brain was quickly flooded with all of the flirty text messages they had been sending back and forth since the weekend. 

She had on a rather short dress, and Bob was filled with desire. It was almost like he forgot how beautiful she was since he'd been absorbed by talking with her over text. He had learned a lot about her as they chatted late into the evenings. Molly bowls in a league. Her favorite color is neither green nor blue but greenish-blue. She volunteers at blood drives. She likes spending time with her nephew. And she sleeps naked. 

Bob had blushed for an hour when she casually told him that. And now he was blushing again and getting flustered. Because Molly was here. And she was beautiful to look at as well as lovely in every other way. Everything about her was a turn on to Bob. 

But he still wasn't so sure he could continue to impress and entertain her. He wasn't cool. He wasn't sexy. Bob embraced his nerd tendencies. He was often reserved. Methodical. Meticulous. Molly was spontaneous and silly. She was perfect. A spitfire. The opposite of him.

Molly walked down to the ballfield directly toward Bob, and then she did the unthinkable. She planted her left hand firmly on his chest like it belonged there. And then she kissed him on the cheek before brushing his lips with hers. Right in front of everyone. 

"Hey, Coach Cute Glasses," she said with a laugh that had Bob fiddling with his whistle. "I'm excited for our plans tonight."

"Hi, Molly." Bob mumbled as all the moms looked on. He could feel himself blushing as she patted his chest and went to sit on the bleachers. 

He wasn't sure how he managed to keep it together, but he finished practice without getting too sweaty. Molly was lingering by the bleachers and talking to her sister as Bob talked with some of the other parents and said goodbye to the kids. 

When he started heading for the bleachers, Molly shoved her sister and nephew toward the parking lot and said, "Bye!"

"Hey, I thought you told me you loved spending time with your family," Bob said with a laugh. 

"I do!" Molly insisted. "But would I choose them over a hot guy who promised me sushi? Nope."

You took Bob by the hand and he muttered, "I still find it hard to believe you're talking about me."

Molly rolled her eyes and said, "You know you're hot. Now you promised me a walk around the park before dinner."

Bob couldn't help but smile as she tried to pull him toward one of the walking paths. But he gently pulled her closer to him. "Let me put my gear in my truck first."

She walked with him to the parking lot, and when he tossed his tee ball equipment into the bed of the truck, he heard Molly gasp. She was looking in the passenger side window as she said, "Oh my goodness, Lieutenant Floyd. Did you buy me gas station flowers?" She turned to look at him with adoration in her eyes. "I love gas station flowers."

"I asked your sister what I should get," he told her as he blushed. 

Bob's limbs felt warm as Molly clapped her hands together and then bounced into Bob's arms. "I can't believe you took the time to ask my sister what I like," she whispered, lips brushing his ear. 

Bob's hands came to rest on her lower back as he held her close. "I want to know everything you like."

She hummed softly and kissed the side of his neck. "I like you."

Now Bob felt too warm. He needed to cool down. He swallowed hard and said, "How about that walk through the park?"

Molly was like a force of nature, always keeping Bob's full attention on her. She told him stories about work and her sister, and she constantly asked him questions about himself. He wasn't interesting, so he tried to turn the conversation back to her as quickly as possible each time. 

"So," she said eventually, chewing on her lip. "Bradley told me you don't have a girlfriend, but... how many women are you seeing?"

"Seeing?" Bob asked, looking at her pretty face and their linked hands.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I mean, I'm just curious if you're going on a lot of dates, but you don't have to tell me. Pretend I didn't even ask!"

Bob stopped in the middle of the path, and Molly came to a halt too. "Just you," Bob said slowly. He hadn't even considered that his original thought of Molly's collection of a hundred boyfriends could still be correct. Just because she didn't have a boyfriend, that didn't mean she wasn't seeing a bunch of other guys. And now Bob felt like an idiot. 

"Just me?" she asked, surprised. "Oh. That sounds nice."

He forced the words out. "What about you?"

"Well," she said, ducking her head in embarrassment. Bob could feel disappointment thrumming through his veins. He'd already gotten his hopes up when he'd been texting her late into the evening every night. But he had never once thought that maybe he wasn't the only guy Molly was chatting with. 

Then she cleared her throat. "Well, my ex, Casey, and I were kind of seeing each other again, but I cancelled on him after I gave you my number last week. I had high hopes, but when I didn't hear from you, I figured that you didn't want to go out with me."

"I'm sorry, Molly," Bob mumbled. He had hesitated, and it was going to cost him. He was so bad at all of this stuff, it was unbelievable. 

She smiled up at him. "I thought maybe I came on too strong for you."

"I liked it," he said softly. And then he decided to be bold and try to make her forget about Casey. He leaned down and kissed her. But his plan backfired. Because instead, she made him forget he'd ever looked at any other girls. When he finally pulled his lips away from hers, his glasses were crooked again. Molly adjusted them before he could, and then she pushed her fingers through his hair. 

She whimpered softly, which made Bob's entire body throb, and then she was in his arms and kissing him all over his entire face before settling back on his lips again. "I just love your glasses," she whispered against his neck as her hand trailed down the front of him to the button of his jeans. 

"Molly," he groaned, which was a bad idea, because her hand dropped a few more inches, and he had to grab her wrist as she ran her hand along his erection. "Molly, let's go get sushi."

She nodded at him. "Yeah, okay." 

He was aching for her, and now that he got a little taste of her touch, he wanted more. She sounded out of breath, and Bob was beginning to wonder if this is what chemistry felt like. This nonstop attraction. His inability to look away. His concern about being better for her than her ex. Better than anyone else. 

--------------------------

Molly held her vase overflowing with rainbow flowers while Bob drove toward the naval base. He had put on his dress shirt, and now the radio was playing softly as he followed every traffic law. 

"I just knew you'd drive like a grandma," Molly said. "Your hands are at ten and two on the steering wheel. You don't go even a smidge over the speed limit. And you have absolutely no trash or anything in here." She glanced around the cab of his spotlessly clean truck.

Bob cleared his throat. "You know who taught me how to drive?"

"Who?" she asked, laughter in her voice. 

Bob turned to face her at a stoplight. "My grandma," he told her with a smile.

Molly erupted into laughter that filled his heart. "It shows, Uncle Bob! I love it!"

Okay so this was clearly the best date Bob had ever been on, and he wasn't even at dinner yet. He had no idea how a good night kiss would go since Molly had already kissed him. Quite a few times. And she had touched him, too. She made everything so exciting, he kept looking forward to more. 

"Have you been here before?" he asked, parking in front of what Payback and Fanboy had promised him was the best sushi restaurant around. 

"Of course," Molly said, crawling across the seat toward Bob once he climbed out of his truck. "It's the best." He could see down the front of her dress as she made her way across the seat on her hands and knees. Bob was going to ask what she was doing, but he was just staring at her. He reached out to help her climb down, and her body skimmed along his. 

"Did you come here on a date?" he asked as they walked into the restaurant, presumably just to punish himself. 

After Bob gave his last name to the hostess, Molly shook her head. "I brought my sister here for her birthday. And again after her divorce was final. Never on a date."

Bob liked that. Molly was looking up at him like he was transparent, but he didn't mind that either. 

When they were led to a table, he pulled out one of the chairs for her. When his fingers skimmed along her back, she looked up at him and followed him with her eyes until he was sitting across from her. Nobody had ever looked at him this way. It was so surprising, Bob felt completely off balance. 

When he stretched his long legs out, he bumped hers. "Sorry," he mumbled, but Molly hooked her ankles around his legs and pulled them closer.

"That's okay," she said. Bob listened to her order a beer, a salad and some sushi. He couldn't focus on the menu at all. Not with the way Molly was rubbing his calf with her foot. He said something to the waiter, so he must have ordered something for himself. 

Molly reached across the table and ran her fingers along his. "So, where are you from, Coach Bob? Your accent is cute."

He smiled down at his chopsticks. "I grew up on a ranch in Wyoming. My family moved to California when I was fifteen."

She bit her lip and stared at him before she said, "You're a country boy."

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. 

"I'll bet you ran around in cowboy boots and collected bugs as a kid. You probably had your own wildlife preserve on the ranch."

"I did, actually," he confirmed with a grin. "I've always been a bit of a nerd. Interested in the ranch animals and the way things worked."

Molly seemed to understand him, and all of his interests and nuances didn't bother her at all. "Good lord almighty, a nerdy cowboy. I could definitely get used to that," she muttered.

Bob wasn't sure what to say. Maybe Molly was feeling like he was? Maybe the more she learned about him, the more she liked? I didn't seem at all plausible, but there was just something about the way she looked at him.

"Do you have a cowboy hat?" she asked innocently with her hands folded in front of her. 

"Not anymore," he said, and she was giggling now.

"I'll get you one," she whispered. "Or maybe I could wear it."

Bob could picture it. Molly, sitting on his lap, wearing a cowboy hat that was a little too big for her head before laughing and dropping it onto his head. 

"You'd look cute in it," Bob confirmed, and her eyes lit up. "You'd look cute in anything." 

"You know what I think I'd look great in, Lieutenant Floyd?"

Bob shook his head, mesmerized by the way Molly's lips looked when she spoke. "Tell me?"

Her eyes dipped down to his collar as she said, "That shirt you're wearing. It'll look pretty great on me tomorrow morning."

Bob's cock registered the meaning before his brain did. She was rubbing her foot along his calf and looking at him expectantly as she pressed her beer bottle to her lips. Was she suggesting a sleepover? Bob made a grunting noise, but he was saved from having to try to speak when their food was dropped off. 

As Molly picked up her chopsticks and went to take her first bite of sushi, Bob managed to say, "I'd like to see that."

She froze and looked at him. Her eyes were so expressive and unguarded. She wore her emotions on her face, and even Bob could tell that she wanted him. It didn't make sense, but it was true. It was obvious.

He sat a little taller and smirked as he started eating. Because if a woman like Molly was interested in him, even if he wasn't the only one, it was something to get excited about. 

"How's your sushi?" he asked, one eyebrow raised above his glasses.

"So good," Molly replied softly, her food still held in midair in front of her.

Bob smiled. "You haven't eaten any yet."

"I know," she assured him. "But when I do, it's going to be perfect."

Bob ate quickly after that, not really tasting his food. Molly seemed to be enjoying herself though, little moans and gasps of pleasure filled his ears as she ate. And she shared her food with him. He liked that. 

"Here, Bob. Try this one," she said, holding up her chopsticks instead of setting the sushi on his plate this time. Then she fed it to him and watched his mouth work as he chewed. "You're really sexy," she gasped before setting her chopsticks down. Bob watched her run her hand along the back of her neck as he ached for her. "I'm sure you get that a lot."

Bob almost never got that, but he didn't want to tell her. He didn't want her to think of him in any other way. 

"Molly," he whispered, pushing aside his plate as she ran her foot up along his jeans again. 

"Wanna take me home?" she asked softly, and Bob was nodding and reaching for his wallet. He dropped three fifty dollar bills onto the table, confident that would cover everything plus a tip, and then he was on his feet. 

Molly abandoned some uneaten sushi and the last few sips of her beer in favor of his arms. She kissed him on the cheek right there next to the table and whispered, "I just want to take you and my gas station flowers back to my place for the night."

Bob let her hook her index finger through his belt loop, and he followed her wordlessly toward the exit. He opened the truck door for Molly while she ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him softly. 

"Do you want me to take you to get your car?" he asked as her lips met his jaw. "Or... do you want me to-"

Molly dragged her fingernails along his scalp, and Bob's cock throbbed against her belly where she was pressed tight to him. She must have been able to feel him, but he wasn't embarrassed about it at all. She whined softly and kept kissing him as she spoke. "Take me home, Bobby."

Bobby. Shit. He was unbelievably turned on. Letting Molly take the lead physically was maybe a bad idea, because several of his shirt buttons were undone, and her lips were on his Adam's apple. She was so warm and sweet. Never hesitating to show him affection or tell him she liked something about him.

And he liked everything about her. What was he waiting for? Once again, Molly made the next move, pulling her lips away from him and patting him gently on the cheek as she climbed into his truck and got buckled in with her flowers. Bob felt cold where her body used to be pressed against him as he closed her door and walked around the bed of his truck.

But when he started the engine and turned toward Molly to ask for directions, she kissed him again and rubbed her hand up along his thigh. "Turn right out of the parking lot," she whispered. After a few miles of following her directions, Molly whined, "I even find it sexy the way you drive like an elderly person. What is happening to me, Lieutenant Floyd?" Her head was tipped back against the headrest, and her palm was resting so high on his jeans, she was about to nudge his erection.

"Molly," he gasped, unable to say much else. He had never been this turned on before, and now he was afraid she was going to want to have sex with him. He'd never done that on a first date. Or a second date. Or a third date. His last girlfriend made him wait until they went out eight times, which was fine, but then she lost interest in him after a few more dates. 

But Molly made him feel the same way flying in a Super Hornet did: she was exciting and fun, but the element of danger lurking beneath the surface made it even better. 

"Park there," she told him, pointing to her assigned spot in her apartment complex. And then her seatbelt was off, the vase was sitting on the floor, and she was straddling his lap. There was no way he could hide how hard he was, so he didn't even try. 

"Molly." 

She devoured his lips, kissing him nice and slow while she took both of his hands in hers. Carefully, she guided his hands to her bare thighs, easing them up underneath her dress a few inches. Then she carefully worked on the rest of his shirt buttons while she kissed him. Molly's skin beneath Bob's rough hands was the softest thing he had ever felt. And the more he explored, the louder she got.

Then she wrenched her lips away from his, and Bob sat there staring at her as she looked at his mouth. There was a little crease of concern on her face as her brow scrunched up, and her eyes met his as she said, "Wait."

Bob started to pull his hands away from her legs, embarrassed now by how forward he'd been. "Sorry," he murmured, but Molly took his hands in hers once again and placed them back on her legs. 

She kissed his lips gently one time before she said, "I really, really like you, Bob...maybe we should slow down?"

"Okay," he agreed, realizing he was running purely on adrenaline at the moment. "Slow. Okay. Yes." That was the speed he knew best anyway. But Molly's lips were back on his neck and she was scooting a little more snug up against his body. 

"Slow," she murmured against his skin. And then slowly, she untucked his undershirt so her hands were on his abs, and Bob's head tipped back. Slowly, she kissed and nipped at his neck. Slowly, she rolled her hips against his. He had to squeeze his eyes shut as she slowly unbuttoned his jeans and licked his ear. 

"I thought you said slow," he whispered, panting as he gently squeezed her thighs in his big hands. "Molly."

"Keep saying my name," she gasped, shaking as he dug his fingertips into her soft flesh. "Bobby, please."

"Molly," he grunted, sucking in a breath and kissing her mouth. He swallowed down her soft whines and whimpers as he pushed her back against his steering wheel. She leaned back like she was on display for him, still rolling her hips gently against his.

Bob had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. And as she ran her hands down over her own body, she stopped at the hem of her dress. "Keep saying my name," she demanded. 

"Molly," Bob whispered, watching her ease her dress up higher. "Molly," he groaned, both syllables coming out a little rough. She wasn't wearing underwear. Her bare pussy was resting on the fly of his jeans, because she wasn't wearing any underwear. "Molly!" 

His hands were on her waist and his lips were skimming across the soft swell of her breasts. Bob was rutting gently against her now, but he couldn't stop as she cried out one word. "More!"

"Molly," he panted, imagining how good he would feel wrapped in her warmth. "You said slow, honey."

"I don't want to go slow!" she moaned. "But I don't want you to think I always do this!"

Bob looked her in the eye. He didn't care if she did this all the time. He just wanted her feelings to be as strong as his, so maybe she'd want to just be with him now. Because he was already completely addicted to being around her. And if they had sex, he knew he wouldn't recover from it with his heart intact if she turned around and grew tired of him. 

"Molly," he whispered, running his knuckles softly along her cheek so she'd look at him. "I don't care if we go slow or fast or somewhere in the middle. But I really like you, too. And nothing's gonna change that."

She nodded as he cupped her cheek. "You're too sweet," she whispered, leaning forward and kissing him. She knocked his glasses crooked and let her forehead come to rest on his. "Let's go inside."

-------------------------

I am so obsessed with Mob. Don't forget, Bob fucks. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 3

@theamuz

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[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

New Years Resolutions - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 1345>

warnings - not proof read

If it were any normal New Years Eve, you'd be at home by yourself, with the comfort of instant noodles and the talk shows that were on TV with singers and everything like that. But, this year was different. 

Your parents had loosely known the Sainz family, so you were among the many on the list invited to their New Years party. You decided saying no was a slightly stupid idea, so you said you'd be going and got all dressed up. 

When you walked in, you instantly realised that you didn't know a single person there. Before you had the chance to slip back out the front door unnoticed, you heard someone call out your name. Looking around the space, you didn't see anyone but crowds of unfamiliar people. 

You figured that there was another Y/N there, and the person was looking for someone else. You began to back out of the door a second time, but then you saw who the calls were coming from. "Y/N, hey! I didn't think you'd be coming," a familiar voice said, parting through the crowds. 

"Hey, Carlos. I thought I might as well show my face," you smiled at your old friend. Seen as your parents were friends, you and Carlos had interacted a few times over the years. You liked him, he was nice towards you and hadn't given you any reason to dislike him. 

It would also be pointless to deny that he was very handsome and easy on the eyes. "I'm glad you're here, I can finally have some fun. It's been pretty boring, I must admit," he grinned, taking your coat from off your shoulders. "We ran out of room on the coat rack, so would you mind if I put it in my room? I don't want it getting lost," he said. 

"Yeah, that'd be fine, thank you," you nodded as the two of you walked into the packed living room. I mean, you looked around and the room felt bigger than the entirety of your house, and there were definitely a couple hundred people here.

"You wait here, I'll be back," he said, disappearing through the crowd with your coat. There were a couple of people you recognised, but you didn't know any of them. You stood, rooted to the spot so that you didn't have to spend a second more than necessary without Carlos. 

"You wanna get a drink?" he asked, reappearing right next to you. 

"Yeah please," you nodded, and he placed a soft hand on the small of your back as he gently guided you through the crowds of people towards the bar that they just casually had in their house. 

"What can I get for you?" he chuckled, rounding the bar and acting like a bartender. "Whatever you want, I can do it for you," he smiled.

"I'll take a tequila sunrise then, please," you said as Carlos instantly got to work. He found all the ingredients he needed, and poured the grenadine into your glass before shaking the tequila, orange juice and triple sec in the cocktail shaker. 

Pouring it out into the glass, he topped it with ice and a mini umbrella to complete the drink. "Thank you very much," you smiled, sipping away at it. The measurements were absolutely perfect, and it was a very good tequila sunrise. 

"No problem, it's my pleasure. How about we go somewhere a little less crowded? We can catch up," he asked, coming back around to your side of the bar. 

"Yeah, sounds good," you said, picking your drink up and following him where he he was taking you. The room you went into only had a couple of people, all crowded around a pool table as they played. 

"So, how've you been? It's been ages since I last saw you," he sincerely asked, sitting down next to you on one of the plush couches in the room. 

"I've been good, yeah. I mean, we probably haven't seen each other because you've been off being Carlos Sainz, and I've been working and stuff," you said, as he intently watched you. You didn't have to see him all the time to know that the two of you were friends. 

"Yeah, I guess Carlos Sainz is a pretty full time thing," he lightly chuckled, his smile instantly putting one on your face. He had a certain quality about him, something that allowed you to calm down and relax. "Tell me, what's your New Years resolution?" he quizzed.

"Right, don't laugh at me if it's corny, OK?" you asked, and he simply raised an eyebrow at you out of curiosity. 

"I say the same thing every single year, but I want to find someone, you know? I've been single for long enough, I want a relationship, I want to be loved," you told him, and he wasn't going to laugh any time soon. He found it endearing, even if it was one of the last things he expected to come out of your mouth. 

"Well I'm sure you will, you're a good person, and to top it all off you're stunning, so I don't see why you won't get a boyfriend," he said without missing a beat, as if it were a normal thing he said to everyone. You blushed lightly as his comment, your cheeks heating up. 

"Thanks Carlos, I really appreciate it," you blushed, unable to make eye contact with him.

"I'm serious, someone would be very lucky to have you," he continued, noticing the red flush to your face. "I'm just saying what someone else should have told you a long time ago," he finished, checking his watch as he noticed people filtering back into the living room. 

"God, you're such a flirt," you laughed, nudging him. You also noticed that people were leaving the room, and you figured it was because you were getting close to midnight. 

"Come on, let's go into the living room, it's nearly midnight," Carlos said, standing and holding his hand out for you. You took it and let him lead you into the crowded living room, both of you having to stand closely in the corner. 

You were squashed between this random guy and Carlos, and you could barely breathe because of how tight the space was. Carlos noticed the slight discomfort on your face, and pulled you in front of him by the shoulders. You were now stood so your back was lightly brushing against his chest whenever either of you breathed. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks," you smiled, looking up at him over your shoulder. Looking around, you saw that all of the boyfriends and girlfriends, fiances, partners, husbands and wives, were all stood together, undoubtedly getting ready for their New Years kiss. Maybe next year you'd get yours.  

The people who could see the TV started counting down, and before you knew it, it was 2024. Somewhere outside, you could hear the fireworks booming, as the couples around you embraced with a kiss and others cheersed. 

You turned around, shouting a 'Happy new year Carlos!' over the noise. The smile on your face was absolutely priceless, and the lack of space between you was causing him to sweat. He bit the bullet and went for it, "Can I kiss you?" he shouted back, and you just looked at him for a moment.

A kiss wouldn't hurt, right? There was nothing for you to lose by kissing Carlos, so you replied with a simple 'yes'. That was all the confirmation he needed, as he closed the small gap between you and captured your lips with his. 

It felt like the sparks between you were bigger than those of the fireworks outside as neither of you pulled away. He realised that everyone else was just celebrating now, while the two of you were practically making out in the corner, so he begrudgingly pulled away from you.

"I think you'll fulfill your New Years resolution earlier than expected," he smiled chuckled, the euphoria that was surging through his veins not wearing off in the slightest. Now this was the perfect way to start the new year, no doubts about it. 

A/N - Happy new year my loves! Here's to a 2024 of more writing, and hopefully less Ferrari pain... :). Thank you for sticking with me this year, and I'll see you all next year! Have a wonderful day/night, and I love y'all 💖🍾

|masterlist|

[sardonic-sprite]

Home Alone

Some days, Tim was really fucking glad to have Batman for a next-door neighbor.

He couldn't exactly remember a time when he was quite this glad or relieved, though. He'd never been on the verge of being kidnapped before.

But that was ok. He wasn't going to be kidnapped.

He had a plan.

Call the police would probably have been more rational, but the power was all still dead from the snowstorm, and Tim figured the roads to Bristol were blocked up, too. At the very least, his driveway was, and it was long enough to be considered its own short road.

Stupid fucking snowstorm. It was its fault that Tim's parents couldn't get back in town, and that he was alone and trying not to end up kidnapped on Christmas.

But it was ok. Because he wouldn't. Because he had a plan. And about two hours to set it into motion. And if it failed, the kidnappers were probably just going to be so pissed they'd kill Tim, so technically his goal of don't get kidnapped would still be met.

Technicalities were usually much more fun.

Tim ran around the house in a frenzy, darting glances out the window every few minutes to make sure the creepy men hadn't gotten any closer. But no, they were still huddled around their fires out in the yard, waiting for him to surrender.

Big fat nope to that one. Tim didn't know who they were working for, or why that guy wanted an eleven-year-old kid, but he knew it was most definitely for something very bad, and he wasn't interested in the particulars.

He paused, shuddering at the thought that entered his head, then scattered a few more Lego pieces on the floor.

The thing was, Tim could neither call for help nor run away while the power was out and the bad guys were surrounding the house. But if he got them inside the house, and made sure they couldn't follow, then he could race across the half-mile stretch to the property line. Crossing that would trigger Batman's security, and he'd come and investigate and bring Tim somewhere safe and beat up the bad guys, and maybe even be impressed at how clever and resourceful Tim had been.

Of course, even getting outside hinged on how many bad guys actually did come inside, and how many got caught in Tim's traps long enough to give him a head start. The traps had never been tested, after all, and Tim only had time for so many math calculations to determine their effectiveness. Drake Manor was also so large that he couldn't sufficiently cover it. He'd have to guide the bad guys where he wanted them to go.

Which meant he was using himself as live bait.

... It was gonna be fine.

The clock began striking nine as Tim finished his second-floor traps and double-checked the wiring. His heartbeat was going crazy in his chest, and he took deep, slow breaths in time with the chimes to steady himself. If he hyperventilated and passed out, he was worse than dead.

"TIMOTHY DRAKE," boomed the voice that had called out before, somehow magnified so that each word was perfectly clear, "THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE. SURRENDER NOW AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED. REFUSE, AND WE WILL USE ALL FORCE TO APPREHEND YOU."

Tim threw open the nearest window and stuck his head out, squinting against the snow to see the nearest fire. He didn't know if the man was at that one or not, but it didn't matter. He was sure his cry of "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE! EAT SHIT!" was heard by all.

He slammed the window shut as the voice yelled furiously and sprinted down the stairs, skipping over the wires and traps. He wasn't sure how many were going to enter in each direction, but the first landing was the best place to bring them all closer.

Tim had to wait there for several minutes, anxiety building, before he heard the first cry of pain. It sounded like it came from the front door, and Tim smirked, thinking of the heavy vase that had just gotten shattered over the bad guy's head.

Strangled swearing erupted from the kitchen where superglue had stolen shoes to bare feet to a sea of Legos. A howl rose from the living room where a hot plate had been set under the window.

"DRAKE!"

"Last chance to surrender!" Tim hollered mockingly, wiping sweaty hands on his pants.

Screams and a terribly loud bang meant that his flashbomb had successfully blinded someone, and the most creative swear Tim had ever heard in his life confirmed that sticking his mother's sewing needles into the grey carpet had been a stroke of genius.

"You will pay for this, you insolent whelp!"

"You want it in cash or credit?" Tim needed them closer. Besides, it was just a little bit fun to tease.

"In blood!"

The first man appeared at the foot of the stairs. He held his right hand close to his chest, but otherwise looked unharmed. He must have avoided the lighter in the hall, though by the sound of it, one of his buddies hadn't.

Tim gulped. All he could see above the black ninja mask was the man's eyes, and he looked furious.

"Um, how about traveler's checks?"

The man started up the stairs with a roar and immediately toppled backwards, slipping on the generous coating of oil over the hardwood.

"Oh, yeah, I just polished that."

One man staggered into the foyer from the front hall. He still had dust and broken pottery on his head and shoulders, and his eyes looked unfocused. Another limped in from the kitchen, barefoot and glaring. He drew a knife, and Tim scrambled backwards.

"No!" The first man grabbed the other's wrist. He didn't look happy about it, but he said, "Lord Ra's wants the boy alive."

"He can live without his arrogant little tongue!"

Tim tried to think up something clever to say, to get them to come up the stairs, but he really did not want them any closer than they were. Out in the yard, they couldn't hurt him, but here they could. They could hurt Tim very, very bad.

Two more ninjas stumbled in, one blinking and squinting, pant leg still smoldering. The other, who looked like a woman, was walking on the sides of her feet. She left a thin trail of blood behind her, and Tim both felt sorry and wished it were worse all at once.

"He's lost his tongue even without your blade, Hans," laughed the first man. "Not so brave now, are you, boy?"

Brave, Tim. Brave like Robin.

Jason wouldn't be scared of these goons, and neither would Dick. Dick would make fun of them, and Jason would cuss them out, so Tim did both.

"Like hell I'm scared of you shit-faces! The wax dummies at the history museum would make better ninjas than you!"

Hans yelled and ran at the stairs. He didn't hear the first man yell, "Fool, it's oiled!" until he was already flat on his back. Tim listened very hard, but couldn't hear anyone else in the house. He taunted, "Where's the rest of you? Maybe you could use the power of friendship to figure it out," to make sure.

"Thank whatever god guards you there are none others," the woman snarled. "Or you would choke on your blood even as you laugh."

"Dramatic," Tim quipped weakly, voice a bit too high.

"How did we fail him that Lord Ra's would punish us this way," moaned Pottery Man. "Being tormented and mocked by an infant."

"Hey!" Tim cried, indignant. "I'm eleven and five twelfths!"

"Enough of this!" Number One shouted. "Hans, the servant's stair, Edda, the back stair. Jethro, the dumbwaiter." They scattered, and One began stalking up the oiled stairs, clinging to the rail and motioning the blinded man to stay behind. "You think we do not know every hall and stair in this house, boy? Every entrance and exit? What do you think will be your salvation if you stall us?"

Tim swallowed, edging into the hall and carefully pushing open the first door. He may have to adjust his escape plan.

"Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Steven Spielberg, 1981!" Tim hollered. He dove out of the way as his father's massive, prized floor globe, the one twice the size and weight of Tim, rolled down the improvised ramp and onto the stairwell, gathering speed every second.

Tim took off, running down the hall to his bedroom without looking back. He heard screaming from several parts of the house, and would have jeered at them about not expecting him to know how to trap his own house, but he no longer wanted to give away his location. He'd need extra time now. Climbing down from his window was going to be a hell of a lot harder than climbing the rope he'd put in the dumbwaiter for himself.

Tim pulled out his army knife as he passed the dumbwaiter door and started sawing at the rope, grateful the set-up could double as another trap. He didn't even have to cut all the way through, the ninja's weight snapping the fibers in seconds once they frayed. He heard a yell and an awful snap.

The cry of, "I'll kill you, brat!" should not have been comforting, but Tim didn't want to have killed anybody, so it was.

He made it to his room, shut and locked the door, then shoved his dresser against it, grunting and panting. He had to lean against it for a moment to catch his breath, swiping the sweat from his forehead. He gave himself thirty seconds, but dropped it to twenty when the shouting drew nearer.

"I can do this," Tim whispered, stepping onto the windowsill and staring down. "I can totally, one hundred percent do this."

He sat down and shimmied around until he was clutching the window ledge with ungloved hands. His fingers were already freezing. His toes hung and flailed in open air for a few terrifying seconds before they found crevices in the weathered brick.

Tim took a deep breath.

Slowly, inch by inch, he worked his way down the wall until his feet hit the top of the first floor window. His fingers scraped and bled against the bricks, turning white with cold and terror. Sweat ran down his face and back, making him hot and cold both at once. Once he got his hand or foot on a hold, it was hard to make himself move again.

Carefully -- oh, so, so carefully, when Tim's feet hit the top of that window, did he turn his head over his shoulder. The snow rose to the bottom of the window, making the drop only about three feet into a cushion. Tim closed his eyes and jumped.

The snow crunched loudly beneath him, and he broke through it up to his knees. He didn't dare waste time celebrating, but immediately started off, hoping the blizzard would help to cover his tracks.

Half a mile due east. Tim could make it.

Half a mile through ever-deeper snow, in wind and dark, with only a coat and boots, and furious ninjas hunting him down.

Tim had to make it.

At first he tried to run, shoving his hands in his pockets to make them warm, but it was like trying to run through a pool, and Tim soon found himself basically swimming with his arms and legs. Within minutes (though each felt like an hour) he couldn't feel his fingers at all.

The snow was high enough to slip into the tops of his boots, melting into his socks and making his feet grow numb. Tim started crying, only realizing it when the tear tracks burned down his cheeks and froze there. Every breath became a white cloud in front of his face.

The whole world had turned into the snowstorm. Tim didn't know anymore if he was going east or west, north or south, up or down. If he was still going towards Batman and safety, or if he'd got so turned around he was about to run right into the ninjas' arms. He stumbled and staggered, knowing he had to keep moving no matter where he ended up. Fall down in the snow, and he was never getting back up.

Then finally, finally, Tim saw light in the distance.

"Help!" he cried, but his voice was ripped away by the wind.

"Batman! Mr. Wayne! Robin! Help me, please!"

A shadow blocked the light, and Tim sobbed in relief as arms hugged him tight.

"So this was your clever plan, was it, boy? No wonder Lord Ra's took an interest in you."

Tim screamed and started thrashing, but the ninja had his arms pinned, and the snow blocked his kicks. He tried to bite, but there was nothing in front of his face but thick cloth.

"Let go!" he wailed. He was so close, he couldn't fail now. "Let me fucking go! Hel--mmph!"

Tim was spun around and a hand covered his mouth, grip bruisingly tight, enough that Tim couldn't even move his jaw, let alone bite.

"Oh, no, boy," the ninja snarled in his ear. "You will be brought before the Demon's Head, and punished for every injury inflicted, and even the great Detective can't save you!"

"Can't he?"

Tim's heart leapt as a hulking shadow appeared out of the snow, Batman's unmistakable growl now a roar over the wind. He had done it! He'd gotten to Batman! He was saved!

And then he felt ice cold metal against his throat.

"Stay out of this, Detective. Lord Ra's cares not if he must resurrect his prize."

Tim trembled, even though he'd stopped shivering ages ago. He didn't know what that meant, but he never wanted to find out.

"He should care that Gotham and its people are under my protection. Let the boy go, or there will be retaliation."

"We do not fear your posturing, Detective," the ninja sneered. He started dragging Tim back, away from Batman and safety. "And we do not fear your allies. But continue to oppose us now, and we will strike you down--"

"Wanna bet?"

There was a loud thunk and the ninja's hold went slack. The knife dropped to the snow, its wielder crumpling, and Tim stumbled, grabbing for his throat to be sure it wasn't bleeding.

"Kid? Kid, what's wrong, are you hurt?" Robin hollered over the wind.

Tim slowly shook his head, staring at the ninja. He felt something warm and big and surprisingly soft drape over his shoulders, like a blanket, and looked up to see Batman leaning over him with his cape.

"You're freezing," he murmured, sounding much more like Mr. Wayne. "Robin, get him inside!" His voice dipped back to a growl as he said, "I'll deal with the League."

"Here, kid."

Batman was replaced by Robin, but the cloak remained wrapped around Tim. He was bundled tighter into it, then scooped right off the ground and into Robin's arms. He squeaked in surprise, but pressed closer because Robin was so warm.

"Geez, you're tiny!" Robin half-shouted, wading through the snow only a little faster than Tim had. "How old are you, kid?"

"Eleven and a half," Tim mumbled. Jason Todd was a fine one to talk about being small for one's age.

As Robin muttered something like, because the half makes all the difference, a big black shape loomed out of the snow right in front of Tim's face. It took him far too long to realize it was a Bat-Snowmobile; Robin had plopped him on top and climbed on behind him before he registered the headlights had turned on.

"Hang on tight!" Robin ordered, and the engine roared to life.

Tim yelped, grabbing Robin as the vehicle lurched and zoomed into the storm, throwing his arms around the older boy's neck and hiding his face against his shoulder. One arm wrapped around Tim's waist and gently squeezed.

"Just hang in there a few more minutes, squirt. It's not far."

"What's not far?"

Not Tim's house. Please, not Tim's house. He didn't want to go back and run into the rest of the bad guys -- the League -- without Batman. Robin was awesome and warm, but Batman was powerful, and Tim didn't think the League would give up without more of a fight.

Robin hesitated before answering. "Wayne Manor is just under a quarter mile. They can look after you while I go back to help Batman."

Tim sighed in relief. Wayne Manor would be warm and safe, and until Batman and Robin came back to be Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd, Tim would no doubt be looked after by Alfred Pennyworth, and he was as powerful as Batman himself in Tim's book.

I did it, he thought happily, cuddling closer to Robin's warmth. I actually fucking did it.

"Eat shit, Lord Ra's."

Robin laughed.

After only a few more minutes, Wayne Manor appeared, looming out of the dark with a few cheerily lit windows. There was a glowing Christmas tree visible through one, and seeing it warmed something other than Tim's fingers.

Robin parked the Bat-Snowmobile outside the back kitchen door and swung himself off, then scooped up Tim to plop him on the ground. He kept an arm around Tim's shoulders as he went and knocked on the door. Tim could see the kitchen lights on, and it only took a minute before the door opened to reveal Alfred Pennyworth in a robe and nightshirt.

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, and immediately backed up to usher them inside.

"Mr. Pennyworth, this is Tim Drake, your next-door neighbor," Robin introduced. "His home was attacked tonight by the League of Assassins, and he had to run a long way through the cold. If you would look after him and warm him up, Batman and I will be back before too long."

"I-- yes, of course," Mr. Pennyworth said, surprise changing to concern. "Thank you, Master Robin."

Robin nodded and ruffled Tim's hair. "You'll be safe here for a while, ok, squirt? Batman or I'll be back soon."

Tim nodded, and Robin grinned and left. Tim could hear the roar of the Bat-Snowmobile as it tore off outside.

Mr. Pennyworth turned to put a kettle on the stove, then told Tim, "Come, let's get you out of those wet things, Master Tim."

Tim nodded eagerly, stumbling a bit on frozen feet as he followed Mr. Pennyworth to a bathroom, still clutching Batman's cape around his shoulders.

"I'll set some of Master Jason's things outside the door for you. You're about the same size, I think. If you can find your way back to the kitchen, I'll have hot cocoa ready in moments."

"You don't have to go to any trouble," Tim said shyly.

"Nonsense, dear boy." Mr. Pennyworth smiled. "Tisn't any trouble at all, I assure you."

He left, and Tim stripped out of his sweats and socks. He hated to drop Batman's cape on the ground, but it had gotten soggy with snow just like everything else. He tried to fold it up, but it was like trying to fold his sheets, it was so huge.

A knock came at the door, and Mr. Pennyworth called that there were pajamas and a sweatshirt outside. Tim answered with a thank you and waited a moment before sticking one hand out the door to snatch the bundle.

He was startled into a laugh to see that the pajamas were themed like Batman and the hoodie like Nightwing. He wondered if Dick had gotten it for Jason. There were also a non-themed pair of slippers, and now that the feeling was coming back to Tim's toes, he could tell they were wonderfully soft.

Once dressed, he found his way back to the kitchen, where a kettle was starting to whistle before Mr. Pennyworth plucked it off the stove.

"Warming up, Master Tim?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."

The butler tutted. "Alfred is quite alright, dear boy."

"Thank you, Alfred," Tim corrected shyly. He'd never called an adult by their first name before.

A very loud yawn from behind made Tim jump, turning to look at the doorway, where...

Tim blinked.

Where stood Jason Todd.

He was dressed in Wonder Woman pajama pants and a red hoodie, rumpled like he'd been asleep, but his hair was still damp and his nose and cheeks pink from the snow and cold. His eyes looked bleary and sleepy, like he'd just woken up, but he most definitely scanned over Tim like he was looking for injuries.

"'S goin' on, Alf?" he asked, slurring his voice to sound half-awake. "Who's that?"

Tim just kept staring, dumbfounded, as Alfred said, "You recall young Timothy Drake, Master Jason? I'm afraid he ran into quite the spot of trouble tonight. Robin brought him here for us to look after until the situation is resolved."

Jason's eyes widened like he hadn't himself, as Robin, dropped Tim off ten minutes ago. "No way," he muttered. "What the hell were you doing, Timbit, that you got mixed up in superhero stuff?"

Tim hesitated.

"Batman! Mr. Wayne! Robin! Help me, please!"

"So this was your clever plan, was it, boy? No wonder Lord Ra's took an interest in you."

Tim hadn't had any idea just why he was being almost-kidnapped, except maybe for ransom or something, until the ninja had said that, and Batman showed up seeming to know all about that Lord Ra's guy and his ninja-kidnappers. At the time, he'd been too terrified to analyze, but now he wondered...

Did Ra's somehow know that Tim knew who Batman was? Tim didn't think that was possible. He hadn't even told his parents. But maybe Ra's was a mind-reader. Or had some kind of special powers. But then why would he need Tim to tell him who Batman was? Especially when the ninja sounded like Ra's and his League already knew all about Batman.

"Timber?"

Tim blinked and looked back at Jason. He and Alfred were both watching Tim, sharp-eyed. That was when he realized Jason wasn't just asking as a shocked civilian, he was investigating as Robin. In order to protect Tim, he and Batman needed to know why he'd been endangered in the first place.

"I...I don't know," he admitted. Jason's mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown, until Tim hesitantly added, "But I might have a guess?"

"Yeah? What do you think?"

Alfred set a cup of steaming cocoa on the table in front of Tim. It warmed his face, and he almost thought it burned his hands when he cupped them around it, but he didn't care. One sip warmed him all over inside, like he hadn't been cold or frightened at all. He wondered if Alfred was magic.

There was another clink of ceramic, and Tim realized Jason had gotten a mug of cocoa, too, and had sat down across from Tim. He held out a bowl of marshmallows, and Tim took two with a soft thanks.

Jason waited until Tim had taken two more sips before prompting, "Timmers? What's your guess?"

Tim took a deep breath, trying to calculate how mad Batman was going to be when he found out, and blurted, "I know who Batman and Robin are."

"What? No way! Who are they? How did you figure it out?" Jason gasped, face splitting into a grin, looking for all the world like someone expecting to hear the most amazing secret in the world.

But Tim saw the panic behind his eyes.

"I wouldn't tell you, if you didn't know," he promised. "But they're you. You and Mr. Wayne. I... I know because it was Dick Grayson first. He's the only person ever who can do a quadruple flip, and I saw Robin do it with my own eyes."

Jason stared.

Alfred stared.

Tim ducked his head and stared at his cocoa.

Then Jason said slowly, "You... you saw the first Robin in person? Doing a four-flip?"

"Yes?"

"How... how old were you?"

Tim frowned, calculating. "Nine?"

Alfred coughed.

"You were nine," Jason repeated. "And you were out in Gotham and saw Robin. Doing a fancy flip. And figured out one of the most dangerous and well-kept secrets in the city."

"Yes," Tim said, a bit more confidently. "Like I said, only Dick Grayson can do that flip. And if he's Robin, Bruce Wayne has to be Batman. And you have to be the next Robin. It's... it's just logic."

It's just logic, Jason mouthed. His lips stayed parted in astonishment as he turned to look at Alfred.

"That's... quite impressive, Master Tim," he managed. "Although, might I inquire... just what were the circumstances under which you saw Robin's flip?"

Tim hastily took a sip of cocoa. Jason raised his eyebrows and copied him, not setting down his mug until Tim did. Tim immediately took another sip. Jason and Alfred exchanged a glance.

"IusedtofollowBatmanandRobinaroundatnightandtakepictures," Tim blurted.

Jason blinked rapidly several times before suggesting, "A-again... slowly, please?"

"I... I used to, to follow Batman and Robin around at night. And take pictures."

"And your parents let you?" Jason yelped.

"They didn't... exactly know?"

"How...?" Jason's voice kept sounding more and more strangled. If Tim didn't know better, he'd have thought an invisible villain was throttling him.

"Well..." Tim ducked his head, shoulders almost rising to his ears. He stared intently at the melting marshmallows in his cocoa as he said, "They're not really around much."

"What exactly do you mean by 'not much,' Master Tim?" Alfred asked, both firm and kind, but also concerned.

Tim's ears felt hot. "They're usually on digs. They come back for a weekend or so every couple months. So they never knew I went out at night. I never told them I figured out who you are. I promise that I've never told anybody, and I never would tell anybody, even that Ra's guy, no matter what he did!"

He looked back up at Jason and Alfred, hoping they could see the honesty in his face.

Their faces showed a mix of shock and horror. Jason's eyes were wide and round, but Alfred's were pinched, and his mouth was drawn into a hard line. Tim swallowed nervously.

"You're a very impressive young lad, Master Tim," Alfred said in a carefully measured voice. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I think I ought to go inform Master Bruce of... these developments. I assume your parents were not home tonight?"

"Their flight got cancelled," Tim admitted. He wondered for the first time, as Alfred nodded curtly and stepped out of the room, if Batman had a mind-wipe machine or something. He very much hoped not.

Jason made a low whistle, then murmured, "Well, damn." He took a sip of cocoa, looking at the door Alfred had left through.

"What's 'well damn'?" Tim asked, voice too high.

"Alfie's 'bout'a go off," Jason chuckled, then, seeing Tim's expression, clarified, "not on you, Timberly, on your parents. And Ra's. Definitely also on Ra's."

"Why would Alfred be mad at my parents? And what does he need to tell Batman? Are you mad at me? Because I figured it out? Or..." Tim gasped in horror. "Or because I led them here? I led them here! Oh, God, I told a villain who Batman is! I--"

"Tim! Tim, calm down, it's ok!" Jason seemed torn between laughter and concern, but he reached out and put a bracing hand on Tim's shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong. Ra's already knows who we are. Alfred just has to tell Bruce, um. Not to look for your parents. And why they're not there. And that's why he's pissed off, because nobody should leave a little kid all by himself for all but a few weekends out of the year."

Jason looked pissed himself when he said the last bit. Unfortunately, all of it just left Tim with even more questions. But even as he opened his mouth to ask them, there was a loud rattling and banging from above.

"What was that?" Tim yelped, jumping and spilling cocoa on the table.

"The storm," Jason said, completely expressionless. He grabbed some napkins from the holder on the table and dropped them on the spill, clearing it with one neat swipe. "Don't worry about it."

"You're sure it's not the ninjas?"

Jason snorted. "Don't ever let them hear you call them that. I'm sure, kid. Batman's got it covered."

Alfred came back into the kitchen muttering about reception, and took Tim's and Jason's empty mugs over to the sink to wash. There was a loud pounding from up above, first moving distant, then drawing near again. Tim realized it was running feet.

He raised his eyebrows at Jason.

"The storm, huh?"

Jason shrugged with a smile too mischievous to be innocent.

A moment later, Bruce Wayne appeared in the doorway, hair mussed and face pink, barefoot and wearing a red bathrobe that did not succeed at hiding the Batsuit underneath.

The way he blinked and squinted at the warm kitchen light appeared genuine, but he sounded far too awake as he said, "Alfred, what's going on? Who's this? Jason? I thought you went to bed."

Jason glanced at Tim, mischief peaking.

"Dad!" he exclaimed, jumping up and running over. "Dad, you'll never guess what happened! This is Tim Drake, from next door, and he was attacked by supervillains and Batman and Robin came and saved him and brought him here!"

"Oh! My... God..." Mr. Wayne faltered, glancing from Alfred (who's back was turned to hide his smile) to Tim (who was just as confused as he seemed) to Jason (who was grinning just a bit too wide), before narrowing a bit at the last one.

Jason beamed up at him, and Mr. Wayne apparently decided not to worry about it, because he turned to Tim and asked, "Are you alright, Tim?"

"I... think so," Tim said slowly, staring at Jason, who was mouthing at him. Mr. Wayne glanced down at his son suspiciously, but Jason shut his mouth in an instant.

"Are you hurt at all? Cold?"

"No, I'm ok now. Mr... uh, Alfred's hot chocolate warmed me right up."

Mr. Wayne smiled. "It does that quite well. Are..." He turned hesitant again, glancing at them all before asking, "Do you know if your parents are alright? If they escaped?"

"They weren't even there," Jason said, bright smile turning downright ferocious. "They leave Tim all alone in the house all year and only come in for a weekend every once in a while. And since that's criminal neglect, and Batman and Robin asked us to take care of him, I guess I got a little brother for Christmas like I asked for after all!"

Tim stared. Mr. Wayne stared. Jason beamed. Alfred coughed in a way that sounded much too much like a laugh.

"Um..." Tim started, but had no idea how to continue.

"It... I... don't think it's all quite that simple, Jay," Mr. Wayne cautioned hesitantly. Jason just stared straight up into his face, both grinning and glaring at the same time. It was mildly terrifying, and Mr. Wayne cleared his throat before turning to Tim. "But of course, you're more than welcome to stay with us until it's safe. We'll be glad to have you."

Tim stammered out a thank you, wondering if Mr. Wayne offered because he knew as Batman that it wasn't safe. He hoped not. As awesome as being Jason Todd's little brother sounded, Tim already had parents and a home, even if they were... distant. He also wondered why Jason was pretending he was an ordinary civilian, and that Tim didn't know better. And Alfred was going along with it, even though he'd been about to tell Batman everything just before.

"If you're quite warm and well, Master Tim, I think a good night's rest would do you good," Alfred said, "as it would the rest of us."

"Oh. Um, yes." Tim blinked and looked at the clock, which read 11:30 PM. "Sleep. Yeah."

"Great!" Jason chirped. He did a cartwheel over to Tim, channeling Dick Grayson, probably, and pulled him up, slinging his arm over Tim's shoulders. "C'mon, Timbers, we can have a sleepover in my room."

"Uh, sure."

A sleepover with Robin? Tim was equal parts confused and ecstatic. He followed Jason past a mystified Mr. Wayne, who wished them both goodnight, and up a small back staircase to the second floor.

It wasn't until Jason had showed them into his room and they got settled in bed that Tim finally asked, "Jason? Why didn't we tell Mr. Wayne that I know who you are? Isn't it kind of important?"

"Oh, Timmy Tim Timmers. Think about it. We only get to tell him that once."

"But-- oh. Ohhh."

"Exactly." Jason sounded smug. "Just you wait, Timbit. I have a feeling you and I are gonna be the holiest terrors this city ever saw."

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven not Forgotten | Part 9

It was an interesting kind of chaos, what happened in the following moments. Joyce collared a passing nurse, Jonathan ran out to call the house, Hopper kept Lucas from leaping at the love of his young life because “watch out for the wires, kid” she was still hooked up to all kinds of life saving machines, and then most of them were shooed out so the professionals could do their work.

El couldn’t be moved, fully prepared to wreck anyone’s day who even dared try to move her, and Lucas had been there from dawn till dusk, ignoring established visiting hours and all kinds of flak from staff to just be there. They were the only two allowed inside while the professionals made sure Max would stay awake.

That she wouldn’t slip back under.

Then came the hoard.

They’d routinely ignored how many visitors were allowed to a single room. It was ridiculous, the hospital staff both hated them and felt endlessly endeared by them. They’d survived some kind of classified hell and clung to each other both through it, and after it. It didn’t matter that Max’s actual parent was still absent, that she, like others, hadn’t come back yet, or that El had shaken her head once when someone had asked her if she could find Susan.

It didn’t matter, Joyce had loudly declared “I’m her mother now so let me see my GODDAMN DAUGHTER… PLEASE!” When someone had tried to stop them on the first day.

Arguing with Joyce Byers? Not a fun thing to do. She was always so polite about it you couldn’t even be mad at her.

The whole house filled that hallway though, even though they couldn’t do anything, even though they couldn’t go in, even though they couldn’t help, just being there, knowing that behind that door, she was awake despite all odds, was enough to keep them all there. Obstructing hallways. Being general nuisances, and waiting.

Just waiting. Waiting long enough for Eddie to gather just enough courage to sit down beside Steve who’d taken a seat on the floor, not for lack of available seats, just that his seat was to the left of the door to Max’s room, the closest he could be without being inside that room.

“You know there’s chairs, right Munson?”

“Mmn I know, but… I was part of the whole… save Max plan, so I think I’ll stay right here, second to closest to the door.” Steve let out a single breath of a laugh through his nose. Just one little puff and a curl of his lip to show he found that amusing. “Are… are we okay, Steve?” Probably not the best time to bring it up but impulse control was never his strong suit. And people weren’t paying them as much attention as most would usually pay to him while he was around other people.

Attention focused elsewhere on pacing or on entertaining themselves while they waited.

“Why wouldn’t we be okay?”

“God isn’t that just a question and a half. I dunno, Steve, you tell me since you ditched me the first chance you got back at the house. I know we weren’t on the greatest of terms back in ‘86 but like… I’m pretty sure we bonded at least a little in the Upside Down so… I know there’s stuff I’m missing… your agent Stinson, whomever the fuck she was, she got those photos from somewhere… shit like that isn’t just easily doctored I know that an—an I know—I know I wasn’t dead, so… if I hurt you, or I hurt the kids, or I don’t know… if I did something that I can’t remember I just—look, Eleven, your superhero kid, is weirdly comfortable around me for being a total stranger alright? So I know I’m missing huge chunks of a story, but I’m sorry okay?”

“You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions, man. But you cant apologise for something you don’t remember doing. Those apologies don’t mean shit.” Steve wasn’t looking at him, he was looking down at the floor, his brow pinched tight as if trying to think of the safest way to go about his next words. “For the record though. You saved our asses. Or… he did.” He. He. Someone not Eddie, but definitely looked like Eddie. “Whatever he was. El was the only one who recognised him.”

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that Steve… who was he and why—”

“I cant.”

“You’re the only one who can.” The only one he knew he could trust with the knowledge that actually he wasn’t totally gone during those two years.

“Alright, I won’t. You’re safer this way.” At least Steve cared enough to keep him safe, didn’t make that answer any less annoying though. “And I know that’s annoying but… just put it behind you. Be grateful that you’re alive and you’re here. Like I said we are.”

“Are you? Because so far I’ve just been left on my own among total strangers and it’s stressing me the fuck out, you can’t just—you can’t just leave me on my own in the dark after all this, Steve, it’s not fair.” He had a disadvantage from the jump, they all seemed to know him.

He didn’t know most them.

He knew Mike, Erica, Lucas, and Dustin out of the kids, and Robin, Nancy, and Steve out of the older lot.

He sort of knew Hopper through run ins with the law, didn’t really know Joyce although she was easy to feel comfortable around. He didn’t really know Jonathan, or Will, or El, and he damn sure didn’t know any of the kids parents.

They had this comradery that he didn’t have, they had a mini apocalypse to bond through, he had a short experience of it during which he’d died. Didn’t even survive the opening act. The world had moved on, and he was just left with this knowledge that somehow… despite him not being there. His body had been.

And the only one he’d managed to sort of bond with during that whole man hunt back in ‘86, didn’t seem to want anything to do with him now. “…I know… I’m sorry about that” in Steve’s defence, it felt like a much more meaningful apology than his own had been. “We should have taken you with us, there’s no excuse, El just wanted to hang out with you again I guess”

“Again?” Gentle prods, gentle pokes, he’d learn more if he just… kept chiselling bit by bit.

“She doesn’t think like most people, to her you’re her friend. You helped her. You saved her life, man… and she knows—she knows it wasn’t actually you, but—”

“But it’s my face, isn’t it?”

“Mmhm.”

“Something was parading around in my body like some kind of puppet, wasn’t it, Steve?” Steve finally turned to look at him, a pained little frown on his face as he realised how much he’d just… let slip. How easily Eddie had drawn it from him. How weak he still was when it came to Eddie Goddamn Munson. He opened his mouth, but neither heard what he’d have said, because the door opened just before he spoke, two nurses leaving, the third remaining by the door, a smile on her face that promised great things.

Steve was up on his feet, their conversation shelved, the others clamoured forward too, having been politely ignoring whatever he and Steve had been discussing on the floor in favour of keeping themselves entertained.

“Miss Mayfield is stable, awake, and in good spirits, now I know you all want to see her, but please… maximum five to a room, there’s two in there already so three go in at a time, maximum, you hear me? Three more. Maximum.” A chorus of nods were their answers, although the nurse knew they wouldn’t actually listen. So far that seemed to be the running theme with this particular group of survivors. “Alright… go ahead.” She’d leave them to it anyway.

Wasn’t her job to enforce the rules.

Didn’t even need to look to see damn near all of them tried to get in the moment she rounded the corner out of sight.

[sl-vega]

✧.* DREAMS LOST, LOVE FOUND

pairing: Chigiri Hyouma x [IDOL!] Reader

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, oneshot, strangers to lovers, strangers to friends to lovers, pre-bluelock au, canon compliant

synopsis: in which two former geniuses bond over their potentially lost dreams (or in which two strangers develop feelings by making fun of cheesy news articles about themselves)

CW: potentially ooc chigiri, possible innaccuracies with vocal chord paralysis conditions/symptoms 

"(Y/N) (L/N): A Bright Star that Burned out too Quickly"

"Idol (Y/N) Retiring?!"

"ASRUN's (L/N)'s Career Over?! Get the latest scoop now!"

You scrolled through the magazines in the waiting room. So many cheesy tabloids talking about your latest concert, and possibly last. You froze up on stage, and your voice just didn't work. The gossip columns came up with so many reasons, ranging from fairly possible to completely bizarre. But they all seemed to come to the same conclusion.

Your career was over.

Ended, finished, decimated, completely and utterly over.

And deep down, you knew that. The doctors said that there was a chance that you could recover, even if it didn't occur naturally, surgery was always an option.

You had recently been diagnosed with vocal chord paralysis, which prohibited your ability to talk and sing. And no singing meant no concerts.

No concerts meant no more performing.

No more performing meant that you couldn't be an idol anymore.

You were told your worsened condition had something to do with your hectic rehearsal schedule, and how you pushed yourself to the point of self-harm during practice. Suzuki, the nurse that had been assigned to assist you, insisted that you come to the clinic for weekly check-ups and vocal warm ups.

Your agency managed to fund all of this because they wanted you back performing with the rest of your group members as soon as possible.

But you weren't sure if you could even continue to perform. You could deny it all you wanted, but you weren't in shape to be an idol anymore.

So here you are, rotting in a waiting room, waiting for your parents to come and get you. Once a musical sensation, once hailed as the pride of the idol industry.

Now I'm nothing more than a helpless patient.

You leaned back in your chair, a random sports article in your hand. You hadn't paid any mind to what it was about when you picked it up, all you knew was that it wasn't about you and your doomed career, and that was all you needed.

But your parents weren't coming anytime soon, and you needed to kill some time, so reading a couple pages wouldn't hurt. You glanced at the front cover. It appeared to be some local newspaper that covered soccer teams in the prefecture.

"Chigiri Hyouma: The Red Leopard!"

The front page had those words printed out in a vibrant pink font. You snorted, it would be one thing if this was about some world-class pro, but all this fuss over a high school kid? The picture on the front page wasn't the best either, it was a blur of bright red hair and you could make out what seemed to be a jersey.

But you couldn't discern a clear image of his face though. So naturally, out of curiosity, you had to flip the page.

Chigiri Hyouma huh? You heard that name mentioned somewhere before. You remembered passing by a few girls a couple of months ago that couldn't seem to shut up about him.

Please, he's probably just some amateur that happens to be somewhat good looking, there's no way he's actually all that-

But, it certainly wouldn't hurt to read about him a little more...

And so you did just that, flipping to the next page due to your insatiable curiosity about this Chigiri fellow.

Let's see what you're all about Mr. Red Leopard-

You finally flipped the page not expecting much, but then you were greeted by a very flattering image of the very subject that peaked your interest.

Holy fuck he's really pretty

Luscious red locks, bright pink eyes that you could get lost in, gentle, feminine features yet he still looked so god damn handsome?!

Your eyes widened as a blush crept up to your face. What was this guy doing playing soccer?! He could've easily been a model, or an idol, or a movie star, you weren't even that pretty what the actual fu-

You had to stop your train of thought. You weren't seriously crushing on a photo of some stranger were you?

Yet, against your better judgment, you continued reading the article, it listed a few details such as his stats, position, and his high school among other.

You were consuming all of this information at an oddly fast rate. Why was this guy so captivating to you?

Before you knew it you had sped through the article. And you had somehow memorized everything on those few pages.

God, I'm pathetic...

You rubbed your temples and sighed, you put the article down, and you were about to read a different magazine about something other than your new found infatuation, but as your hand was about to reach to some political newspaper, your gaze quickly shifted to another photo of a familiar red head.

Another article about him?

Looks like someone's local celebrity...

You moved your hand away from the previous paper you were about to pick up, and you exchanged the current article in your hand for the other one about your newest subject of interest.

Surely one more magazine about him wouldn't hurt....

The front cover was a clearer photo of Chigiri, but it wasn't the happiest. It was a picture of him leaning against one of his teammates for support as they escorted him off the field.

"The Red Leopard's Career: OVER?!"

It was from the same local paper that you were reading earlier, seemed the editors had a soft spot for him.

"Chigiri Hyouma damages his leg in his most recent match?! Further statements are awaited from his family, could this be the end of the genius speedster?"

You sighed at the writer's attempt to dramatize the situation, surely Chigri was in pain. Having something you're so passionate about being taken away my your own physical limitations. You definitely knew the feeling.

The feeling of your dream being snatched right before your eyes. The feeling of a critical condition with some complicated-sounding name being the only thing keeping you away from your goal.

He's just like me...

Wait- what were you thinking? First you ogle at a bunch of photos at him, now you're coming up with a bunch of weird parasocial fantasies about how the two of you actually have some things in common?!

I need to get a grip...

You absentmindedly flipped to the next page of article, somewhere you had made peace in the back of your mind about your attraction to the boy. You were like some little school girl, crushing on some cute actor or model that you saw in fashion magazines.

Of course you were soon snapped out of that trance by an unfamiliar voice.

"Didn't know I was such a big deal that a world-class idol would be reading about me."

You lifted your head to the source of the voice, standing in front to you was a young man around your age leaning against a crutch.

Of course before you noticed any of that, you saw the same red hair, gorgeous pink eyes, and soft features that you had been religiously staring at for the past hour.

Holy shit it's actually him.

Holy shit, he knows who I am

HOLY SHIT CHIGIRI HYOUMA KNOWS WHO I AM-

You had a whirlwind of thoughts about the situation. And you had made a countless amount of observations about him. His hair was longer than it was in the pictures, he looked a lot leaner too, but taller as well.

You were probably shamelessly checking him out right about now, but who could blame you? If it wasn't for the crutch, and the evident exhaustion on his face, you would've thought he was an angel rather than a patient.

And so you did what you always did when confronted by an incredibly attractive person.

You panicked.

Am I checking him out? I'm probably checking him out, I should look away. But what if that's rude?! Should I continue making eye contact? Or should I avoid it?! WHY DIDN'T THEY TEACH ME HOW TO TALK TO BOYS WHEN I WAS A TRAINEE?!-

"It's rude to stare you know."

He had nonchalantly said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Oh god, even his voice was gorgeous

"Sorry..."

You muttered, looking down at the floor, averting his vivid eyes using any means necessary.

Great, now he probably thinks I'm a creep, nice going...

"Nah it's fine, sorry if I startled you when I came over, I recognized you 'cuz my sister's a fan, and you looked so engrossed in that article about me so I was pretty curious."

You simply muttered a quiet "Oh" in return.

Why am I like this?! He's trying to make an effort to talk to me, and I'm not even contributing at all!

He moved closer to you, he sat himself down on one of the seats close to you, and pulled out another sports magazine with his face on it.

"I never quite liked that one author that you're reading right now, has a habit of exaggerating the least important details and not giving the full story."

He handed the paper he was holding to you.

"This one's one of my personal favorites."

He smiled and handed the magazine to you. Your hands brushed, and you felt your heart skip a beat. His hands were really soft and gentle.

You took the article from his hand and opened it, your eyes greeted by a huge headlines in all caps; "Chigiri; RISING STAR OF THE FOOTBALL WORLD!"

You couldn't help but snort at the title, these editors were really something else.

"Cheesy I know, but it's better than most."

You giggled again, flipping through the pages of the booklet in your hands. You had pointed to a paragraphs that you had found amusing, to which Chigiri had said "Not everyone is a famous idol you know, some of us locals have to take whatever we can get!"

Next thing you knew, the two of you were talking like two old friends, giggling over silly comments and misconceptions that the media had about the two of you.

You didn't know how, but much time had passed, and quite frankly, you didn't care, Chigiri was charming, and rather fun to talk to.

Now, you were showing him a tabloid about some dating rumour about you and some model that your agency had done a collab with.

"Seriously? One slightly suggestive photo and now they think the two of you are hooking up? Wouldn't your managers be scrambling to cover that up? Doesn't it ruin your "idol" image or somethin'?"

"The higher ups at my job were trying to cover it up before realizing that this sort of publicity was actually pretty positive for my image."

You laughed as you pointed to a few more photos of you and said model. It was nice, being able to laugh about this with someone, it was nice, letting the pain go away, even for a little while. But, Chigiri was a lot more than just a distraction at this point.

Suddenly your phone buzzed.

"Sorry, let me check this real quick."

You took your phone out of your pocket, and it turned out that your father was outside of the clinic waiting for you. You tried to hide the disappointment on your face. You didn't want to leave just yet, not when you were finally making some progress with Chigiri.

But, your dad definitely wouldn't take it well if you wanted to stay out later with a boy, a new boy no less.

You sighed, shoving the device back into your pocket.

"I take it that you need to leave now?" Chigiri asked, maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, or maybe you were just super delusional, but it almost sounded like he was disappointed that you had to leave.

"Yeah, sorry..."

"It was nice meeting you, by the way."

He held out his hand.

"Chigiri Hyouma, but you probably know that by now."

You were confused by the gesture at first, you certainly did know his name by now, so why was he doing this?

Oh right, I was too busy crushing on him, so we never formerly introduced ourselves...

You placed your hand in his, reciprocating the handshake.

"(L/N) (Y/N)."

He smiled as you got up, your hand still intertwined with his, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and you almost felt your heart jump out of your body."

You really have me under your spell, Chigiri Hyouma...

[eihwaz-y-d]

So I'm currently hyperfixed on Danny Phantom and DC crossover and I really enjoyed reading Danny and Damian are twins Au. I read a lot fics and promps but they aren't enough ( there are never enough great fics in this world) and I got inspired and got this idea and it won't let go of me.... So I decided to get it out of my system so that I can concentrate on my exams but I also want people to read and tell me their thoughts about it. So I thought I share the "rough work" and later I will edit and post it on AO3 but yeah. (some infos before I do know nothing and do what I want)

Here my work in process :

Twin skeletons

Danny just wanted to go to the astronomy exhibition in Natural History museum of Gotham city, just for some peaceful hours there nothing bothers him, maybe even go to the apartly new planetarium. Being away from Amity Park, his ghost hunting parents with their obsession with ripping him apart molecule by molecule and the whole ghost attacks  (he would be able to get a few more hours of sleep) was just a plus.

He was excited about the trip! His core was humming and he felt at ease, no ghost fighting and no one hunting him for a few days, just some peaceful days in the most crime ridden city in the United States. It would be like a vacation. 

But Danny should have known better than to get his hopes up, nothing ever goes according to plan for him. 

And let's be honest here, he really should have known better, his school trip goes to Gotham city of all places, the most dangerous city in the United States (one can never say it enough). Who in their right mind even though it was a good idea to take a few teenager, who only knows danger in form from ghost attacks and the driving skills of the Fenton family and have no sense of self protection, and take them to a big city overrun with guns and drugs and psychotic criminals and crime fighting vigilantes? The adults of Amity Park apartly. (maybe the adults have also lost every ounce of common sense they owned other the last two and a half years) 

But that is beside the point, the point is Danny just wanted to see the astronomy exhibition, not held at gunpoint from a red helmet vigilante,with really strange vibes that made his ghost sense go harwire, after some criminal bombed the museum and held them hostage for whatever reason.

The first day started so promisingly well, they were supposed to get a tour through Wayne Enterprise. The tour through Wayne Enterprise went pretty well and was interesting, if not a little bit strange. Danny had the feeling everyone at the company was looking at him then he wasn't looking. It was probably nothing, it happens in Amity Park all the time(he just ignores the fact that he is not in Amity anymore and the usual reasons he is in the middle of the attention, his parents or the ghosts, are not here at the moment. And he is pretty sure he is Danny not Phantom). 

The second day they had the Museum tour where they could room afterwards as much as they liked and Danny really, really wanted some time without Dash being the bully that he is. The tour was nice, and just as the nice lady wanted to finish the tour, somewhere in the building an explosion went off. 

The lady shrieked, Danny's classmates are either looking curious for the source or talking about ghost attacks vs. Criminals, while Mr. Lancer tries and fails to get everyone to calm down so they could evacuate and Danny just curses his rotten luck. 

The next thing they knew, there were masked criminals binding them with zip ties and taking them hostage because 'if we take hostages we have a better chance of getting away from the bats'. Their words, not Danny's. 

Not fifteen minutes afterwards -Danny thought about the pros and cons about doing something against these criminals himself - a red helmeted, leather wearing hero comes gun shooting towards their rescue. 

Hooray, lucky them. 

And now, he has the gun pointed towards his face. 

"What the fuck are you?!" Besides the electronic modulation, his growl was pretty impressive or a living human, although Danny was still not sure if the hero really was living. 

"Okay, first of all, rude. Second, what is your problem? And third, could you take the gun out of my face? I really like my shirt and it would be a shame if it got ruined with blood and brain mass." 

Red Hood did nothing for a long time but then he lowered his gun but did not put it away. Waving a hand behind himself in the vague direction of his class, grinning Danny speaks again. 

" Are we free to go? I think my teacher is either having a stroke soon or he thinks about taking you on, it will probably be a lecture about treating kids. On a second thought. Please do shoot, I'm not keen on being lectured again, but don't ruin my shirt. I want to be buried in it. "

Red Hood's hand twitched and Danny grin grew even larger, showing his set of fangs. It's a shame Danny can't see the hero's face, it would be hilarious to read his reaction but the helm or the modified voice didn't give away a hint of his thoughts but Danny hoped he was at least a little bit irrational.

"Whatever kid." 

Danny waved goodbye before going back to his classmates. 

Red Hood just stayed long enough to see the boy looking towards his teacher with what looks like his best innocent face. "Mr. Lancer, I suppose we can't perhaps go back towards the astronomy exhibition?" 

The teacher just signs and guides his snickering students out of the museum.

What the hell was wrong with the kid?! 

Jason knew he needed to tell Bruce about the kid, he was nearly a carbon copy of the demon brat, and another Robin clone was never a good thing, especially now then something big is about to happen and there is yet not enough to say what. 

He should really tell Bruce, Jason knew it but something tells him not to. The moment the kid stood behind Jason's back, he thought there was something dangerous, something absolutely terrifying, something that made the Lazarus water go crazy -and for a moment Jason thought he would go into the pit madness- but than it goes all quite, like the Lazarus water itself recognize the Apex predator and hides into the deep of Jason's soul. And it hadn't raised its head ever since. For the first time since his return his mind was quiet and peaceful. 

He should really tell Bruce about this kid. If he really is a clone of Damian, then….. Jason does not know but it would only end apocalyptic bad. And if he is no clone then it wouldn't automatically be better. 

Grinding his teeth, he dials Dick's number.

It didn't take long for the older man to answer. The surprise was clear in his voice. 

" Hey Jason. Weren't you-" 

But Jason didn't let him finish. "Dick listen, I-.... There…." 

He doesn't know how to say it, or what to say first. Fortunately Dick just wait patiently for Jason to speak again, There must be something in his voice that makes him listen. 

" I was at the museum when the hostage situation happened, there was a kid. There…. There was something about the kid. Something dangerous. I put a gun to his head and It frightened the Lazarus water. "

" What do you mean 'put a gun to his Head'?! Jason?! Wait-.... Did you say he 'frightened the Lazarus water'?"

"  Yes, I don't know how else to describe it. The Kid made the pit gone quiet, it's not gone but it's feels like it's hiding and it is quiet and…. peaceful in my mind for the first time since…. Since I returned. Dick. My thoughts, my mind, my emotions, they are my own again without fighting this damned madness."

He took a deep breath but before he can continue Dick speaks first. 

"Jason…" 

" I'm not finished. That isn't the only thing about this kid. This kid, he could be a carbon copy of the demon brat, maybe it's another clone, maybe it's not but Dick… I have the feeling the kid isn't human, he is dangerous and if he stands against us…. I don't think we stand a chance. "

The older man is quite for a long time and then he speaks again, his tone is dead serious. 

" We need to inform Bruce. "

With a deep Sigh, Jason answered. " I feared you would say that. "

Edit: Part 2

[noroi1000]

❝𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮-𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐢❞ Chapter 11

Satoru-Sensei | ←Previous chapter • Next Chapter →

Summary: The only way to find out more was to enter Gojo's house in his absence.What can Fushiguro see there?What might happen if he goes there without permission?Will you be there?

If you're the 'Ashamed-chan' Gojo was talking to, you're somewhere. 

People don't disappear into thin air. It is not possible for you to disappear from the world. If there's still a possibility that you're alive, you must be somewhere. 

Nothing he came up with is certain. But one thing is certain: He will check it out. Because as long as there's a chance that Gojo has deceived them in the slightest, he won't let up. 

What if it turns out you're alive? What will happen then? What will happen...?

You will come back home.

Your parents are just as worried. They were worried when you went on missions. They cried after your death. However, they don't have much to do. They live the same life they have always lived. 

Fushiguro didn't know if you had siblings or not. But surely your parents are living normal lives now. 

You were the only one born with the cursed technique. Your family has nothing to do with sorcerers now. That's why there's no point in thinking about it. They may have wanted to forget. Just like people who will never see the curse. 

Maybe they'll think you were their dream, just like everyone else. Because people who saw the curse might just think it didn't exist. And it was just a dream. 

It would be best for your parents if they really didn't remember them, the sorcerers. And also for them to forget about you. This could be very painful. Don't remember about your own child. But if your parents cry over you, you could come back posthumously as a curse. A curse created from despair. 

However, they probably don't remember.

Fushiguro clearly remembered how Gojo had gone to your family home to express his condolences to your parents in person. 

Just as he can make people unconscious, he could make a person think of something as a bad dream upon waking up.. 

His serious face as he introduced himself as your teacher from Jujutsu High.  And the calm words he spoke when he told your mother about how you disappeared on the last mission. You died, and your body was not found. 

Her heavy tears streamed down her face. But he was magically calm. 

He has seen crying, suffering, and loss many times. He knew he could never save everyone. He didn't know many of the people he had to save.

That's why sometimes he couldn't care less about the deaths of people he had no name for. 

However, you were his student. He knew you so much. He knew your heart. You were so close to him. 

So it's not possible that he reacted so calmly when you 'died'.

He saw your mother crying. 

And he smiled slightly at her as he moved his arm next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She then calmed down. 

And he told her that she should rest and sleep. Because she needs to calm down.

The next day, the woman woke up with no sign that she had a daughter. 

Maybe the person named (y/n) was her dream? 

There was no trace of such a person. That's why she thought it was all a bad dream. That she had a daughter who died. And the world of sorcerers and curses? It doesn't exist at all. 

Is this the reason why your grave was not large and was not visited often?  It was a grave at school. Your name was written on the monument. You died as a student at Jujutsu High. Therefore, the sorcerers took care to keep it clean. Sorcerers respect the dead. They don't want their souls to be cursed. Sorcerers want their collaborators in battle not to die. And when this happens, so that they will not be cursed after death. 

Therefore, during the funeral, they often tried to put a seal on some people that would allow them eternal rest, no matter what happened. 

Respect for the dead...

Not everyone does it. Before the body is burned, everything is done. And then the funeral. A person's ashes are given to the family to bury the deceased in the family grave. But there have already been situations in which a sorcerer was buried on the premises of a Jujutsu school. Where they are safe from any curse. 

However, your body was not in the grave. You weren't cremated or buried. Because apparently your body was nowhere to be found. 

Perhaps it wasn't found because someone took it? 

Maybe it was a stupid thing to do, but in the middle of the night, Fushiguro found himself in your old room. Where your things used to be in boxes. Now it's gone. The room is empty. 

However, for a girl, no matter how much stuff you had, there wasn't much. Even though you were packing to go home, it wasn't much. Not as much as it should be.  When you packed things yourself, you had more. And then there were two boxes left after all this? It wasn't possible. Your packed backpack was missing. There were no clothes, and some other things were missing. That's why it was weird.  Everything was taken away. Given to family?

However, this was not the case before. 

And the remaining two boxes were taken by Gojo, who was supposed to take it back to your parents. 

But there were only two boxes. 

His teacher wasn't even surprised that there was so little of it. He was there alone, without anyone else. Therefore, no one could tell what he was doing during that time. 

Maybe he took all your stuff? Maybe you're alive, and he took it all for you? 

The stupidest thing Fushiguro will ever do...

A shadow opened under his feet, and he walked through a black hole to leave the deserted room, where he would find nothing anyway. 

His Shikigami were always allowed on Jujutsu High grounds. 

Joining hands with thumbs up, he summoned his dog. Whom he sent to run after Gojo's scent. May he find his home in Tokyo quickly. So that Fushiguro could get there thanks to the shadow.

Half an hour later, he was able to open the shadow beneath him and enter the darkness that allowed him to step out of the shadow of his Shikigami, right next to the window of his white-haired sensei's house. 

Even though it was the middle of the night, he was surprised that the house was absolutely empty. There was no light or anything there. 

Stepping one foot into the shadows, he stepped out of the darkness and stood in the living room. Black clothes will be useful so that no one can see him. 

He dismissed his Shikigami and slowly started walking around his house. 

Why does he need black clothes if he won't be able to hide from Six Eyes? Despite masking his presence, Six Eyes is not an ordinary, weak technique. 

Gojo sees everything. 

He must also make his Remains invisible. That's why he can't use the technique as long as he's here. Entering the shadow will do less of this than summoning a Shikigami. 

As befits Gojo, his house was large and apparently rich. Everything showed that this was not the home of someone modest. 

However, everything was empty and clean. There's no sign of someone like Gojo anywhere.

But the dark-haired man had a strange feeling...

And he turned back quickly as he felt sweat pour over him.

A/n: I just realized that I love this story so much. I finished writing the draft in August. Now I've read several chapters, remembering absolutely nothing. And I love it.

What is behind Megumi? ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

Taglist: @mc-reborn ; @yihona-san06 ; @yerinsshi ; @erisfayred ; @tohsri

[fallen-gravity]

What inspired you to make Safe Haven? Btw I really love the fanfic not just because I’m Mollie and Ollie fan but it’s also because you have shown how much they have grown in there friendship after everything that has happened to them. Keep up the great work!

And just wondering how would Scratch react when he realizes Ollie was sleeping over in the McGee’s guest room?

aaa, thank you so much for your kind words!!! it really means a lot to me to hear that people love my work 🥺🥺🥺🥺

A lot of the intial inspiration came from a headcanon I've been talking about with friends for months about Ollie sneaking off to the McGee house. Even before he told his parents that he thinks ghosts can be good and compassionate at NecroComicon, he's been struggling knowing that he has such contrasting morals with his parents (and even his own sister before he had a chance to talk to her too) and that really scares him, so I like to believe that sometimes he would sneak out to spend time with Molly and her family because he wants a space where he can autheitcally be himself. There's a queer metaphor in there somewhere about having a closest self and a true self around loved ones you trust the most, and little sprinkled bits and pieces of wherefore art thou Romeo. NecroComicon airing only added fuel to the fire of Ruben and Esther canonically not being accepting of Ollie's differentiating morals, so yeah, of course he's gonna feel extra scared and unsafe, because now they know he's not like them anymore.

Another part of it, the really initimate part of Molly and Ollie comforting each other through gentle touches and whispers, that part comes from personal experience. When I was about 16 or so years old, there was a time where my then-partner and I got talking about life stuff, and not even necessarily about us or our future or anything that was really about our relationship, and we started getting really emotional because yeah, sometimes talking about life is hard. And we were feeling really shy about it, cause we were around other friends too, so the way we went about it was we kind of...squeezed each other in a really tight hug, and we touched foreheads and got all real close and balled up together, and...we cried. We talked about heavy stuff together and wanted to cry together and it felt like a genuinely healing experience. Molly and Ollie are both going through a lot, and, you know, they're both incredibly touchy people in canon, that it just felt to me like that's something they'd benefit from. Have a heavy talk, and then just take a few moments to let the other help ground you. Gently take them by the hand, wind an arm around them, tell them that they're sitting right there and that they don't plan on leaving any time soon. The fact that The Grand Gesture and mollie becoming canon in the very next episode that aired after writing it was insane luck on my end; I genuinely had no idea what the episode was going to be about outside of June and Darryl's plot, so you can only imagine the look on my face rereading Safe Haven after it aired. Holy shit.

As for how Scratch would react knowing Ollie is right there in his house, well...I'm sure Sharon wasn't the only person that Molly woke up when she was running around trying to make sure Ollie was okay, right? 😉 The way I see it, he woke up when she woke up, and he was gonna give both of them an earful about it, but by the time he caught up with them, he'd probably just run into Ollie crying into Molly's shoulder, and even he's not that heartless to kick someone while they're down.

But he is petty enough to wait until morning, ask how Ollie's feeling, and if he responds with oh, thank you for asking, Scratch! I'm feeling a lot better, then he's gonna tear him a new one for waking him up in the middle of the night and worrying Molly sick like that. But of course Ollie's used to it by this point, and knows that probably means he was secretly worried too, so he just responds to all of his griping with a smile.

[thiswasneverthat]

stray kids ㅡ and the way they cheated on you.

Genre: mature themes, angst, smut

Word count: 800+

Warning: cheating (obviously, it’s on the title heh.)

Hyungline only!

Ps. I do not condone any of the actions implied on this, I just enjoy torturing myself (re: breaking my own heart). If you are uncomfortable with the warning, keep scrolling.

Chan.

first of all, you never thought he would do that to you.

in the third year of your relationship, the two of you barely see each other due to hectic schedules, both yours and his.

you both only meet once or twice a week, but when you couldn't get the chance to, you both only talk on the phone at night after work.

however, the frequency of the talks on the phone keeps dropping as days pass by, from thirty minutes to ten minutes, and to a lot of missed calls.

literally, no one to blame but the schedules when your needs couldn't be fulfilled.

no matter how desperate you are, you would only use your fingers or toys.

however, you can't say the same for him.

he finds his fulfillment somewhere else, in someone else.

one fine night when you intend to surprise him after work, you catch him in the act, licking and sucking a blonde's cunt in his apartment. he probably forgot you know the passcode.

and you've met the blonde before, she's the girl next door.

Minho.

for some reason, you already know that he will break your heart one day.

and yeah, he does break your heart so effortlessly.

being the popular guy at university, you secretly admit that he is out of your league. but well, how can you say no when he asks you out? how can you say no when he fucks you dumb the second time you meet?

on daily basis, he is surrounded by a lot of girls during dance practice. girls are fawning over him, cause who won't?

somehow you get used to it anyway, even when there are times you caught him flirting with them as well.

one day you walked on him kissing a girl in the changing room. "don't worry about it, we're just playing around." that’s what he said and you foolishly trust him, even letting him take you home after and fucks you till daylight.

he is so bad but he is also so good at being bad. sighs.

the next time ㅡthough it didn't surprise youㅡ but your heart still breaks to pieces when you catch him having his dick balls deep inside a girl in the dance studio.

guilt emerges all over his face the moment he saw you standing by the door, however, he shows no movement to stop thrusting his hips.

Changbin.

almost three years of dating him and every single day is special for you. he treats you exactly like how girls dream to be treated by the guy they love.

almost three years into the relationship, yet his parents still won't open their hearts to you.

saying that they want only the best match for him. the best match in their eyes is someone who comes from a filthy rich household, just like them.

but he always convinces you that you are the one he wants and he loves. and you believe him because he is your devoted boyfriend.

little did you know that he is also ㅡa little bit moreㅡ devoted to his parents.

one fine night when you are about to go home after work, you saw him holding a girl's hand in a cafe.

"she's the girl my parents want me to marry, but I don't even like her, it was just an act." that's his excuse when you confront him about it.

and of course, you believe him because your love for him is bigger than your suspicion.

a few weeks later, you bake him a cake for his birthday as a surprise. however, you are the one getting a surprise when you bring the cake to his office.

there he is, sitting on the couch with a girl straddling his lap. it is the same girl from the cafe. "thank you for the birthday gift, baby. I love you." the words roll out so effortlessly from his lips as he kisses the girl.

Hyunjin.

the guy that you met in art class almost a year ago. now though, he is your boyfriend.

rumors around you say that you are only his sweet escape. but, do you even care? of course, you don't.

yeah, you don't believe the rumors until you eventually feel like he's changed.

a few months before, he has no problem taking you to his apartment, but now he always has excuses to decline. it's a mess; I haven't cleaned up; my mom is coming over tonight; and all those bullshits.

one time when you call him, someone else answers his phone. from the voice, you can tell that it is an older lady. "oh, hyunjin is taking a bath."

but you immediately brush the foreboding feeling away, thinking that it might be his mother. well.. who else, right?

the next few days, however, he is out of reach. his phone is off and he has been skipping art classes, which is strange.

and when you decide to visit his apartment, you didn't expect a lady wearing a silk nightgown to open the door for you.

"honey, who is it? hurry come back to bed, I need you." that's his voice calling from inside the apartment.

so, the rumors are true after all. you are only an escape because it is now crystal clear that he hasn't moved on from his old art teacher.

[oscar-piastri]

safe place [arthur leclerc x reader]

title: safe place

pairing: arthur leclerc x reader

summary: arthur is your friend and decided to help you find your safe place after hearing about your complicated relationship with your family

words: 2k

“Why did you run away?” The Monegasque boy asked, his eyes focused on the road in front of him. He barely looked at you since you got in his car, and you could feel how tense he was.

“I didn’t run away” you muttered, your eyes locked on your feet, not brave enough to look at him.

“Then tell me why the fuck I had your parents calling me, saying you left your house for days in the middle of the night” he said, angrily slamming his steering wheel. His gesture made you look at him, but you couldn’t speak. Both ashamed and mad you were in this car. He breathed out “Y/N, seriously, it’s not funny, if your friend hadn’t called your parents, we’d be thinking you were dead”

“You say ‘we’, do you count my parents in ‘we’? Is that why they sent you picking me up when you should be getting ready to travel for your races? Sounds like you cared more than they did” you snapped before apologizing “I’m sorry Arthur, I didn’t want you to be involved in family drama.”

“They asked me to come get you because they knew I’d have more chances than them to bring you home. Fuck Y/N, you were so reckless. Running away like that?!” he asked and you could feel he was very mad at you. Being on the speedway was probably the only reason Arthur hasn’t started to explode, because he had to stay focused on the road and the cars around you.

Arthur was your friend and you were thankful he cared so much about you, but at the same time you hated this situation. You hated seeing him like that, and you hated the fact that he had to give up on training to drive miles and miles to pick you up and drag you home, for the sole reason you decided to be stupid and run away from home. You noticed Arthur taking the next exit to stop his car in a resting area. After parking his car, he turned off the engine and turned to his right to look at you.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked him when you noticed his jaw was still clenched.

“I’m not mad, I’m worried. Dead ass worried” he confessed, reaching for your hands. “You can tell me anything, what made you leave like that?”

So you did, you told him everything that happened that made you impulsively run away. Your feelings of being stuck in the house while you were saving money to move out, the feeling of your parents not understanding you, and the endless daily fights, where you’d break your voice crying and screaming. A fight. That’s why you packed your bags and left the house in the middle of the night, because after hearing your father say you’d achieve nothing in life, you decided to hide at a friend’s house, somewhere they couldn’t find you. 

“I needed somewhere I could breathe, I was like a time bomb ready to explode” you explained. Weirdly, you felt so relieved to let it all out and share your thoughts and feelings. The second you finished your sentence, you saw Arthur open his car door, run around his car to reach your door which he flew open before he threw his arms around you and held you close to him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about all of this” he said, holding you even more in his arms

“Arthur.. Arthur stop I can’t breathe” you said letting out a small laugh, which made him back off right away while apologizing. “So yeah… Basically you know everything now”

“Now I feel stupid and guilty to have come and get you… But on the other hand I’d be worried too, to leave you there”

“Guilty? Arthur, you have driven hours for me, non stop. I’m the one feeling guilty”

“It’s fine Y/N, I’d do everything for you” he whispered and his words caught you off guard, turning your face slightly red.

“So uh… What’s the plan now?” you asked, desperately trying to switch the conversation.

“The plan? Find somewhere to sleep tonight because I am exhausted” he said and you couldn’t help but feel bad “Hey, don’t worry about that, 8 hours of sleep and I’ll be ready to be annoying again” he continued, giving you a wink. “Oh and we need to make phone calls.  Wait here”.

You’ve been staying in the car while Arthur was walking around the resting area, still on the phone. Everything felt like hours but it was only just minutes. Not knowing who Arthur was calling was making you anxious, he could just be calling a hotel or he could be calling your parents to update them. Your heart started to race when you saw him jogg back to the car.

“D-Did you call my parents?” you asked, not even sure you wanted an answer.

“What? No! But you will call your parents, to tell them you’ll be staying with me for a few days.” he proudly said, even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to hide the grin appearing on his face. You looked at him confused, and before you could ask something, he was quick to speak “I was on the phone with Lorenzo to ask him to get you a plane ticket and a hotel room. And I’ve asked my team to get you credentials. You’re coming with me for the races”

“Are you serious?!” you squeaked and jumped in Arthur’s arms, all excited to finally be able to watch your friend race in real life and also spend time outside the house.

“Hopefully I can be your safe place” Arthur mumbled in your hair 

“You said anything?” you asked, letting go of Arthur

“Uh? Oh, no. Don’t worry about that” he smiled. “You should call your parents, I’ll get us a hotel in the meantime. And please, don’t take this opportunity to leave”

“Leave? Now that I know I can meet your teammates and hear more funny stories about you, I’m not going anywhere” you joked before turning on your phone, to finally call your parents.

You were now in your own hotel room. While you were having an awkward call with your parents, Arthur was busy finding somewhere to sleep and he booked two rooms in a decent hotel on the way back to Monaco. You insisted on paying him back, especially after everything he did, but he was happy to pay for everything himself, and besides, he wanted you to keep precious money to move out as soon as possible. 

As you were about to put down your phone to sleep, the screen lit up with a picture of Arthur and his name, he was calling you on facetime. 

“I thought you’d be sleeping by now, you’ve been on the road all day” you greeted Arthur. You were right to assume he’d be sleeping because driving exhausted him and you could see it, his face was literally screaming ‘I NEED SLEEP’.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t running away again”

“I’d never run from you Arthur” you confessed and he couldn’t hold back his smile

“I know… But once the weekend is over, you-”

“I’ll go back to my parents’ house, find a better job that pay more so I can find the perfect place for me” you cut him “I promise, I’m not gonna do this impulsive move ever again. Trust me, I was not thinking about anything.”

“If you ever feel this need to run away, you know my door will always be open for you. And if your parents try to knock, I won’t let them in unless you want me to”

“Arthur…” Your head was already a mess, but Arthur was making it worse, by being so kind and helpful. He was the best with you and you were glad to count him among your close friends, but his acts were making it so hard for you to think straight, always leaving you unaware of how to act. 

“Y/N…”

“It’s late, Arthur, you need to sleep” you blurred out before hanging up on him, leaving him speechless and confused.

There you were now, in Hungary, staying with PREMA, Lorenzo and Arthur. Well mostly with Lorenzo because Arthur needed to have meetings with the team, he needed to train and of course he needed to race. But once Arthur had some time, he would always find you to sit next to you and make sure you were feeling alright. 

“Arthur, you’ve already asked me less than an hour ago!” you giggled “I’m fine, I’m happy, I love it here. Everyone is really nice”

“I’m making it my mission to make sure you feel safe” he winked.

You were about to reply but he was called by Angelina to prepare to race, for the last race of the weekend. As you watched him walk away, Angelina looked at you and smile

“You two are adorable” Angelina said “He insisted so much on bringing you here, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.” 

“We’re friends” you said, hoping to correct whatever idea she had in her head

“Oh no, you’re way more than friends. You just don’t know it yet” she told you before she left to join back the team, leaving you alone and confused. You waited a few minutes and you went to find Lorenzo to watch the race with him.

Arthur finished P3 which represents good points for his championship. After the podium celebrations, everyone went back to the team trucks. while Arthur had to go to a press conference. When he came back, he celebrated with his team and his brothers while you were watching in the back, until Arthur jogged to you and hugged you, taking your feet off the ground.

“I think you’re my lucky charm. Before you were here I was having shit races” he said all excited, before putting you down.

“Oh, stop it! You did all the work! I was just sitting all weekend” you laughed

“Maybe, but I felt your presence around me” he whispered, his face just a few inches from yours. “Okay, I need to shower” he smiled as he took step backs from you “I’m all sticky and I smell, I’m sorry for hugging you like that by the way”

The rest of the day went by so fast. You watched Formula 2 and Formula 1 and headed back to the hotel to grab your stuff and leave for the airport. The days you spent with Arthur were without a doubt the best days you’ve ever had in years and you were heartbroken it was coming to an end, but you knew you had to come home and have a conversation with your parents, face to face.

Once you landed, Arthur offered to drive you back to your parents’ house so you could enjoy the peace with him as long as you could.  He parked his car in front of the house and you took a deep breath. 

“You’ll be okay” he reassured you. “And if everyone starts to scream again, remember that my door is open.” you nodded. “Do you want me to walk with you to the door? You know, for emotional support.”

“You’re too sweet for the world Arthur” he smiled “But I’ll be okay. Thank you for everything” you kissed his left cheek but he pulled you in a long hug, before he let you exit his car. 

As you were walking to your house, you started thinking about all the hugs you had with Arthur, and how safe you felt in his arms. God, you started to think that Arthur could be the safe place and the calm you need. You reached the door, and turned around to find Arthur’s car, with Arthur giving you thumbs up with a small smile on his face. You waved at him, before facing the door again and knocking.

[amjustagirl]

chapter 11: a wisp of smoke

chapters: 11 / 15

pairing: miya osamu x f! reader

genre: romance / angst / fluff

word count: 4k

summary: miya osamu does not dare set fire to his heart. it burns anyway.

(prev / next)

It’s clear you don’t want to talk to him. 

Or maybe it’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, but that you can’t talk to him. Your phone keeps sending him error messages, which indicates you haven’t blocked him - which he wouldn’t begrudge you, certainly - if he were in your situation, he’d need time to lick his wounds and regroup. But the prospect of the latter sends him into a frenzy, because that’d mean that something’s happened to you, something bad - because why else aren’t you able to answer your phone - a spiral of anxiety that his staff picks up on when he uncharacteristically glances at his phone even during service. It’s bad enough he’s essentially left them in the lurch for more than two months to hole up in Hyogo, and him being distracted won’t help things, so he brushes them off until closing. 

The shared glances between Suzuki-san and Miyamura-kun are ominous. “She’s on vacation right now. That’s probably why you aren’t able to reach her. I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

“On vacation?” he echoes incredulously. “D’you know where to?” 

Somewhere tropical, apparently. And when he does the exact thing he’s sworn not to do - i.e. be creepy and visit your apartment, even though he knows you’re probably not there. He knows it’s weird and he’s being a hypocrite because he distinctly remembers himself telling ‘Tsumu to knock off being a fuckin’ jerk and leave Kaiyo alone when she clearly didn’t want to see him, but your apartment’s on the way to wherever it is he’s going (he can’t remember what his destination is anymore if he’s being honest) so he’ll slosh his wet boots down the corridor. 

“Meow!” 

“Kombu-chan!?” 

Your cat mewls at him through your neighbour’s grilles. He squats down to the floor to offer the cat food he’s taken to carrying around in his backpack (influenced by you, of course). Your neighbour’s cheerful greeting gives way to confusion when he hesitantly asks if she knows where you might have taken off to. 

“She didn’t tell you?” she gasps. 

“No”, he admits. “I was away for a while and we sorta lost contact.” 

It turns out that your neighbour hasn’t heard from you in a while either, though the fact that you transfer her a tidy sum regularly for the upkeep of Kombu-chan (who preens with her butt facing towards him now that he’s run out of food for her) indicates that you’re still alive. 

“She’ll be coming back soon, right?” he asks. 

The obaa-chan must see the badly disguised hope in his eyes, because she smiles at him sympathetically. 

It also turns out that you’ve rented your entire apartment out for an entire year. To a family, parents with a daughter around Shin-chan’s age. He wonders about things implied but left unsaid, wonders if you’ve decided to drop the baggage of your past life and forge ahead on a new path. 

(a new path that doesn’t include him) 

“She rented the place out, did you say?” 

He remembers belatedly that you’re his landlady. Your property agent however, is decidedly unimpressed when he contacts her with flimsy excuses to be put in touch with you. “I’m authorised to deal with anything related to the properties so you don’t have to bother her”, she tells him firmly when he tries to finagle your contact details out of her. 

“It’s important!” he protests. 

Her nostril flares. “My job is to run these properties on her behalf. Until you explain exactly what’s so important that you need to contact her directly, you will be dealing with me instead.” 

He can’t exactly tell her that he wants to talk to you because - well, his heart wants a chance at rewinding time, so their conversation ends there and then. It’s childish but he can’t resist channelling ‘Tsumu, giving in to the urge to stick his tongue at her when she flounces out of the coffee shop. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s hit a brick wall as far as you’re concerned. No one else knows how to reach you, not even Kaiyo (he asked, she shrugged and told him to give you some space), so there’s nothing more to do than to settle back into the rhythm of work.

Word of mouth about his new outlet spreads. 

It becomes just as you said, a warm welcoming hide-out to all those who crave for a meal that reminds one of home, whatever that might mean. He and his crew offer ready smiles and  listening ears as side dishes to the main course of handmade onigiris - nothing more than what he was previously doing. But for some reason, accolades for his newest venture pour in, food bloggers and journalists praise him and write glowing articles about the latest iteration of Onigiri Miya, the newest hidden gem in downtown Osaka. 

“My friend gave me the inspiration for this place. It’s a simple concept - cook good food, make people comfortable. A home away from home.” 

He harbours the hope that his soundbite would reach you wherever you are. 

Rush hour service starts to slam a lot harder after his restaurants skyrockets in popularity. Without your steady hand in the kitchen. Miyamura-kun is left in distress after one too many days where the line stretches out of the door owing to the kitchen not pushing enough food out to satisfy the demand for more onigiris, something he’s always thought of as a damn good thing and truly, a pipe dream of his, but now he’s struggling to cope. He’s not an asshole though so he immediately puts up signs for any part-timers to help out, but even then he barely has time to breathe, let alone keep up with his ever swelling business. 

Success comes his way. It’s all he’s ever wanted, but for the first time success tastes sickly sweet, like he’s overindulged on too much sugar and finds himself craving something else - something tangy and sour, perhaps a little spicy - to cut through its aftertaste. The rest of the crew don’t comment when he starts throwing together random creations in his taste tests, monologuing under his breath because he has to pretend you’re there, laughing at him for frying his onigiris like springrolls, dipping them in sweet chili sauce, or busy gobbling up his best creation - a frankenstein grilled kimchi onigiri with a mozzarella core. The latter is an instant hit when he debuts it, and he fancies you’d snort if you ever learn he cheekily names it after Kaiyo. 

Kaiyo is very much unimpressed that she has a namesake onigiri that’s gaily illustrated in colourful chalk on his specials board, but Tsumu is exceedingly amused - so amused he orders a batch of Kaiyos along with the Tsumus (his fatty tuna onigiris that ‘Tsumu named after himself without shame) large enough to feed all the Jackals. He tries to make one with you in mind, experimenting with simple, traditional ingredients like katsuboshi and umeboshi but they’re a little too severe, and trendier ingredients like spam and cream cheese just don’t fit - he does create a corndog inspired onigiri for Shin-chan, which she delights in, but nothing for you. 

He’ll create one for you when you’re back with your input. If you come back. 

He’s always divided his time fairly between each of his restaurants but he keeps being drawn back to your restaurant. If he closes his eyes, you’re just within reach, flitting by the counters, your legs swinging as you wait for him to push towards you yet another dish he wants your taste buds’ opinion on. Perhaps if he turns his head quickly enough, he’ll be able to catch more than the echo of your smile, given the way ghosts of memories haunt the halls. But when he opens his eyes, you’re nowhere to be found. 

Once in a moon, he sits in the alleyway to catch his breath. 

He lets his mind wander back to you (always you, he wonders how he’d never realised it before), thinking how he would’ve liked to share the day (each and every day) with you. He wants to laugh with you when times are good, cry with you when times are bad (though with you he hopes the good will outweigh the bad, simply by virtue of being next to you). ‘Tsumu would laugh at him for being this sappy, but still - he can’t help but wonder when your paths will cross again, beneath the ever-widening sky. 

He’ll be patient. He’ll wait and hope you’ll be back soon.  

Winter trickles by. Spring blossoms bloom and fade, sunny summer skies stretch out each day. The seasons shift and change but he’s still stuck in the same loop, skating in concentric circles. Business is good, too good at times, but he manages. 

His crew doesn’t agree though. “You need a break”, Suzuki-san tells him bluntly when she catches him in the restaurant before the sun rises and hears from a tattletale Miyamura-kun that he never leaves the shop until the clock strikes midnight. 

“You’re driving yourself into the ground”, Murata points out - very unhelpfully, he might add.

“I’m fine”, he insists.  

It’s true that he’s recently started pulling even longer hours at the restaurants. But he’s trying to give the rest of his crew a break - Miyamura has college exams to prepare for, Suzuki-san has children of her own, Murata needs less time in the restaurant to stare him down when he’s working too long and heaven knows Morita and Ishida need more time to get out and date, from the way they mourn their singlehood.    

He’s trying to be a good boss - and no, it’s a mere happenstance that his decision to spend more time at work coincides with stumbling on proof that you’ve moved on from him. 

“Thailand!” Atsumu crows, barging into the restaurant. 

His regulars barely bat an eyelid, used to his more excitable twin’s antics. “What’s in Thailand?” Osamu asks. Atsumu drags him to the back of the store. 

“Look! Shoyo sent me this video ‘cos y’know how I’m gonna be playin’ at the Asian Volleyball Championships in Thailand next month and I thought maybe I’ll take Kaiyo off on a holiday - she’s been a bit stressed at work recently - and, anyway -”

“Get to the point, ‘Tsumu.” 

“Look!” His twin shoves his phone in his face. 

It’s just a standard travel video, though the vlogger seems kinda familiar (doncha remember, I targeted him with my amazing serves during our first Spring High match with Karasuno - shuddup, ‘Tsumu - ) and the visuals of lush green jungles and steep mountains are soothing to the eye. He’s about to shove the phone back into Atsumu’s stupid face when his twin finally takes the hint and fast forwards the video to a scene where Nishinoya pans the camera towards a bustling kitchen. Nothing really seems out of the ordinary, knives a-flashing, flames licking huge woks - but in the centre of it all, he sees you. 

“I’m gonna eat the most amazing meal of my life”, Noya enthuses. 

There’s a brief moment when you glance up and gaze right into the camera, almost as if you’re looking right at him, as if you can see the way his heart tries to climb right out of his chest, reaching out to you.  

Then you turn to Noya and - since when did you ever laugh so easily? He watches you poke Noya’s nose when he tries to steal a taste of the dish you’re whipping up, scold him playfully when he pokes the camera too close to your face and by the time the video ends, his heart has turned to lead, sunk all the way to his feet. 

“She’s moved on, then”, he says dully. 

“What?!” Atsumu cries. “No - ‘Samu, c’mon you can’t be givin’ up so easily - ”

He waves his brother off. “As long as she’s happy”, he says faintly, turning back to his work. It’s all he’s got now and so he tries to argue with his team that this is normal for him. After a month, his brother storms back into the store again.

“If I gave up on Kaiyo so easily, I’d be divorced by now.” 

He levels a stare at Atsumu. “You’re sayin’ like it’s a bad thing for her.” 

“Fuck you”, his twin says, though without any heat. “Look ‘Samu -”

He raises his hand to forestall any ridiculous heartfelt conversation his brother might see fit to drag him into, but Atsumu barrels on anyway. “I’m sorry I was an asshole and made you think that relationships and marriage sucks -”

“Who says you can make me think anything -” 

“Kaiyo told me that you’re traumatised by the - I quote - ‘shitstorm of our twenties’ - that really sounds more dramatic than it actually was -”

“Kaiyo talks too much -” 

“But I swear we’re happy and yeah, marriage can be hard - I mean, I definitely didn’t make it easy on Kaiyo, but that’s cos I didn’t appreciate what I had with her and Shino, and I admit was a bit of a dick when I was younger -” 

“That’s massively understating things -” 

“And I know I owe you for takin’ care of Kaiyo while I was gone -” 

“You don’t owe me shit, I did it for her, not you -” 

“So y’know, I’m tryin’ to repay you here -” 

“Don’t try, you’ll hurt your brain - ” 

“FOR GOD’S SAKE SHUDDUP!” 

Osamu is about to childishly insist that it’s Atsumu who should, in fact, shut the fuck up when his twin rubs his hand over his face, looking greyer and older, almost like oto-san and he falters. 

“Look”, his twin says, after a few beats of silence. “I know I fucked up, okay? I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ up for it. But it kills me that you’re fuckin’ your life up ‘cos of me -”

“She’s already moved on -”

“Shoyo-kun says Noya-kun says they’re not datin’.” 

“They’re not?” 

He doesn’t even have the urge to slap Atsumu’s shit eating grin off his face. 

“Nope”, his twin stresses. “You can consider buyin’ a ticket to Thailand and thank me for it.” 

Easier said than done because according to Shoyo’s intel, you and Nishinoya parted ways a few weeks ago, and you apparently broke your phone and never replaced it so even Nishinoya has difficulties getting in touch with you. 

So what else can he do but work whilst waiting and hoping that you’ll walk back into his life someday, hopefully soon. 

“Seriously, Osamu. Take. A. Break.” 

To prove her point, Suzuki-san gestures angrily at the greyish pallor of his skin and threatens to sic Kaiyo on him. He skirts her edict by closing one of the shops for the annual Inarizaki gathering. He’s still busy because he won’t let anyone else cook, his pride wouldn’t allow him to step aside from the stove, and ‘sides - he derives joy from seeing all his friends stuff their faces with food he’s put together with his two hands. 

It’s nice to see everyone together in one place - ‘Tsumu and Rintarou in the corner commiserating about the end of their professional careers (though he suspects the latter’s just winding his idiot twin brother up, Rintarou’s got a coaching gig lined up already), Gintama and Akagi discussing too-seriously how to motivate their charges towards greater physical fitness (he’s rather concerned about the hapless high schoolers under his former libero’s charge, hearing their stories) and Aran and Shinsuke swopping stories about parenthood for young, stubborn toddlers who just refuse to eat their vegetables. 

He’s so busy putting together a platter of fatty tuna onigiri per ‘Tsumu’s demands that he doesn’t notice Suna Rintarou sidle up to him until the middle blocker’s face is almost directly in front of his own. 

“You look like shit.” 

“Hello to you too”, Osamu replies, paying him little attention as he shapes rice balls between his palms. 

Suna isn’t put off by his standoffishness in the least bit, not after years of dealing with the twins’ weathervane-like mood shifts, so he just blinks catlike, waiting until Osamu, annoyed by the hovering presence of a too-tall middle blocker in front of his culinary sanctum, looks up and snaps. 

“What.”

“Where’s your friend? I owe her an apology” 

“She’s not here”, he answers shortly. 

But though he knows curiosity killed the cat - he’d always been curious about the how and why the cat got killed anyway, because he doesn’t necessarily think it’s wrong to be curious - he takes the bait. “Why d’you owe her an apology anyway?” His eyes narrow and he glares at his former classmate. “What did you do to her?” 

“Nothing.” 

He supposes he’s still eyeing Suna with suspicion because his friend only huffs a tired laugh, and he remembers what exactly the former EJP Raijin player is going through himself. “Then why d’you ask?” he says with a touch less hostility. 

Suna shrugs, his features nonchalant. “I may or may not have cornered her into admitting that she liked you. Didn’t realise it was one way traffic though. Thought I’d apologise to her the next time I see her. Surprised she’s not here though, since she’s always around you.”

“Dude, what the fuck. Why the fuck did you say somethin’ like that?!”

“Woah, what’s goin’ on?”

Trust Atsumu’s nose to prick at the first sign of drama. “Nothin’” he bluffs, turning to mould yet another onigiri in his palms. “Just Rin-chan poking his nose into somewhere he doesn’t belong.”

“Hrm.” 

He really doesn’t like the way the middle blocker is looking at him, as if he’s weighing every single twitch of his facial muscles, every jerky movement of his hands, assessing any sign of agitation to come to a conclusion that hits too close to home. 

“Unless…it isn’t a one-way thing.” 

Atsumu’s eyes dart between the two of them. “Ah”, he says, his face giving away absolutely everything because his twin brother was born wearing his heart stapled to his forehead for the entire world to see. 

“Ah”, Suna parrots, eyes curving as his suspicions are confirmed. 

“Ah, what.” Osamu presses the rice ball too violently in his hands. Serves Suna right to be eating a too-dense block of pure starch. “It’s none of your business.” 

He’s stupid for ever letting you go, he gets it. But he doesn’t need it rubbed in his face. It’s bad enough that ‘Tsumu felt the need to apologise to him for ‘wrecking his view on relationships’, because they don’t apologise to each other - they just tussle and fight and make peace by offering to play video games together - they don’t do heartfelt conversations - ‘cos, just no, and he really, really doesn’t want to be a mile near this conversation where his former teammates and closest friends are within an inch of discovering his biggest pain point over the past few months - 

“Oh.” Kita pipes up, utters your name. “She’s stayin’ at my farm. I thought you knew?” 

Osamu’s brain shuts down.  

When his brain finally reboots itself back up, he starts peppering Kita with questions about your whereabouts, the rest of the Inarizaki alumni shamelessly listening in to the conversation. It turns out you now have a fledgling private chef business that’s taken flight amongst Osaka’s culinary elite which Ichika somehow got wind of and booked you for a fortnight for some fussy, too-rich guests at the Kita farm’s humble guesthouse. 

“Can I pop by your farm for a visit?” Osamu asks, his motives so transparent his former teammates share a grin, bemused at the usually tacticum man’s eagerness. 

“Sure”, Kita replies, though he’s certainly not prepared when Osamu follows that up with an immediate - “How about tonight?” 

It’s true that the course of true love never runs smooth because there’s another roadblock in his way in the form of Ichika, who Kita calls after the gathering is over to put her on notice of their unexpected, self-invited guest. 

“Absolutely not”, she snaps, grumbling about idiot Miya men who screw over her friends. Which, Osamu reckons, is fair to lay at ‘Tsumu’s doorstep, but his own denseness isn’t on the same level of assholery as ‘Tsumu’s, surely. 

Kita evidently agrees, sighing. “‘Chika, be reasonable - ”

“Be reasonable?! Don’t speak to me like you do to Asami-chan, you and I both know it’s unfair to spring ‘Samu on her - even if I admit he was a little less of a jerk than Miya Atsumu - ”

“ - thanks…I guess?”

“- that doesn’t mean we should sic him on her without warning -”

“Whaddya mean sic me on her - ”

Kita patiently waits until his wife runs out of steam and has to draw breath. “Sweetheart, didn’t I have to bug Kaiyo to get your number so I could chase ya down? How’s that different from what Osamu’s doin’ now?” 

“That’s different”, Ichika shoots back. “That’s actually romantic.” 

“You’re just sayin’ that cos you were sweet on Shinsuke, don’t be a hypocrite -” 

“Shuddup Atsumu”, both Ichika and Osamu say in tandem. 

He doesn’t want his twin to dig him deeper in Ichika’s bad books, considering ‘Tsumu’s the reason he landed there in the first place. But to his surprise, Ichika actually backtracks. 

“Fine”, she huffs. “‘Samu can come, I guess. But if you upset her, I’m kicking you out of the farm and you can walk to the train station yourself.”

“If I upset her, I’ll throw myself out, you don’t need to worry about that.”  

He and Shinsuke are both relieved when Ichika breaks into peals of laughter - the latter doubly so because it’d mean he’ll get to sleep in his bed instead of the couch when he gets home. 

“I always knew I liked you more than Atsumu.”

“Hey!” 

He gets on the train at dawn, barely paying any attention to the beauty beyond his window, the concrete and glass of the cityscape receding into the green plains of the countryside. He only registers the sunrise because it reminds him of you - the weight of your head on his shoulder, your sleepy, soft smile, the reflection of the sun’s first light in your eyes. 

The rest of the ride is passed in agony, ricocheting from one worry to the next. It’s been almost a year since he’s last seen you. There’s every likelihood that you’ve already moved on, left him behind. Perhaps he’ll upset you just by turning up at the farm, just as Ichika predicted, or you’ll treat him like a stranger, instead of the dear friend (and maybe more) that he thought he once was, but again it’s his fault his past self squandered that chance by choosing wrongly at the crossroad. 

He’s shaking when Kita claps him on the best, wishing him a quiet “all the best” as he ushers him through the farmhouse to the kitchen, freezing up when he hears you bustling about, humming to yourself. 

“Go get her”, Kita says kindly with an encouraging smile. “You’ve been waiting long enough.”  

“Yeah”, he grounds out. 

But everything he’s prepared during the train ride to say to you flies out of his head when he stumbles into the kitchen, knocking his hip into the counter like a clumsy oaf. You’re so absorbed by your work that you don’t even notice his entrance, giving him time to drink in the sight of you. 

There has to be some sort of magic on Kita’s farm. Perhaps it’s the rich soil, the clear, cold water that runs through it in burbling streams, the perfect golden sunshine it’s blessed with, because like his rice crops and flower fields, you’re thriving. Your expression is open, unlike how closed off you were when he first met you, your thoughts and emotions locked up in the secret garden of your heart. You’re wielding your father’s knife with deft hands, honing the craft you were born to practise with a master’s confidence. 

Before he lets doubt paralyse him, because there’s every chance you’ve moved on and see no place for him in your life any longer, which is entirely your right, because he was stupid enough to let fear dictate his choices and hold him back, he takes a step towards you.  

“Hey”, he says. 

He wills himself to be brave, come what may. 

a/n: and this is why i'm worried y'all might throttle me but i accept being screamed at in my inbox HAHA.

[petersbaby]

Stepbro!eddie installment #7

Warnings: this is just fluff but mentions of parent loss/abandonment

-

“I can’t talk about this with you.” You say, wiping your tears off your cheek.

“Hey, sure you can. Why not?”

You’ve been upset all day, on edge constantly and you’re finally breaking down. It was inevitable. You just wish it hadn’t happened in front of Eddie, he came to your room and asked if you were okay and it all came out.

His eyebrows immediately furrowed in concern, and he sat down next to you on your bed. You didn’t answer, but just leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Because. It’s a family thing. I don’t want you to think I’m not happy with how everything ended up, but it just hurts sometimes.”

“What hurts?”

“It-it’s the anniversary today. I wish my dad had never died and I wish he was still here and with my mom. She loves your uncle I know but I can’t help but feel some sort of resentment that she moved on.”

“I understand. But it’s time, isn’t it? It’s been six years.”

“Mhm. I know. Like I said, I’m grateful for the family we have now. I just miss him extra on days like this.”

“Do you wanna talk about it? Like maybe share memories or something?” He asked awkwardly. He never really knew what to do in sad situations.

“No offense, Eddie, but that’s the last thing I wanna do right now.” You replied, sniffling.

He moves to sit back against your headboard, placing a pillow in his lap and patting it.

You immediately come to him, laying your head down and crying silently. He let you have that silence, and only just ran his fingers through your hair.

“You know, I can kind of relate. My dad’s not dead but he may as well be. I haven’t seen him in that amount of time either. He just left.”

You nod, signaling that you’re listening, appreciating him opening up since it’s something you’ve never discussed.

“Do you miss him?” You ask.

“Nah, no not really.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. “My uncle stepped in pretty quick, so I wasn’t really without a guardian for long. I love him like a dad, sometimes I even refer to him as my dad.”

“That’s sweet. He really loves you.” You comment.

“Not sure why, but yeah I guess so.”

“What are you talking about?? Why aren’t you sure?”

“I don’t know, I’m just a pretty shitty person I think.”

You lift yourself up, tears drying now, to look at him.

“You are not shitty. I find you to be quite loveable.” You climb into his lap to hug him tight.

“Thank you princess. I’m glad someone thinks so.” He smiles.

You pull back, to look him face to face.

“I love you, eds. A lot.”

“I love you too. Even more.”

He changes the topic with hopes of distracting you, telling you about different embarrassing things that have happened to him over the years because it always made you laugh.

Your favorite was probably the one where he walked past a water fountain at school without looking down and slipped in a puddle of water that was leaking out of it.

He busted his ass and had to walk around soaking wet and holding his butt for several hours afterward.

You had the biggest dumbest smile on your face by the time he was done talking to you, and he considered that to be a win in his book.

“You know, this is cheesy, but I think that if homes were people instead of places, you would be mine.” You breathe in the scent of him from his cotton tee shirt. It does smell like home.

“You’re mine too. And I’m never gonna leave.”

“You promise?” You ask hopefully.

“It would never even cross my mind. I promise.”

“But what if-“ he stops you before you even get the chance to start bringing up crazy hypotheticals.

“I said never. Okay? Never ever gonna let you go.” Even with the abandonment issues and trust issues you had, the way he spoke these words made you trust that they were true.

You start to cry again on his shoulder, realizing soon that you were getting his shirt visibly wet. “I’m sorry”, you say, slightly laughing.

“It’s fine. How about this, do you wanna go somewhere, see a movie or something? Just to get your pretty little mind to focus on something else.”

“Hmm.” You pulled away, “do you see me? I can’t go anywhere in public. I look like a crazy mess.”

“If you’re a crazy mess, I’m an insane train wreck. What about a movie here? We could get food and watch one in the living room?”

“Mhm. That sounds really good. Can you go get the food though? I’m too lazy and it’s too chilly to come with you but I’ll warm up a spot on the couch for you for when you get back” you ask with a slightly devious smile.

“Fine, I guess princesses don’t have to go out when it’s cold. McDonald’s?”

“Yayyy”

-

You look at every VHS tape in your collection in the living room, trying to pick one that he would like. You pick out 3 options, but can’t settle on one, so you lay them out on the table. Soon he comes back, a paper bag and two milkshakes in his hands.

Your eyes light up like a little kid on Christmas, and the sight of you so happy brings warmth to his heart that he can’t deny.

“Couldn’t decide. You pick.” You say, gesturing to the three movies in front of you.

“Hmm”, he says, looking at the options. “How about all three? Or probably one and a half before you inevitably fall asleep at 11pm”

You punch him in the arm. “I need my beauty sleep, shush.”

“You’d still be beautiful if you never slept a minute. You don’t need any help with that.”

He pushes a movie into the slot and you both sit through the intro while you dug into the food.

When you’re both done, he starts to stand up. “Nooo”, you say.

“Just throwing away our trash, princess. Coming right back.” And he did.

You lifted the large knit blanket you had draped over you and scooted closer to him as you covered him too. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you tight.

“Ah, jesus. What the fuck was that??”

You giggled. “Sorry. My hands were cold.” You had slipped them under his shirt to warm them up and the sudden sensation seemed to startle him.

“I’m not your own personal heater, but I’ll allow it.”

You ended up in the same position as earlier, your head in his lap but this time you weren’t crying. Quite the opposite, you felt so warm and happy that you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face.