#PA School Interviews

[sexhaver]

okay so you know how living with autism means having frequent mind-blowing realizations about seemingly contradictory social norms that allistic people learned as children and consider obvious, like "you're probably not actually expected to show up exactly at the listed start time of a large house party" or "you're pretty much expected to lie in job interviews and also the questions the interviewers asks are looking for specific amswers"? ive got this half-baked theory based on observations on this site that there are two main ways for autistic people to resolve this

the first, most common way is to get mad about it, because none of it makes sense and nobody is saying what they actually mean. "if you invite me to show up at 5 im showing up at 5" mentality. i do sympathize with this school of thought, because it's objectively correct and i would love to see what society would look like if everyone said exactly what they meant, but the attitude wears on you after a few years and eventually becomes grating

the second way that i seem to have settled into is feeling relief, because, like, you already navigate through social scenarios the same way the guy in the Chinese Room thought experiment "speaks" Chinese: blindly consulting reference material you don't understand but know is correct. learning a new social faux pas is therefore just more reference material to consult. the fact that it doesn't make any sense is irrelevant because none of the other social norms you've been following make any sense either, and they've served you just fine. and crucially, because you have no personal attachment to any of these social norms, you can just abandon them whenever they become too inconvenient OR if it would be funny. this is the kind of autism that produces stuff like Nathan For You

[youraverageaemondsimp]

“Be Quiet.” // DILF!Aemond Targaryen x Babysitter!Reader // PART ONE.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! (+200 now) so here is the awaited fic, celebrating a milestone <3 based on this poll, dilf aemond won at the end haha 💞

MDNI

WARNINGS: unprotected p in v sex, dubcon(?), oral (both f and m.), blowjob, cum eating, cum play(?), breeding kink, multiple orgasms, age gap (9ish years), DILF aemond, single father aemond, power imbalance(?), throat fucking, cunnilingus, lots and lots of kissing, + not proofread

WC: 7.1k (yeah...)

« part two // 🎄 special »

Getting fired from your job while trying to pay rent and gathering tuition fees isn't exactly ideal, you wanted to pursue a bachelor's degree after high school, but you didn't have enough money, coming from a family that was barely held by, nor were you eligible to apply for student because there were legal issues.

You moved out of your parents not wanting to financially burden them anymore, renting a decent apartment with just enough space for you to call it a 'home' you've been working for the past 2 years, a decent paying job but it was enough to get by and save up on the fees too, everything seemed to be going perfect until you suddenly got fired and your landlord decided to increase the rent.

You knew you'd have to cut into your savings to pay rent now, but you didn't want that, you halfway there to your goal, you were expected to get promoted and get higher pay, you calculated it, that it would only take one more year for you get enough amount to pay for the first few sems, and then maybe you'll be able to apply for a student loan by then.

But fate had different plans, and here you were on your couch scrolling through multiple apps to find any type of job, extremely desperate.

And that's when you saw it.

“Babysitter needed.” you thought how perfect of a job it would be considering the degree you wanted to so badly was based in psychology, child psychology specifically, and interacting with kids will probably give you some type of experience?

You quickly clicked on it and found the contact number, and decided to call it, you bit your lips nervously hoping they'd pick up.

“Hello?” you heard a cool voice say which sent shivers down your spine.

“Hello- yes uhm, Hi! I am calling because I saw the post on the app that said you needed a babysitter for hire?” you stumble over your words and mentally facepalm yourself for it.

“Yes, indeed. Are you interested in applying?” he asks and you quickly reply with a yes.

“Do you have any prior experience?” he asks and you reply with a quick yes, you've babysat a few kids throughout your highschool era for quick cash, as a way to not rely on your parents for menial things.

“Mhm alright, I don't want to bring your hopes up by saying you got a job, I'd like to have a personal interview first, if you do not mind.” he says and you say, thanking him and he hangs up the call.

You were fucking shaking.

It felt like applying for the first job of your life all again, the nervousness, the anxiety, the everything.

Aemond had saved your phone number and sent it to his assistant, Floris, asking her to run a background check on you, and to see if you had any criminal background, he read your name on the file that got delivered to him, sipping on his coffee while he scanned through your details.

You just turned 21, recently.

‘So young’ he thought, ‘Let me guess, she's probably looking for jobs in order to afford education.’ he guessed and he was exactly on the money with that one.

He wasn't that old himself, barely 30

He inherited his father's business at just age 23, being the only one capable of handling such pressure, his elder siblings couldn't stand a chance against him, and since then, he's maintained the Targaryen name perfectly.

He remembers falling in love with a woman older than him, he was 24, she attended one of the business parties he dreaded going to, Alys rivers was her name, they dated for 2 years before deciding to pace things up and get engaged since everything was going perfect for both of them.

Until Alys got pregnant, Aemond was overjoyed when he heard that news, but he didn't know that the child would suck the life out of her.

She died giving birth to their son, and he was devastated, being heart broken by her death, however he never once blamed his child, it was their choice to birth him, and it failed miserably.

But 3 years had passed since her death and he had moved on from her death, ready to love once again, yet it was extremely hard to find someone that wasn't after his money.

He knew he couldn't just live in the misery of heartbreak, and Alys would've wanted him to move on too.

His son, Aenys, recently turned 3 too, he inherited Aemond's purple eyes and silver blonde hair, typical targ features, but he saw how the softness of his nose, sharpness of his eyes resembled his mother.

But back to you at hand, he went through all your papers deeming you fit for the interview, he called a day later telling you the address where the interview would be held, his office.

Yes, his fucking office, as if you were applying for a job at his company, he justified it by saying that you were technically his employee.

When you got out of the taxi and looked at the company in front of you, it finally clicked in your brain that your employee was none other than Aemond Targaryen, and it only made your anxiety worse.

You went to the receptionist and told her your name, and she typed it in, giving you a small smile, telling you that you were exactly on time. She called his office to tell you that you were here and led you to his office. You looked around and noticed how big this company was, a bunch of employees working in their cubicles, typing away.

“Mr. Targaryen?” she called out and you heard a small ‘come in.’ Before stepping inside and pushing the door open for you to enter, you did and she stepped outside, closing it gently behind you, leaving you alone in the room with the man.

Aemond hadn't looked up from his files until the door closed, and when he did, he felt his breath caught in his throat.

“You may sit.” he says and you nod, sitting across him on the opposite side of the table, you felt so small under his gaze, it was so intimidating but you put up with it.

He began the interview by asking questions about yourself, and all relevant things, but there was one question that caught you off guard.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks and you furrow your brows, “Excuse me?” you question, noticing how odd of a question it is.

“Don't get me wrong, the previous babysitter had one, and she used to bring him to the apartment and…” he cleared his throat and you immediately caught on to what he was implying, “Oh! No! I do not have one, and even if I did I would not do that!” you reassure him and he gives you a nod.

He was fucking lying.

But you didn't know that.

The previous babysitter was an old lady, who Aenys liked a lot, but sadly she had to leave the city.

“I hope you know that you're expected to work full time? I leave for the office at 9AM and return back at 7PM, and you'll need to be ready to work those long hours, and sometimes I might not even return till late at night if there is extra work.” he says and you nod, and before the question can leave your mouth he cuts you off.

“Do not worry, you'll be paid for those extra hours.” he confirms and you nod smiling at him.

And then came your terms, which he agreed to, he made you sign a one year contract, and you did it without hesitation.

Frankly the pay was so high you would barely need to work 6 months to reach the full amount, but you still did an extra 6 months considering how having extra money at hand doesn't hurt.

And with a handshake, he accepted you.

You were practically going to spend most of your awake time with the kid, it sounds hectic but the pay was too good to pass up on, I mean, $80 per hour? fuck yes, you'd be having around $230k by the end of the contract. Aemond was filthy rich.

It was finally your day to go to his house and you already knew it was going to be big, but you were still shocked when you arrived to the destination, it was a 20 minute drive from your house, and it was located in the richest neighbourhood to exist in the city, you felt embarrassed getting out of your taxi at an area where everyone probably had their own cars, heck, a collection of them even, but you paid the fare and the guard got up to question you, you told him and he quickly nodded before letting you inside.

It was early in the morning, you came quickly so Aemond could show you around the house and introduce you to his kid, you stood there nervously as you rang the doorbell, Aemond had checked through the security camera before the door opened, revealing the house interior.

You quickly stepped in and he closed the door behind you. You expected him to have maids and a bunch of staff, but you were surprised when you found none. No wonder he asked if you can cook, you'd probably be doing all the work here besides the cleaning.

“Aenys is in his playroom, let me take you there.” he says cooly and you follow him, taking in your surroundings.

He opens the door to the playroom and you immediately find a kid, who you assumed to be older than 2, playing with his dragon toys, making rawr sounds, and yelling the word ‘dracarys.’ you smiled at the cuteness.

Aemond cleared his throat which caught the attention of Aenys and he smiled brightly before he jumped in his arms, “Papa!” he yelled, before he turned his attention to you and looked at his father in question

“Hey aeny, do you know how the previous babysitter had to leave town?” he asks gently and Aenys nods, “And papa needs to be away for work top right? So I got you a new babysitter who will take care of you.” he points towards you, explaining and Aenys looks at you tilting his head slightly

“Hey, Aenys.” you give him a small, waving your hand, he shyly waves back before he hides his face his fathers chest, you chuckle at the cuteness.

“I'll go give her a house tour okay? And then I will visit you once again before I leave, have fun darling.” He says and puts his son down, and Aenys looks at you once again, inspecting you, observing you, you smile at him once again, and this time he gives you a shy smile.

Aemond leaves the room and you wave a quick temporary goodbye to Aenys and follow him.

“Aenys, doesn't have a mother, or at least he had to grow up without one” Aemond randomly begins and you look at him confused. “My fiancee-” he sighs before halting his footsteps, “She- she had died while giving birth to him.” you watch as he takes deep breaths, “It's okay if you don't want to talk about it now, we have a lot of time anyway, just open up to me when you are ready, sir.” you tell him and he looks at you, giving you a nod and resumes the house tour.

It was fucking big.

Just like he said, he visited his son once more before leaving for work and the entire day you spent it with Aenys, getting to know him, observing his behaviour.

You noted that he was extremely shy at first but then he eventually warmed up to you, he still had his guard up of course since you were fairly new and a stranger in his life, you introduced yourself and he did the same.

He showed you all his toy collections, which you were genuinely fascinated by, he had so many dragon figurines and remembered each one by their name, his favourite was vhagar.

“It waass papa's once, when he was jus like mee.” he babbled cutely, the way he pronounced the words were so cute too, you swear you could die at it.

“Vhagar belonged to your papa?” you felt awkward saying the word papa, but you knew you had to considering that it was the term Aenys was used to, he nodded, smiling.

“Yesh! He gwave it to meh.” he says and you smile.

Aenys had quite a developed vocabulary for his age, though he pronunciation was a bit off, but you knew it would improve with time.

And just like that, you and Aenys grew close, he was always cheery to see you, you cooked and looked after him, feeding him vegetables in a way he would enjoy, and Aemond was surprised when he found out, considering Aenys refused to eat vegetables.

You put Aenys to sleep one day, singing him a lullaby and caressing his hair as he fell asleep in his bed, he watched you with big doe eyes, which were slowly beginning to get droopy as sleep overcame him. He closed his eyes and his brows were relaxed. You sat there for a while, watching him sleep, and you look at the time, 8PM, Aemond was running late, but you didn't mind, by the time he usually fell asleep, Aemond would've been there, listening to you sing to his son and when he finally fell asleep, you would leave, politely saying goodbye to Aemond, but this time you had stayed, since Aemond was late.

You noticed how Aenys eyebrows furrowed before you saw tears coat his eyelashes

“Mam… mama… I want mama...” he mumbled in his sleep and you swear you felt your heart wrench at that, then you heard small sniffles.

He was crying in his sleep.

Is this what usually happens after you leave? You felt extremely sad, you remember how Aemond had told you that Aenys grew up without a mother, how she had died during childbirth. You never really thought about it much but you realised how tough it must've been for Aenys, then suddenly you remembered all the times you played together or watched cartoons, how he would say the word "mother" longingly when he was referring to a mom dragon, or how he stared in a daze when a cartoon showed a mom taking care of his child.

He was beginning to notice an absence of a parental figure in his life.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sniffling getting louder, and Aenys was beginning to borderline cry out, you quickly picked him up and carried him, pacing around the room gently as you patted his back, his hand clung tightly onto the sleeve of your arm and he rested his cheek on your shoulder.

“Shhh, Aenys, it's okay.” you try consoling him but he kept repeating the words 'I want mama, mama.' in his sleep over and over again.

Not knowing what to do, you began to feel bad, so you did what you thought was the best.

“Aenys, Mama is here, it's okay hush now..” you coo gently into his ear and that's when he finally stops sniffling, 'mama?' he mumbles and you hum, “Yes, it's mama, do not cry anymore okay? Mama is here.” you caress his hair and he finally relaxes, you were so entranced in comforting him that your brain managed to ignore the presence of Aemond himself, who had arrived when you picked him up and paced around in a panic, he was going to interfere but then he heard you say those words.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed him, heat climbing up your face as you realised he probably heard everything and also you were stricken with fear too cause you likely overstepped.

You gently placed Aenys down on the bed and got out of his room, anxiety coursing through your veins as you realised what you had done

But you were only trying to comfort him.

Aemond soon followed you out the room as well and you turned around to face him when he closed the door.

“I apologize— I'm so sorry—” you began.

“Don't. It's fine, I can understand why you did that.” he cuts you off, and you wince.

“He- he's been noticing.” you began and Aemond nodded, “I've noticed too.” he replies and sighs.

“Aenys has changed a lot since you've started babysitting him in a good way , and I've noticed it, he's becoming more and more aware of the world around him.” He moves to the living room, sitting on the couch and you do the same, sitting on the one opposite to him.

“I've made sure that he never felt a lack of anything in his life, but I guess it's only natural for a person to desire something he can't have.” he says.

“Aenys can have a mother, if you remarry, that void will be fulfilled somewhat.” you suggest and he looks at before chuckling “I've thought of that too, my mother said the same thing, but i cannot trust anyone, especially considering how many are after my money, who knows if they'll be kind to him, or whether Aenys will like them or not.” he sighs.

“That is true.” you agree with him and he looks at you.

“Unless… ” he begins, eye scanning your entire being and you look at him, your heartbeat quickening, just as he was about to say something, your phone rings and it cuts off the trance-like state you were in, and you look at it to see who it is.

It was a spam call.

But then your eyes bulge out of your sockets when you look at the time, “Holy shit it's late, I'm sorry sir but i have to leave now, or else it will be too dangerous.” you say and quickly apologise and he nods, dismissing you. That was the first night, sleep came to Aenys peacefully.

But it didn't to Aemond, he was lost in thought about everything, but then his mind wandered off to somewhere it shouldn't go.

The way you comforted Aenys stirred something inside you, the moment was perfect, you cooing in Aenys' ear that you were here, pretending to be his mother.

It was so perfect.

Almost as if you were made for that.

Aemond felt his heart flutter.

For the first time in years.

He couldn't help but accept the pull he felt towards you.

Aenys doesn't seem to remember the incident, probably cause he was literally just sleep talking so it was left at that, but you and Aemond however grew a bit close after that incident, he came back home early as he can, so he could spend time with his son and you, he was subconsciously trying to get his son used to both of them being around, both present in his life as parental figures.

You obviously weren't able to leave early just because he got home early because those were your mandatory hours, so it became your new normal to spend time with him and Aenys.

You couldn't deny that there was something definitely blooming in between you and Aemond, he would often throw appreciative comments in your way, which made your belly pool up with heat.

You noticed how he wanted to stay by your side, physical touch lingering, he had suggested that you 3 should go grocery shopping, and you found it odd considering he could literally order his clients to fetch them for him, but you agreed anyways, using it as a chance to get outside and let Aenys interact with other people. Aemond was heavily against sending him to the daycare, because he was scared for his son, it was understandable but it also set Aenys behind a bit.

“Mama, I want this!” you hear a kid yell at his mom and you watch as she refuses it gently, telling him no and that she will buy him the next time they come back here, and the kid just pouted, you chuckled at the sight.

You turned your attention to Aenys who was staring at the scene too, and you realised how he was in a daze once again as well, you looked at Aemond who also seemed to notice.

Aenys quickly ran in another direction and you panicked and almost ran after him before he was back in front of you again, grabbing the same toy the other child had grabbed earlier and showing it to you. “Ma-” he cut himself short before pushing the toy to show you “I want this!” he says and Aemond was confused at first and he was about to agree to buy that toy for Aenys until you butted in, “No Aenys, we can't buy it right now! We'll buy it next time when we come back here okay?” you say and he smiles sheepishly at you, before pretending to pout and put the toy back in a random shelf.

You chuckled at the childishness, he just wanted to feel the same type of experience that others do. Aemond knew it was just you both playing around, he didn't miss the way Aenys almost called you his mother, and it spurred him on further, the way you acted as a genuine mother.

Those type of random moments became often, and it pushed Aemond further and further to the edge, the way you would act like such a perfect mom made him want to bend you over any surface and fuck you, filling you up with his cum.

Aemond then suddenly started joining for lunch, he would usually eat at his office, but he made extra effort to drive home so he could eat with his 'family.' He loved your cooking, you made it taste like home, he would watch as you cut smaller pieces of fruits and vegetables for Aenys so he could properly chew and eat. He imagined how perfect you would be as his wife and like an official mother to his child, or better, children, all of these small things were pushing him to the edge

And soon it would push him off it.

Aemond cursed himself when he drove through the rain, already running late, he looked at his watch and read the time, it was 10PM, the meeting in the afternoon stretched over two hours long which set back the rest of his schedule by a lot, he quickly parked his hair before making his way inside his house, open the door with the extra key carried before shutting it close.

“Look Aenys! Dada's here.” he heard you say and he was immediately spun around, he didn't expect you to stick around this long, but then he realised it was raining heavily and you always went by taxi, there probably would've been no taxi available in this weather.

“Aenys didn't go to sleep yet?” he asks, undoing the suit he was wearing before throwing it on the couch, approaching both of you, taking Aenys into his arms.

“He wanted to wait until you got home, he was worried for you, though he seems tired hmm.” you pinch his nose playfully and he scrunches it up, “I'm not twired…” he says but then yawns earning a chuckle from both you and Aemond.

“I'll put him to sleep, you go freshen up.” you say and Aemond nods, giving him back to you.

Fuck everything about that interaction felt too domestic.

And Aemond had lost his resolve.

He found you sitting on the couch, scrolling through something, he sat down next to you.

“What are you doing?” he asks and you look at him, “Trying to book cabs, but there are none available at the moment due to the weather.” you sigh before placing your phone down.

Aemond should've offered to drive you home but instead he offered to let you stay.

“You know you can stay over, I do not mind it.” he says and you look at him “Really? I don't wanna be a bother—”

“Oh please, you are never a bother.” he cuts you off and smiles at you. “You should freshen up for the night, you've been here since morning.” he says but you pout. “I do not have any clothes.” you say and he simply shrugs, “You can wear mine.” he pushes the buttons, wondering how far he can get away with it, he knew offering you to let you stay at his house already broke the employee boss relationship, hell, the moment he desired you was when it already broke.

“Mhm okay! Where is the guest bathroom?” you ask and he shakes his head, “The water heater is broken in that one, it's better if you use the attached bathroom in my room.” he says.

The water heater wasn't broken.

He was lying.

And you believed him.

He watched as you got up and made your way to his room, which was right next to Aenys', considering he has to react if something happens to him, he followed you inside opening the cupboards and giving you his hoodie and fresh pair of boxers which you thanked him for.

He left the room to give you privacy, but oh gods his mind was racing with all the thoughts.

He paced around, trying to contain himself, and he stood there in front of the door.

And then you opened it.

His hoodie reached to your thighs, and you looked at him, shocked to find him in front of the door, lips parted.

He snapped.

He quickly pushed you inside and shut the door behind you, slamming his lips against yours, and kissed you fervent hunger, you stumbled back and you almost fell but he caught you by your waist and pushed deeper into the kiss, moving his lips hungrily against your.

He pulls away, silently giving you a way out if you need it.

You should refuse this.

You should push him away.

But you don't, instead you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a deeper kiss, he groans when he feels you kiss him back, he pulls away once again, before grabbing you by your arm and pushing you onto the bed, making you fall on your back, your hoodie rising up, revealing your stomach, which he kissed lovingly before he pulled the hoodie even more further up, exposing your tits and pressing kisses to the nipples, causing you to gasp.

He pulls the hoodie off of you completely, and you raise your hands to assist him, he pulls off his shirt too, exposing his naked chest, and you bite your lip at the view, next he takes the boxes off you, doing the same, leaving you both completely bare to the room.

He pushes you upwards to the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your face, neck, collar bones and valley between your breasts, his hands grab the flesh of your tits before he kneads them, massaging them, thumbs flicking the nipples making you arch your back.

One of his hands trails down to your core, dipping into the heat, he outright moans when he finds you practically leaking, collecting the arousal and bringing it upwards your bud. Rubbing small circles which makes you gasp.

He pulls his hand away and brings it up to lick at the wetness that has accumulated on the fingers, humming in satisfaction before he pressed kisses which travelled downwards until his mouth stopped right at your core, giving a small kiss to it to, you shivered when you felt his hot breath against it, the way the air he exhaled would hit your clit. He kissed the inner part of your thighs first, making you needy with want, wishing he'd just take you into his mouth.

And then he does, his tongue strides upwards from your opening to your clit, giving you one long lick before he captures your clit with his mouth, suckling on it, causing you moan his name loudly, both of his hands wrap around your thighs and he pulls them further apart, his fingers digging into the flesh as he hungrily devours your cunt, tongue flicking the bud constantly, you grip his hair and buck your hips, practically rutting against his face, you felt his tongue travelling down and lick at the wetness, the tip of his nose pushing against your clit, you felt your core tighten as the movement of his tongue sped up, causing you to topple over the edge and your orgasm hit you like a truck, making you whine loudly.

He greedily licked everything up before he placed wet kisses on your thighs, the residue of your wetness sticking to them before he sat back on his knees between your parted legs, you watched as he got up slightly, making his cock come into view.

Your eyes widened slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by Aemond, this stroked his ego very much.

He was big, bigger than any you've seen before, it was pale with a tip that was flushed pink due to the blood pumping, oozing precum out of it, he pumped his cock in his hand to ease the area, coating his dick in his own precum before he positioned it against your entrance, you bit your lip in anticipation but then you felt him slide against your folds, covering his dick in your wetness as well before slapping your clit with the tip of his dick, making you whimper.

He then lined himself against your entrance and pushed in, and you arched your back at the stretch, it was so delicious, you felt so full.

He leaned on top of you and gave you a passionate kiss, you could taste yourself on his tongue, making you taste the tanginess, he supported his weight on his elbows which were on either side of you, gripping yours, fingers intertwined with yours. You were locked in a missionary position, a position that felt intimate.

Then you felt him move, thrusting in and out at a brutal speed, causing you to moan his name, the thrusts made you jolt up the bed, breasts bouncing due to the force emitted from it, his grip tightening as he grunted on top of you, rutting into your wet heat, his hair dropped his shoulders, cascading around his face, and you gasped at how godly his looked like this.

Then you felt his tip hit your gspot, constantly, which caused you moan extremely loudly, “Fuckk! Ahh~ Aemond!” you mewled, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, his hand left one of yours to cover your mouth as he continuously slammed into you.

“Shh, be quiet, or he'll wake up.” he whispers, referring to Aenys who was sleeping in the next room and you nodded, you felt him pull his hand away but his thumb traced your lips, you opened your mouth which made him put his thumb inside and you sucked on him, and you felt him groan, then he pulled it out, hand going back to grip yours, and you bit your lip to hold back your moans from slipping out.

You felt your core begin to tighten again and it snapped once more, causing you to arch you back, pushing your breasts against his chest and he muttered 'fuck' feeling the way you clenched around him.

His thrusts begin to grow sloppy and lose their rhythm, indicating that he was close, “Fuckk, I'm gonna cum inside you.” he says and you whine, “I'm going to get you pregnant, watch you grow round with my kid…” he growls, thrusting into you again and again, “You're going to give Aenys little siblings, You will, right? He looked so lonely, I think he'd appreciate that.” he grunts and you nod quickly, mind too hazy to even comprehend or acknowledge the complications behind you agreeing to this.

“Good girl.” he says before he finishes inside you, and paints your walls white, shooting up his seed far into you, riding his orgasm out.

You felt him pull out and thought that was the end until he pushed you over onto your back, and sat on his knees, he grabbed your waist and pulled it up, and you immediately switched to supporting your on your knees as you arched your back, stretching like a cat, your hands on the side of you.

He groaned when he watched his cum drip down your thighs before he scooped it up and put it in his mouth, tasting your combined essence.

He was still hard.

So he wasted no time, shoving himself back inside you and you whined at the way your walls felt overstimulated, not knowing if you can handle one more orgasm consistently.

He sheathed himself inside your walls, and moved with fervent speed like before, his balls slapping against your thighs, the room was filled with erotic noises, he gripped your waist for support, until his hand travelled slightly upwards, catching one of your tits before gripping it tightly, and rolling the nipple in between his fingers.

“I can't wait to watch them swell.” he grunts.

“You'd look so pretty with my child in your belly, the way your tummy will swell? Gods fuck, that is a vision.” he moans

“Look at you, taking my cock so well, like you are meant to.” he notes, thrusting in and out, watching as the previous cum leaks out.

He clicks his tongue

“So much is going to waste, tsk, it's okay I'll fill you up again, make sure you get pregnant.” he groans and you moan, “Ye-yes fill me up.” you say, and he smirks at that, “Good girl, taking my cock like one.” he leans against you, your back pressing to his chest as he leaves kisses on the back of your neck, and you once again, topple over the edge for the third time.

He finishes too, inside you again.

You both fall besides each other on the bed, and realise the weight of the situation after the adrenaline and excitement of the moment fades away and the breathing becomes more stable.

“I- fuck.” Aemond begins not knowing what to say and you lay there quietly.

“Listen, ever since that day you walked in, I felt some type of pull towards you, I wasn't sure what it was, but it was as if we were meant to me, and I couldn't ignore the feelings brewing inside me.” you watch as he speaks.

“I- to put it in simple words, I fell in love with you. I really did, though it's fine if you do not share the same feelings, we can go back to pretending this never happened.” he confesses.

“I am in love with you too.” you confess, “I pushed these feelings away, because it wasn't appropriate.” you say and he looks at you this time.

Silence falls between you two.

A comfortable silence.

He pulls you closer and wraps his arms around you, hugging you, and you hug him back, the he places loving kisses atop you.

You felt something hard pressing against your inner thighs and you looked down, shocked to find him hard again, you chuckle.

“Again?” you tease and he playfully glares at you, “Yeah, you're so fucking irresistible.” he kisses your neck, hips mindlessly grinding against you. “I'm so sensitive.” you pout, but you get an idea, you quickly push him onto his back before getting on top of him, and then crawling down in between his legs, before taking his cock in your hand.

“Fuck!” he moans when he feels your warm hand wrap around it, before you gently tug on it, pumping your hand up and down, watching as the precum leaks out, you collect some with your tongue, poking the slight hole making him groan and grip the side of your head.

You trail kisses down to his balls, before giving them wet kisses as your hand pumps his cock, you lick a long stride up his length before taking him in your mouth, as best as you can, hands resting on his thighs to balance yourself.

You bob your head up and down, swirling the the tongue around him, pulling away time to time to breath before descending onto him once again, the grip on the side of your head tightened and you watched as he sat up slightly leaning on his elbow, before his hips thrusted upwards, and so you let him take control.

He collected your hair into a makeshift pony before gripping the back of your head tightly and thrusting his entire length into your mouth, the tip teaching the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, causing tears to well up in your eyes, you closed them and tried to breathe through your nose as he thrusted upwards and fast, essentially fucking your throat.

You felt him twitch slightly in your mouth, knowing he was close, you sucked him and hollowed your cheeks, he threw his head back at that, he felt steady pleasure rising within him before such a force expelled from his body, causing him to peak, shooting out ropes and ropes after cum into your mouth, you felt it hit the back of your throat, causing you to swallow unknowingly, before he slightly pulled out, cause the remaining to fall in your mouth.

He pulled out completely and watched your face, flushed and hair dishevelled, you held his cum in your mouth, waiting for his command, “Swallow.” and you did, obeying him, opening your mouth to show that there was none left, he groaned as he watched the remnants of his seed drip from the side of your mouth before he collected it with his index finger and shoved it back into your mouth, and you click his finger clean, he grunted before you upwards and kissing you, tasting himself in your mouth, hands squeezing your ass before he gave one of them light slaps, causing you to wince.

You pulled away and breathed heavily, he smiled down at you, before he left the bed to clean both of you up, collecting the clothes and getting dressed before he pulled beside him in the bed, going to sleep while hugging your form.

You dreaded the next morning, wondering how you'll explain your relationship to Aenys, you woke up to an empty bed, you read the time, it's was just 8AM, you felt sad but then you quickly got up and went outside finding Aemond and Aenys awake, sitting at the table conversing, your heart warmed at the sight, Aenys spotted you and ran over to you, lifting his arms up, asking you to silently to carry him, and you did, you picked him up before placing a small kiss to his forehead.

“Mama!” he said and you froze, before you looked at Aemond, who gave you a small smile and nodded and your eyes softened at it, it seems he had done the explaining.

“Mama! Mama!” Aenys grabbed your face making you look at him and you chuckled, “Yes Aenys, it's mama.” you say and he smiles brightly.

“I'll go get ready for work.” Aemond says, getting up from the spot he was sitting on and coming over to both of you before he pressed a kiss to Aenys forehead, and doing the same to you and going inside his room and getting ready.

You put Aenys down on his chair and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, you made simple eggs on toast, and just on the time, Aemond came out of his room, looking all ready and you placed three plates down, along with fruits cut into small pieces of Aenys.

“I made breakfast.” you say and Aemond smiles at you, before sitting down and the three of you ate breakfast.

Applying for this job was the best thing you've ever done.

Who knew your life would change the course of it in the span of just a few months.

There were other things to discuss, and you knew it was plaguing Aemond's mind as well, but you both decided it will be best if discussed later and so you both basked in this moment, listening to Aenys babbles.

“So i hwave a mom now rightt?” he asks Aemond who nods, “Are you happy?” he asks and Aenys nods quickly, “Yesh! Aenys is wery hwappy! But…” he trails off and you feel your heartbeat quicken.

“I want a sibling too…” he murmurs

Oh gods.

Your eyes flickered over to Aemond who stared at you, you blush and look away as you remembered the details of last night.

“I wwant a swister… ! or a bwother!!! Hmm any is fine…” he babbles on, not knowing what he is asking for.

You look at Aemond again, who didn't seem to take his eye off you at all.

He smirks.

Oh fuck.

You quickly get up and collect the empty plates before going behind the kitchen counter and placing them in the sink, washing your hands, focusing your attention on them, until you felt arms wrapped around your waist before one trailed upwards towards your breast giving it squeeze, you quickly looked up to see Aenys was watching until you realised he was nowhere to be seen.

“He's in his playroom.” Aemond whispered in your ear, grinding slowly against your ass.

“Heard that? He wants a sibling so badly, surely you can't deny him right?” he asks, pinching your nipples through the fabric causing you to gasp.

He places kisses down your neck, before he spins you around and kisses you on the mouth, making you wrap your arms around his shoulder. He pulls away before kissing you on the cheek.

His phone rings and he notices the time, 9:15AM, he was running late which was the first for him, and it was his assistant calling him.

“Fuck, mood spoiler.” he grunts before shoving his phone back in his pocket before placing a kiss to your mouth once again.

“Don't think I'm done with you yet, it's gonna be one hell of a ride when I get back home.” he presses one final kiss to your neck before pulling himself away from you, granted it was so fucking difficult considering how he wanted to fuck you on the kitchen counter just moments ago.

You nod and follow him to the front door.

“Have a nice day, Aemond.” you say, and he smiles at you, coming to kiss you but then Aenys comes running towards you both.

“Is dada going to work?? BYE DADAAA” he screams and Aemond chuckles, before waving a small 'bye' to Aenys, and leaving from the front door.

He barely left and he already couldn't wait to get back home from work.

And you gulped, nervous in anticipation.

Oh seven hells.

———

[starsintheskyandtheeye]

Respect for the Dead

By Lois Lane and Clark Kent

1,436 words

By now most of the world has been shaken by the news.

Ghosts are real! And ghosts are in danger! The original publication written by Lois Lane can be found here but we are not here to follow that well trodden avenue of discussion.

Here at the Daily Planet we have elected to focus on speaking to the ghosts themselves, rather than debate their existence alongside our fellow papers. During the hunt for the new source of Kryptonite that sparked this discovery Lois Lane made contact with one Danny Phantom. Originally he chose to anonymous but since the outpouring of support from much of the world he has since chosen to come forward publicly.

Given that the ghostly teenager is operating as a hero similar to our own Superman much of his personal history could not be shared. What was safe to share however was very different from what this reporting team had been expecting.

We had gone in prepared to hear the story of what caused a ghost that looks like a schoolboy to lead a life of ghostly vigilantism.

What we got was sweetly sarcastic individual giving us amusing anecdotes of his start as a hero, descriptions of the stranger habits he's gained since his death, and many many tips on how to politely interact with a ghost. At our confusion (who knew there were so many different types of ghost!) Phantom went on to explain and correct several common misconceptions about ghosts. So without further ado; here are the highlights of that discussion.

We begin with what was given to us as the number one rule of human/ghost etiquette. Never ask the individual, be they glowing werewolf, ghostly lunch-lady, or undead rock star, about the circumstances of their death.

It seems simple does it not? A matter of everyday politeness, and yet that is the number one reason for communication breakdowns between ectoplasmic entities and still living humans. Fortunately for the health of the interview this reporting team did not make that mistake. Phantom did not explain the nature of the offense but did not need to. It was clear that the, until then, friendly conversation would have ended abruptly if we had gone any farther down that path.

What we were encouraged (and warned) to talk to a ghost about was their obsession. As Phantom explained, "It's what drives a ghost, why we are still here, or why we formed at all."

When asked about his own obsession Phantom laughed a bit and said, "I'm a bit young for a ghost, so I don't really have one yet, I bounce around a lot. My doctor, he's a yeti, says it's normal for me though! The options are all over the place though. I know one ghost that haunts the high school to prevent bullying, a really nice guy. Another just wants to have her music heard by the world. Unfortunately her music brainwashes people to love her so we aren't super close. Or another that is all about granting wishes, but not in a singing blue genie way, in a fairy tale way, it's a mess whenever she gets over here."

That seems to be a common theme in ghostly/human interaction. Ghosts largely mean no harm but the pursuit of their own obsessions can have devastating effects on any that stand between them and their goal. Something to keep in mind if you're ordering pizza when the Box Ghost is at large.

Hoping it wouldn't cross into the realm of ghostly faux pas we went on to ask how old Phantom is. Once again Phantom seemed somewhat awkward although no more than what seemed to be his baseline when talking to (self claimed) famous reporters, saying only, "Time works differently in the realms. It can be really weird sometimes, you'll be talking to someone that looks like a toddler only to learn that they were last in a human world during the 1400s or something."

As Phantom continued to share however, the everlasting aspect seemed to be the least interesting part of the Infinite Realms, or the Ghost Zone as the Doctors Fenton, previously mentioned as ghostly experts here, call the place where the vast majority of ghosts dwell.

Ghostly yetis practicing medicine, while certainly not the least of the inhabitants were just the start. Phantom went on to share with us a sampling of the being he has encountered in his travels, medieval women moonlighting as temperamental dragons, the very concept of time, a warden of any ghosts that cross his path, and of course the ubiquitous creepy toddler so often featured on the silver screen.

According to Phantom up until extremely recently (whether by ghostly or human terms we were unable to determine) the Infinite Realms was closed off from our own home except for the occasional haunting. Which was explained to us by the telling of what was, to Phantom, a very funny joke about pop culture influencing ghost culture as people died and brought it over with them. From this we can glean several things. That the realms of the living and the dead have never been so far apart as it would have seemed to the living. That the near future will hold many changes as major religions, governments, and the common people hear what the dead have to say as they weigh in on what respect for the dead really means. And that while many things do translate, ghostly humor is not one of them.

Although of course that may be that, despite his real age being possibly many times our own - combined, Phantom is still eternally a teenager. And a teenagers jokes are often incomprehensible to any who do not share that state.

When asked about the sudden ghostly interest in our own living Earth Phantom had this to say, "Lots of ghosts want to go to the lands of the living. Especially anyone that used to be alive themselves. And anyone that didn't is curious what the fuss is about. Earth is so different from the ghost zone but it's still where a lot of us came from. If someone gets a chance to hop through the portal they'll go, to see how things have changed, or to keep things from changing, or just to stretch their obsessions. Really it's a chance to go home, just for a little while," he said, reminding us that for all they look like aliens ghosts are just as human as you or I.

With a few caveats.

The portal Phantom spoke of is an invention by the Doctors Fenton, Ectobiologists. Up until recently Jack and Maddie Fenton had been the worlds foremost ghostly experts, building a portal to the "Ghost Zone" in order to study what up until recently had been considered to be a non-sentient classification of emotional ectoplasmic imprintation.

We spoke to the researchers after our interview with Phantom, at his request. Despite the recent evidence come to light the couple remain the foremost (living) human scientists in the field. When asked about the setback to their work they had this to say, "We were devastated of course. To learn that we won't be able to study spooks -" Jack Fenton broke off there, at an extremely well executed elbow jab from Maddie Fenton who then said. "We got an extreme tunnel vision, a hazard of obsessive science. We were told we were wrong about the existence of ghosts for so long that we forgot to check that we were correct about their nature. We look forward to pivoting to ghostly anthropology and human/ghost interaction technology."

Ultimately we did not learn any groundbreaking secrets, but then if a ghost willing to go on record ( a written record at least, our recorded transcript of the conversation was near unusable due to static) you sit down and listen. We can never anticipate what a reader will take from an article but if we could make a suggestion? In this reporting teams opinion, the balance of ghost and human realms is not unlike the inversion of a mirror. We are reflections of one another. Opposite, yes, and dangerous to one another for it, but ultimately we are all the same. After all what is a ghost but emotion and ectoplasm (according to current science)? And for all that we try to rise above it, what is a human but emotion and flesh?

Fin.

Coming Soon!

Keep an eye out for top ten tips on ghostly interaction and interviews with the Justice League on diplomatic efforts with GHOSTLY ROYALTY!!

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

IYCRTTBFO - Joel Miller x reader

cw: dbf! Joel is also a cam model, light(ish) daddy kink, creampies, at least two references to Wheeler Walker Jr. songs, big fat age gap

You couldn't sleep. It started at college, when you were working part-time while doing your masters thesis. Your night shift ended at 2.30 in the morning. Then, by the time you went to bed, you were struggling to shake off the buzzing energy. Your body was tired, and your mind was elsewhere. So you turned to the only true, tried and tested method of getting yourself to sleep. Masturbation. Low effort, porn video you've already watched, finger rubbing your clit, masturbation. It worked for about a week. Then your "sessions" got longer. And longer. You had to spend an hour now, chasing your orgasm. Begging yourself to cum. Getting more frustrated and then practically passing out like a log. You got good sleep out of it. But also it was getting painful. Your clit would hurt, a short stabbing pain taking your mind off of your thesis critique. Not that you were too keen on hearing about the feedback on your research model. So you were going to quit, cold turkey style. On the one hand, your insomnia persisted. Now you had replaced porn with your self assigned reading. But that did not help you sleep, just made you more cranky. Your cycadian rhythm was fucked beyond belief. So you moved through life half- asleep, always spending your days off napping. Morning meetings were rough and when you slept through an internship interview at 1, you knew enough was enough.

Back to flicking the bean to not be mean. You just figured you needed a change of scenery, so to speak. You considered OnlyFans, ready to be shelling out your hard earned cash for tasteful nudes (perhaps those of Markiplier or something like that). But that wouldn't be personal enough. You tried audio stuff, but the JOIs weren't really catered to you. Yes, they had your kinks. Or the pet names you liked. But never together, never quite enough. And call it conditioning, but you wanted something familiar. A certain Austin draw, a slice of the Texas you were far away from. But alas, your cowboy was not on Quinn or soundgasm. So you went old-school.

Girls like you weren't even supposed to know about camming sites. It was such a retro thing, more of your father's and Joel's generation. But it was thanks to the former's inability to delete a browser history that you were here. The landing page of the website was fine. You had to make the choice of looking at women, men, couples, or the trans category. Craving to see a solo cumshot, you click on "male". You should've expected that even here, it would be geared towards other guys, like most porn was. The tags of the rooms said it all. Anal. Fuckmachine. Party. But as you refreshed the home page again, someone caught your eye. It was a guy in a cowboy hat over his face. His tip goal was simple, promising a glimpse of him shirtless. It was the amount of tokens needed that amazed you, it was so high. Seriously, from your little time on the website, you could see this was a bit too self assured. But he was getting there. You clicked the video, morbid curiosity taking over. This and his username of thicktexanbeercan. A man after your own heart.

People flood in, apparently the red color of their usernames means they're part of a fan club? You wanna learn more, so you click through the whole thing. The "cam boy" or "cam man" or whatever you were supposed to call him was just welcoming people. There were other newbies like you because you were half-listening to him explaining about his mic.

"You can hear me so clearly cause I have it clipped to my neck on a fucking chocker. Which you guys should've let die in the 90s btw." You're looking at his tags of #monster cock, #daddy, #master and #orgasmguide. And when someone voices your thought of "some of us weren't even born in the 90s." you found out why. He reads it out and snorts.

"Look at you, so young and already a pathetic little pervert watching older men. What, daddy didn't love you enough, babydoll? So now you gotta come here at night and tune into me stroking my cock for you. Wishing you were on your knees, trying to take it in your bratty little mouth?". The donations explode. The sound effects of coins reverberate through your headphones. The goal is met and the stream has been on for only 15 minutes. You can't see him smile, but you can feel it, by the way his shoulders relax.

"You're such a good girl tonight, spoiling your old man. So needy, already wanting me to take off my clothes. I will, little slut, just let daddy take care of something first." He rolls his chair to the desk and takes his keyboard. You chuckle at the faded and yellowed stickers on it, they vaguely reminded you of something. The man can touch type and you've never wanted to be a pair of keys more in your life. The goal's adjusted, promising whipped cream on his chest. As he fiddles with the camera angles and wonders aloud how to best give you a show, you hover to his bio tab. The man intrigues you. Under real name, he put “Can't tell you, but my screen name is a pun”, so you guess it's Bud or even Sam Addams. His age is listed as late 40s, and when you see a glimpse of his salt and pepper chest hair, it makes sense.

This guy intrigues you. Instead of rubbing one out, you're scrolling further. There's pictures and videos. While there's one of him wearing assless chaps for free (which quickly gets saved to your phone gallery), the rest is behind a paywall. Videos of him cumming or even simple things like doing push-ups. Your palms are itching and you know your payday is coming soon. But before you end up buying a filthy mp4, you go back to the stream.

Somehow, he had made taking off a flannel sexy. Rubbing his fingers against his chest. Touching his happy trail. Then someone in the chat asked, "How much to see the good stuff?" He reads it out, chuckles, and presses a few keys, making a tip menu appear in the chat. It has the usual stuff, promises of flashing his cock or flexing his biceps. C2C and PMs (which you had learned stood for cam to cam and private messages). Then, was the more personal stuff. Nudes rating (5 photos), praise, degradation, ddlg. He clearly knew what people wanted. Was it what he craved as well, you wondered? Then came "the goods" the other person was probably talking about. Jerking off, cumming, even using a vibrator or a fleshlight on himself.

You wondered how long it would take to see the self-described "thicktexanbeercan.". But thanks to someone just as horny as you, if not more, it would be almost immediately. When the tip for "jerking off" came through, he said the person's username and then asked, "How do I thank you, using my southern charm or Austin dirtbag style?"

When the person replied with "dirtbag style," also my pronouns are she/they."he presumably glanced at the message. Probably keeping eye contact with the camera, he reaches for his belt.

"Thank you for being horny, I guess. Desperate little thing, that doesn't like to wait. Impatient darling, needing to see daddy pump his cock for you. Gonna show you exactly what you wanna see, baby.". The belt is on the ground and his jeans are around his ankles. Never did you think that a guy simply taking off his pants would be so hot. Your gaze trails from his delicious thighs to his boxers. Holy shit, even by his outline you can tell that his username isn't an exaggeration.

He pulls it out and it's the prettiest and biggest cock you've ever seen. His hand wraps around it, one slow pump he thrust into, back arching. Then he folds one arm behind his head and turns straight into the camera. You like the mystery, but wish he would show his face. His voice is breathy, he obviously likes what he's doing. And his thrusts are speeding up.

His chat is going crazy, tokens pouring in.

"You like what you see, huh? Bet you're aching to touch yourself, too. Go on, spread your pretty legs for me, and give me a show, too.". Before you know it, you're following his instructions. Pajama pants quickly pulled down, you touch yourself. And God damn, are you wet. You're fucking dripping, for this stranger on the internet. You don't have time to be embarrassed. You trail a finger against your opening, gathering the slick. Then you touch your clit, rubbing it slow and then gradually speeding up. But it's so much more intense, it's fucking electric. You glance at the clock on your phone. Look back at the man on the stream, his chest, his cock. And in a minute you're cumming. Eyes closed, pussy getting tighter and clenching around nothing orgasm. You close the stream, mortified. You go to bed and have the best sleep of your life.

By the next stream, you have an account, and you follow him. He acknowledges that, and you're tempted to already start touching yourself. But it's a Friday night, you've promised yourself that weekends are for yourself. Seeing that you pushed for Saturdays off, one would think you'd need to be up, bright and early, and going somewhere. But not this time. You had planned a slow day, where you catch up on laundry and read. But before the weekend was this. You caught on to today's stream a bit too late. Your cowboy (a middle-aged man that probably didn't know you existed) was already shirtless. He had a loofah and a mug filled with water next to him.

"One of y'all suggested I try temporary tattoos. Now, I had to go to the grocery store and get weird looks as I pumped quarters in a machine. So you better enjoy them. Or actually, if I find good ones online, I'm adding them to the wishlist.". He moves off camera and holds up two sheets of temporary tattoos, very tribal and barbed wire inspired. The other is surprisingly butterflies and unicorns.

He unbuttons his pants and lowers his boxers. You can see just the tip, straight as a ram rod. You can't help but wonder if he gets off on being watched. Your head gets filled with fantasies of him and you. Embarrassingly you're picturing him pulling out his pecker in a mundane place like Walmart and fucking you in the aisles. Maybe you just need to do better groceries, you think looking at the takeout bag from the restaurant you just spent 8 hours in. There were enough chicken nuggets in there to feed a family. You get your mind back in the gutter when the performer moans. You stare at the screen. His torso is covered in the temporary tattoo, and he's strategically placed the barbed wire around his nipples. As he drags the wet loofah against his pelvis, he groans.

"God, this is cold. Wish you were here, to warm up my cock. With your mouth or cunt or ass. Filling you so well."

This time, you come before he's even pulled out his dick. Yet you keep watching. A second orgasm gets squeezed out of you later, with the help of your dildo. When "beercan" reaches a crazy tip goal, he fucks his fleshlight. He's merciless, using the pocket pussy like a cocksleeve, whispering the most obscene stuff.

"You like that? You like it when daddy fucks you like this. Of course you do. You're so tight for me, yet you take my big cock so well. Trained you well, didn't I? Made my own little whore, that needs my cum. Beg for it.". And you do, miles away from this stranger. You orgasm with him, sex toy deep inside of you. He cums and makes the stream watch as he cleans the fleshlight with the same loofah he used earlier.

That stream basically breaks you. For some reason two intense orgasm equal a very productive day then. You're a new person. You study and work better and no longer need to fuck yourself to sleep. That you stranger whose name is Bud or Sam Addams or Miller. Not that you drink the latter anyway, so it never crosses your mind. After all, Joel is older, in his mid 50s. But what he's not above is lying on the internet. Using the world wide web to show his nasty bits to the world. And what he'd soon realize is that his best friend's daughter isn't too.

After finishing your masters thesis, you come to the harrowing reality that there's no jobs for you here. And then comes your dad's constant pestering to come home. You reject him at first. There's nothing left for you in Texas anymore, besides the family house. But then, a former high school mentor posts a job opening on their Instagram story. And it's perfect for you, aside from the fact it's in Austin. You off handedly mention it to your parents, after immediately applying. You don't expect to get it. But with interviews and all, you do. They even allow you to start a bit later, making sure you work off your part-time job shifts.

So you take the plunge and buy plane tickets. There's only one problem. The flight is so early that you'd practically have to leave your empty apartment at 4 in the morning. So you decide to pull an allnighter. You're not sure how you end up back on the chat room site. You don't even know if "thicktexanbeercan" still cams. But as you click on the page, you get a notification that he's in a live show. Feeling bold tonight, you know you wanna be a bit more adventurous. Call it what you will, but you need a shake-up. After so much uncertainty, you need to do something so out of character.

You feel the money in your pocket burns a hole in it. Yes, packing your stuff and sending it back wasn't cheap. Nor was the last-minute plane ticket (even with Spirit airlines). But you had sold a lot of your things, gotten your rental deposit back, and got your days off comped as overtime. So you were, technically, on the flipside. Now, responsible people would put that into savings. You were spending it on tokens. You wanted to be seen. So you tipped for "nudes review." Truth is, ever since your last partner in freshman year of college, it was a string of bad hookups and boring first dates. No one had seen you naked in a while. But that didn't mean you didn't have nudes. Nope, you liked taking shots of yourself in compromising positions. After all, your pretty lingerie deserved to be shown off.

So you mindlessly sent over 4 shots via the opened pm option. He moves a large IPad in front of his face to obscure it. His ever-present cowboy hat is moved to his head as he stares at your pictures. He strokes his cock, at his usual fast pace.

"Jesus fuck, darling, aren't you a treasure. Look at that ass, so perky. It would look good in red, after I'm done with you. Let's see the next one, oh, you're doing the hand bra thing. Need someone to fondle your tits, huh. Don't worry, I'd grope them for you. Put my mouth on them, tease your sensitive nipples. Fuck, let's see the third. Damn, you're stark fucking naked. What a little whore you are, showing me everything. Don't know if I wanna think about your boobs again or your hips or your pussy. Might just stick around and look at it. Only one more, okay. Fuck, that's my favorite one, doll. Even though you should've been more careful. You forgot to crop out your face. I can see your needy expression as you're rubbing your clit. Hand in your lacy black panties, must have been a special night. Who in their right mind would have let you go instead of fucking you right against the mirror you're using as a prop. Don't worry, I'll make it right. I'll give you a tribute, right here. How's that sound, darling? You want this old man to cover your photo with his cum in front of thousands of people?".

Any fear or shame you've had is long gone. You don't only want that, you need it. You type a "please, daddy" in the chat. His groan fills your headphones. He fumbles, balancing his hat on his nose. For the first time, you see a glimpse of his face. His tongue wets his lips as he zooms on the iPad, making sure that others only see from your chest down. He jerks his cock over it, painting his screen with spurts of his cum.

"That was intense, think I'll put you on hold for a bit. It's been a while since a first orgasm drained me like that. Daddy will be back soon." He says and pauses the broadcast. Truth is, his cock would be hard again in a minute. It was the fact that he came to you that was haunting him. His best friend's daughter. A girl who was younger than his niece. A woman who was coming back to Texas after leaving as a 19 year old. Then you were still awkward and Joel would never look at you twice. You were a child, for God's sake. But now, some years later you had shed your baby face. You were a fucking bombshell. And he was about to implode.

After a whirlwind rest of the stream, you go to the airport and catch your flight. Despite being a full-grown adult, your parents insist on picking you up. You're back in your childhood bedroom, surrounded by boxes of your new life. You notice that some stuff from before is missing.

"Hey dad, where's the old blueetoth keyboard we bought when the laptop was on the fritz? Might need it for work." You ask. You're sure you can easily write down notes on your phone or on paper. But there was something satisfying about hooking up your old iPad to a keyboard and typing. Maybe it's the fact that it got you through college twice that has you feeling sentimental. Maybe it's the truth that your parents didn't know you bought it, and now you had to use it daily to justify spending money on it. Either way, your dad replied with

"Oh, I gave that to Joel. He said he was starting some new call center job and needed it. Working on European projects, so he's always busy at night. Must pay a pretty penny, he's always got packages on his doorstep. You should see his new pickup truck too, she's a beauty." Your father said.

"Didn't need the whole prologue, dad. Can you just get it back?" You ask.

"Now come on honey, you're a grown woman. You can go over and ask him yourself. He's not gonna eat you." Your dad insists, and you have to agree. With a resigned "At least text him and tell him I'm on the way.", you go. There's no use arguing. You can not explain to your dad that when you were 19, you wanted nothing more than Joel taking your virginity. That now, years after, you still wouldn't mind a sip of that can of Miller.

One of the reasons your dad and Joel were friends was the fact that you could get to the latter's house in about 15 minutes. You're there in less, ringing the doorbell and waiting. Joel emerges in a moss green bathrobe and grey sweatpants. His hair is tousled, and it's obvious that he was sleeping. You'd feel bad if he didn't greet you with a

"What the fuck do you want, I ain't buying anything. Oh. It's you. Hey, kiddo.". Your eyes go to the mat on his front porch, but not before taking in his cock. Was he hard? Had you interrupted an intimate moment? You mumble something about "wireless keyboard" and "borrowing it back, please" when he leads you in. If he had a lady friend, she was as quiet as a church mouse.

"It's in the guest room. Had to convert into a sort of home office, after getting a desk job, so many years as a contractor. Got hard on my back. Wanted to enjoy doing nothing, then Sara got knocked up again. Just like Tommy, both of them can't stop having kids. So now I have to be rich gruncle Joel. And I don't know why I'm telling you this instead of just getting the keyboard." He says. Joel pops in, but he doesn't close the door all the way. Peeking in through the hole, it seems familiar. Like you've seen it before, but recently. You shrug off the deja vu and take the keyboard from him. But as he hands it to you, familiar stickers facing you, you piece it together.

"Thicktexanbeercan" had the same one. And you recognized it because you "decorated" it as a sticker obsessed teen. There was no way. Mr. Miller was not camming. You had not orgasmed to him dirty talking to you. And most importantly, he had not come all over a photo of your tits. It was just a huge, cosmic coincidence. But there was only one way to find out.

The wait until your first paycheck was too long, yet you had to endure. There is no way you were taking money out of your savings to fulfill possibly Joel's wishlist. So when that sum hit your bank account, you expertly navigated to thicktexanbeercan's page. Clicking on the shop icon, you choose to ignore that the man is selling his nudes, his underwear, and his socks. Though tempted by the Polaroids of his cock, you move on. You buy the custom temporary tattoos, a callback to a previous stream. Your pussy twitches at the memory and you're quick to suppress your urges. You send your "requirements" to the Amazon seller and hope they get them ready soon. You also secretly order some for yourself, shipping them to a friend's house. You start tuning into the streams regularly, watching them all the way through. Your coworkers have the grace to not comment. Especially since the nightly nsfw is always in the background of something else. So you're doing research on one screen, while listening to maybe Joel call you a nasty whore for watching him.

TGIF was never your thing, until this one. Your cowboy walked in with a package, his address dutifully scribbled out. He opens it and out comes the sheet of temporary tattoos.

"Oh, someone's been watching me for some time, huh. Can't get enough of me inked. Well, I aim to please, so let's get this show on the road.". Beercan undresses to his boxers and starts examining the tattoos.

"Whoever picked these out is one creative motherfucker. I like them.". He starts showing them off to the camera, chuckling about the "save a horse, ride a cowboy" and subsequently the "don't ride a horse, but I'm hung like one". But one in particular makes him tick.

"Your throat goes here? Really, sweetheart? You expect me to walk around with that, to make you all see it as I stroke my cock for you? Fuck it, it's my job to give you a good show." He peels off two of those and places them on the space between his thumb and pointer finger. Was he? He was. Thicktexanbeercan was gonna live up to his name, by using both hands to jerk off.

He's fast, wanting this to end. His Friday shows weren't that popular, so no use milking it. Now, on Saturdays, that's when most people tune in. It's better to save his stamina for then. But you and the chat had other plans. You had mobilized them as he was busy answering questions earlier. Now, he would get enough tokens for a cumshot. Maybe Joel really aims to please. So he goes for it, double orgasm, sure. Then, as soon as that one's over, another. He barks at the chat that he doesn't like being bossed around like that. But you have him cumming until he's shooting blanks. After he just shuts off the stream and goes to bed after running a wet towel on his stomach, to wipe off the cum.

Less than 8 hours later, there's a constant ring of his doorbell. He opens and you're standing there, looking so fuckable his cock stands to attention. You're wearing a skimpy outfit and your lips are shiny with a pinkish gloss. But that doesn't stop him from wondering why you're gracing his doorstep like an angel sent straight from hell.

“I need help picking out a present for my dad.” You say.

“Sweetpea, I know you've been away for a while, but that doesn't change the fact that your dad's birthday isn't for months.” he replies.

"I know. It's not for that. I fucked up and broke something of his. Can you help me?" You ask.

"Sure, what do you need from me?" He counters.

"I think I wanna be stereotypical and get him something stereotypically dad-like. Like a craft beer, something he can crack open with the boys. And since you're "the boys," I'm here. Need a recommendation for a thick Texan beercan." You watch him react. He twitches like a rabbit spooked by a stick snapping.

"So you know. But I'm sure your parents wouldn't be thrilled by the fact that you're watching porn. Have you ever donated, I wonder. Bought something with their hard earned money. Straight from your father's wallet to your daddy." Joel counters, not missing the way your eyes glaze over when he calls yourself your daddy. But you are not won over so easily.

"You're a liar. Late 40s, my ass. Late 40s when you last had to change your ID or what? I could expose you. I'm sure the girlies and the rest watching you would love to know they were scammed. Tinder swindler, but worse."

"What do you want?" He tries.

"As Lana del Rey said, put me in the movie. Let me be in a video." You demand.

"Come back at night, around 9. Get something to cover your face too. Don't need someone recognizing you." He says.

You follow his instructions like an obedient puppy. You make up excuses to your parents. Your cunt's shaved, your outfit is complete and you're not wearing underwear. Joel drags you in, literally. He looks at the pink cowboy hat you have in hand and chuckles.

"No saying my name, preferably not saying much. Just follow my lead, and I'll make you feel good. If you wanna stop, what do you say?" He lists clinically.

"Light beer," you say, acknowledging the pun behind his moniker. You should've figured this out way earlier.

He half laughs, half looks disappointed at your bad pun. You know he's gonna get you back for this , sooner or later. You just desperately hope it's with his dick.

Joel starts the stream. He makes you sit in his chair as he gets a bit closer to the camera. You can see him, mic clipped to chocker and all. He speaks to his chat, introducing you as a "special cowgirl guest.".

"Bet you all wanna take her place. I'm sure she can tell you all about it. If she can speak after I'm done with her anyway." He continues. You wanna protest, to bite back with a comment. But he crawls between your legs, placing kisses up to your pussy. And you are speechless. The fact that you can see him, dark brown eyes and gorgeous roman nose is too much. He's even revealing the top of his greying hair. You grip it and bring him closer to your center. He chooses to lick and suck your clit instead and you moan so loud, even the felt of your hat doesn't muffle it.

"Gonna make you extra wet so you can take my cock, doll. Would you like that?" He asks and you reply with "yes, daddy". You can hear him extra crisp, the audio bouncing around the room. It's all too much, every fantasy of yours coming to life. You come against him, riding it out.

"You ready for more, my little fuckdoll? Can I?" He asks. You plead, you tell him you need him.

Joel makes sure to zoom the camera to your sopping cunt, showing you off to the chat. He fiddles with it, making sure it captures your greed. He sits on the chair, swatting your ass to get you up. Legs trembling, you do. He unzips his jeans, the sound as familiar to you as a notification on your phone. He puts it against you, just to give his viewers a preview on how deep he was gonna be in you.

"You think I'll fuck her up. Make this pussy memorize the shape of my cock. Let's give this pretty doll her first cervix bruising, shall I?" He says. He slides his cock in you in one swoop motion, not caring about the stretch.

"Just like that." You moan, dangerously close to saying his name. Joel spreads your legs and fucks into you. He's all grunts and swears, gone is his dirty talk. His hands are grabby, squeezing your thighs. He's so pussy whipped that he says

"Let me come inside you. Please. Need to.". The "yes, yes, daddy" is enough for him to do so and continue thrusting in you until he's soft. Joel rolls the chair forward, "manually zooming" his camera. His audience gets a pretty shot of his cum dripping out of you before the broadcast cuts out. He helps you up and draws a bath. If the camming paid for the clawfoot tub you saw, hell you'd join in more.

"You know, what we did was wrong. But it sure as hell felt right. I'm not saying we should do this daily. But maybe instead of both of us getting off on each other from afar, we can do it together." He asks, almost a schoolboy confession.

“Yes Joel, I wanna fuck you again too. Now shut and let me enjoy my life after taking your thick Texan beercan.”

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera: Netflix S7

hellooo beautiful people, how are you? hope you like the episode, comment if you want to be in the taglist

The episode kicks off with a chaotic scene at a Monaco supermarket. You, Charles, and Joris are pushing a cart down the aisles, filling it with essentials (and, in Charles’ case, a ridiculous amount of pasta and cheese).

"Charles, on a littéralement une cuisine pleine de pâtes," you say, eyeing the groceries. (Charles, we literally have a kitchen full of pasta.)

"C'est une semaine importante, je dois manger correctement!" Charles defends, tossing another pack into the cart. (It’s an important week, I need to eat properly!)

Joris smirks, glancing at the overstuffed cart. "Correctement ou comme un homme qui se prépare à l'hibernation?" (Properly or like a man preparing for hibernation?)

Cut to the checkout line. Charles confidently inserts his credit card into the machine, only for the machine to beep. Declined.

Silence.

You and Joris exchange looks before bursting into laughter.

"Leclerc, multimillionaire Ferrari driver, can't pay for his own groceries!" you tease, pulling out your own card. "Sérieusement, c’est quoi ce bordel?" (Seriously, what the hell is this?)

Charles groans, rubbing his temples. "C'est la banque, ils bloquent parfois ma carte quand j'achète trop à Monaco." (It’s the bank, they sometimes block my card when I buy too much in Monaco.)

Joris leans in. "Ou peut-être qu'ils savent que tu dépenses trop." (Or maybe they know you spend too much.)

The cashier chuckles as you hand over your card. "T’inquiète pas, Charlie, je t’enverrai la facture." (Don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll send you the bill.)

Charles rolls his eyes as you and Joris high-five.

Then the episode shows old footage: a young Charles, Y/N and Arthur Leclerc, karting together on a track. Their father, Hervé Leclerc, stands by, smiling. His voice, captured in an old interview, echoes through the scene.

"Ils ont toujours été rapides, mais Y/N aussi. Ils ont la course dans le sang." (They have always been fast, but Y/N too. They have racing in their blood.)

Charles, Yn and their childhood friends are on his yacht.

You and Alexandra are lounging on the deck, sunglasses on, watching the guys fool around and dare each other to jump into the water in the most ridiculous ways possible.

Riccardo stands on the railing. "Cinq euros si je saute en faisant un backflip." (Five euros if I jump with a backflip.)

Charles leans back. "Je te paie dix si tu rates et tombes comme un idiot." (I’ll pay you ten if you fail and fall like an idiot.)

Alex turns to you, shaking her head. "Ils n'ont pas changé depuis l'école, hein?" (They haven’t changed since school, huh?)

You smirk. "Pas du tout. Juste plus d'argent pour faire des conneries." (Not at all. Just more money to do dumb things.)

Riccardo jumps—flailing, belly-flopping straight into the water. The entire yacht erupts in laughter.

Charles claps dramatically. "Dix euros pour la pire tentative de l’histoire." (Ten euros for the worst attempt in history.)

Hugo and Nico grab Riccardo’s towel and refuse to give it back, leaving him shivering.

It’s midweek, and tradition dictates one thing: Charles gets his pre-Monaco GP haircut from Pascale, your maman.

The scene opens inside Charles’ Monaco apartment. He’s seated on a chair, cape around his shoulders, while Pascale meticulously trims his hair. You, meanwhile, are on the floor with Léo, Charles and Alexandra’s tiny dachshund, rubbing his belly.

Alexandra sits beside you, scrolling on her phone as you gossip.

Léo suddenly jumps onto Charles' lap, causing Pascale to huff. "Léo, arrête! Il va finir avec une coupe asymétrique!" (Léo, stop! He’s going to end up with an uneven cut!)

You and Alex burst into laughter as Charles tries to hold Léo still.

Then the episode shows all the Leclerc siblings—Lorenzo, Charles, Y/N, and Arthur—sit together on a Monaco rooftop terrace, sharing a meal.

Lorenzo pours the wine, acting like the responsible older brother he always is.

"C’est fou de penser que cette semaine, tu pourrais enfin gagner à Monaco," he tells Charles. (It’s crazy to think that this week, you could finally win in Monaco.)

Arthur smirks. "Ouais, ou bien il va encore maudire cette course." (Yeah, or he’s going to curse this race again.)

You laugh, nudging Charles. "Si tu maudis encore Monaco, je te déshérite." (If you curse Monaco again, I’m disowning you.)

Charles groans. "Pourquoi vous êtes toujours contre moi?" (Why are you always against me?)

Lorenzo chuckles. "On n’est pas contre toi, on est réalistes." (We’re not against you, we’re just realistic.)

Arthur raises his glass. "Allez, à la chance, parce que tu en auras besoin." (Cheers to luck, because you’re going to need it.)

Charles rolls his eyes but clinks his glass anyway. "À la famille." (To family.)

Then, Netflix transitions into dramatic music—because next comes the real test.

Cut to: Monaco, 2024. The weight of expectation hangs heavy over the weekend. Ferrari has given Charles a car capable of winning, but the question remains—can he finally break the Monaco curse?

"We were born eighteen minutes apart," you say in your Drive to Survive interview. "Charles has always been ahead. He was always ahead in karting… and now, he had the chance to be ahead of history too."

The Ferrari garage is suffocating with tension. You grip Arthur’s hand so tightly it’s cutting off his circulation, but he doesn't care. Your eyes are locked on the screen as Charles navigates the final laps of his home race.

Joris is beside you, pacing, muttering curses under his breath. Alexandra, Charles’ girlfriend, is clutching your arm so hard you think she might leave bruises.

"If something happens now, je jure que je casse tout." Arthur mutters. (I swear I’ll break everything.)

"He’s got this," you whisper, willing it to be true.

Then—the checkered flag.

Silence for a second. Then the Ferrari pit wall erupts. Engineers throw their headsets, people scream, and you—you can’t breathe.

"He did it," Joris says, stunned.

You don’t even think before sprinting towards the pit lane, pushing past Ferrari personnel until you see the monitors displaying the leaderboard: P1 – Charles Leclerc.

He won.

Charles steps out of his car to deafening cheers, his hands shaking as he pulls off his helmet. He looks around, eyes wide with disbelief, before covering his face with both hands.

Netflix cuts to the post-race interviews. Charles stands in front of the cameras, still breathless, the Monegasque flag draped over his shoulders. His voice wavers.

"The last laps… I was thinking about my dad," he says, swallowing hard. "It was our dream."

The camera zooms in as his eyes glisten under the harsh lights.

"The emotions started coming up two laps from the end, and I was struggling to see." He lets out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking his head. "On the last lap, coming out of the tunnel, I couldn’t see anything. I was crying."

You watch from the sidelines, biting your lip to keep from crying yourself. Your mother, Pascale, stands beside you, eyes glassy with emotion.

"Il l’a fait, Maman," whispers Yn. (He did it, maman.)

She nods, voice thick. "Oui. Papa aurait été si fier." (Yes. Papa would have been so proud.)

Charles looks over, eyes finding yours, and in that moment, you know—this isn’t just his victory. It’s yours, Arthur’s, your maman’s. It’s your father’s.

The curse is broken.

Later that night, Monaco is drowning in red. Jimmy’z is packed and half the F1 grid is there

And Charles? Charles is absolutely wasted.

You lean against the bar, watching your twin brother stumble onto the dance floor, a massive Monegasque flag draped over his shoulders like a superhero cape.

Pierre, already tipsy, claps him on the back. "Le Prince de Monaco!" (The Prince of Monaco!)

"Arrête, il va plus passer les portes de Maranello à cause de son ego!" you joke, shaking your head. (Stop, he won’t fit through the doors at Maranello because of his ego!)

Charles, oblivious to everything, wraps an arm around your shoulders, grinning like a madman.

"YN, j’ai gagné," he slurs, his voice thick with emotion. (YN, I won.)

Your heart clenches.

"Je sais, Charles," you whisper, reaching up to push a damp curl from his forehead. (I know, Charles.)

His green eyes shine under the club lights, and suddenly, the music, the people—it all fades away.

"Papa serait fier." (Papa would be proud.)

Charles nods slowly, pressing his forehead to yours for a second, then pulling away when Pierre drags him off for another shot.

Joris slides an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. "He did it."

You glance back at your twin, now dancing like an idiot in the middle of the club, his long-awaited victory finally sinking in.

"Yeah," you murmur, the weight of years lifting from your shoulders. "He did."

And then the credits roll.

Bonus: Singapore GP Dinner At a restaurant in Singapore, with a view of the Marina Bay, the Leclerc family is seated—except Pierre Gasly, who is late.

And tonight, Charles is not in a good mood.

He did badly in qualifying, and it’s written all over his face—arms crossed, jaw clenched, tapping his fork against his plate.

Arthur, already sensing his bad mood, leans over to Y/N and whispers:

"Il va exploser sur quelqu’un, c’est sûr." (He’s going to explode on someone, for sure.)

Y/N sighs, watching Charles angrily flip through the menu. "Ouais, et ce sera Pierre." (Yeah, and it’ll be Pierre.)

Charles? Already ordering the food.

Alexandra looks around. "Euh… on n’attend pas Pierre?" (Uh… aren’t we waiting for Pierre?)

Without even looking up from his phone, Charles answers "Non." (No.)

Arthur snorts. "Pierre est toujours en retard, on sait comment ça finit." (Pierre is always late, we know how this ends.)

Charles doesn’t even hesitate—he calls Pierre.

The camera zooms in on his phone screen:

📞 Calling: Pierre

Pierre picks up on the third ring.

"Ouais, Charlie?" (Yeah, Charlie?)

Charles doesn’t even say hi.

"T’ES OÙ?!" (WHERE ARE YOU?!) he answers angrily

Pierre pauses for a second, like he’s debating whether to lie. Then:

"J’arrive, j’arrive! Deux minutes!" (I’m coming, I’m coming! Two minutes!)

Charles rolls his eyes. "Ça fait vingt minutes que tu dis ça, Calamar." (You’ve been saying that for twenty minutes.)

Pierre laughs nervously. "Je suis littéralement en route." (I’m literally on my way.)

Charles, completely done: "Ouais, bah moi j’attends pas." (Yeah, well, I’m not waiting.)

And with that, he orders the starters.

Fifteen minutes later, the restaurant doors swing open.

Pierre walks in with Kika and his trainer. He immediately spots the table—and Charles, who is already drinking and eating.

Pierre’s face drops.

"T’AS PAS ATTENDU?!" (YOU DIDN’T WAIT?!)

Charles, completely unimpressed, takes another sip of his drink. "J’avais faim." (I was hungry.)

Pierre drops into the seat next to Y/N, still offended.

"T’avais faim ou t’étais juste énervé après ta qualif?" (Were you hungry, or were you just mad after quali?)

Silence.

Arthur snorts. "Il va te tuer." (He’s going to kill you.)

Charles sets down his glass. "Tu veux vraiment me parler de qualifications, Pierre?" (Do you really want to talk to me about qualifying, Pierre?)

Pierre raises his hands defensively. "Okay, okay! Pas besoin de m’agresser." (Okay, okay! No need to attack me.)

Pierre finally starts eating, still shaking his head.

"Tu sais, je suis vraiment blessé, Charlie. J’aurais attendu pour toi." (You know, I’m really hurt, Charlie. I would have waited for you.)

Charles raises an eyebrow. "C’est faux." (That’s false.)

Arthur, smirking, nods. "Mens encore." (Lie again.)

Pierre sighs dramatically, stabbing his fork into his food. "Vous êtes horribles." (You’re all horrible.)

The Netflix camera cuts to Charles, calmly chewing his food, absolutely ignoring Pierre’s whining.

taglist: @love4lando@gcldtom@im-mi@hiireadstuff@celesteblack08@reblog-princess@sunf1ower16@janeholt3@athena-artemis-dorian-gray@minkyungseokie@tesi1

[wosospacegirl]

Skininess is cold - Teen!reader

Summary: Teen reader is developing an eating disorder

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: eating disorder, body issues, low self-worth, mentions of food and wanting to be skinner etc

Masterlist

Notes: Based on this request.

..

It all started at school.

Y/n was a professional athlete at Arsenal, but she was also a 17-year-old girl, so she had to have some sort of education. 

The club and the school had an agreement (a real one, she even had to sign her name and everything) that Y/n would go to school three times a week and take part in all the activities, and the other two days she would do school from home, or well, school from training, as she did her school work between training sessions at Arsenal.

Y/n had a few good friends at school, but she wasn't popular by any means. She wasn't completely left out of her friend groups, at least not intentionally. Her friends were nice, but they were still teenagers and could be a bit mean sometimes.

They didn't quite understand Y/n's career. Sometimes they would make a comment that made it seem like Y/n played football as a hobby rather than a career. 

When these comments were made, Y/n didn't try to explain herself, instead, she leaned forward and let them think what they wanted, afraid that if she over-explained herself and her life, her friend would think she was big-headed.

Sometimes Y/n felt alone, even when she was with her friends or team members. Her friends didn't understand the whole concept of a football career, and her teammates - although they tried to make her feel included - didn't really succeed most of the time.

Her older teammates, such as Leah, Beth and Katie, had taken it upon themselves to 'keep an eye on her', as they put it. They often acted as big sisters, making sure she settled in, did well at school and was healthy. They looked after her a lot, but sometimes it was overwhelming. Y/n also felt that it was difficult to talk to them about things other than football as they were 10 years older than her.

The youngest teammates, such as Alessia, Kyra, Vic and Lotte, weren't so hard to talk to as they had a lot more topics and interests in common, but it was clear that they weren't at the same stage of life. While the girls were planning a night out in clubs and bars after training, Y/n wasn't allowed to go because she was underage.

Y/n often felt like the odd one out. But she hoped that as she got older, things would get better and her teammates would start to see her as a proper teammate, not just a socially awkward football prodigy to be looked after.

Whenever Y/n and her friends sat on the grass during their breaks, the sun on her face and the slight tickling of the grass on her shorts made her feel like a normal 17-year-old. Not like someone with a lot of responsibilities. She was just like her peers at such times: a little moody and insecure at times, but funny and caring.

Y/n wouldn't describe herself as insecure, but in the last few weeks, she had noticed how frustrated she would get when trying to pick an outfit for the day, or how her heart would beat faster just thinking about media day and interviews.

But being a 17-year-old girl wasn't easy, especially when that 17-year-old girl was also a baller.

Y/n had always eaten well. She balanced her meals and was never hungry. She couldn't be, she was a growing athlete who needed nutrients to perform well and avoid injury. She had spent her whole life, since her youth group, listening to doctors and nutritionists talk about the importance of nutrition in an athlete's life.

Unfortunately, her friend hadn't grown up hearing the same things.

When they ate lunch together, one of them would point out how much bigger Y/n's portions were compared to the rest of the table. This made the food taste bitter in her mouth and Y/n suddenly felt too small, but she tried to brush it off with not-so-funny jokes about how she was just a naturally hungry person.

Y/n had to do an hour of PA at school, even though she was an almost full-time athlete. The school had given her the option of practising football, netball or athletics. Y/n didn't hate herself, so she didn't choose football; she also didn't want to be involved in any more team activities, so netball was easily crossed off her list, leaving Y/n with athletics.

Athletics was cool. She did mostly middle-distance races and was actually good at it - mostly, of course, because of her training and all the physiotherapy she did at Arsenal.

Running was fun because Y/n only needed herself to do it, and when she ran she could put all her thoughts into perspective and do something good for her body at the same time, which also helped with her football performance.

The feeling of her feet hitting the ground was liberating. The little bead of sweat running down her neck was somehow comforting.

The only part of athletics she didn't like was having to share the changing room with her other classmates. Y/n was used to changing in front of people, they did it all the time at Arsenal, but her teammates at Arsenal didn't stare at her or make comments about her body.

She was quickly in the changing room and went straight to her locker to get her PE kit, right next to Abigail. She was in the athletics team too, but she only did sprints. 

Abigail and Y/n had never talked much before, so Y/n was surprised when Abigail turned to her bluntly.

"Wow, you've got big shoulders for a girl," Abigail had said, there seemed to be no malice in her voice, it was more like a statement of fact, but Y/n didn't appreciate it either way.

Y/n quickly took her tracking shirt and put it on, trying to hide her body without the others noticing. She didn't know how or what to say to Abigail, so she just smiled awkwardly at her before heading for the track.

It wasn't the first time someone had mentioned Y/n's body and how it didn't really fit in with what they thought a girl's body should look like. Y/n didn't quite understand, a girl's body was a girl's body. But she couldn't help being a little too confident and, well, different.

During the run, she kept pulling her shirt a few centimeters down her arm, but the fabric never seemed to cover enough skin.

..

It was a chilly Thursday night and Y/n was sprawled on the floor of her room, the rough carpet itching the outside of her tight irritatingly.

Thursday nights were the worst because Y/n had training at Arsenal from morning till night, and then she had to go home and do her schoolwork, all the while trying to maintain an eight-hour sleep schedule and get up at 6 am for in-person school the next day.

Y/n had a lot on her plate; she had a test coming up next week, a book to read for English class, and a whole essay waiting to be written.

On top of that, Beth had been bothering her throughout the training session, insisting that her tackling was sloppy. 

Beth wasn't wrong, with so much on her plate, Y/n got too caught up in her own thoughts and didn't give a hundred per cent in training. 

Y/n sighed and looked disdainfully at the textbooks scattered around her room. The young girl rolled her eyes before picking up her phone and scrolling through Instagram. Fuck school. The faint glow of the phone lit up Y/n's face as she scrolled through her friends' selfies.

Her friend didn't have to worry about looking professional, calm and collected on their Instagram page. They could post teenage stuff, blurry selfies or group pictures gone wrong for the whole world to see.

Y/n had to create a second, private account outside her main one. On this, she could post whatever she wanted, but only her friends and a few of her teammates followed her. She preferred it that way, as did her media team. They had come to a compromise: she would post match day pictures and behind the scenes on her professional account, and keep her private account for whatever she wanted to post, with no pressure to keep up a façade.

Y/n was scrolling away and noticed how many #ThrowbackThurdays there were in her feed. She decided she might as well join in. 

It had been a while since she'd posted anything anyway, and frankly, she was so drained from the day at Arsenal that she just wanted to be a stupid teenager posting some pictures with a stupid hashtag.

She scrolled through her gallery and picked out a few pictures, most of them were selfies with her friends or random pictures taken throughout her day. She went through a few more until she found one from months ago.

In the picture, Y/n was sitting on the bed, legs spread, wearing a brown vest with matching tailored trousers. It was a mirror selfie, the phone slightly covering her face, but you could still see part of her left side.

It wasn't a thirst trap by all means, of course not. She was completely covered except for her arms, as she wasn't wearing a t-shirt under the vest.

She wasn't sure she looked good at all. The pimple on her face bothered her, she even thought about editing the picture to take it off. Y/n rolled on the carpet and stared at the picture some more. I mean, why shouldn't she post it? Maybe her friends would even give her a bit of a boost, her ego needed it today, right?

In a few seconds, the pictures were posted. 

Minutes later, Y/n was asleep.

..

The next morning Y/n woke up with a carpet burn on her cheek from sleeping on the rug on the floor. The pain in her back also reminded her why she should always sleep on her bed. 

Y/n rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched herself. But the phone in the corner of her eye caught her attention, the screen bright and buzzing, the annoying sounds of notifications filling the room.

Frowning, Y/n picked up the phone. Surely someone had died; that was the only reason she had so many notifications on her screen. But as Y/n unlocked her phone, she realised what she had done the night before.

13,456 likes.

548 comments. 

Her heart dropped.

She had posted the picture on her main account, not her private one.

Of course, it wasn't anything inappropriate or anything that could get her in trouble. It was just a nice picture of her feeling confident while wearing something a little more stylish to Arsenal's annual women's dinner. 

Still, she thought she was posting it on her private profile. She expected two or three comments from her friends, but now even sports profiles like Sky Sport and Barclays WSL had commented.

Y/n ran her hands dramatically over her face. If she had been born a Victorian child, her life would be easier. 

Would it be embarrassing to just delete it and pretend it never happened? Fuck the 21st century and its social media-induced anxiety.

At first, Y/n thought about just deleting it, but then she saw that even her teammates had commented on it. Reading through the comments, she found some of her teammates. Kyra was true to her form.

Leah Williamson: Great way to show the world you're alive, kiddo.

Alessia Russo: Love the whole outfit xoxo

Katie McCabe: ❤️

Beth Mead: Look who showed up! Gorgeous girl.

Kyra Conney-Cross: Did someone hack u or something?

As she scrolled through the comments, she read some that weren't so nice. There were comments about her footballing ability, people criticising her lack of skill and people commenting on her body.

Some comments were downright mean. Others were more subtle. As she read them, her chest grew heavier and her eyes filled with tears.

She shouldn't care about the comments, they were bullshit... but what if they weren't? Maybe she should start paying more attention to how her body looked, instead of just worrying about her health and performance. 

Abigail's words continued to play on Y/n's mind. Yes, she had a big shoulder, but if she ate a little less she could look different. 

Y/n professional footballers could have different bodies. Some players were shorter, some taller, some girls were big and strong, and some were slim. Y/n just wanted to be on the slimmer side for once. 

Y/n quickly got ready for school and took the tube, the loud noises of people talking around her made her feel uncomfortable, her palms were clammy and it seemed she couldn't help but tap her foot anxiously on the floor.

She still hadn't deleted the post. She probably wasn't going to, since a lot of people had already commented on it and the small Woso community on Twitter was talking about it. If Y/n deleted it, she would probably just stir things up even more.

At lunchtime that day, Y/n decided not to eat as she usually did. Instead, she chose a small portion of fried chicken and carrots. She was still hungry afterwards but decided to just concentrate on her schoolwork for the day and ignore the rumbling in her stomach and the headache that was forming in her frontal lobe.

When Y/n's school was over, she went straight to the tube, not stopping to say goodbye to her friends. She was already late for practice and, to be honest, her day at school had been awful. She zoned out during lessons and didn't pay any attention to what the teacher was saying about the next exam.

On the drive to Arsenal, Y/n scrolled through her Instagram. She had gained more and more followers, and the growing number made her feel a little sick. It was strange to go from 15,000 followers to 47,000 in less than a day.

It felt even stranger when half of her followers were still commenting on her pictures, pointing out the negative aspects of her body. Y/n knew they were just haters, but it still hit her in a bad way.

Arriving at Arsenal, she quickly greeted the staff and went to change into her training kit. She unexpectedly found Leah in the changing room, thinking all the girls were already on the pitch as she was the one who was running late.

"Hey kiddo," Leah said with a smile as she pulled on her boots. "Good thing you showed up, Renée was worried you got detention or something."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and pulled her hair into a ponytail. "Why does she always think I'm in detention when I'm late? I've never been in trouble before."

"First time for everything," Leah shrugged. "How was your day? Mine was awful, we had a lot of media day to do and you know I hate that."

Y/n smiled. "Mine was okay, at least I didn't have to stand in front of a camera all day, but I'm really sick of them lately, so I get your annoyance."

Leah gave her a look. "You're sick of cameras? You literally posted a picture yesterday. I feel like it's the first time I've seen a picture of you on Instagram that wasn't taken during a match."

"Well, that was a mistake, it wasn't supposed to be on my main account," Y/n explained, "and that's part of the reason why I'm sick of cameras...the media, everything that comes with it."

"But why? You look pretty, it's okay to post things about your own life, it helps people realise that you're not a robot and that you have a life outside the pitch."

"Well, yeah, but people are just mean," Y/n muttered. She hadn't intended to have this kind of conversation with Leah, not today. It wasn't that she didn't feel comfortable talking to Leah, but sometimes she found it hard to open up about personal things.

She would go to her captain if she had problems on the pitch. Would she tell Leah straight out that she had a body image problem? No. It felt too personal, too vulnerable and overall just embarrassing.

Leah frowned. "What do you mean? Did something happen?"

Y/n fidgeted in silence for a few seconds, not meeting Leah's eyes. Leah just stared at her, eyes wide, waiting for Y/n to tell her what was bothering her.

The Captain was very good at the silent and staring game, so Y/n gave in.

"It's that... some people just talk about how I look and how I should look and it's frustrating," Y/n finally let out a blurt. "I feel like it's never enough."

"I'm either too strong and muscular to be considered pretty, or too delicate like people my age. But at the same time, I can't look like most teenagers because most teenagers aren't professional athletes and don't have the same routine as we do."

When Y/n had finished talking, she realised that she had been holding on to her locker door a little too tightly.

It felt good to get her feelings out, her emotions weren't as heavy anymore, but the blush creeping across her face reminded her how uncomfortable she felt when she had to open up to someone.

"Oh kid, I didn't know you were going through this," Leah said, sitting down on one of the benches and patting the seat next to her. "Sit here, we can talk about it."

Leah looked at her pitifully. Y/n didn't like it very much, but she appreciated that Leah was trying to be supportive. Sometimes she forgot how Leah was in her shoes, having been a teenage professional footballer for Arsenal years ago.

But Leah, unlike Y/n, didn't really care what other people thought or what their opinions were. Y/n had a lot to learn from Leah, but the clock on the dressing room wall said she didn't have time to learn from Leah at the moment.

"Don't worry about it. It's no big deal," Y/n lied but still smiled at Leah.

The older girl didn't seem to believe her.

"I'm serious, I don't want you to feel like you have to keep things to yourself," Leah said in a soft voice that Y/n wasn't used to hearing. "It's hard being a teenager and having big responsibilities, but you have me if you ever need someone to talk to." 

"Thanks, Le, but I'm fine, really," Y/n insisted, knowing that Leha wasn't the type to keep pushing. 

"Well, I trust you'll ask someone if you need help," Leah finished, putting her arms around Y/n's shoulders and leading them to the field. 

After a hard training session, the whole team gathered on the pitch, sweat on everyone's face. There was a big game coming up against Liverpool and Renée wasn't playing around, she insisted on working on everyone's speed and resistance. 

Y/n thought she was going to be sick if she was honest. She didn't know if it was because the training was particularly hard or because it had been hours since Y/n had eaten, but by the end of the session her vision was blurred and her legs felt like jelly.

The youngest player sat down next to Kyra while Beth went around throwing protein bars at everyone.

"Protein bar distribution system." Beth kept shouting.

"Eat it up, kid, and don't say we don't share," Beth joked as a strawberry and white chocolate protein bar was thrown into Y/n's lap. 

Y/n took the snack in her hands, fiddling with the wrapper as she debated whether or not to eat it. She was hungry, her head hurt and she was in a bad mood, but she didn't want to eat. 

She could be strong enough to resist. It would all be for the greater good, a few weeks of eating less and she would be thinner. And then maybe the way her body looked wouldn't be a problem anymore.

The sun went down and all the girls talked and laughed. Y/n also tried to make conversation with Kyra and Alessia, but the older girls noticed that something was wrong with her.

"Bad day today?" Kyra asked, taking a sip of water and opening one of the protein bars. Hers had a nut and caramel flavour, and Y/n could smell the sugary scent. "You seem tired." 

Y/n could hear her stomach growling but decided to ignore it. She could have an apple and some tea at home.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm just... I've got stuff to do at school." Y/n said. It wasn't necessarily a lie, but she didn't reveal what was really bothering her. It was enough that Leah already knew about the whole Instagram thing. 

Y/n didn't want everyone in the team hovering over her, especially Kyra and Alessia, who were the only ones who treated her like a friend rather than a little sister. Alessia and Kyra were cool and Y/n wanted to be cool too.

"I get it. School is a nightmare." Kyra said, taking a bite out of the bar before lightly tapping Alessia's shoulder as she sat right next to Kyra. 

"You can always ask Lessie for help, she went to university and all," Kyra added cheekily. 

Alessia rolled her eyes playfully at Kyra but gave Y/n a warm smile. "Kyra's annoying but she's right, if you're having trouble with any subjects just let me know, you can come to my house and I'll help you study."

"Am I invited too?" Kyra asked with a pout on her face. 

"You won't be of any help," Y/n said.

"Rude," Kyra replied, but changed the subject, "Hey, aren't you going to eat that? Please don’t make me and Alessia eat everything alone!" she joked, as she pointed at the protein bar, long forgotten by Y/n's side.

Y/n bit her lip. "I'm not hungry."

"Really? I thought you'd be starving after all that running," Kyra said. “Aren’t you going through puberty or something like that?" She teased, “I thought growing athletes should eat more.

"I had a full lunch today," Y/n lied. "I'm fine, I'll eat later. And please never use the word puberty around me again or else I’ll kick the ball in my own face"

Alessia and Kyra laughed at Y/n and didn’t say anything back. The three got caught up in other conversations and Y/n was happy they didn't keep on pushing.

She didn’t want to bother them with whatever she had going on. Alessia and Kyra always looked so confident and good in their skin, Y/n didn’t want to look like the awkward insecure teen.

Y/n the thoughts forming in her head weren’t good or healthy, but it seemed like they were stronger than her, and getting louder each day.

..

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Notes//2: if somebody liked it I can write part 2 :)

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[queenimmadolla]

hey vivi!! big fan of you🩷 since you’re doing drabbles, do you think you can write about penny going on her first date ? i can only imagine what eddie would be like lol. love you ❤️

𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 (don't have to read but you'll want to) (𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

“I’m sorry???” Eddie croaked out over the phone, and your teeth dug into your lip to fight a smile off.

  “It’s innocent, Eds. They’re just seeing a movie together,” You mused and briefly placed the phone against your chest to listen for any cries throughout the house. Quiet. The baby was still asleep, thank god. You’d already raised two kids out of their baby phase of life, but this one was giving you and your husband a run for your money. Colic and Eddie’s genetics (dramatics) made for one hell of a Velcro Baby. Maple always had to be attached to one of her parents, or she was crying bloody murder and since Eddie was away for the next two days, it was you she needed to be on. You’d managed to sneak her successfully into her crib when she fell asleep—usually her big brown eyes flew open the second you bent over to lower her in since you were only ever allowed to be standing when holding Maple, per her demands—just before Eddie called (and you’d dove to stop that phone from ringing). He wasn’t impressed with your plans for the rest of the day, “I’ll be in the row behind her, with a baby hidden under my shirt and attached to my nipple, and Wayne if he doesn’t want to hang out with big Wayne. Don’t be dramatic.”

  Eddie scoffed so you rolled your eyes.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady.” Your back straightened from your lean on the counter, eyes scanning the living room for the camera he had to have hidden as he kept talking, “What are you gonna do when this punk puts the moves on my baby girl, huh?”

  “They’re ten years-old, Eddie. They’re gonna be sweating in their seats, I hardly doubt they’ll even hold hands.” 

  Eddie still didn’t like that. Really, there was no reason for Penny and whatever this kid’s name was to even be going to the movies. He’s sure the punk had a TV at home, and Penny had access to one, so they could just watch something separately in different homes, as in not together, and talk about it at school. Or not talk about it all. Not talk to each other at all. Yeah, Eddie liked that.

  “Tell her she can’t go.” He demanded, shooting a glare at the PA staring at him, eagerly waiting for him to get off the phone so he could usher him to his next interview. The hostility in his gaze was enough to make that very PA poof, disappeared into thin air.

  “I’m not telling her that.”

  “Fine, I’ll do it. Put her on the phone.” You didn’t bother hiding your smile anymore, grinning at his antics. He was such a dad and you loved it. Especially because you knew—what with him currently in New York—Penny would be at the movies with her little crush (and you, possibly your son, and your baby) whether Eddie liked it or not.

  You called for Penny down the hallway and you could hear her galloping down after your voice.

  “What?” She squawked out once she came to a halt at your side and like every other time she voiced that word in her flat tone with a hint of annoyance sprinkled in, you were reminded of the times your mother would reprimand you for being just as irritating.

  You lulled your wrist forward, tipping the phone to her as you raised a challenging brow, “Your dad wants to talk to you.”

  She quickly took the phone, holding it against the side of her head, hand pushing her hair out of her face before scratching her chin “Hi, daddy.”

  “Hi, sweet pea.” You could hear him croon and you shook your head in amusement. He was so fake. “What’cha up to today?”

  ”Nothing. OOH, Uncle Lucas patched my bike for me!” She recalled, thinking back to when the Uncle in question had followed through on his promise to repair her flat bicycle wheel before catching his flight back to Chicago in time for his practice. Penny would be watching his basketball game on TV tonight, after the movie. She cheered as loud as she could for him, but sometimes she cheered for his other teammate, Michael Jordan, too. All the time. She cheered for Michael all the time.

  “Of course he did, just had to steal my thunder. Mom says you’re gonna watch his game tonight.”

  “Yeah, here at home since you can’t take us. . .”

  “I said I’m sorry! I’ll take you to the Finals.”

  “If they win.” Penny mumbled and they both went silent before bursting out laughing. The Bulls wouldn’t be losing tonight.

  “Is that all you’re doing?” He asked, voice honey and sugar once he’d stopped laughing.

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Pretty sure? As in, not entirely positive?” Eddie’s voice broke as it went high and he cleared his throat, “Nothing you’re intentionally leaving out?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “What about your LITTLE DATE?! Penny, you’re too young, baby. What have we been talking about for years now, huh? Thought we agreed you’d wait until a couple of years into a marriage before you could start dating. You pinky swore. Wouldn’t you rather me go? You know how Maple is—do you want a baby crying in the background when you recall your first date for the rest of your life? And really, your mom is gonna be chaperoning, don't you wanna wait until I get back? What if this kid is one of those punks that tease you about your mom being hot? Wouldn’t you much rather have your cool, rockstar dad, instead of your hot mom, sitting menacingly—I mean—hold on don’t hang up, I meant ‘measuredly’—”

  Penny’s eyes flashed over to you in a ‘can you believe this?’ manner as you heard your husband blabber on like some grown up in Peanut’ s Special and she rolled her eyes. Eddie must have mumbled something else because you saw her stand up straight and glance around the house with a pout before she mumbled back into the receiver, “I didn’t roll my eyes. . .”

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

[strangersteddierthings]

The Interview

Inspired by this post by @xoxoladyaz. Read on Ao3.

-

Eddie wakes up to one single missed call from Gareth on his private phone.

No one calls his private phone.

He dials back instantly.

"Hey Eddie," Gareth greets. He sounds tired.

"What's up? What's happened?" Eddie asks, a thousand and one scenarios running through his mind. Gareth is in Indianapolis, and Eddie's thoughts are filled with only his uncle back in Hawkins.

"Nothing's happened that we can't deal with, or rather, that I've already been dealing with. But, uhh, there's an interview you should watch. Let me send you a link-" there's a pause as Gareth does just that "-and just call me back after you've watched it. I know we usually ignore the shit people say about us but this- it's different."

"Okayyyy," Eddie says slowly. "I'll watch it."

They hang up without goodbye because Eddie's just going to call him back after the video. Opening his messages he sees the link, and then Gareth sent a follow up text you need to watch from 12:32 onward.

The video is nearly two weeks old already, and YouTube shows him a face he knows. Robin Buckley looks older but it's definitely her. Her hair isn't styled much differently than she had it in high school, just above her shoulders and a little wild. She's wearing a three piece suit in emerald green, slightly oversized on purpose by the look of it. She's sitting in a chair, cradling a grammy with one arm, as the interviewer sits across from her.

Eddie taps the screen and drags the progress bar closer to the 12-minute mark and listens. He hears the tail end of Robin's response to some question about her album before the interviewer asks what must be the question Gareth wants him to listen to.

'So, I think everyone is dying to know if you and Eddie Munson are friends. You're both from Hawkins, Indiana. Isn't that correct?' the interviewer asks.

Robin's smile slips a bit, 'I- uhh, this is going to be unprofessional of me but I made a promise to someone regarding if I was ever asked about Eddie Munson. So, can I have one minute to make a phone call before I answer your question?'

'Oh. By all means, make your call.'

Eddie watches as Robin is brought her phone by someone who is probably her personal assistant. She wastes no time in unlocking it and finding whoever in her contacts list.

'No time for formalities. I've been asked about Munson. Can I tell the truth?' Robin's mic isn't strong enough to pick up whatever answer she gets on the phone but she shakes her head to whatever answer she's been given. 'I told you, I love you more than this career and I've already got the grammy. I'll handle the fallout. It's not about me. It's about you.' What follows is a few seconds of silence before Robin nods and says goodbye, ending the call and passing the phone back to the PA.

The interviewer's eyebrows are up to her hairline in shock. 'That sounds ominous. You think it's career ending?'

Robin grins and it's almost feral. 'Corroded Coffin's fans have always been ruthless, and perhaps a bit heartless, so what I have to say will certainly set them on the attack. To answer your original question, yes, Eddie Munson and I are from Hawkins. We even shared band class in high school, but that's the end of what connects us. We are not friends, but we once were.'

'Can you elaborate on that?'

'Our friendship ended ten years ago when he ruined my best friend's life for fame and fortune, and Steve's never really known a day of peace since.'

Eyes wide, the interviewer leans closer, 'Steve? As in, Hey Steve, Steve?'

Robin nods, 'Just the one.'

'Are you prepared to talk about how one song ruined your friend's life?'

'That was the purpose of the phone call. Yes, I think people should know the truth. Munson vented his bullshit breakup rage into a song and fucked off out of town. A week after its release, his fans doxxed Steve. He wasn't out to his parents, you see, and Corroded Coffin's fans, Eddie Munson's fans, outed him. They sent hate mail to his house by the ton, it seemed. The fallout from that- the aftermath-' Robin cuts off as her eyes water and she swipes at them, smearing some mascara across her cheek. 'I'm sorry. I almost lost my best friend, the platonic love of my life, that day.

'It's public knowledge, what happened, you can look it up online if you know what to look for. But it is also so incredibly personal. I want to be the one to say this because it's important. What you do in life, it has consequences, and sometimes those consequences are for other people. Whether you think it will, or not. I'd rather people hear it from a human voice, from someone who loves Steve, and not the journalist view. No offense,' Robin shoots the interviewer a sweet smile.

'None taken, please continue.'

'Steve was hospitalized, I won't give the details,' Robin says, in a watery voice as she's clearly trying to not cry at the memory. 'When Steve was finally released from the hospital, there was no one but me to pick him up. And he's going through this while nursing a broken heart. He and Munson had only been broken up for maybe a month before Hey Steve came out.

'In less than two months, Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. And to top it off, that man gets to become rich and famous off a venomous, hate-filled song about their breakup. It talks about Steve like he's coward for not willing to be out, yet, and how... what's the line, about conformity?'

'Conformity holds your leash, baby, so run to the end of your chain and bark,' someone off camera shouts.

'Yes, that, thanks. Accusing Steve of picking 'conformity' over his love. Steve wasn't picking conformity, he was picking safety! And the worst part? The hate mail has never stopped. Steve lived with me and my family for a few months after getting out of the hospital before the hate mail got too much, and someone showed up at my childhood home, looking for him, threatening him. They had a gun. It was traumatic. I was still in my senior year of high school-' Robin cuts off, taking deep breaths.

The interviewer reaches across to place a comforting hand on Robin's, 'I can't even imagine what that must have been like.'

Once Robin has composed herself, she says, 'sorry, this is a lot. I've had ten years to come to terms with it, and I've waited seven for someone to ask me about Munson. I didn't think it would be this hard.

'And it's not- I can't blame Munson, or Corroded Coffin, for everything that happened. He doesn't control his fans. But he's never said anything about the treatment his fans give Steve. And if they're like this towards Steve, are they like this towards all his other ex's? Does Munson not care, or, almost worse, does he not even know?' she stops again, getting a faraway look for a moment before looking at the interviewer again. 'I had to help Steve move again. Just last month. They're still finding him. Sending him hate. Doxxing him.' Now she looks at the camera directly, "Eddie Munson. Call off your fans. Stop playing Hey Steve at concerts. Isn't a decade of hurt enough?'

There isn't a lot that makes Eddie feel anything these days, he'll admit. A decade of fame has made him a bit cynical and callus. However, Robin had said something that made his insides squirm. He swipes across the screen, rewinding the video to hear Robin say Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. -ents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. The man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. Marry one day.

He pauses the video. That can't be right. That has to be a lie Robin is adding. To garner more sympathy or make Eddie, and therefore Corroded Coffin, look worse. Steve and he had been young and naive when they'd dated. There was no way they'd have ended up married, even if Eddie had stuck around Hawkins longer. Gay marriage wasn't even legal when they broke up in 2013.

Eddie unpauses, skips forward to the end and listens to Robin speak directly to him. Stop playing Hey Steve? The song that rocketed Corroded Coffin into the limelight? No way. And call off his fans? Like they're dogs he's supposed to control or something. The video ends and the YouTube algorithm shows him a number of react videos. Eddie clicks on one and falls down the rabbit hole.

At first the algorithm shows him responses in his favor. Videos made by his fans defending him, or strategically picking apart what Robin had said. Eddie wants to agree with them, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong other than live his life, but then.

Then a video of a guy wearing merch sold during their tour last year plays. He's on the right side of the video while a screen recording is on the left. It takes him less than five minutes to get Steve's past addresses found. And Eddie is... well, he's a little horrified at how long the list is. At the short amount of time Steve's spent in any one place is.

The guy in the video reads out the state, city, and how long Steve lived at each address. The longest one is when Steve made the jump from Florida to Maine, where he lived for 19 months according to the video, and that was years ago.

And then the guy, he fucking starts to speculate about where Steve might have moved to next.

"We can't know for sure, but it looks like he headed back west? You can see from the last 3 addresses he's been just jumping state lines to the next place. I'm guessing Oklahoma, Kansas or Nebraska next. If Steve thinks he can try and ruin Corroded Coffin through Robin Buckley, then it's up to us to prove him wrong," the guy is saying, and Eddie thinks maybe this guy is just exaggerating but the comment section is already filled with other people saying vile shit about what they should send to Steve or what they'd like to do to him physically and-

Eddie clicks off the video, to the next recommended. The more he watches, the angrier they seem to get. He goes to the search bar and looks for new react videos.

He finds that everyone has an opinion. He watches videos where his own fans express their disappointment in him. They talk about how Corroded Coffin runs an antibully campaign and then allows their fans to bully an ex and for not calling out the ones doxxing people, wanting to know which was the reason - does Eddie not know, or does he not care? Eddie didn't know. Truly. But he can't help but wonder if he didn't know because he didn't care.

He'd written all his feelings into a song, and now that he's older, he can see that a lot of what he was feeling is an exaggeration and dramatization of what really happened. But the point is, he'd written out his feelings and moved on.

The man he thought he'd marry one day.

His stomach twists uncomfortably as Robin's voice rings in his mind.

He continues his spiral down YouTube until Gareth calling him again breaks through and he answers.

"How is this the first time I'm hearing about Robin's interview?" Eddie demands.

"You've got a damn good PR team, that's how. I guess you fell down the rabbit hole, then?"

"How'd you-"

"Is been almost 4 hours since we talked. Doesn't take that long to watch a 30 minute video."

"Oh. Alright. So, why did you want me to watch the video? Am I supposed to respond to Robin?"

"No. People don't actually want to hear from you. They want to hear from Steve. And that's why you needed to watch. 'Cause Robin's announced that Steve's finally ready to make a statement. Robin's going to post it on her Twitter. Tonight. So, we've got to be ready. If anything Robin said turns out to be true, we might have a problem on our hands. A slander lawsuit being just the beginning."

"Fuck."

"What a way to sum it up," Gareth chuckles into the phone before his tone becomes serious, "hey, how are you doing, though? With it all?"

He thinks about it, and how he really feels, before answering. "It's been years since I've thought about Steve, y'know? I... I've had that luxury. I didn't know.... Did you?"

"No. Hell no! I'd of said something. I mean, shit man, we run an antibully campaign 'cause high school was shit to us. If I'd known at all we'd have been telling them to fuck off. Harassment's just what they call bullying adults."

Eddie swallows. "Guess we just have to wait and see what Stevie has to say."

"I'd come sit on the couch with you and refresh twitter frantically but, well, Indy's a bit of a ways off. I'll call after Robin's posted, then?"

"Yeah, man. Let's see the damage," Eddie sighed. "Talk to ya later."

"Bye."

Eddie digs out his laptop and pulls up Robin's twitter page. He adds an auto-refresher extension and sets it to refresh every minute before opening his phone and pulling up YouTube again.

[whorangi1104]

If Jor-El was always there with the milk

Inspired by this tiktok about a Tumblr post… also because the comments are begging me: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8Nojvct/

TW: description of a torture method

Everybody knows the story of how Superman crashed to earth after the destruction of his home planet, but not everyone knows of his father who arrived with him.

Jor-El, who had somehow gotten his clothes hooked onto some part of the capsule his baby was in when they fired it, was honestly surprised he survived the deep space for so long without losing his son's capsule, although weakened somewhat. It seemed that they crashed on a lesser developed planet, as the beings here were still living in small structures built of basic natural materials. With his son, Jor-El knocked on the door of the nearest settlement for help.

Pa Kent was quite surprised, to put it lightly, when he answered the door to a strange man wearing clothes that seemed quite out of place and carrying a sort of carrier containing- is that a baby? And it turns out they were aliens, and none of them could understand the other, but he knew wasn't hallucinating when the man demonstrated boiling a pot of water with his lasers for eyes. But he was taught to do the right thing and trusts people (or aliens) until they give him a reason not to, so he let them stay. He told the neighbors they were distant relatives who were tired of city life, and because they coincidentally needed a helping hand on the farm. Within a short time, they'd learned the language, became quite a help with their speed and strength, and were delightful company. Although Pa Kent still worried his wife might gravitate towards this “Jor-El”, for he was far better looking, but semi-co-parenting the adorable baby was worth it.

Jor-El quite enjoyed this simple life, and the years passed quick. He had started courting both humans, though he could not gift them his wealth, he helped whenever he could. He learned earth customs, and apparently what he thought was courting wasn't how they did it, but oh well. He would still teach he son the ways of his roots, and keep the customs of suitors.

Clark grew up like any other boy, except for the time he almost burnt down the barn, froze the lake, drifted into the clouds as a baby… you get it. His biological father taught him to control these things so he could blow on his food without making an iced sundae out of his soup, but it was Ma and Pa Kent who helped him with his school work, tucked him in most nights, and read him stories of snow white and little red riding hood. Jor-El mostly taught him a Kryptonian curriculum, and was the only one he could really let loose playing catch with without the worry of accidentally hurting him. It was kinda like having divorced parents, if the divorced parents got along just fine and still lived together, and one of them built an extension to the house that tripled its size to do experiments in (scientist on any planet). Sometimes Clark would catch his Father staring at a sketch of a woman and look up into the stars, but it was a mutual agreement not to speak of her (after Clark grew out of his ‘why’ phase anyway).

Clark grew up, had his farewell, moved to Metropolis, you know the story. Sometimes Jor-El would visit him, check up on his Kryptonian, though Clark knew he could hear him just fine across the country. Clark eventually started dating Bruce Wayne after interviewing him. Then there was some confusing things where Bruce kissed Superman, (that's still him, but he didn't think Bruce was really smart enough to figure that out at the time,) then BATMAN of all people kissed him, and they had a good laugh about how Bruce thought they both knew each other's identities, and Clark was a mess of confusion during it all. But this isn't about superbat interactions in the wild, plenty of other fanfics for that, this is about Jor-El about to have way too many adopted orphaned grandkids. So then came the time for Bruce to meet Clark's parents.

Meeting the Kent's? They were charmed, happy that Clark found someone financially stable and made him happy. The regular human stuff. Mr.El on the other hand?

Jor-El looked down at the man in a suit standing in front of him. He had never really listened in on his son's personal life, as a respectful Kryptonian, but this one seemed a bit… dim. Famously a playboy bimbo, honestly. This was the guy Kal-El was into? Well if Kal thinks he can pass the test, then so be it.

Bruce looked up at the imposing figure in front of him, tall as a mountain, calm as a river, arms crossed with a glare that could shake a lesser man. Bruce was no lesser man, but with his Brucie act, Jor-El probably thinks that he was just too stupid to be intimidated.

“So, Jake, was it?”

“Jor, of the house of El.”

The alien's glare deepened, while Bruce rivaled him with a smile.

“Potato patata, pleased to meet you sir.”

“Oh no, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Sarcasm, glad to see our species aren't so different.”

“You will need to complete the courting ritual to have my son.”

“I was thinking of breaking the ice a little, but straight to the point, a very efficient man I see. Could I interest you with a job at Wayne Enterprises?”

Jor-El ignored the job offer and switched to Kryptonian, which Clark sighed and translated, although Bruce had already learned the language and had surgery to implant an invention of his in his vocal cords to physically be able to pronounce the words that would be impossible for a normal human.

“He says the suitor may pick any activity as long as the rules are fair. If they fail to win, the parent can,— dad, I'm not translating that.”

Bruce understood it of course, giving a thoughtful “Hn.” in response. These Kryptonian rituals were certainly high stakes, and he certainly doesn't look forward to being strung up with barbed wire and left to marinate in a gas chamber for however long it would take for Clark to break through a bulletproof window with blue kryptonite strapped to his back. A Kryptonian might survive that, but certainly not mortal Bruce Wayne without his batsuit.

He knows what he has to do.

“What do you know, a royal flush!”

Batman can see Jor-El seething in the corner as this ditzy little human took the last of Clark's poker chips, an utter and undeniable victory. Bruce flashes the Man of Titanium- his new nickname- a signature Brucie smile, watching with glee as big, bright, and angry gave him a look that almost rivaled his batglare.

“...Did you just win Clark in a game of poker?”

“I also won an apple pie. The infamous Kent pie, try not to get too jealous when I take both of my hot, steamy, homegrown prizes home.”

Clark buries his head in his hands, but Bruce can feel his smile and the heat radiating off of him.

“Øh, åñd ßy thê wãy, try çœlîñg dòwñ ā bìt wíll yā? Rèd īßñ’t rælly yøúr çōlòr. Î prëfér Kål ïñ ìt mœrè.”

Bruce smirked at the brief flash of surprise on the older Kryptonian’s face at the use of his planet’s language, pulling Clark with his apple pie out the door before he can respond.

Ma Kent is cackling in the background :)

[joansiesbeloved]

“Joansie,” as Ted called her had so much going for her: gorgeous, rich, fashionable, trained concert pianist, athletic, and as JFK himself attested, "great at campaigning and winning over the crowds"… but one thing she didn’t do so well… interviews.

Source: Once There was a Spot The Jackie Wig Situation:

“It was Jackie who first got me to try on wigs. I just felt silly.” Well, unbeknownst to Joan, the media had been speculating on whether or not the First Lady wore wigs when she traveled. Everyone in Jackie’s camp denied it until Joansie accidently confirmed it.

To clarify… yes, Jackie did wear wigs if she was going to an event outside the US. She didn’t always fly Kenneth, her main hairdresser with her, so she just wore a wig instead.

They Have That, Too!:

For mere mortals, 😉 discussing your family home is perfectly benign. However, the Kennedys were far from mere mortals… they constantly fought the “JFK shouldn’t be President because he’s so rich he’s out of touch” school of thought. Americans obviously knew the Kennedys were among America’s most elite when it came to money. Therefore, the campaign did all they could to at least downplay it. So it wasn’t helpful when Joan revealed this to Redbook magazine:

“Besides all the sports equipment; boats, jet skis, tennis courts, riding stables, nearby golf courses and everything else…and if you want a steam bath, they have that too!” —Joan Kennedy, Redbook Magazine

Uncle Teddy and Jack's Back:

While chatting with a reporter in that same Redbook story, Joan mentioned that “Ted is the favorite uncle.” Did that ever begin a scandal…but not for the reasons you might think. “He’s the favorite uncle. [Ted] is big, so he can roughhouse with them. The President could too, but then there’s his back problem.”—Joan Kennedy to Redbook

The White House worked overtime to conceal the extent of Kennedy’s health concerns, and had been relatively successful. Joan blew all that during a single interview.

Bobby, better known as his brother’s keeper, angrily told Ted to “never let her speak a goddamn word to the press EVER again!”

So that’s precisely what Ted told her, and she felt she’d once again let down the family. Ethel and Jackie's Reaction: Ironically, the people least upset by Joan’s gaffe were Jack and Jackie. He took it in stride; he even argued with Bobby that “half the people out there” already knew about his back problems.

The whole scandal had been, in Jackie’s mind, blown completely out of proportion. It didn’t take long for Jackie to hear how distraught her youngest sister-in-law was. Jackie called Joan, hoping to ease her mind.

*Joan…was disheartened by her embarrassing faux pas, and becoming more insecure with her place and role in the family. She wanted so much to be of value to her husband like Ethel and Jackie were, but felt that she was always making mistakes which were embarrassing to her husband. *Ethel…When Ethel’s secretary asked Ethel about how Joan was doing, Ethel responded, “She’s doing the best she can. We are talking about Joan here, aren’t we?” *Jackie…When Jackie called Joan to check on her, an emotional Joan was so relieved to her from her, she confessed to crying and barely sleeping for three days. “Oh, it’s so silly,” Jackie told her. “[Jack] should be admired for his ability to work so hard while in such pain.” She told Joan not to give it another thought.

[frownyalfred]

But how would Bruce sweep in to help the Kents without raising suspicion on himself? Even if he did it anonymously, theres few people in Gotham that could have the power to so quickly get them out of the public eye. And if he does it publicly, I'm assuming he claims he was doing it to protect the JL as Bruce publicly funds them? Or would he essentially release a statement saying that as a close friend of Clark Kent, he wishes to protect him from the media as he of all people knows how vicious they can be? Idk, I completely agree that Bruce would be the one to get them out, the question is just how?

My heart also breaks for Clark because this is obviously one of the last things he ever wanted to occur. Superman's love for humanity is obvious to everyone and the loss of his civilian identity destroys any chance of him being able to interact with them outside of his superhero identity. Its one thing having to wait for something in the media to 'blow over' but this isn't your everyday politic scandal or other media story, this is the reveal of the man behind one of the Trinity itself, the reveal of Superman. It could easily take months before it stops being the front page cover of every newspaper and after that, what then? How do they move forward?

And all of this doesn't even begin to consider the guilt Clark would feel for ruining Lois and the kids' lives. Everyone would reassure him it wasn't his fault but Clark would obviously take responsibility for this, telling himself he should have been more careful, more secretive, more vigilant. That as a result of his lack of caution, he'd ruined any chance his kids and Lois had at a (somewhat) normal life. I feel like I could even see him being embarrassed to accept Bruce's help, chastising himself for not planning for contingencies like Bruce had.

Sorry to dump all this on you, I'm just so intrigued by the aftermath of the reveal itself.

No it’s a very valid question! In that media/public world, getting them out of the public eye as quickly as possible is the number one priority. That doesn’t need to be attributed to Bruce right away, or even at all — the Kents (all of them) disappear as quickly as possible. They fly to an agreed-upon rendezvous or they are taken there by private security hired by Bruce.

Once there, that’s when the PR shitstorm hits. Superman and his family are found out, maybe there were a few brief videos of them leaving or being escorted out of their workplace (Lois) or flying away from their school (Jon) but nothing long, nothing conclusive.

The media cycle begins. Interviews with the Kent’s’ friends, colleagues, neighbors, etc proliferate the news. Everyone is cashing in on what they can. Bruce, if he’s smart, has Clark and his family locked down somewhere they can’t watch television and is handling the response on his own.

But the reality is, there is not much Bruce CAN do, for the reasons you mentioned. Publicly tying himself to Superman and his family puts WE under greater scrutiny. Coming out in defense of Clark’s lies suggests he 1) knew about them and 2) approves of Superman’s decision to hide from the public.

I’m not sure that conversation between friends will go well. Bruce telling Clark there’s no way to return to their previous lives, not without significant security risks (not to mention the social strain) and Clark spiraling as he realizes he’s inadvertently taken away his Ma’s knitting circle, Lois’ job, Jon’s school.

It’s all different now. If he’s lucky, Bruce has plans to funnel them into a sort of witness protection, maybe in a few years when things settle down. But that would mean splitting them up — and that’s non negotiable. Even keeping Ma and Pa together is a stretch. They’re too easily recognizable.

I imagine maybe Bruce can give them a sort of asylum in the Watchtower, operating outside of any Earth’s jurisdiction. But that puts scrutiny on the Justice League instead. And Bruce is the kind of person to keep the JL autonomous and take the heat on WE if needed — even if he never mentions it.

There are things that Bruce would need to step in on: connections starting to be made between himself and Clark, accusations of Clark not being a US citizen (and Jon too, but because he’s an alien) and Lois for lying to the US government. Accusations that the Justice League was culpable in any way for Superman’s civilian actions. Scrutiny on WE and how much Bruce Wayne knows or should know, or how his funding is connected to a JL that is now under investigation etc.

But yes: I think Bruce could get them out and hidden without tipping his hand. But everything else, yeah, he would need to step into the spotlight at least a little. And he would do that for Clark, because that’s his friend. He’s had this complex series of contingencies ready since…maybe Clark and Lois’ engagement?

Having been in some PR crises, you need a Bruce. Someone not affected directly and cool/calm enough to speak to media, move people around, and make judgement calls. Clark is lucky he has such a friend, even if he’s beating himself up over his own actions and missteps.

I have more (probably more coherent) thoughts about this, but that’s my initial reaction — Bruce gets them out fine, but next steps are very, very complicated. And things won’t ever be normal again.

[wilwheaton]

Approximately 200 protesters gathered on a tree-lined residential street on Staten Island on Thursday night, many with high-powered flashlights on hand. They wielded those flashlights like strobes, beaming bright, jerky light over police barriers, into the windows of a former school where around 60 asylum seekers are living temporarily. Meanwhile, a man named Johnny Tabacco, a bitcoin-guy-turned-Newsmax-host, wearing an oversized blue pinstripe suit and slicked-back hair, stood on a truck bed and bellowed in a gravelly voice through a PA system that was turned up so loud that this reporter’s ears were still ringing hours later. Tabacco, who is one of the organizers, conceded in a short interview later on that the decibel level was by design. The organizers wanted to send a deafening message to their new neighbors: “You’re not welcome here.”

Staten Island Protesters Torment Asylum Seekers With Speakers and Flashlights

[laylasverse]

WINTER INDUSTRIES

. . . is the conglomerate of WINTERS MECHANICAL, WINTERS MEDICAL, and WINTERS TECHNOLOGIES.

at the age of sixteen layla winters founded the now multi-billion dollar company, winters industries. layla created winter industries after the death of her step-father to follow in his footsteps of bettering the world. nicholas winters was a man with "a smile that could light up a room." [1] many of brooklyn's residents have called the man an "inspiration of humbleness and kindness." [2] traits many have seem to lost in today's fast-moving world. even new york's own spider-man has only compliments for the late mr winters. it has been made clear that new york city is rooting for the young ceo. her continuous contributions to the betterment and funding of not only schools and orphanages but also ma & pa shops have set ms winters apart.

1. quote from an interview with nicholas' former neighbor, mrs vance. 2. quote from nypd's detective alan morris on the passing of nicholas winters.

WINTERS MECHANICAL focuses on creating machines and vehicles that lessen the emissions to earth’s atmosphere. all while keeping civilian operations affordable. 

WINTERS MEDICAL is the division focused on the advancement of medical technology. they create cures and machines to help with surgeries to remove human error, along with other things.  

WINTERS TECHNOLOGIES is the leading company in the electronic space. meaning they sell the most phones, tablets, laptops, desktops, watches, headphones, and more. 

౨ৎ : winters industries is my company in my spider-verse desired reality!! aka me being tony stark but like i never sold weapons of mass destruction or any weapons lol. (yes this is mild tony hate)

[giorno-plays-piano]

Binary Star

Part II

Pairing: academic rival!Satoru Gojo x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power play, hurt/comfort, no curse au, this series will get darker as the story progresses.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he’s done a fantastic job and won fair and square?

Part I

P.S. Academic rival -> CEO!Gojo

_____________

When he spots her name in the stack of papers his HR left on her desk, Satoru gets a brain freeze for a second. Couldn't be the girl he had once studied together with, no. It's been what, more than ten years since he had last seen her? It must be some other woman wearing the same name.

But he can't just leave the paper be, immediately taking it in his hands while the manager makes a confused face: Satoru only looks at the candidates' profiles when they are aiming for the high management positions in his company, nothing less. This woman, however, applied for the middle-level position, only recently becoming a senior at her old job. Why is the CEO looking at her CV so intently?

All Gojo sees is the name of the school they both graduated what feels like a hundred years ago, and he knows it's her. It's the girl who was his one and only rival, someone he had finally considered his equal when they both were fighting for the position of a valedictorian. It's her. He can finally understand what has happened.

Not that he wasn't searching for answers right after graduation. Knowing Shoko sometimes hung out with her, he was showering the girl with questions until she groaned something about the family of his classmate moving and that it's likely he would never see her again. She didn't tell why. Said she had no idea.

It's true, Satoru sees now: his old rival did move god knows where, nearly half across the country to a place he didn't even know existed. Some tiny city, he thinks as he googles the college she attended only to realize that it is, in fact, a community college. Community college? For someone as talented as her? Was she out of her goddamn mind? Even if she, for some unfathomable reason, didn't want to go to Harvard like him, despite her scholarchip, she could have chosen any other decent place with her marks. How could she do this to herself?

He continues reading the resume, the memories of her annoyingly pretty face fresh in his mind as if it all happened just yesterday. Internships at some tiny companies, assistant positions, and other entry-level jobs she should have never taken in places he has never heard of either... Until she finally moved here about two years ago and started slowly climbing the career ladder. Unfortunately, her CV leaves Gojo with more questions than answers he expected.

"I want you to interview her," he finally says to his HR manager, who's been shifting in her seat impatiently ever since he had taken the printed papers from her desk. "And if she says yes, I want to know when she'll come."

He isn't sure why he's doing it. It's been far too long to be holding any grudges, and, honestly speaking, he isn't angry at his old school rival. Curious, perhaps? This must be it. He just wants a closure of sorts. He wants to know why she has abandoned everything she believed in, even if it's selfish of him to be prying into her past. Clearly, something had happened. Something horrible.

Did she get pregnant, maybe? Gave birth? Remembering her father, he wouldn't be surprised if it was the reason they had to move. And yet, she didn't seem the type to do something like that... Not when he had never seen her speaking to boys outside of school, and even then, she would only be talking to them about lessons and future college or university prospects.

He has to have some patience, Satoru thinks. Surely, she'll accept the interview and come in person.

And she does, walking in the building - Gojo watches her from above, peering down from his fancy cabinet with enormous windows - just two days later. She looks somewhat different - not that he didn’t expect her to change after all these years - but there's the same air about her, he can feel it in his bones. It makes him strangely nostalgic, and he starts to itch to go down and talk to her the second she waltzes into the office of his HR. He needs to know why she left. Her secrets are making him restless like a child.

He needs to see her face when she realizes he's both the owner and the CEO of the company she wants to work for.

After giving her about 10 minutes, Gojo runs down the building as if he's a boy chasing an ice cream truck. He needs to see her. The itch that has been dormant for almost ten years is almost unbearable now, and he has no time to waste before she disappears again from his life.

"Yuki, I have a question..." he starts as if he has no idea she's conducting an interview at this very moment, making a surprised face and almost shouting the name of the woman he once called his equal. "Woah, I can't believe it! Is it really you?!"

Satoru knows it's not right to be that happy about her baffled - if not fearful - expression, but he can't help himself. Here she is, the girl who could never shut up in class whenever a teacher asked them a question, sitting in the office he built with the money he earned, not borrowed from his father. He is where she has always wanted to be, Gojo is sure. Geto would probably smack him for being a smug bastard in front of a woman who surely has nothing against him, but Satoru feels ecstatic.

Until he sees she is not only scared: she is terrified. Why? Is it because her old rival ended up doing much better than her? She must be feeling upset and jealous, but she shouldn't be horrified. There's nothing to be scared of. Is she worried she won't get this job because she thinks Satoru is a manchild who can't forgive her for their silly school competition?

Or is she scared of him?

He doesn't like the thought.

"I'm so happy to see you!" He adds with a too-wide smile. "What are you doing here?"

It's concerning how she bites down on her lower lip, nearly ripping the thin skin covered in lipstick.

Thankfully, Yuki finally acknowledges his presence with an awkward smile, "Mr. Gojo, good morning. I apologize, but we are in the middle of a job interview. If it's alright with you, I'll come see you a little later."

The woman in front of him still doesn't utter a single word, and he feels like she'll escape him again if he lets her. With a dramatic sigh and a smile so wide it's a wonder how his face hasn't cracked yet, he announces to her, "Oh dear, I'm so sorry for interrupting! But you'll wait for me after your interview, alright? We can go grab a coffee together! It's not like it's against our company policy, right, Yuki?"

If eyes could kill, he would definitely be dead by now because his HR is ready to stab him with a fork she once stole from a cafeteria and is now keeping in one of her drawers. Satoru isn't that suicidal yet, so he quietly leaves her office before his old rival can utter a single word.

Now, this is about to get interesting.

_________

Tags: @minshookie29 @mononlogue @whore-for-hawks @theoriginaluzisimp @khatte @brooke-gvf @nimuelis