#//has he gotten himself into a pickle here. time will tell

[doomxdriven]

".................."

"Unless your idea of entertainment involves you being exsanguinated by countless blades, absolutely not. Now I reiterate, where is the Jailer, I am here for him, not you--"

" WON'T YOU ENTERTAIN ME ? even a little ? "

open to mutuals . 💙

[lunarsturniolo]

Happy New Year

“Hey babe,” he says. 

“Hi, baby,” I respond with a smile. 

His hand snakes around my waist and gently tugs me down to sit on his lap, “I missed you,” he tells me. 

“I was in the kitchen,” I tease.

Or

Matt and Y/N host a New Years Party

masterlist

“Oh my God!! Show me again,” my friend Kim asks, holding her hand out to see my wrist. 

“God, that’s so pretty,” Julian mentioned, turning my wrist slightly to get a proper view of the bracelet Matt got me for Christmas. 

The bracelet was dainty and gold, with a small chain snaking around my wrist. There was a small, circular charm that looked almost like a ring attached to the chain. Matt had gotten his favorite phrase to tell me engraved on the inside of the circle: “Let’s grow old together.” I hadn’t told the girls about that engraving and planned to keep it a secret. 

Kim lets out an adoring gasp, “And your anniversary is engraved on there?” she asks, motioning to the outside of the ring. Our anniversary date is there with two diamonds on either side of it. 

I nod, “Yeah, he really outdid himself.” 

A few minutes of nonsensical chatter pass and midnight slowly approaches. The drink in my hand has been empty for about 10 minutes now, but my mind is wandering too far even to consider refilling it. 

Madi roams into the kitchen, frantically sifting through the fridge next to me, “Y/N, babe, do you guys have my grapes?”

My eyebrows furrow, “We should, why?”

“It's this thing, apparently,” Madi says, “You’re supposed to eat 12 grapes at midnight for 12 months of good luck or something,” she finishes. 

I nod, “Did you ask any of the guys?” 

She nods, “Nick said the should be ‘where all the fruit is’” She lets out a dramatic sigh, “I don't think he knows where that is.”

With a laugh, I nudge her hip, “I know where that is,” I rummage through the fruit drawer, pulling out a bag of grapes, “Here you go.” 

“You’re the best,” She says. I smile and give her a short hug before glancing at my phone.

It’s approaching midnight, and I am yet to find Matt in the slew of people who are constantly moving in and out of the house. I say a quick goodbye to my friends before wandering into the living room to find Matt, Nick, and Chris on one of the couches, surrounded by a bunch of their friends and their partners. 

Chris catches my eye and nods for me to sit with them. With a smile of acknowledgment, I look at Matt, who is empty-handed, and step back into the kitchen to get him a Root Beer. Along with Matt’s drink, I grab myself a seltzer to sip on until midnight. 

Stepping back into the living room, I notice their circle has gained a few people, making it impossible for me to find a seat. The arm of the couch next to Matt is free, and I beeline in his direction. 

Matt barks out a laugh, “There’s no way,” he says, a look of amusement growing on his lips. 

“Yeah, I spit it out immediately. It was horrible,” Nate responds with a small laugh. 

Perching myself on the arm of the couch, I hand Matt his drink. “Are you talking about that nasty chamoy pickle?”

Nate gives me a look, “Yeah. Biggest regret of the year.”

I shoot him a smile before looking down at Matt. 

“Hey babe,” he says. 

“Hi, baby,” I respond with a smile. 

His hand snakes around my waist and gently tugs me down to sit on his lap, “I missed you,” he tells me. 

“I was in the kitchen,” I tease.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, “Yeah, that was cringe.” 

I laugh, “Yeah, horribly cringe. Get out of my sight.”

His arm tightens around my waist, and his lips make their way to my neck for a soft kiss, “Never.”

I turn my head to him before properly kissing him. We knew we wanted to host a New Year’s party, but we struggled to realize that our two separate groups of friends would be there, too. I had spent most of my time with my friends, who I rarely get a chance to see, as did Matt. 

“Having fun?” He asked me. 

I hum in response, “Yeah, I’m happy to see everyone.”

Matt nods in understanding, turning to look at Chris. Chris had his arm around his girlfriend, whispering in her ear with a devious smile on his face, “I’m so glad Chris has someone this year.” 

I turn to look at Chris, “Yeah. They’re so cute together.” 

Matt nods before pausing. He looks back at me before turning and tapping Chris on the shoulder, “You do have a bedroom here, buddy.” 

Chris’s eyes widen in amusement as his girlfriend shoves her face into his chest, “Could you hear that?” He asks. 

“No,” I reply, pretending to gag, “But I didn’t have to, you freaks.”

He barks a laugh before caressing his girlfriend's face, attempting to comfort her. 

Matt pats my ass, asking me to get up. I do, and he follows suit, standing up and readjusting his pants. He grabs my hand and tugs me into a corner that has been left unoccupied. 

His hand reaches up and brushes a stand of hair behind my ear, “I wanted you alone.” 

I feel my cheeks warm and I look down with an acute understanding. It is almost midnight and Matt wants to kiss me properly. 

“I’m glad you got me alone,” I replied with a smile. 

He hums quietly, admiring my face. I take the time to do the same, drinking in his look. Donned in a Cherry LA sweater and white pants, he looked domestic. 

Around us, we hear everyone start chanting down for 10, ready to ring in the new year. 

Matt takes both of his hands and caresses my face, his thumb rubbing rhythmic circles upon my jaw as I wait to lean in. 

5 seconds. 

Matt runs his thumb over my bottom lip, flattening it out before leaning in and meeting me in the middle. 

Midnight. 

With a soft peck to begin, Matt exited 2023. His tongue darts out shyly, prying at my lips and gaining an entrance. He moves a hand to run through my hair as both of my hands make their way to his hair as well. 

I’m consumed in his kiss, and I have nothing but a smile on my face when he lets go so we can breathe. 

“Happy New Year, beautiful.”

[ragingbookdragon]

He’s in the middle of the checkout line when the phone in his pocket buzzes. He ignores it at first, but a glance towards the fifteen year old employee lazily scanning the items of the first of five in line, him being the sixth, tells him it won’t be any time soon before he’s there. He checks his phone, eyes widening when he sees, “SOS” written across the screen. And from Price’s wife no doubt. Three jars of pickles shatter on the floor along with a bag of chips and a pack of ground beef, and he sprints for the exit, car keys already in his hand as he prays nothing is wrong with her.

It’s about twenty minutes before he gets to Price’s flat and pulls into the driveway, already scanning for any signs of struggle or attack. There are none visible so far and he grabs the glock he has in the glove compartment for emergencies before he gets out and runs for the door, banging on it. Footsteps sound behind it followed by a baby’s cry and the door pulls open to reveal Price’s dearest wife, disheveled in dirty clothes and tangled hair (he’s like eighty-seven percent sure there’s baby vomit in it), with swelling tears in her own eyes as she holds a screaming eighteen-month-old.

She takes one look at him before breaking down much like her son, blubbering loudly, “I can’t get JJ to stop crying, Simon.” Tears are streaming down her face as she cries, “I’ve tried everything to get him to stop. I’ve tried feeding, burping, napping, changing his diaper, everything. He just won’t stop.” She reaches out with her free hand to him. “Simon, please, I can’t stop him from crying. Help me.”

SOS, indeed, he thinks and immediately puts the safety on his gun, putting it on the side table as he steps inside, takes the baby, and closes the door behind him. JJ stops crying as soon as Simon starts hushing him and muttering, “Giving your mum trouble, ay? What are we gonna do about you, Banshee?”

JJ’s cries subside as he coos at the masked man and she starts crying harder. “How’d you do that?” she bawls. “Oh God, I’m a horrible mum. I can’t stop him from crying ever. Only Jonathan can. He never cries when Jonathan is here. Only when I’m with him.” she’s almost inconsolable, rubbing harshly at her eyes as she blubbers, “He hates me. My babe hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Simon sighs and gently takes her in his free arm, putting his chin on her head to calm her more; he rubs her back. “It’s okay, mum” he murmurs. “Newborns aren’t easy. Gotta take it in stride.” He looks at her. “Why didn’t you call Price?”

“Because he’s so busy,” she cries into his black sweatshirt. “He’s so good with him when he’s home and I know when he goes into work, he’s busy and I don’t wanna disturb him.”

“He’s JJ’s dad. Besides, don’t lump the old man in with other men. He’s a good one.” Simon pulls back, free hand wiping her tears. “I’ve gotta treat you like Soap, don’t I?” she only looks at him as his fingers brush her under eyes. “Go eat and shower. I’ll take care of JJ for you.”

She quietly nods, lips pulled in a upside down “U” before she leaves, disappearing into the kitchen. He starts bouncing JJ lightly, talking to him. “Bub, you gotta stop being a banshee to your mum. You’re gonna drive her crazy. And if you drive her crazy, your dad is gonna go crazy and then I’m gonna go crazy.” JJ just laughs and tugs at the strings of his sweatshirt before seeing if they’re edible.

Simon walks to the kitchen and watches as she stands in front of the refrigerator and shoves food into her mouth. He almost laughs, almost, as the memory of a drunk Soap shoving roast beef out of the pack and into his mouth comes to mind. Still though, he watches as she eats until she’s no longer hungry, then bypasses him and goes to her bedroom. The shower starts after a while. It’s almost two hours before she comes out and peeks her head from the doorway.

Simon is there with JJ, playing with a stuffed action figure Gaz had gotten him when he was born, making up stories about himself taking out enemies. JJ is enjoying it, giggling along and she smiles sadly before closing the door.

***

Price gets home around seven-thirty and when he sees Ghost’s car in his drive, he’s confused and a little concerned as he walks through the front door. Setting his things down, he walks around the corner into the den and Simon is there on his couch watching some show about ancient warriors and weapons, JJ drooling onto his sweatshirt.

“Simon?” he calls, and the man lifts the remote in a greeting. “Where’s—”

“Bed. Asleep,” he interrupts. “Been asleep since two.”

Price walks into the bedroom and sees her curled up on his side of the bed, clutching his pillow; he smiles at the sight and closes the door, walking back into the den. “How long have you been here, Simon?”

“Since eleven-forty-five.” He rubs JJ’s back. “Little guy’s been driving her crazy. Crying on her.”

“Shite,” Price curses. “She kept saying everything was fine.”

“Oh no, she’s lying. Thinks she’s a bad mum ‘cause he cries so much with her.” He looks over. “I think he just likes us soldiers, yeah?”

The old man sits beside down on the floor and gently runs a hand through the brown hair on his son’s head. “Yeah, never cries when I take him in.”

“You want me to take him for a few days so she can rest?” Simon offers. “Me and the Banshee will have a good time.”

“I don’t think she’d mind that. Well, she might. She’s awfully protective of the lad.”

“Of course. It’s her babe.” Simon inhales and exhales. “Give me a blanket, yeah? May as well stay the night.” Price nods and rises, handing him a blanket before reaching for JJ and Simon swats at him. “Hands off my godson.”

“He’s my kid,” Price argues and Simon glares at him.

“And I’m holding him. Try tomorrow if you can pry him from me.”

Price rolls his eyes but raises his hands in defeat, content to kiss JJ’s head and, “I love you, son,” before he squeezes Simon’s arm and disappears into the bedroom to cuddle his wife and sleep peacefully.

[beefrobeefcal]

Let's Get Physical! feat. Marcus Pike & f!Reader

a Marcus Pike one shot | Rated: 18+ | word count: 3,883 warnings: swearing, rougher p in the v unprotected sex, fingering, talk about weight gain, belly appreciation, self esteem issues surrounding weight, reader is assumed to be shorter and lighter than Marcus, reader has long enough hair for Marcus to grip,

A/N: Okay y'all... here's the mam himself! Thank you to @rebel-held for their dedication and holding vigil for his arrival, and for @yahtiwakitakos for their love of Marcus! Thanks to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalpascal & @neverwheremoonchild for their eyes & thoughtful insight.

As soon as you’d gotten the desk next to Marcus, he knew you’d be friends. He’d transferred out of being on the field and to the home office in your state after a personal matter had him decide to transfer. Since that point, you’d worked closely together, learning almost everything you could about one another.

You’d taken to him almost immediately, but his kind and aloof manner kept you from pushing further to see if there was something more. You’d eventually fallen into a content and friendly rapport that turned into a work-based friendship.

Marcus learned about your love of reading, allowing you to collect obscure information, and you’d learned that he did not cook, opting for take out at every meal.

You’d even earned nicknames from one another. You called him Pickles after a long-forgotten joke about his last name, and he called you Dex, short for Poindexter, given you aptitude for Trivial Pursuit.

You worked side by side for four years, and in that time, you’d noted that Marcus had gained weight, but it wasn’t that noticeable – it was gradual. His clothing had always fit. He'd never had an ill-fitting suit or a too-tight dress shirt or jacket. Yes, you'd notice his weight fluctuate and increase, but he camouflaged it well with his clothing.  Sure, he’d developed a bit of a softer jawline under the scruff on his face - it enhanced his pout with those big brown eyes; and yeah, his middle looked less trim, as did his thighs…

You’d told yourself that you really didn’t notice or care – Marcus was your friend.

You repeated those lies every time he’d look up at you and ask if you were ready for lunch or pat your shoulder as he said you’d done a good job. You did notice his waistline increasing and you thought it was sexy and hot, but your own internal battle with self image and weight had tarnished your ability to admit you liked heavier men and watched to help them get heavier.

You so badly wished he was more than a friend. He was kind and sweet, and never swore, even going so far as to tell you to ‘behave’ or ‘watch your mouth’ when you left an f-bomb slip. The way his big brown eyes watched you, you wished they were imagining you naked and crying out for him, and as you’d lose yourself in this fiction, he’d bring you back to earth, asking if you’d read the latest case file.

You’d told yourself that you really didn’t notice or care because Marcus was your friend.

*****

“Morning, Dex!”, he called as he meandered to his desk. He had two coffees in his hands from your favourite coffee shop… the one that was out of the way for him to get to on his way to the office… the one he only stopped at when he either needed a favour or had bad news.

You narrowed your eyes at him and motioned to the coffee with a pointed finger. “Stop. What’s that for?”

“Just wanted to get my best girl a coffee. S’that a crime?”, he smiled, trying to force as much innocence from his eyes as possible.

You didn’t move from your position and raised your brow. He sighed and put the coffees on the desk and slumped his shoulders, letting his work satchel drop to the floor.

“I need your help.”

“I knew it.”

“But you can’t laugh.”

His last statement made you freeze. Looking up at him, his face looked slightly pained as his winced, waiting for the sign to continue.

“Out with it, Pickles.”

“They want agents to be in the field. I saw the sign last night as I was leaving, so I looked into it. Don’t get me wrong – love the office but I miss field work.”

He paused, eyes searching your face for approval. You could see the worry on him, the fear of rejection to his idea. You nodded, arms gently moving from their crossed position, and you reached for the cup closest to you on his desk and took a sip. It was good coffee and you hummed in approval.

Marcus let out a breath he more than likely didn’t realize he was holding and continued. “There’s a catch thought – I have to pass a physical.”

You just about spat our coffee out and swallowed it funny, causing you to start coughing. You waved him off, sputtering an ‘I’m okay.’ as you motioned for him to keep talking.

“Yeah… uh – so the physical.”, he said slowly, watching you carefully with a bit of worry.  “I have to pass the one I did when I was a rookie… the one we all had to pass. You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded again, trying to get the image of Marcus huffing and puffing on a treadmill, sweaty and just a plain mess… the same way you’d imagined he’d be on top of you… rutting and jack hammering you into your mattress…

“Yeah! Just peachy, Pickles!”, you croaked, the rasped out a laugh. “You want to go in the field and leave me behind? Be Mister Bigshot and meet some other prettier coworker to bring coffee?”

You were trying to tease him, but your words and the sharpness of your tongue sounded like they aimed to wound, and it wasn’t lost on Marcus.

“Well, why not come with me? We could be partners.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of travelling with Marcus to different art crime scenes. You’d never been able to shake the stories he told about the weird things he’d investigated in the field. Yeah, there were the big things, but you were more intrigued by the obscure things he’d investigated, like the unnamed famous actor who’s inadvertently bought stolen vintage clown pornography, or the weird old grumpy suburban guy who cluelessly had a priceless - albeit mundane - horse painting hanging in his bedroom, or the time some government worker was caught at the airport with illegally imported erotic art from South America that reeked of cigarettes.

The idea had merit and you nodded, cautiously optimistic.

*****

"Look, I know what I said, but maybe...", Marcus called out from behind the bathroom door. "...maybe I am a little more out of shape than I thought." You stopped your advancement down the hallway and chuckled with a smile.

"What are you talking about?"

"It... it-uh... it fits... different."

You paused and as the cogs in your head turned, trying to decipher what he meant. It hit you and you felt heat bloom in your core and on your face as your smile exploded into a wide-eyed grin.

If what you were thinking was true, the gym clothing that was standard issue for all new FBI trainees - and would be the required outfit for his upcoming physical fitness test - would give you an eye full of how pudgy he'd really gotten. While sitting in your thoughts, your silence made Marcus nervous.

Deciding to just rip the band-aid off, he opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

Your jaw dropped.

You’d seen the pictures of him during training. The clean-shaven sharp jaw and trim toned body clad in a too big t-shirt and knee length shorts.

That was not who stood before you. His shorts, while tighter, still looked like they fit. But that poor t-shirt was pulled tight across his broad chest and shoulders, and the hem was unable to traverse his ample middle, exposing about an inch above his belly button down to the curve of his underbelly and giving you a full view of his love handles.  

His face was flushed, and his eyes pleaded with you. You cleared your throat and smiled, trying to hide the fact that your core was clenching on nothing.

“It fits!”, you managed to squeak out and Marcus look at you stupefied and held his hands open to his sides.

“Really?”, he asked in exasperation, raising his eyebrows. “You think this – “, he motioned to his middle. “- qualifies as fitting?”

“I mean, you got it on? That means it sort of fits?” You winced as you spoke, trying to keep a pleasant smile.

“Fuck!”

You jumped as he let out one the loudest ‘fuck’s you’d ever heard, and your eyes grew wide that it was him who yelled it. He threw his hands up in the air and stood with his hands on his hips, knee popped. His jaw tensed as he looked away, stuck in thought, and you took the opportunity to gaze over his body, noting the way his stomach moved with each frustrated breath and the way his shoulders pulled the absolute life out of the shirt’s seams.

You were lost in thought ogling him and didn’t notice that he’d turned his attention back to you. When you finally looked up at him, both feeling your faces heat up slightly and an awkward silence sat heavy between you.

You decided to break the silence first, clearing your throat again. “Pickles, you… you look great.”

Marcus stated to laugh, and you couldn’t help but join him.

“I know I look like a busted overstuffed sausage – “

“Oh, stop it!”, you hushed him, stepping towards him. “Okay, sure, it doesn’t fit quite the same, but nobody stays the same size their whole life.”

He rolled his eyes with a smirk and nodded. “Fine.”

*****

So far, all the equipment in his apartment complex’s gym were now Marcus’ sworn enemies. The last three hours had been filled with Marcus angrily sweating and using every curse and swearword under the sun. He was so focused on being angry that he forwent any self consciousness about his clothes not fitting.

After another failed attempt at trying to navigate the elliptical, he yelled “PISSING SHITTING FUCKING COCK SUCKING MOTHER FUCKER!!”  and stormed out of the gym. You quickly grabbed the things he left in his departure and followed him.

*****

“Fuck it! I’m not fucking doing this!”, he boomed, furiously ripping open his refrigerator and grabbing the carton of chocolate milk and chugged it.

You quietly tried to get him to water to hydrate, and contemplated asking why his swearing sounded so natural when you’d never heard him use anything harsher than ‘fiddlesticks’ prior to this. “Marcus… maybe some water would – “

He finished the chocolate milk then tossed the carton haphazardly into the sink, and his eyes aggressively looked you up and down. You closed your mouth and stood, light a deer in headlights, nervously fidgeting your hands as you felt heat bloom in your core and on your face.

“Don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re thinking!”, he barked at you, making you jump. “God dammit! You think I’m too fat and out of fucking shape to pass that physical! And you know what?”, he yelled, grabbing one of the giant pretzels he’d picked up yesterday from the kiosk in the mall. “You’re fucking right!”

He angrily bit into the pretzel and chewed, then huffed and ripped open the fridge again and grabbed a king-size can a beer. You watched, bewildered and bewitched, as he maneuvered between chomps and gulps of the pretzel and beer.

You’d never seen him this enraged and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Sure, you’d seen him get snide or lippy when he was frustrated, but you had no idea he could turn his temper up to eleven and he had such a vast array of foul words in his vocabulary – and find it so hot. You were staring at him, seeing that once he’d finished the pretzel, his hand went to his underbelly, pitching and kneading it slightly as he downed the rest of the beer. Your eyes were then pulled to his crotch in the almost too-small shorts and the noticeable bulge that had developed there.

Your lips parted and your brows tented. Marcus kept his eyes on your face, seeing the reaction you were having to his meltdown. It egged him on, knowing that you were getting something out of this. He’d longed for the chance to get to hold you beyond the occasional side hug or shoulder bump, wanting to touch you and make you feel as beautiful as he saw you. But he’d assumed you were completely fine being friends, given the way his weight had creeped up. He didn’t want to lose you by making a move and wrecking the chance to get the pieces of you that you allowed him to have access to. He’d stayed respectful, and courteous, and friendly, all while desperately wishing he was yours. But all that went out the window the moment he felt rage course through his veins and saw you look at him like that. He wanted you to be his.

He threw the empty beer can aside, hearing its tinny landing by the sink, and stalked towards you. Taken slightly aback at how aggressive his body language was, you stepped back and were stopped by the counter behind you. Marcus crowded you, standing over you, his belly moving against you with every ragged, angry breath.

“Marc – “

His name was cut off in your mouth as his collided with yours. He roughly grabbed your waist with one huge hand while the other held your face. He dominated the kiss, his tongue pushing for entrance again your lips, and you let him in, tasting the hoppy beer and salty yeast of the pretzel. As the passion built between you, the kiss deepened, becoming more fervent and urgent. His hands roamed, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. There was no rhythm to this kiss; it was him exploring and dominating and you submitting to him and your desperate needs.

You finally parted, panting and breathless. He looked beautiful; his eyes were dark with blown pupils and his lips were reddened.  The hand that had held your waist moved down to the crux of your thighs and pressed against your Athleisure legging-clad core. Your mouth opened and a soft, breathy whine barely sounded out. The fury in his eyes had ebbed and morphed into an aggressive and possessive need, but he watched you, looking for any sign to stop. You gave nothing but green lights.

He leaned his face closer to yours, his nose nudging your cheek. You let out a small whimper and nodded, tilting your head, and he grazed his teeth along your cheek to your jaw, then bit down softly. With his mouth on you, he growled through his teeth, “Mine.”

He pulled back and turned your around, pushing your palms onto the counter, and he stood flush with his front to your back. As he grinded against you and bit and kissed your neck, he pushed your leggings down over your ass with one hand, the other pushed between your legs in the front.

“Oh fuck… you’re soaked, baby…”, he growled, biting the back of your neck. His middle finger ran along your seam, pulling a mewling whine from your mouth.

“You want me? Tell me you want me.”

When you didn’t answer beyond a frantic nod, he said your name in a low snarl and his grip on you tightened. “I asked you a question.”

“Mar-Marcus! Please!”, you cried out, feeling his finger circle then tap your throbbing nub repeatedly. You felt him smile against your neck, his other hand palming and squeezing your tit, and he started fucking into your wet heat with his pointer and index fingers.

“You’re so gorgeous… so funny… so smart… and you’re letting this fat guy finger you in his kitchen…”

His thumb caught your clit in the haste of his hand’s movement, and you let out a surprised yelp and your body jolted. The hand gripping your breast came up your sternum and secured itself around your throat gently, forcing you upright and flush against him.

“Juicy little snatch… just gripping my fingers, baby… you - you gonna cum for me, Dex baby?”

You whined and nodded. His hand moved up and he pushed two fingers into your mouth, exerting the power he had over you. He did it because he could, because you let him. You were both learning more about the other: he wanted to dominate, you wanted to be dominated.

You came as he pressed your tongue down, almost eliciting a gag from you. It felt filthy and raw and everything you’d hoped but never thought Marcus could be.

“There is it… Good girl… You’re mine… I’m gonna fuck that into you.”, he grunted and pulled both sets of fingers from your wet holes, shoving you down flush with the counter.

You’d barely finished cumming, let alone gotten through the aftershocks making your cunt flutter as he shoved his shorts down and lined up his cock with you and pushed in.

“Jesus fuck…”, you groaned. “You’re s’fucking big!”

“You like me big… say it. Say you like me being a fat desk jockey…”

“Yes… god yes…”

“Like seeing me eat, too, huh?... like watching me get fat?”

“Yes! Please… Marcus, please!”

You felt the beginnings of another orgasm as he pounded into you from behind and filled your mind with the images of him stuffing himself stupid on take out at work while you sat on his lap and helped feed him. It was a guilt-filled fantasy that you’d never allowed yourself to fully process and accept until this moment.

Marcus pulled out of you suddenly. Fearing you did something wrong, you made a frantic and breathless ‘huh?’ sound. He picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum, Dex.”

You couldn’t help but smile; Marcus was ever the romantic.

He tossed you on the bed and crawled up to you, pushing your legs apart. He took a moment to look at your pussy, smirking with a smug head shake, then locked eyes with you. He leaned forward, one hand landing beside your head and his other hand grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him, guiding his cock back into your desperate, wet cunt.

“Look at you… just gorgeous… “, he marveled with smug satisfaction as he pounded into you, watching your eyes close, brows furrow, and lips part to let out a soft pant.

His thumb came down on your clit, rubbing harsh, fast circles. “Come on, Dex… gimme one so I can watch… lemme see…”

“Marcus… I’m close…”

“I know, pretty girl… give it to me… come on… gimme one I can see…”

“Yes… right there! Right there!”

His thumb hit just the right angle and you fell apart as he pistoned you on his cock. Your hand reached up, gripping the arm above your head, and you arched your back in pure bliss.

“There it is… there you go… fuck, good girl… look at you… so god dammed pretty…”

The noises you made sounded alien coming from your mouth. You’d never heard this cacophony of whines, cries, mewls and moans come from your body before, and Marcus was revelling in it. He removed his thumb form your oversensitive nub, and he brought him body down onto your as he continued to thrust into you. His weight felt amazing; it was everything and ore than what you could have hoped, and you needed more of it on you. You hooked one leg on his hip, then brought the other one up, trying to lock your ankles. Marcus was too big, his love handled waist too wide and his thrusts now to frantic to get a good latch.

You raised your head and captured his mouth in a messy kiss, and he interlocked his fingers into yours. He panted into your mouth as you made eye contact; gone was the ferocious and angry man who’d fucked you in his kitchen and back was Marcus: sweet, funny, soft Marcus.

“Come on, Pickles.”, you whispered against his lips with a wry grin.

The surrendering groan that tumbled out of him matched perfectly with his out of rhythm thrusts.

“You gonna let me cum in you? Please?”, he panted, hips stuttering.

Nodding, you desperately whined, “Yeah… yes, please… please… c-cum in me!”

Marcus dropped his forehead onto yours. With a few more snaps of his hips with corresponding grunts, he let out a string of groans and panting breaths, then stilled in you.

You were both breathing hard, and his fingers flexed and relaxed repeatedly in yours as he came down from his high. Your mouth found his again briefly, then he pulled back and looked you in the eyes. His brows furrowed and his eyes softened further, as if the weight of what had just happened suddenly dawned on him and he was worried this was it for the two of you.

“Hey… hey hey hey…”, you soothed, hand coming up to cup his cheek, a soft smile on your face. “It’s okay… I’m okay.”

He nodded, still unsure, the blurted out, “I like you so much, Dex. I wanted this for so long…and I wanted it to be special, and – “

“It was special!”, you beamed with a smile, loving how adorably flustered he looked in contrast to before. “You hulked out and railed me in your kitchen!”

He stopped and looked at you, dumbfounded. Slowly, a smile peaked out on one side of his mouth. “You liked that.”, he huffed out in a laugh. “Dex, you kinky girl!”

You laughed and playfully slapped his arm. “Knock it off, Pickles!”

He pulled his softening cock from you and kissed you, both of you giggling.

Marcus pulled away and teased, “You liked getting railed by a fat guy… in the kitchen…”

“Yeah, I did!”, you challenged with a smile. “And I hope that fat guy does it again!”

His breath hitched and he swallowed, looking away for a moment. “So, you’re okay with…?”

He couldn’t finish saying what he wanted to. Years of poor self esteem and heart-breaking moments with other women wouldn’t let him, nor did that part of him want to hear your answer in case it was rejection. Your hand guided his face back to you.

“I wouldn’t have let you if I wasn’t.

His smile softened. “How about a date first?”

You couldn’t help the heat and shy smile that bloomed on your face, and he watched as you melted into his words.

*****

Marcus walked into the office the next Monday, carrying another two coffees from your favourite place. You were preoccupied with one of your coworkers but shit him a smile before returning your attention to the file before you.

He placed the coffees down, hung his coat and bag, then noticed the collection of tupperwear containers with a sticky note on them.

Getting takeout is fine, but this is a sampling of what I can do for you. Xoxo Dex.

He opened a few of the containers and in them were homemade versions of his absolute favourite take out meals. He brought one to his nose and inhaled, just as your coworker left the room. You walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, patting and squeezing his belly.

Marcus deciding he wasn’t ever going to need to pass a physical again.

No more tag list! follow @beefnotes for fic updates!

[mamawasatesttube]

an excerpt of the kon & cass genderisms fic im very excited about but still nowhere near done with:

The idea of Kon looking like a girl is kind of absurd, when Cass first thinks of the word. It brings to mind Steph, first and foremost. Brenda, too, though. And others.

But some of Brenda’s friends were tall, or broad-shouldered. Some of them dressed like Kon. The thought brings with it a pang, as always; Cass wishes she’d gotten to know them better, before…

Before.

But anyway. Not the point. The point is, Cass has seen Barbara call people without skirts or breasts girls or women, sometimes, too. So maybe Kon looking like a girl isn’t as weird as he seems to think it is.

She hums, cocking her head to the side. “What is a girl?”

“Huh?”

Next to her, Kon blinks. He frowns up at the stars, then rolls over and props himself up on one arm, and reaches over to playfully poke her nose.

“Well, I dunno exactly. You were Bat-girl, weren’t you? Shouldn’t you know?”

But that isn’t because of any… kinship with the word. No… what’s the word? Affinity. No particular affinity. Or is it connection? Something like that. Regardless, Cass shakes her head. “Barbara’s name. I just kept it.”

“Oh.” Kon frowns slightly. “I dunno, either, honestly. I mean, TV will tell you a girl is someone who likes girly stuff, but that’s stupid, ‘cuz plenty of girls don’t like girly stuff, and I mean, I do like so-called girly stuff, I guess, like knitting or baking, and I’m not a girl. So…” He shrugs, rolling back over onto his back. A moment later, though, he picks his head up and peers at her. “Are you—is this—I mean, are you trying to tell me you’re not a girl?”

The way he holds himself makes it seem like that’s some kind of a big deal. Cass just shrugs. “Dunno.”

“Oh,” Kon says, again, more softly this time. “Hey, I mean—nothing wrong with that either. It’s cool.”

Cass shrugs again. “It’s just a word. To me, anyway.” It’s her turn to frown in thought. “What makes a boy a boy?” She lightly nudges his side. He’s warm against the slight night chill, and she scoots in a little closer with a hum. “You were Super-boy. Tell me.”

Kon blows out a breath. “Hoo, man. Now ain’t that just a fine pickle and a half?”

Cass wrinkles her nose. “What do pickles have to do with it?” She likes pickles. Ma Kent has a jar of crisp ones in the pantry, homemade from cucumbers grown in the garden out back. Cass likes the way they crunch between her teeth and splatter vinegar-juice on her tongue.

“Nothing. It’s… actually, I have no idea why that’s something people say.” Kon lets out a wry snort. “I came pre-programmed with slang and idioms, y’know.”

“I know,” Cass says, and pats his arm. “Pregnable.”

Kon lets out a bark of bright laughter. It reminds her of the stars. He seems so very at home here, under the night sky. The starlight matches the gentle glow of his eyes. When he isn’t wearing his glasses, it’s easy to see the inhuman blue.

“Aw, man,” Kon says, still grinning. “You remember that? I forgot I said that way back then.”

“It was…” Cass tilts her head. “New to me. Memorable, for that reason.” She grins mischievously. “A pregnable boy.”

Kon laughs again. Cass snuggles up to his side and throws her arm across his ribs. She likes to feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

[lillaydee]

In Time Part 11

Rancher Joel Miller / Reader

You lost your dear Uncle. Your TV Star boyfriend dumped you. You needed a job. You got one at a ranch in Wyoming. Where you met Joel. A very grumpy man. Grumpy man has issues.

WARNINGS:

Grumpy Joel, Hurt Joel, Grieving Joel, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Mentions of Hostage Situation and Shooting, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 10

---

You didn’t stop smiling since he asked. You smiled as you got ready for bed, you laid in bed smiling and kicking your legs in excitement. You smiled in your sleep. You smiled making tea the next morning.

You had breakfast at the hall that morning, leaving quite early as Tess and Penny had other tasks to run the next town over. You were still smiling when he came in, his thermos in his hand. You had to force yourself to not react when he sat down next to you with his plate, asking the three of you what your plans were. Your cheeks felt sore from trying not to smile. God, six o’clock seemed years away at this point. As you got up to leave, he gently touched your hand, telling you he’ll see you tonight in a low voice, before brushing the back of your hand slightly with his fingers, leaving a burning mark on your skin.

You couldn’t stop smiling all the way to town, all throughout your time at the dealership, all throughout lunch. Tess and Penny couldn’t figure it out. They had asked about your dinner with Joel, and you told them you got burgers and ran into David at the Bison, after which all their interest in what you and Joel did completely dissolved, asking instead about your relationship with your ex, and how you had met Cindy, or Cleo, as you knew her, in the first place.

It's not that you didn’t want to tell them about the date tonight. But as you had gotten to know Joel better, you knew for sure how private the man was. He hid a lot from his family, not because he didn’t trust them, or because they were busybodies, but simply because he didn’t want anyone to know. He wanted to keep certain things to himself, and if he wanted the family to know about your date, he would have told them. And if he didn’t, then he won’t. You didn’t mind either way.

The household was still shaken up by Cleo’s sudden appearance. But they were happy to see Joel move past it as well as he did. Their worry was that he would either Hulk-out or withdraw, and it seemed, he had done neither. It seemed that he was done letting her affect his life, no matter the circumstances. He wanted to move on.

The one thing that gave you pause about your upcoming date was the fact that your time here has an expiry date. Sure, you could stay, you were not tied to anything after your contract ended. But would he want you here? What would the point of staying be, if not in your capacity as a vet?

Tess’s phone rang. She picked up, talked for a few seconds, before getting up and talking a few yards away. She came back, an expression you couldn’t read on her face. Joel, she said. We needed to go to the store anyway, so he asked to pick up a few things. She pulled Penny aside for a bit while you paid for lunch, talking about something you couldn’t hear.

When you got to the store, Tess took her own cart and told you to take another, she needed to get something at the other end of the store, she said. Go with Penny. So you did, getting some groceries for yourself while she shopped for the pantry off a list Mrs Adler had given her. The two of you made idle chit-chat as you shopped, but you stopped when you realized she was putting ten jars of pickles in the cart.

“Why do we need so many pickles?”

“Five for the pantry, five for Joel.”

“Why does he need five jars of pickles?”

“He eats them as snacks. From the jar,” she said, moving on to get some anchovies from another rack.

Wait… that’s…

“Do you need anything else?”

“Erm, no. Let’s go.”

Tess was already closing the hatch to the bed of the truck when you got there, insisting that you place your groceries in the back seat with you rather than in the bed. Okay, weird, but whatever. She was about to climb into the truck when her phone rang again. She talked for a bit, before closing the door to go back to the store but stopped after a few steps.

“What?” She turned and looked at you, a small smile on her face.

You couldn’t help but listen to her side of the conversation.

“I don’t want to do that; I don’t need to know about that part of your life. *pause* Well, I’ve never actually gotten one, have I? *pause* Well that was different. That was an emergency. And… let’s not forget, that helped you get to this point, remember? *pause* Yes, it most certainly did. You’re telling me you’d have the courage to talk to her if I didn’t make you do that? *pause* Oh for crying out loud.” She walked back to the store. “Fine. Which one should I get?”

She came back about five minutes later, a paper bag in her hand. She placed the bag under her seat and began to drive.

At around five pm, you were sweeping the deck to pass the time until your date. You hadn’t been able to sit still since you got back, butterflies seemed to have somehow invaded your tummy and fluttered around rather aggressively. You heard a truck, and before long you saw Joel’s truck pass by, Tommy and Ellie with him. He saw you and winked. My God, the butterflies went berserk.  

At five to six, you were standing in your living room, waiting for him. You heard a shuffle on your deck, but no knock. You opened the door.

Joel was standing there, dressed in a dark pair of jeans and a black dress shirt, a huge smile on his face.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“How long have you been standing here?”

“Maybe five minutes. I was waiting for six o’clock.”

You looked around and didn’t see his truck anywhere.

“We’re walking,” he said. “Shall we?”

He held out his hand for you to take and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, telling you that you looked beautiful. Your cheeks flushed, and when you told him he cleaned up well, his did too.

He didn’t let go of your hand.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I thought we’d stay here for our first date. More familiar.”

“I’m alright with anything.”

He led you to the Benny place, which you almost didn’t recognize.

Lanterns. All over. Hung off the oak trees, on the bench, on the ground, just… lanterns. His truck was parked by the bench, the bed, layered in blankets and cushions facing the view. A picnic basket laid on a small foldable table with two chairs, and he pulled one out for you to sit on.

You felt like you couldn’t speak. This, without a doubt, was the most effort someone had ever made for you for a date.

“Do we have lanterns on hand that I don’t know about on the ranch or something?”

He laughed, pouring a glass of wine for you.

“Nah, Tess got them for me today.”

“Oh? But she came back with a small paper bag.”

He blushed but said that was something else he asked her to buy at the last minute.

Ah… the separating to go shopping, the frantic closing of the truck bed hatch. Got it.

“This is impressive, Joel. You did all this by yourself?”

He shook his head, “No, Mrs Adler cooked,” you both raised your glasses at the mention of her name, “Tommy and Bill helped me put the lanterns out, and Ellie and Frank did the bed of the truck. Maria helped me dress.”

You were suddenly touched. They all helped him get ready for your date.

“Yeah…” he said, rather bashfully. “Been a while since I asked anyone out on a date. They all wanted to pitch in. Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be. I’m touched that they would. Feels like, they approve, somehow.”

He laughed. “Approve? They love you, of course they do.”

Dinner was wonderful, the two of you talked about anything that came to mind throughout and moved to the bed of the truck when you’d finished. You lay next to each other, staring at the stars, soft music playing from his phone.

“Thank you for tonight, Joel. This was easily the best first date I’ve ever been on. Hands down.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, turning slightly to face him. He smiled, turning to face you too, and tucked your hair behind your ear. God, he was a beautiful man.

“Thank you for saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking. I never would’ve asked you out, too nervous you’ll say no.”

“What? I was nervous you’d say no!”

“Oh, come on. Gaggles of ladies swoon over you. And they all are much better looking than me. I had no chance, Jhole.”

He laughed out loud.

“Well, I’m no Antonio.”

“Wait, what? Is that why you don’t want to eat Italian food yesterday?”

He scrunched his face in embarrassment and nodded.

“Oh. My. God. Were you jealous of Antonio?”

“Well, he looked like that and stuck to you like glue!”

You laughed.

The two of you laid in silence for a bit, hands entwined, before he raised your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

“So, they all helped you do this, did you plan it?”

“I told Sarah about the date and dreamt of this. So, maybe she planned it?”

“Aww… Thank you Sarah,” you said, looking up at the stars.

“So, why did it take you this long to ask me out?”

His eyes closed in shame, “I was worried you’d say no… I was the asshole who made you cry… and you’re just… so… perfect.”

“What? No, I am not. I’m a prude whose boyfriend found so boring he cheated on me with the first person who’d have him.”

“You are perfect to me.”

“But you lied to me.”

He frowned, what do you mean?

“You said you didn’t like pickles much.”

“I don’t, I only eat them when they come with my food.”

“Penny just bought five jars for you to snack on.”

He closed his eyes in shame, smirking slightly, biting his lower lip, caught in a lie.

“Why’d you tell me you didn’t like them, Joel?”

“I wanted you to have them.”

“Why?”

He caressed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I wanted to make you smile.”

You didn’t know what to say. You leaned in and placed your forehead on his, closing your eyes, just to feel him close to you.

The two of you lay like that for a moment, before Joel pulled away slightly, looking up.

“BabyGirl, Benny, I’m gonna need you to look away for a bit.”

Your heart stopped as he leaned in, and brushed your lips with his, taking your breath away.

He didn’t stop until breathing became a necessity. When he did, he looked at you, concerned that he had gone too far.

You pulled him back into you for another kiss. He moaned and pulled your body closer to his, his hand caressing your back.

You had no idea how long the two of you kissed. Time disappeared. Everything disappeared. Only him. All you were aware of was him. His hands on you, his warm body pressed onto yours, his lips, his breath. You opened your mouth slightly wider, and he rolled you onto your back, covering your body with his own, his tongue tasting yours. You wrapped your hands around his body, one travelling to the nape of his neck, toying with his curls, one of his hands travelled lower on your body, and brushed the hem of your skirt, before sliding underneath it, leaving a hot trail of goosebumps all over your body.

You opened your legs up for him, and his hand followed the opened path, all the way to your centre, his mouth trailing from yours to give open mouth kisses to your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, lowering to your collarbone, before capturing your lips again.

He looked at you for a second, seeking permission to go further, and your only response was a whimper, before pulling him back down to you with one hand, the other meeting his on your thigh, directing him to go where he wanted it to go. He slipped his hand underneath the fabric covering your core, groaning at how wet you were, putting his forehead on yours, his fingers moving on their own accord, as your hips rutted on his fingers, your breath stuttered, as was his, until you stiffened and shuddered in his arm, his name a struggled whisper in his neck, his mouth kissing your temple, a gentle coo of your own name whispered back to you, his low voice talking you through your first trip to heaven that night.

Now, you were not an easy lay. Never have been. It’s why David called you boring, and Cleo called you a prude. But right now? After THAT? Yeah… you’re not going home just yet.

You kissed him, and slowly pushed him onto his back, your hands wandering from his chest, down to his belly, before pushing slightly under his belt. You stopped, gave him a peck on his nose, and looked in his eyes for permission. He kissed you in consent, and your hand continued its journey, going under his belt, and the waistband of his boxers. The tip of your fingers brushed against his tip, and his breath hitched, fingers gripping your waist, his eyes shut tight, his mouth opened. You traced his velvety length to the stem and wrapped your fingers around him.

Damn… that’s impressive.

He moaned when you began stroking him, his hips rutting involuntarily, his head tilted back, his eyes scrunched shut, his breathing quickening. You pressed your forehead against his cheek, giving him open mouthed kisses on his jaw, his earlobes, his neck, as your hand did the best that it could to pleasure him, wishing that you were not in such an open place. His groans turned to moans, before disappearing into very stuttered breathing when he turned his head towards you for an all-encompassing kiss, whimpering and whining in your mouth as his hips stuttered, and hot, thick liquid covered your hand, his hands clutching at your waist and the back of your head. You kept kissing him, your hand continuing your strokes until he stilled it with his own and kept kissing him until his breathing relaxed.

He cleaned your hands and himself a little with the blankets, and the two of you just laid there in each other’s arms in silence for a while, before it got too cold for blankets, and he walked you home, your arm around his waist, your head on his shoulder, his hand around your shoulder, taking as much time as he could, not wanting to say good night.

---

Turns out, he didn’t have to say good night. You invited him in for a nightcap, and he eagerly agreed, despite knowing you didn’t keep any alcohol at your place. He woke up the next morning with you in his arms, his body sore from last night’s dalliances. It was as if both of you were making up for all the months you had spent together not doing the things you did last night. Neither left each other’s arms, Joel feeling glad he still had it, and so very glad for Tess’s help getting him… protection, which he had to run back to the truck for, praying to God the entire time that no one would run into him with his pants dangerously tented.

For every single time he thought he was in heaven, he was wrong. Last night, being inside you, that was heaven. The sounds you made, the way your body felt on his, the way you taste, your mouth, your hands on him, oh… Joel could die a happy man now.

He spent the first half hour waking up watching you sleep, happy that you said yes to a date with him, that you felt the same way he did, and happy for the oh-so-many-more-yeses that came out of your perfect mouth last night. He traced his fingers along your naked form, wanting to study every part of you. He panicked when he saw bruises on your hips. Shit, he had gotten too rough. He sat up, and leaned down onto your hips, trying to smooth them away with his fingers, when he felt your hands on his back, you shooting upright to smooth away the scratches you just realized was there as you woke up from his movements.

“Sorry, I was too rough with you,” both of you said to each other. He laid his head on your lap, laughing at your synchronization, giving your thighs sweet kisses as you laid back down and played with his curls, laughing at your sex injuries, before he crawled back up to you and captured your lips in a sweet, sweet kiss that quickly turned passionate.

It looked like you’d both be late for work today.

---

Joel had just finished making your cup of tea when a knock sounded on the door. You were getting ready for work, so, thinking it was Frank, he opened it, dressed only in his jeans.

It was David, whose face snapped shut at Joel’s appearance.

You peered at the door, wondering who it was. He asked if he could talk to you, eyes looking away, not really hiding his annoyance at Joel being at your place. Joel gave you your tea and went back inside to get dressed. You told David to sit in one of the lounges on the deck. He sat down, his elbows on his knees, waiting for the two of you to be alone before speaking.

Joel came back out, his thermos in his hand, and kissed you a sweet goodbye, telling you he’ll see you at lunch? You nodded sweetly at him, before kissing him again. Joel extended his hand at David, who stared at it, before taking a deep breath and shook it quickly before letting go. Joel left, going towards the Benny place, probably to clean up before Tess started hounding him.

You looked at David.

“I’m leaving Cleo.”

“Okay.”

“This whole revelation, it’s too much. I can’t be with someone like that. What kind of a person does that?”

“Okay.”

“Come with me.”

What?

“Come back to LA with me. We were so good together Sweets; we can be again.”

“Yeah, no. Thank you, though.” You didn’t even hesitate.

He stared at you for a while.

“What do you mean, no? We were great together.”

“What on earth are you on about? I was so boring to you, you left me for Cleo, remember?”

“Well, you put me aside for Benny! I was lonely.”

“He raised me! If you think I would ever put you before Benny, you clearly didn’t know me at all.”

He took a deep breath, defeated.

“Things haven’t been good, ever, with her.”

“And yet you cheated on me, with her. And asked her to marry you.

“Hmph… that’s just publicity. People love the idea of us together. Makes for a good story. She’s sleeping with the producer. How do you think she got this job? She can’t act worth a shit.”

“Wait, she was fucking the producer?”

“Still fucking him. We… erm, don’t have sex anymore. So, she has sex with someone else, I get the publicity I need to stay significant. Win-win!” he said.

You wanted to laugh. This was how low he had stooped? For fame? Wow. You were really glad he cheated on you right now. That’s something you never thought you would say.

“Also, my publicist called. Someone talked to the press. The world is about to find out Cleo’s past, and my… problem,” he said, his head down, a frown appearing on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“That old problem I had? The…” he looked around, leaned in and lowered his voice, “performance issue? Well, the drugs are not doing them any favour.”

“Did Cleo leak it?”

“No… I cannot prove it, but… that night I saw you at that bar? I had a… rendezvous with someone… I think it was her. I couldn’t get it… you know… and she asked for money in return for discretion. I didn’t give it to her… she got mad, I guess. My publicist said they paid her a lot of money for an exclusive. They’re trying to stop her, but… I don’t know, it’s a fucking mess.”

“I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“So, what do you say? Come back to LA with me? Please? I miss you. Cleo’s not you. She only thinks of herself. You are the only one for me, Sweets. Please say you’ll come back; we belong together.”

He took your hand in his, squeezing them, his eyes looking deep into yours. You cocked you head to the side, giving him your best ‘touched’ look, taking one of your hands and placing it on your heart.  

“David,” you said, your eyes boring into his.

He leaned in, eyes looking hopeful.

“Not even if you pay me.”

He let go of your hand, his entire body snapped back. He looked annoyed. How dare you not want him?

Just then, Joel’s battered, rusty, ratty old truck drove slowly by; the bed full of lanterns and folded table and chairs and cushions and blankets. He smiled and winked at you as he drove past. You blushed and gave him a shy wave.

“You’re with him, aren’t you? He’s the reason you don’t want me?”

“What’s it to you?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Never pegged you as someone who would hang around with his sort of people.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on Sweets, ranchers? Pickup trucks? Middle of nowhere? What are you doing here? You belong in LA, with me. Come back to LA with me, please? We could start over. I’ll pay for whatever needs paying. Do you have a contract with these people?”

You shook your head, almost laughing at his belief that you would go running back to him.

“You’ve changed, Ames.” He got up. “If you want to spend your life in Hicksville, be my guest. Him? You chose him over me? Do you have any idea how many women want to be with me? And you chose that? Good God, Ames, how low can your standards get?”

He walked to the steps as his driver started his car. He turned around.

“Last chance, Ames. Now or never.”

“Goodbye David. Good luck with the dream career and… that…” you said, gesturing to his crotch.

He huffed and got into the car, giving you the middle finger as he did so.

Well, at least he could get that up.

---

Frank greeted you with glee as you went into the office. You cringed, thinking he was going to quiz you about last night. He showed you his phone instead. Headlines from a gossip column.

“Exclusive - Limp Landon and His Performance Issues”

“Cleo Savvant – Good Nanny, or Worst Mother Ever?”

Holy Shit. There were articles, videos, and the likes. You scanned the article for Cleo. “How ironic”, the article had said. “The woman who plays the good nanny who is the greatest mother ever turned out to be a heartless bitch who abandoned her own daughter in search of fame and fortune.” Damn… brutal. “The child unfortunately passed recently in an unimaginable tragedy, and our source have chosen not to disclose her name as a sign of respect.”

Thank God, you thought. You’d hate for the family to be subjected to the horrors that were the press. You felt a slight warmth for the source for not disclosing Sarah’s name. But if it was who you thought it was, your warmth for her only went so far. You wondered how much money they paid her? Knowing her penchant for money, it wouldn’t be a small amount.

You did feel bad for David, for a few seconds. But when you remember all he had done to you, and the things he said about Joel, yeah… fuck him. Out with you.

You placed your bag on your desk and turned around to get the tablet, ready for your round. But Frank was standing right there, a wide grin on his face, a cup of tea in his hand. Oh shit. This was it. He’s going to grill you about Joel.

“So, Dave Landon really couldn’t get it up, huh? Spill.”

You scoffed and made a face, come on, Frank, like you were going to tell him. You’re a lady. You wouldn’t talk about a man like that. That’s unkind. And extremely unladylike.

“That, or I hound you all week about your date with Joel, and if it’s got anything to do with how happy and sleep deprived you look right now. As does he today, just so you know,” he said, an evil smile on his face, sipping his tea calmly. “Your choice.”

Oh fuck.

---

You went into the chow hall, tired out from your lack of sleep and extracurricular activities, but also from your rounds. It had been a day. Chasing an injured rooster, wrestling your apron back from Callus and running away from Captain, the new stallion brought in for breeding who seemed to have fallen in love with you. It was awkward, that’s all you’ll say about it.

Joel came over and greeted you with a soft, lingering kiss, and you buried your face in his chest just to let your weariness melt away for a while, while he held you tight, his lips on your head. You finally pulled back, greeted by one more kiss from him, and happy, approving smiles from the gang, who kindly didn’t comment on your newfound contentment. Joel pulled a chair for you and went to the buffet to get you a plate of food.

“Joel?”

Everyone looked to the source of the voice. Cleo was standing in the doorway. She looked horrible. Her make-up free face was covered in tears, her shoulders shaking from sobs, her body all slumped and defeated. She walked towards him, sobbing her eyes out. She kept saying she was sorry, she was sorry, she didn’t mean to be such a bitch. She’s a bad mother, she’s sorry, she wasn’t there for Sarah, she’s so very sorry. She’s sorry she left him. Please forgive her.

You had to be honest. You felt for her. The woman seemed broken.

She ran to him, hugging him so tight he was taken aback, stunned at his ex’s action, he looked at you, not really knowing what to do. You were feeling so bad for her, trying hard not to imagine what it would be like to be in her place right now. In less than a few hours, the internet was abuzz with the story. There were already campaigns to cancel her, calls to fire her from the show. The poor woman.

You could see Joel softening, understandably. Even Tess looked like she felt for her. Joel placed your plate back on the table and put a comforting hand on her back. She pulled away from him, wiping her face with her hands, calming down slightly, albeit still shaking from her sobs.

And then she lunged at him, kissing him fiercely on his mouth, so much so, he fell backwards onto a chair. She straddled him, and began grinding on him, lips locked on his

Oh, Hells No!

---

Part 12

[vilavi-2]

Day 2: LoA Damian x Hero Raven

Damiraeweek 2023 @damirae-week

I'm working on a continuation of my Nanda Parbat story from Chap 23 of Feather Collection. I've still got a lot to get through, but here's a sneak peek! (sorry it's a lil rough)

-

It’s the middle of Raven’s second winter in Nanda Parbat, just as fiercely cold and cruel as the first. With the Himalayas locked in an icy grip, most stewards and soldiers have been reassigned to warmer, more productive posts. Only a token force of loyal elites remains at the compound to keep the elemental damage at bay and protect it from anyone foolish enough to brave the snowed-in passes, icy climbs, and whiteout stormy skies. And should all those defenses fail, it would only bring them face-to-face with Ra’s and Qalb al Ghul, ready to defend their seat of power.

It’s the best winter of his life, Damian decides, pale green eyes locked implacably on hers. Raven narrows her own back at him before dropping them to the fan of playing cards in her hands. She bites her lower lip thoughtfully, and he can feel the slight tap of her foot next to his thigh. She has so many tells, it’s hard to pick his favorite. Still, he doesn’t let his gaze wander to appreciate the bare legs on either side of him, or the flash of Raven’s chest and collar through the loosened pankou knots of her blouse. He instead sits cross legged in front of her with deliberate stillness until she plucks two cards from her hand and lays them face down on the mattress. 

“Two,” she says with casual confidence. Damian deals them to her obligingly, smirking at the victorious glint in her eyes when she studies her new hand. It’s not that Raven is a bad liar, or easy to read. It’s that it never even occurs to her to hide from him anymore. As it should be, beloved. Damian looks at his own cards, and exchanges three of them, face devoid of expression as he returns to scrutinizing her.

“Well?”

“I’m in,” Raven replies in that same confident tone. “Robe.”

His lips tick up slightly and Raven betrays a slight hesitation, instantly looking back at her cards as if to make sure she saw them right. 

“Call. Shirt.” He motions to her to show her hand and she bites her lip again before slowly turning them around. A flush of diamonds. Damian gives an approving nod. “That’s good,” he tells her. But judging from her light frown and the accusation in her violaceous eyes, she knows she’s beat. He shows her his hand, finally allowing himself a victorious smirk. Full House. “But not good enough.”

Raven’s glaring — pouting, really — but she still undoes the knots down her front and lets him push the garment off her shoulders. Only four rounds in and she’s down to her bra and underwear. Damian hasn’t even gotten his robe off yet.

"How did I let you talk me into this?" she grumbles, hugging her chest and rubbing her arms. A hearth and several well-fed braziers keep the worst of the cold out, but her skin is still breaking out in gooseflesh, disrobed as she is. Raven’s practically sitting in his lap already, so it’s easy to pull her the rest of the way, settling her against his chest and curling both arms hard around her. She burrows into him, as she always does. 

“I have no idea why you agreed,” Damian answers, smiling to himself. “You have no aptitude for games, ya amar.” She grumbles an incoherent, indignant sound. He drops a kiss on her bare shoulder. 

Nanda Parbat is on winter rations. Rice and millet, salted meat, pickled vegetables. None of her precious teas or anything resembling a delicacy has been able to get through in months. There’s a few cases of amber wine held in reserve to help prevent anyone up here from getting too bored or stir crazy. Not anyone’s idea of a good time.

Except that Raven's here, with him, and unlike last winter when they were still bound in secrecy Damian doesn't have to worry about a future where she might not be. Her crown hangs on one of their bedposts, glinting in affirmation of that fact.

Definitely the best winter of my life, he thinks.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

what about cutting Joel’s hair? it got super long and it was starting to piss him off (he hates when it goes over his ears too much) - but last time he cut it himself it was chopped to hell. so you offer to help??

I love these little concepts... 😫😫😫

Joel's been grumbling about it for a while. Though doesn't strike me as a man who complains about it much or even care but then again as he likes you and with Ellie starting to tease Joel that he reminds her of the human species from the ice age, he has gotten almost self-conscious about it. And it's the first time Joel thinks about the fact that he hates his longer hair, that it genuinely doesn't suit him.

So he locks himself in the bathroom. Shuffling through your stuff to find some scissors. Joel hesitates but then just goes for it. Cause its hair, like how hard can it be? Well, jokes on him. Cause the piece he cuts off is now sprung up awkwardly and panic rushes through his body. Joel feels like a kid who had acted on his intrusive thoughts and now he got himself in this pickle. Cursing under his breath Joel tries to fix it but it only gets worse. He's honestly a step from cutting all of his hair off when he hears a light knock followed by your voice.

"You good? I heard you cursing", you mumble and Joel is both relieved and scared. Relieved because well you definitely could fix this but scared because he has to let you in and show you what he has done and as a male over fifty well it's embarrassing to him. But Joel opposes the door, waiting for you to start laughing but instead he hears you gasp as your fingers move to his hair.

"What have you done?", you pull at the end gently, looking over the crooked cut Joel has given himself, "All the curls too... Miller you are in some serious trouble". You take the scissors from him, pulling him into the kitchen so you could attempt to fix it. "It was way too long", Joel blurs out almost feeling guilty, "You should have come to me", "I'm sure you have better things to do", you crock your head to the side, giving Joel an annoyed look, "I always have time for you. Now don't you move until I'm done".

The feeling of your fingers running through Joel's hair is heavenly. Now he feels silly that he denied himself a moment with you like this. He sees bits of his hair falling to the floor as you walk around, humming to yourself quietly. "Have I told you how much I love your hair?", you ask so casually and Joel's heart nearly laps out of his chest, "No..?!", he mutters, "It's so thick and the salt and pepper look...". Now that's another thing Joel is so insecure about as well. The grey hair that had sprouted. All this time he thought it was so unattractive but here you were telling him the opposite thing. Joel's silence makes you giggle. You know he's awful when it comes to receiving compliments. But then it's so fun seeing him squirm. Plus he deserves to know how seriously attractive he is.

"Okay, take a look for me", you hand Joel a little mirror, "I can make the sides even shorter if you want or...", "No, it's perfect", and it is. Joel hasn't had a haircut this good since before the outbreak. Shit, he doesn't remember the last time anyone but him tended his hair. And it suited him. It felt like you had ripped off a layer of the past with whatever you had just done. Joel turns to you quickly, "Thank you, this..", but you cup his cheek softly, loving the feeling of his prickly beard on your palm, "It was my pleasure, handsome". You look at each other for a while and it almost feels like this might lead to something more but quickly clear your throat, feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks, "Just don't run around town breaking hearts now", you tease, moving to clean the mess on the floor, "Why would I want someone else when I have you?"

[aajjks]

hair: https://pin.it/9XZXmstqa

four months preggo y/n: https://pin.it/7C3RumYGk

seol’s outfit: https://pin.it/4GWSRDGd4

what’s the name of your baby boy alina? 🙂

mommy issues!JK

you are four months pregnant and the happiest you’ve ever been. your belly has gotten a lot bigger and so has everything else. you had to donate a lot of your old clothes from your earlier term because now your jeans won’t button and maybe your ass got fat too because you can’t move them past your thighs. so, jungkook has been bought you a lot more dresses for your pregnancy but don’t get me started on your new sense of taste.

don’t judge but you’re a sucker for plain cream cheese. yes, the bagel cream cheese and you eat with everything. strawberries and cream cheese, cucumbers and cream cheese, pretzels and cream cheese, and the only chips you eat are lays cheddar and sour cream. you absolutely hate pickles, eggs, and yogurt because it makes you gag to the point of throwing up. how does jungkook handle it? easy. he just goes with the flow and buys you whatever your little pregnant-self desires.

you’re still hiding your pregnancy but now that your tummy is a lot bigger, it’s not easy to hide it anymore. your 4-month belly is playing peek-a-boo with your blue sundress, so someone is bound to find out that you’re pregnant and you have a feeling that’s what jungkook is going to ask you since he’s dying to tell everyone the good news.

“Baby..”

“yesss??”

“Seol will be with eunwoo so we can go to the doctor’s appointment, and maybe find out the gender???”

“it’s time already? okay. i laid his outfit on the bed. i just need to put my shoes on and i’ll be ready”

if you could, you would stay in this position forever—jungkook’s caressing your bump, your head is leaning on his shoulder, it’s all picture perfect. soon, you’ll be a family of four…

after seol is all freshened up, jungkook helps his son get dressed and curiously, seol asks his father “daddy? why is mommy’s tummy so big?“

~🫧

Jungkooks eyes widen and he feels his cheeks heat up at his innocence. Jungkook exchanges a look with you before answering.

“Mommy’s tummy is so big because she’s hiding a surprise for you in it.” Jungkook kisses Seol on the cheek before winking at you.

You blush, “okay sweetie let’s go to uncle and auntie hmm?” Jungkook picks him up from the ground and “yn- my love come on- we will drop him and then we will go straight to the doctor.”

And Jungkook has a surprise for you, that he can’t give you right now, but of course eunwoo knows about it.

“Hey babe where are you going? Your pendant is not in my drawer, okay? No you can’t go through it- we’re late let’s hurry.” Jungkook grabs your hand and takes you all to the car.

••••

“No yn you can’t meet A-Jin right now- look at you- they will know you’re pregnant and I want them to find out after we find the gender!!!” Jungkook excuses himself to drop Seol into the cha household.

Ever since you’ve been pregnant, your maternal instincts are through the roof quite literally you have been so affectionate with every single one of the babies you can find In Busan,

“HEY MY FAVORITE BOYS!” Eunwoo greets them with a huge smile on his face while carries his one month old baby in his arms.

“Is yn here with you?” Eunwoo asks as he kisses seol’s cheek while Jungkook snatches A-Jin from eunwoos embrace.

“yeah she is but you know I’m not letting her be here because I need to discuss something with you.”

Eunwoo nods in understanding. “Oh.. so is it the one from the picture you sent me last night?” He asks, making sure that even his wife cannot hear him.

Seol runs into the house as Jungkook cuddles A-Jin to his chest. He has missed holding a baby so much and now he will get to hold one of his own again soon.

Jungkook smiles, “ofcourse I think it’s perfect and it’s so pretty is it not?”

Eunwoo gives him a thumbs up. “dude she’s gonna be all over you.. we all know diamonds are a girls best friend.” He winks.

And jungkook laughs out loud before giving the baby boy back to eunwoo.

“Okay she’s waiting for me in the car. I’ll see you later!”

••••

The drive to the hospital is so much fun because you both keep on talking about your child and he can tell that you’re a little nervous because it’s your first time and frankly speaking. It’s like his first time too because he did not find out about Seol until he was born so this kind of experience is very new for him as well.

“Ahh yn I’m telling you we’re gonna have a girl!” Jungkook coos, his hand resting on your stomach

He’s just so obsessed with your belly he has a lot of pictures of you in his phone.

“We’re here at the hospital! Let’s go.”

[starcrossedjedis]

hiii hiii i am back (on my searching for opla oc crumbs voyage bc my exam-taking ass needs to live through y’all rn), and again i would like to screech abt Sun bc umm?? how could you give her so much pain?? also i need to know more abt her power?? like what does the sairen sairen no mi do and is it the fruit that gave Sun her full name or is it just a coincidence since it sounds very much like siren (if that was intentional i would like to steal your brain for naming oc purposes thank you /j); pls and thank you and i hope you feel better soon!! (if you’re still feeling under the weather that is..?)

Oh babe you can come here for crumbs anytime, it be keeping the hyperfixation going 🤩

I hope you're doing well aside from the exam taking. I'm actually alright, even though rn I am feeling more under the uterus than the weather 😂

Let's preface today's deep dive by me reassuring you that you do not - not - wanna be me when it comes to naming OCs. Literally, for like the first week her name was "either Lya or Sun", followed by a few days of her being "probably Sun but WHAT THE FUCK AM I GONNA DO ABOUT HER LAST NAME???" 🤣

And THEN as I proceeded to look for her special power was when it all came together -

I knew I didn't want to give her a Haki (mostly because she is a Shanks!OC and he already is The Conquerer's Haki Dude), so devil fruit it was. I spent a day or so going up and down and back up the list of known devil fruits and didn't find a single one that tickled my pickle. But - like so many times over the past weeks - it was @bravelittleflower to the rescue, because she pointed me to the mythical zoan devil fruits who basically turn people who eat them into mythical creatures and I decided that "fuck it, Imma just make my own"

By that time I had already gotten it in my head that I wanted "Lya or Sun Whatever-The-Hell-her-name-is" to be a more feminine, sensual character (maybe because Nami, at least in the beginning, was a little too Not Like The Other Girls for my taste ^^'), so sth of the nymph/dryad/mermaid/siren variety seemed like an obvious choice.

Google translate told me the Japanese word for siren was "sairen", making her fruit the Sairen Sairen No Mi and my brain just took the jump from there to "Sun the Siren / Sairen Sun" and since I still hadn't found a last name I liked, I thought a moniker that was actually given to her in the brothel at Shells Town would be a great place holder. It also makes for a pretty great pirate name tbh. ^^

(she has a last name btw, a last name we will learn later on and it comes with ✨drama✨ attached)

When we start the story, Sun doesn't know who gave her the fruit and she isn't really all that clear on the true magnitude of her powers. When we meet her, she simply has to touch men (and probably some women, too 😏) and tell them what she wants them to do.

(that did come in handy when teenage!Sun was looking to avoid chores at the bar or when harbour whore Sun left the less savory clients with the distinct impression that putting their hands on themselves rather than her would be the height of extasy 😈)

Her power doesn't work in active fight situations, which is why she is also able to hold her own with knives (although Zoro sees a lot of room for improvement and - much to Sanji's dismay - takes it upon himself to train her xD).

Maybe it's also her power that makes it easy for her to make friendships (one of the reasons Nami doesn’t like her at first is a kind of envy at how easy it is for Sun to fit in with this new group of people while she has to keep her distance). It could be that it makes people more open to her, but it's actually sth that makes her less self assured rather than more, because there is always that little bit of doubt about wether people care about her or if it's just her power at play.

I am also looking to expand on her powers as the story progresses (one version of the "Sun and Shanks reunite" ideas especially has great potential for Shanks trying to teach her to really tap into her ability).

"And how exactly do I do that?" - "You use it on me." 🥵

[kinetic-elaboration]

January 25: Modern Miller 14.2

I've finally written enough for another installment of this fic (the word count bar is very low, but I still don't always cross it haha).

Miller-centric, Mackson, past Briller, previous parts on the tag #the hospital starter.

*

He’s just gotten another text about the totally out of left field character development in chapter ten when the bell above the entrance rings. The place is starting to get busy with the first wave of the lunch rush, so he doesn’t bother to look up. 

Then he hears a familiar voice: Dr. Jackson, chatting with the barista about the day’s special. 

Griffin, such a fucking meddler. And he’s worse for falling it--for wanting to be meddled with, despite his protests. 

The summer’s stretching out long ahead of him. It was easier to admit he wanted nothing of it, and nothing of him, when all of their meetings were just chance encounters, and maybe he should just own it now, at least to himself, that this one is not. 

Dr. Jackson catches sight of him, smiles that warm good-bedside-manner smile and waves. Miller raises a hand back. Then he turns back to his phone, as if this alone would make their meeting here appear casual and completely un-orchestrated and unplanned. 

A few minutes later, he hears that same friendly voice again, this time just above him, asking, “Can I sit here?” 

The place isn’t even that busy. But Miller glances around as if it were. Then he moves his half-eaten sandwich out of the way. “Yeah, of course.” 

“So this is... how many times we’ve run into each other this summer?” Dr. Jackson asks, as he sets his pickle aside at the far edge of his plate.  

Miller holds up his hands as if protesting innocence. “Hey, you sat down with me.” It’s exactly what a guilty party would say, but Dr. Jackson laughs it off. 

“Usually I just grab something fast to go, after making up some excuse about why I can’t just go to the cafeteria for lunch--” 

“Because hospital cafeteria food sucks,” he finishes, and Dr. Jackson pauses for a moment, and then grins. 

“It really does. But Clarke told me I should take a long lunch.” 

Meddler. Blatant meddler. 

He shoves his phone back in his pocket. “And you do everything that Clarke tells you?” 

“Don’t most people?” 

That's a good one. He’s quick.  

Miller concedes the point with a half-nod and a smirk, and Dr. Jackson continues, “She said she’d cover for me if I wanted to sneak out for longer. Her words.” 

What he should be doing is getting Clarke a summer fling, because she obviously has way too much time on her hands. But out loud, he just says, “You do realize she’s a sophomore in college. If some sort of emergency happens, I don’t think there’s much she can do.” 

[tuliprry]

cloudburst 2

summary: preschool teacher!harry x special education teacher!yn; y/n and harry met while working together at a preschool, y/n is engaged but her fiancé has been distancing himself from y/n, making her spend more time with harry, wishing she was marrying him instead

warnings: mention of miscarriage, cheating, swearing, death, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

word count: 3.3k

part 1

it was 3am when tony got home, to his luck, y/n was in joey’s bedroom, dead asleep after mixing her sleeping pills with a shot of tequila to make sure she’s at least sleeping the whole night, joey in the other hand was tossing and turning, pickles, the tabby cat that belonged to the two sisters, was clearly bothered by joey’s lack of stillness, getting comfortable in between y/n’s legs. when joey heard the door she could feel her blood boil, she knew it had to be her sister to say something and yell but god she wanted to slap him and tell him to leave so badly.

but she didn't.

it was now morning, y/n yawned and rubbed her eyes, looking at her sister still dead asleep, she got up carefully to not wake joey nor pickles up, covering joey up after leaving the bed. the house was silent and her bed unmade, she assumed tony didn't sleep home and that hurt her heart, how her husband to be just completely changed his behaviour and she didn't know who she was marrying anymore. regardless, y/n got ready for work putting on black sweatpants that matched the black sweatshirt and her hair up in a ponytail, this wasn't usual for y/n, she likes dressing cute or finding clothes that would get the children happy like bunnies or cats, but today was just one of those days that y/n felt like a cloud was over her head and her head only.

as she got to school harry was already there, his moustache was more fluffy than usual and his hair messy and some curls covering part of his face, he is wearing a colourful knitted pullover and black jeans with his usual worn out beige from time trainers, his eyes immediately sparkled when he saw her, “good morning!” he says with a smile, “i got you something”, he hands her a paper bag with a red bow to her, “but my birthday isn’t for another 2 weeks harry”, y/n stated, “i know, i just um.. well, i know you love lang leav so i got a signed copy of lullabies for you” and it’s true, harry had searched he entire internet on how to get a signed copy of y/n’s favourite book for her, “oh my god harry… and you wrote me a note?”, “oh god don’t read it” but she did.

“y/n, thank you for being one of my best friends and always covering me up when i fall asleep on my desk. you’re the most special person i’ve ever met.

love,

harry”

“thank you harry… this is really special… like major special, i think this might be the best gift i’ve ever gotten after joey finding our cat pickles cosied up in waterstones” y/n embraced harry, “sometimes i wish i was marrying you instead” she whispered against his body, “did you say something?” harry questioned, “no, no.. sorry”, he heard it though, he heard it and for half a second he felt it in his heart… that he actually had a chance at y/n’s heart. their day went on as usual, divided the class in groups and focused mainly on art today, finger painting and shapes. for a moment y/n was at peace, her, harry and a bunch of sweet kids. when the classes ended, macy’s mum walked in with a frown on her face and walked up immediately to harry, that to every effect was macy’s teacher, “hello mr styles, i need to have a word with you and ms y/l/n if you don’t mind.” she was assertive, tall and looked like she was close enough to murder both harry and y/n. “oh yes of course, is everything okay with macy?.. um y/n can you come here”, y/n got up from her chair and walked towards them, keeping an eye on little macy that was sitting, waiting for her mum to grab her hand and leave. “so, my daughter tells me you two are together? is this true? because it’s very serious if you’re kissing in front of my daughter.” macy’s mum almost yells, “excuse me? as we told macy yesterday, we hugged because one of my special education students has a fear of hugging and i was showing him it was okay plus mr. styles is my friend and as we told macy friends hug each other, right macy?” y/n is the kindest person people will meet but she always knows when to speak up for herself and especially speak up for her students, “right ms y/l/n! keith hug u too”, the little girl speaks, “keith is a little boy in the autism spectrum that loves hugging his family but feared hugging me even though he wanted to. so no mr. styles and i are not in a relationship and if we were it would have been approved by the school”, harry has a stupid smirk on his face, proud of y/n for speaking the truth. “oh jesus i’m so sorry, macy just really made it sound inappropriate”, “she has a big imagination” harry adds.

back at home, as y/n steps foot in her bedroom she sees tony removing his tie, "oh.. hey", he says, looking in the mirror, "can we talk tony?", y/n requested as she sat down next to him in bed, "sure? i don't have much time i need to change for drinks with my boss”, tony replied, "listen, i don't know what changed, but i need you to be honest with me here tony, you barely spend anytime home, you barely touch my food when i cook, you don't touch me, we haven't had sex in two months, at first you said i was still fragile but what's the excuse now? you don't kiss me, you don't tell me you love me, you have stopped giving ideas for our wedding day.. do you even want to get married?" y/n snapped, she had those words stuck in her throat for a while now, "y/n.." tony sighs, "couldn't you have waited for me to come back from work?", the dismissal in his voice almost sends y/n through the fucking roof. "excuse me? who do you think you're talking to, antonio? i'm not some client you're upset with for some stupid reason i'm supposedly your future wife!" y/n hates raising her voice, but she's yelling at this point, “c'mon. let's talk after dinner.", his words sound even colder now, "no. let's talk now! look me in my fucking eyes." tony had never seen y/n like this and deep down he feared what she could do next. "y/n vamos a tener calma por favor (let's be calm please)", "don't tell me to calm down! i won't calm down until you tell me what the fuck changed!", "JESUS CHRIST I'M FUCKING SOMEBODY ELSE! THERE ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY Y/N? AND NOT JUST THIS GIRL BUT MULTIPLE OTHERS BECAUSE YOU LOOKED HORRIBLE AFTER THE MISCARRIAGE-", "get out", "y/n!", "don't bother coming back."

the house was silent for awhile, joey had heard everything from the other room but was too scared to approach y/n and worse, seeing her sister like that, joey swallowed her tears and gently pushed the door of y/n's room, y/n is sitting in bed cutting up all of tony's clothes, not even crying, just destroying everything of tony's that happened to cross her eyes. "in any other moment i'd tell u you should have done this sooner but.. um.. do you want to talk.. about it?" joey sits next to her sister, "he cheated on me... multiple times", y/n agonised, she was saying words she would never expect to say, especially about the man she was marrying in less than 4 months, "i couldn't even defend myself.. i just told him to get out", that's when the tears started forming in y/n's eyes, dreading that she had to go and live her life after finding out her soon-to-be-husband had multiple affairs, the house became silent again, joey, for the first time in her life, had no words to say to her sister and was just resting her head on y/n's, hoping silence would be the perfect answer on a moment like this. “joey… i’m gonna catch some air.. if you don’t mind” but y/n found herself following her usual route to school, almost unconsciously looking for harry, in the moment she didn’t want anyone else nor talk to anybody else, just him.

y/n didn't care anymore, she could feel her feet moving towards harry as his lips moved, he was worried about her but she couldn't answer or even think of an answer, she simply didn't care about keeping her decorum and being a good fiancé anymore, she likes harry, she knows she does. it's almost all in slow motion for y/n, the 20 seconds it took her to walk towards harry felt like 5 minutes, and the way their lips crashed felt like an eternity, but this time to both of them. harry's hands placed on y/n's lower back, and their tongues intertwined as one, harry's moustache was a good add-on to the kiss, y/n thought, it tickled but in a good way, harry's brain was almost empty, he couldn't actually process what was happening right on his desk but he didn't care either, he had been living this moment in his mind for such a long time he doesn't really give a fuck if it's a mistake or not, he has the woman of his dreams wrapped around him, all his.

"y/n." harry interrupted the kiss, his mouth opened as he hesitated in his next words, "as much as i'm enjoying this you... you're getting married-" y/n put her indicator over his mouth, shushing him, "harry.. i want this.. please" y/n whispered, "tony has been cheating on me and i'm done pretending i'm not into you and i don't crave you, i'm done pretending i don't wish i was marrying you instead", both of them remained silent after her statement, harry's thumb caressed y/n's cheek in disbelief, disbelief that she got cheated on, disbelief that she was there in front of him confessing some type of love for him, "harry... i'm sorry if i look like i'm using you that's totally not what i want, i can leave if you want" y/n added, "no. god no. please stay... with me"

our couple kept kissing, kissing like it’s the end of the world and they want to enjoy their last few minutes together, y/n's legs wrapped around harry's waist, he stood tall, one hand holding y/n and the other trying to find the keys of the nurse's office, they honestly had so much tension between them they could do it right there, but even in the middle of so much lust they hadn't forgotten where they were, in their workplace, where a kid who forgot a pencil or a parent picking a forgotten jacket could walk in at any moment. harry's eyes lit up as y/n suggested minutes before "we can always do it in the nurse's office" leading them to here.

harry finally reached the key handing it to y/n, he grabbed a condom as well putting him in the left back pocket of his black jeans. "good lord i don't think i can make it to the office" harry exclaimed, he could feel his briefs squeezing his cock, grunting and sighing with his forehead against y/n's.

the nurse's office is silent, the walls are painted in a light blue with multiple cartoon drawings sticked to the walls, as well as drawing's made to the school's nurse, harry tenderly placed y/n on top of one of the beds in the room, locking the door behind him. "y/n...are you sure you want to do this?" harry questioned, to harry consent was key, but this time even more considering they were quite literally homewrecking. "fuck me harry, please", her eyes were filled with lust, her hands now unbuttoning the white top she has on, as well as unzipping the midi light purple silk skirt, "such an eager girl aren't you? fuck, such nice tits" his lips immediately met y/n's neck leaving love bites all over her cleavage, her skirt fell to the ground, leaving her pussy barely covered by a sheer white lace, harry's hands travel all over her body stopping near the already so wet area, as his fingers placed directly on her clit she couldn't help but whimper, "is this good" harry's voice was slightly deeper than usual still caring but somewhat assertive, y/n couldn't pronounce any words already, harry's fingers attached to her clit, rubbing and pinching, she cried out an almost inaudible "yes" in the middle of the gasps and moans, "couldn't hear you sweet pea, what did you say? can't continue if you don't talk to me." he removed his fingers from the white lace making y/n cry one more time, the loss of touch worked wonderfully as a motivation for y/n to speak, “that was so good, please don’t stop” y/n purred, grabbing harry's hand, placing it exactly where he left off. "good girl" he crooned removing his hand right after, "actually... let me take care of you in other ways", he got on his knees pulling y/n's legs apart, having a perfect look of her pussy, glistening and swollen, sending shivers down in his spine and almost making him cream in his pants like an impatient teenager. before smoothly removing her panties, harry's lips were attached to her inner thighs, from little pecks to leaving marks all over, the white mesh hadn't even hit the floor when his fingers started stroking y/n's clit once more, his tongue joined not long after, running up and down on y/n's very wet entrance. "fuck, you taste like heaven", harry admired the image in front of him yet he was not able to detach his mouth from her juices more than a few seconds, his tongue swirled inside her like it was his last meal, y/n gripped onto harry's hair, pulling and tugging it, "harry.. harry" she cried out, "oh fuck", y/n's legs were shaking, she could feel her climax closer than before, "harry i'm gonna cum" she panted, feeling her pussy clench as harry continued to lick her folds and gently biting her clit. "oh princess... look at the mess you made" his fingers brushed against the already very sensitive cunt, "such a pretty mess... let me clean it up, yeah?", that almost made y/n cum again, "harry... harry please let me cum on your cock" she pleaded, placing her weight on her elbows so she can clearly see his face, "god fuck! yeah let me um grab that condom", he got up trying to take the packet from his pocket, "no.. no i need to feel you harry", the words ring in his ears, he drops his jeans on the floor and quickly takes his briefs off, ramming into y/n's pussy, kissing her to muffle the moans coming from the both of them. they still don't know what went through their heads, and harry's thrusts inside y/n made them forget even more the world out side the room they're in, y/n's pussy clenching around harry's length, "harry i'm gonna cum again", quiet moans echoed in the room, "fuck sweets i'm so close too", he grunts as he fills her up, none of them had such a aggressive, carnal, fervent affair like this one, so full of intimacy and honey flavoured words yet so mad and potent in the sweet turbulent heated and urgent moment, nothing else mattered to them.

they're getting dressed, harry can't stop himself from staring and interrupting y/n just to steal one more kiss, "you know it's funny, the only other time i had sex in a nurse's office was in my first year of university" y/n giggles, followed by harry buttoning the rest of her top, "really? that's a weird coincidence!" he said with a tone of surprise in his voice, "on my senior year i also had sex in a nurse's office.. she was likely from your class, she was a freshman i believe", "trying to make me jealous, mr styles?" y/n gave him a little peck, "is it working?" he smiled now buttoning his shirt, "but for real, she was a freshman and we were at this guy's off campus house.. bryan something, god she never even told me her real name, said it was aimee and then said it was a lie but she wanted something she could have fun and not get attached to it” he buttons the last button and then looks at a horrified y/n, “what? i didn’t mean to upset you i was 21 back then”, he says worriedly, “no.. harry.. god.. i.. i once told a guy my name was aimee and it was my first time and i wanted to get it over with and then my friend niall banged on the door and we both burst out laughing-“, “y/n.. you look very different”, “god harry stop how did we end up in the same situation again”, harry grabs her chin, “let’s say it was destiny” he whispers kissing y/n passionately.

harry drove y/n home, the ride was filled with giggles and reminiscing their affair from their uni days, they couldn't explain why they didn't recognise each other but it felt too much like a sign from universe, bringing them together again. "we're here", harry gets closer to give y/n a kiss and she stops him, "joey is for sure observing us from the window, i'm sorry" her voice trembles, "no.. don't be sorry. i'll see you tomorrow?" he asks knowing her answer but she still nods, whispering a goodbye followed by a smile.

"y/n!" joey exclaims running to the door to hug her older sister, "was that harry? why didn't he come in? i made coffee!" she says pointing to the alone mug in the kitchen, "oh um.. he just drove me home" y/n placed her bag on one of the hooks right next to the door, "i thought you left to catch some air.. you went to school?" joey rubbed y/n's back, not imagining what could possibly be going through her sister's mind, y/n started tearing up, "oh y/n it's okay tony was a jerk! you're better off without him", the younger sister says trying to ease y/n, "joey i fucked harry" y/n blurs out, she has never been good at keeping secrets from joey, especially now that they spend 99% of their free time together, "i'm a girl with a broken engagement that fucked her co-worker that happens to be one of her best friends, i'm horrible joey" y/n's crying made her sniffle in between words, some understandable and others completely inaudible, "wow.. wow let's go back, you fucked harry?" joey's eyes widened, "and i liked it", joey let a small laugh out, "i knew you liked him”, she remains with a silly smile on her lips, “and you’re not horrible, you kinda paid tony back.. by fucking your really hot co-worker/friend… please let me grab you a mug i really need to know what happened in that school, you fucked in the classroom?” joey questions semi horrified.

“no..no we did it in the nurse’s office”

“oh that’s interesting”

“and there’s more”

“more?? maybe i don’t want to know..”

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[justfandomtings]

Skwisgaar is the nicest, sweetest, and most empathetic person in the band.

Here is why.

So it seems that Skwisgaar's fandom version he is someone who is vain, full of himself, and an asshole to toki. Which I can see why people would think that. If you just looked at Skwisgaar from the outside not paying attention. It's understandable why he'd come off in such way. BUT! This is untrue.

First of all let's just see how Skwisgaar not only treats his bandmates, but people in general. Skwisgaar is in no way hostile whatsoever. He has never attacked or harmed anyone. (except on two occasions but we'll get back to those) Skwisgaar does not seem to lose his temper easily if not at all. We can see this with the two bandmembers that tourment him the most. Murderface & Toki.

We all know murderface's infatuation with Skwisgaar's mom is highly disrespectful if not hilarious. Murderface constantly makes inappropriate comments towards Skwisgaar's mom. Skwisgaar however never yells or gets physical with murderface. He simply looks at him annoyed, either playing on his gutair or drinking to ignore it. I have stated before that Skwisgaar is extremely patient with murderface and probably does not see him as a threat. Even when he was upset about his non present father, murderface had the balls to come in at this low point and act as a father figure to Skwisgaar. All so his mother can fall in love with him. Skwisgaar, obviously knows this, but goes ahead and humors him anyway, despite being at one of his lowest points. Even in later seasons, when it appears murderface has given up his pursuit on serveta. He still makes inappropriate comments about her, just not in that lustful way anymore. Even then, Skwisgaar does not get upset with him. Simply annoyed.

Then we have toki, who I made a character study on how he's not as innocent as people make him out to be. In that study I talked about how from a very young age Skwisgaar has been practicing non stop ever since getting his gutair. Skwisgaar has a very close and genuine love for music. He helps write all the songs, and works over many hours recording not only his parts, but murderface's (and maybe tokis) as well. We even see him go to extreme lengths to get a recording done. Like jumping out of an airplane..twice. the 2nd time being due to toki being careless and maybe even malicious when deleting Skwisgaar's track. Skwisgaar however Is only mildly annoyed simply doing the process all over again.

Skwisgaar seems to be very passive and docile. There are only two moments in the show where he has gotten physical.

1 time is when he pushed a man on a glass table. This was the episode when Skwisgaar's father issues were at an all time high. When his mother told him she 'found' his father. He immediately left the band to go finally heal this wound he's had since childhood. Only to find out that it was not his father, but just another man that his mother is sleeping with. As their day went on, we can see Skwisgaar being very uncomfortable and upset. Eventually breaking down and about to storm off. When the man stands up for serveta, Skwisgaar lashes out screaming "you're not my father!" Then pushing him onto a glass table. Immediately, Skwisgaar is horrified of his actions and regrets what he's done. After that incident he apologizes, and seeing that the man does care for his mother. Leading to a healthy relationship.

I feel for this reason why Skwisgaar lashed out is because he's been holding all these emotions in since he was a child. All those emotions and pain have been building up for years. So when he finally reached the breaking point, he just unfortunately let out that anger in the wrong way. Skwisgaar's father issues have always seem to naw at him in a lot of damaging ways, so I could understand why this is what made him act out.

The second time Skwisgaar physically hurt someone was not out of anger. But to protect his bandmate pickles when they were under attack. Not only did he tell pickles to get behind him, but he used his gutair, something he holds dear to him as a weapon to protect his friend.

So out of the only two moments Skwisgaar has gotten violent is when he finally reached an understandable breaking point and when he was protecting someone he cared for.

Now we have toki, it seems the fandom believes Skwisgaar is quite hard and mean to toki. Which is understandable. Toki is the only person Skwisgaar seems actively hostile towards to. But that simply is the opposite, just like with murderface, Skwisgaar is very patient with toki and let's him get away with a lot of terrible behavior.

We all know that 1.toki does not practice or contribute in anyway to the band/music like Skwisgaar.

2.comparing them in the spotlight, you can tell Skwisgaar does not get a big head or gets vain when playing the gutair solos. He simply plays the music. While toki on the other hand, abuses his power, gets a big head and even disrespectful to his bandmates, and is clearly showboating bathing in the attention.

When toki basically lies and ruins Skwisgaar's carrer fausly calling him an abuser. Skwisgaar is speechless and even down right shocked. He simply stays in the house as he sees everything he works for get taken from him. Skwisgaar however does not retaliate in anyway. He does not call out toki publicly or privately, he does not try to protect himself in anyway. In fact he tries to protect toki and warn him about the real pressures of being in the spotlight. Saying the audience will tear him into pieces if the solo is done wrong.

Toki, being arrogant as he is, does not listen. He messes up the solo while being a show-off getting exactly what Skwisgaar warned him about. The audience turns on him and toki gets a heart attack. The only person that saves toki BTW was..Skwisgaar! Someone who actively tries to take his place in the band and smeared his name in the dirt. He still helped him, he still held no grudges or ill will towards toki. Despite toki doing that and much worse towards him.

Even when toki is kidnapped, Skwisgaar not only misses him like the rest of the band. But was the one who mostly contributed to his rescue, being the one to hold him and protect him.

Skwisgaar so far just clearly seems like a good guy. Even when complete strangers are hostile to him he does not return the energy.

Skwisgaar also really cares for his best friends pickles and Nathan. Skwisgaar has clearly bonded with the two through the years and them creating music together. Skwisgaar has on lots of occasions shown annoyance and displeasure towards people who disrespect Nathan. (I.e the governor)

And just over all really care for his friends. When the band was breaking up. While he presude with Nathan musically. That did not stop him from attending pickles wine event despite the two being on bad terms with each other. It shows that while Skwisgaar won't bud into his friends issues, that does not mean he would choose sides or favor one over the other. Even when Nathan was trying to get into jazz..Skwisgaar was not rude or disrespectful. Despite clearly not feeling the direction it was heading in.

Skwisgaar is also seems to be the most friendly with people outside of the band. He's not rude to the Klokateers, and when around 'regular jackoffs' Skwisgaar seems to be the most welcoming. Especially to female fans. When murderface was trying to hit on two women showing his friends 'how it's done'.. Skwisgaar simply talks to them like they're regular people, he doesn't even really flirt with them since murderface was there first.

He doesn't judge people on their appearance, he's shown to be into every race, age, and body type. When having a fan over he does not kick them out or try to get them to leave. He really lets them chill there probably for how ever long they want to stay.

In the end, why I think people see Skwisgaar as standoffsish is because Skwisgaar himself seems introverted. He is the type of person who likes to be around others but not necessarily talk all the time. And his lack of English probably makes it hard to understand him.

But overall Skwisgaar is probably the nicest and most welcoming person in the band. Pickles, coming into a close 2nd.

That's all on Skwisgaar for now, there's definitely a lot more on the gutair God, but for now. This is all.

[21st-century-ninja]

Ahhhhh Fabro my beloved, again much congrats for this achievement!

📝 uhhhh I for the life of me can’t think of a good prompt lol so… surprise me! I know you know me good enough to know what I would like lol

aaah thank u rosie!!! i actually went into this one trying to purposely write h/c so you'll have to tell me how I did XD I gifted this to you on ao3 but lemme know if you don't want it and I'll take it off :D

got a crown on my head

setting: ns8 characters: Lloyd, Cole wc: 999 words other tags: oni!Lloyd, h/c ninbingo prompt: hugs on ao3 here

There's a saying that Lloyd heard once before, back before the prophecy had even been fulfilled, back when his father was still alive and he was just a little kid with overplaced confidence and a lack of understanding.  

He'd been up to get a glass of water from the kitchen when he’d heard hushed voices.  He’d plastered himself against the hallway wall and strained his ear for words.

“I feel bad for pushing him, but he has to be trained.  Even if that means spending every waking hour preparing him for the Final Battle, that’s just how it’s got to be.”

“But he’s still a child!”

“He’s the Green Ninja,” Zane said, something heavy weighing his voice.

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," Kai'd added somberly, and there had been noises of agreement. 

At the time, Lloyd hadn't really gotten it. There was no crown on his head, although it would have been sick if there was.  

Now, years later, after the Overlord, after Morro, after Harumi – he does.  The title of Green Ninja, the reality of being Garmadon’s son, have brought hardships down on his head time and time again.

Now, he might not be wearing an actual crown.

But the newly-grown horns sprouting from his forehead are just as heavy as any crown, figurative or otherwise.

Lloyd grips the edge of the bathroom counter, trying to calm his heartbeat.  The ritual is over.  They stopped the ritual in time, and Harumi’s being carted off to prison, and the ritual is over so why haven’t the horns gone away?

His head tips forward without his permission, unbalanced by the black points rising from his temples.  There’s a horrible crunching noise as the tips of them sink through the wall.  Panicking, green sparks fly at his fingertips as he boosts his power and yanks his head back with all his might. He goes crashing into the opposite wall, chunks of drywall and part of the beam still clinging to his horns.

“Ugh.”

“Lloyd!”  Footsteps rush a suspiciously short distance to the bathroom door, and Cole’s voice lifts in concern.  “Are you okay in there?”

Lloyd clenches his hands into fists.  “No, sorry, I’m okay.  I just-”

He trails off, unable to verbalize all that’s just wrong.  Cole is silent for a moment.  And then the bathroom door handle turns and he says, “I’m coming in.”

Lloyd doesn’t look up when he enters.  All he hears is Cole’s quiet, small exhale, and then there are warm hands on his cheeks and his eyes raise to meet Cole’s.  Cole smiles gently.  

“There you are.  Looks like you got in a bit of a pickle.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Lloyd grouses.  He lets Cole pull away the debris, wincing at the tugs against his sensitive horns.  

“Sorry,” Cole says, setting it all to the side.  His fingers linger on his horns, his eyes on the color that darkens his fingertips.  But he drags both of them away a second later and sits back on his haunches.  “That better?”

“Yeah.  Thanks.  You know, I’m starting to think I should just live in here to avoid destroying anything else.”

He laughs.  Cole doesn’t.  Even without looking at him, Lloyd can feel the weight of Cole’s eyes.  “But that’s not really the reason you’re hiding in here.”

Lloyd bites his lip.  “It’s not.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”  

The words are non-expecting – like if he says no, Cole really will let him drop it.  And it’s that of all things which has Lloyd’s mouth opening and spilling his thoughts.

"What if- what if everyone thinks I'm horrible now? That I'm a monster, now that I look like this?"  He gives in and rests his forehead against his arms, taking the strain from his neck and probably screwing it up in a whole new way.  “She said she was drawing on my oni traits to bring him back.  That this has always been inside me.”  He clenches his fists again.  “Maybe – maybe I am a monster.”

If Kai were here, or Nya, they’d jump to Lloyd’s defense immediately.  Cole is silent instead.  But when he does speak, Lloyd listens with his full focus.  "You know, I was a ghost this one time."

Despite himself, Lloyd can't help but snort. "'This one time'?" 

“Shush, just listen!” Cole chides good-naturedly.  He sits down beside Lloyd, pressing warm against his side as he leans back against the wall.  “Yeah, I was a ghost, and it was right after ghosts had destroyed Stiix, remember?  And I was just so afraid of people’s reactions.  Like, I was the same now as the things that had ruined thousands of people’s lives.  It would make sense for them to hate me.

“And yeah, sure sometimes there was a dirty look or mean comment thrown my way.  And sometimes people would see me and clench their drinks like they weren’t sure if they wanted to throw them at me and watch me disappear.”  He breathes in a shuddery breath.  “Sorry.  But do you know what made it bearable, especially for those first couple of months?”

He looks over at Lloyd, and his eyes are soft.  “It was you guys.”

He reaches forward and unclenches Lloyd’s fingers, squeezing gently over the indents his pointed fingertips dug into his skin.  “You never treated me differently – and when I say “you”, I literally mean you this time, Lloyd, even when you would have been totally justified to.”

He opens his arms.  Like a magnet, Lloyd falls into them.  Cole pulls him close.

"You're still the same Lloyd Garmadon, horns or not.  And we’re still your brothers, oni or not.  Got it?"

Lloyd resigns himself to the fact, again, that any kind words from the others are still enough to get him sniffling.  Cole smiles into his shoulder.  

“Hey, at least we stopped the ritual,” he says.  “Just imagine: two oni running around Ninjago.”

Lloyd laughs wetly.  “Yeah, no thanks,” he says.  “I’ll pass.”

[luvnami]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou​ @amjustagirl​ (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist. 

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet. 

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip.  He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week. 

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?” 

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders. 

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?” 

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward. 

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?” 

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know. 

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow. 

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds. 

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second. 

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to- 

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry. 

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp. 

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants. 

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though. 

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat. 

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat. 

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up. 

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!” 

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch. 

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled. 

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag? 

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold. 

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest. 

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality. 

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.  

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry? 

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked. 

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?” 

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled. 

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it. 

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided. 

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know! 

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable. 

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy. 

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over. 

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff. 

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his. 

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them. 

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully. 

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!” 

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time. 

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together. 

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say. 

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again. 

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies. 

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron. 

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name. 

“I don’t know what to do.” 

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree. 

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved. 

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed. 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes. 

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?” 

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger. 

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order. 

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway. 

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself. 

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!” 

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!” 

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years. 

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight. 

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it. 

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

[phoenix-downer]

Enchanted Neighborhood Chapter 1

~1380 words. Sora/Kairi. Post-Canon. Family AU, SoKai Parents AU. Reunions, Fluff, Winnie the Pooh.

This is a sequel to After Ever After and Love’s Cost. There are five chapters total and the story will update weekly on Fridays.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Summary: Sora and Kairi take their kids on an impromptu family vacation to Radiant Garden. While they can’t visit Pooh’s storybook due to being all grown up, they still want Miyu, Haruto, and Emi to experience the magic of the Hundred Acre Wood for themselves.

“Alright, are all kids here and accounted for?” Sora asked as he powered up the Gummi Ship. Nothing like an impromptu family vacation to get everyone’s spirits up. Kairi smiled and squeezed his hand. Even after all these years, going to another world with him always felt like an adventure.

Especially because this visit was the hallmark of a lot of new changes. True, they were going to a world they’d been to dozens of times before, but the little one in her belly had shaken things up for their family quite a bit, in the best possible way. 

She glanced behind her. Miyu and Emi were carefully buckled in, but Haruto was still bouncing around the main deck.

“Haruto, seatbelt, or Dad can’t take off,” she said, and Haruto was quick to sit down and strap himself in. 

Sora grabbed a paper sack and handed it to her. “For your nausea.” 

“Thank you,” Kairi said, grateful he’d thought of this. Her previous pregnancies had trained him well. She always got morning sickness during her first trimester, and this pregnancy was continuing the trend. 

“And a snack for the trip,” he said, handing her a jar of pickled paopu. She always craved pickled paopu when she was pregnant. 

Haruto wrinkled his nose. “Ewwww, you’re eating those again Mom?” 

“Please, not when we can’t escape from the smell,” Miyu begged as she made a face. 

“Mom is carrying your new younger sibling,” Sora said, “which is the World’s most important job right now, so she gets to eat all the pickled paopu she wants.”

He smiled and squeezed Kairi’s hand, and she grinned. “I promise I won’t torture you two too badly,” she told Miyu and Haruto. “I’ll be lucky if I’m not throwing up the whole time. Morning sickness and Gummi Ships don’t make for a good combo.”

“Morning sickness?” Emi asked. “Is that another pregnancy thing?”

“Sadly, yes,” Kairi said. Emi had been very curious about the pregnancy, and she’d accidentally traumatized Sora when he found out she already knew how babies are made. A very overdramatic meltdown had followed about how someone had “ruined his baby’s innocence,” “she’s too young to know about this kind of thing,” etc.

“Sora, she has two older siblings who are teenagers,” Kairi had told him as he paced back and forth in their bedroom. “Of course she found out early.” 

“Who told her?” Sora moaned as he draped himself across the bed. “She wasn’t supposed to know till she’s older!” 

“She asked me,” Kairi said as she set her book down, and Sora’s horrified reaction would’ve made her laugh if he wasn’t so distraught over the whole thing. “And… Well, I thought it would be best if the explanation came from me.”

That had gotten him to shut up, because they both knew he would never have been able to tell her himself. He’d barely been able to tell Haruto about it without turning into a blushing, stammering mess that left Haruto more confused than anything. In the end, Kairi had to give the talk to all three of their kids instead of Sora. 

And, since the older two had witnessed Mom going through pregnancy before but Emi had not, she was naturally the most curious about it. Hence the barrage of questions about every single thing Kairi was experiencing. 

“So you get sick in the morning?” Emi clarified. 

“Most often, but it can happen anytime.” Kairi grimaced. “Especially in moving vehicles.” 

Sora gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ll do my best to make this a gentle ride.”

Her nausea proved to be about what she expected, but at last Sora was putting the Gummi Ship into the landing cycle and soon she’d be seeing the doctor. There were some excellent ones back home on Destiny Islands, but she really liked the specialist she’d seen here when she was pregnant with Emi. Plus, Aerith would have some herbs that would help with the morning sickness and other treatments to make her pregnancy more comfortable. 

“Okay, kids, we’re going on an adventure,” Sora said. He led them through the cobblestone streets of Radiant Garden to a very quirky house with a lot of heart and character. When they reached the house, a note on the door read: 

Good morning, Sora, Kairi, Miyu, Haruto, and Emi: 

I’m out for the afternoon, but you are more than welcome to make yourselves at home. The tea in the kettle is still warm and will pour you cups if you say the word. Don’t worry Kairi, it’s safe for expectant mothers. Congratulations on the new addition to the family, that’s fantastic news. Sora, I have the book you’re wanting laid out on the table. 

- Merlin

Miyu and Haruto exchanged glances.  

“How did he know we were coming?” Miyu asked.

Haruto nodded. “Yeah, and all that other stuff too.”

“He ages backwards, which means he experiences time backwards,” Kairi explained. “Our future is his past.” 

“Yup.” Sora opened the door, and sure enough, everything was just as Merlin had said. The table was set for five with tea cups for everyone, a cozy fire was lit in the fireplace, and a very special storybook was on the table. 

Sora’s face lit up when he saw it. “Pooh! Man oh man is it good to see you again.” The cover had Pooh and all of his friends on it, but Kairi noticed Sora was missing. 

Emi peered at the book. “It looks nice. Will you read it to us?”

“Oh, this isn’t just any old book,” Sora explained. “This book will take you on a fun adventure!”

Kairi nodded and squeezed Emi’s shoulder. “You and Miyu and Haruto can go together. First, you’ll become very small, then you’ll get to meet Pooh and his friends.” 

She and Sora figured that would be more exciting than sitting in the doctor’s office anyway. And the Hundred Acre Wood was safe, so Miyu and Haruto shouldn’t have any issues watching over Emi. 

Emi’s eyes lit up. “Oooooh! Will you and Daddy come too?”

Sora’s face fell for a moment before he masked his pain with a smile. “Grownups can’t visit the book. It’s not allowed.” 

Kairi still remembered the day Sora realized he wouldn’t be able to see Pooh anymore. She’d tried to comfort him as best she could, but there was always something sad about saying goodbye to an old friend. Especially because growing up was already such a bittersweet experience.

Emi tilted her head to the side. “Why can’t grownups visit?”

Kairi knelt till she was eye level with her daughter. “Grownups don’t have the heart of a child, and you have to have the heart of a child to enter. There are many good things about growing up, but there are sad things too. And this is one of them.” 

“Oh, okay,” Emi said with a frown. 

“Tell Pooh hi for me, okay?” Sora said, and Emi nodded. “Oh, and give him this.”

He dug into his pockets and pulled out a small jar of honey. Emi tilted her head and blinked, but then took the jar from him.

“Miyu, Haruto,” he said, and Haruto stopped poking the fire with his Keyblade, “use your Keyblades to enter the book, and take Emi with you. Mom and I will be back in a couple of hours.” 

Miyu took Emi’s free hand and summoned her Keyblade. “See you then.”

Haruto joined them, and a few seconds later, all three kids shrank and entered the book. Kairi rested her head on Sora’s shoulder and sighed. 

“Even though we can’t go back anymore, it’s nice that they can.”

“Yeah. They’re gonna love it.”

She searched his face. “You okay?” 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s just hard not to be sad, you know? I wish I could see Pooh and the others again.”

“I wish you could too.”

Sora kissed her head. “Thanks, Kairi. Now enough about me, let’s see how our baby is doing.” 

With that, they left Merlin’s house. The magic spells Merlin had cast would keep their kids safe from any intruders, and she and Sora wouldn’t be gone long. Time for the doctor’s visit and, if they had time before she was supposed to see Aerith about the herbs, an impromptu date. 

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A/N: I first started working on this fic a year ago and finally got back to it a;lskdjflsdf (sorry for the delay, I really did mean to get this continuation for the SoKai Family AU done sooner). Winnie the Pooh is just something that I’ve loved for a long time, it’s so wholesome and sweet, and as much as I joke about how the Hundred Acre Wood is minigame hell in the KH games, it’s also really soothing to walk around the world with the memorable music and charming characters. So naturally I wanted to set a story about Sora and Kairi’s kids here. 

Anyway, this story is dedicated to @angel-with-a-pipette and @scoobysnack1107​! Thank you for brainstorming it with me and cheering me on as I wrote it, your support means a lot ❤️ I had a lot of fun discussing the story beats with you both!

And thank you everyone for reading! See you next week!