#oliver park ; interactions

[tctteredwings]

for: @bhqextras location: coney island

It was a tradition for Oliver to turn up at Luna Park on opening day and this year was no exception. Since he was a teenager, he had a thing about riding the Cyclone on both the first and last day of the season. As he made his way across the park, he cast a glance to the person beside him ( someone he'd thankfully talked into coming with him today ) and asked, "Did you want to do anything else first?" As tempting as it was, he wasn't going to be selfish today. "We have to get corndogs later, it's essential."

[endlessfebrvary]

having a human son bound oliver to earth and, more often than not, to a corporeal human form too. he had to behave like a real, normal person. these excursions with emmett served as outlets for oliver's true desires. it felt incredible to be himself, even for a little bit. they weren't the same beings but they had enough in common for ollie to feel at home, at peace, with emmett. he didn't take that for granted. "you're fucking ridiculous, have I told you that lately? indiana fucking jones..." oliver shakes his head, his affection clear in his tone of voice. "was that your time period? were you a victorian child? is this a little trip down memory lane?" there was a stark difference between them. oliver didn't have a childhood to look back on, he hadn't grown up in the traditional sense. plus, at this point, he'd been around for so long that time blurred together. the demon struggled to differentiate his memories. "right exactly here? under our feet? let's see how accurate you are." oliver dropped to his knees without hesitation. his fingers and nails stretched into long black claws that he used to start tearing into the ground beneath them, strong enough to break through whatever material he encountered. "I'll do the grunt work, you just stay there and look pretty, darling."

whilst emmett had always been capable of making interesting decisions, opting to live recklessly and wildly as opposed to keeping a low profile (like his twin brother), oliver certainly made him worse. that fact delighted him, though. it filled him with another layer of energy, making anything they did together feel as effortless as being. they definitely didn't need to do this. emmett had everything he could ever possibly need in a hundred lifetimes, but he loved a chase. he loved to do everything he shouldn't do. to be made to feel alive, even more so in his best friend's presence. he nudges him, feigning irritation but his smirk is easy to spot, even in the darkness of the night. "...sure, but it makes me feel like i'm in indiana jones..." he teases, "or that i'm a victorian child walking through their mansion's grounds." his life. the life he'd experienced before dying and become this, was more the former. he'd always taken risks, and dying and becoming immortal hadn't dissuaded him. he was who he was, no matter what happened. "we will - i'm sure of it." he was sure of it, even if he couldn't possibly be. the flame flickers and it stops him in his tracks, oceanic gaze flickering towards the ground beneath his feet. "it's here. for certain, it's here."

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Simon had been on the verge of getting the fuck out of Dodge, the enormity of everything he'd found out starting to bog him down. He hadn't been able to do it alone, not anymore, not even for Maddie. Thankfully, the universe had heard him and had held out an olive branch.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.11

Simon crept to his car, a tactical advance, hunched low to the ground and clinging to the shadows as far as they would take him. He was afraid, adrenaline pumping, heart pounding in his ears; he didn't want Mr. Anderson to find him sneaking around the school a second time. Not after what he and Maddie had uncovered in the supply closet.

Mr. Anderson had propelled up Simon's short list of suspects to the top spot, the cache of money a sure sign the man was up to no good. Simon didn't have a lot of experience with society's seedy underbelly, but if movies had taught him anything, it's that normal people didn't hide stacks of cash outside of their homes unless they expected a police raid.

Was Mr. Anderson a drug dealer? Some kind of kingpin moonlighting as a high school English teacher? It was the perfect disguise. Cops would never think of a man who works with teenagers capable of that level of corruption. At least, not in Split River. No matter how many problems the town had, it wasn't that degree of shitty.

Only, Mr. Anderson had seemed nervous; a man forced onto a ledge at gunpoint. Threatened. Scared.

Okay, Simon reasoned, so Mr. Anderson wasn't a high-ranking drug lord. But he was definitely on the wrong side of the law and was obviously desperate. And desperate people were unpredictable when they felt backed into a corner.

He'd claimed he'd given Maddie what sounded like had been a large sum of money. A bribe, maybe. One that, in the end, hadn't been enough to convince Mr. Anderson she wouldn't rat on him. The thought made Simon's stomach churn, bile burning the back of his throat.

Maddie had been wrecked by the discovery, hands shaking from a surge of emotion too enormous to contain. She'd held it together long enough to caution Simon not to contaminate the evidence by touching it, assuring him she'd count it after he was safely off campus.

She'd shooed him from the classroom, "You have to leave, now," eyes watery as Mr. Anderson's betrayal had finally seemed to register. "I've got this, okay? Just go."

Simon had done as ordered. What good would he be if Mr. Anderson took him out next?

He peeled out of the parking lot and into the road, lightheaded as a thousand and one questions flooded his brain. His chest tightened, breathing labored, and—God, shit, he hadn't had a panic attack since middle school but, since Maddie's disappearance last Friday, they'd made a grand comeback. Kept him awake at night when there was nothing left to distract him from what could've happened to his best friend.

"Fuck." Simon rasped, smacking the steering wheel with his palm. And then, increasing in volume and intensity, "Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!" He beat the steering wheel, accidentally hitting the horn once and startling a woman walking her dog.

"Sorry!" He called, sheepish, through the open driver's side window, flashing a hand in apology. He didn't wait for a reaction, simply continued to drive home.

The thought of interacting with his parents put him on edge. He didn't know how he was supposed to stay quiet about Mr. Anderson. Noticeably off the last few days, Simon had already endured three separate lectures about drug use, depression, and sexuality respectively.

His parents' unconditional support, though amazing, made him feel like garbage—or, more accurately, a landfill—for causing them to worry to the point of draping a rainbow flag over the back of the couch and reassuring him that, "Love is love, mijo. We just want you to be happy."

Even if he could slip past his dad, his mother would undoubtedly pick up that whatever plot she suspected Simon of hiding had thickened. And, frankly, if she asked just right, Simon knew he'd crack and tell her everything. About Xavier, about Mr. Anderson...about developing The fucking Shining and assuming the role of Watson to his best friend's ghost.

Buying himself some time, Simon took turns he didn't have to; drove through random neighborhoods as he tried to think up a plausible excuse for his behavior that wouldn't result in another intervention. He didn't have it in him to watch his mother's face crumple as he lied to her again. The umpteenth time that week.

He needed to talk to someone. To get it out of himself and share the burden. His skin felt too tight and his bones too heavy and he couldn't carry the weight of Maddie's murder mystery alone.

And then, as if God had heard him, Simon's prayers were answered.

Without thinking it through, he pulled over and beeped his horn to get your attention before you turned onto the path that margined the small, neighborhood greenspace.

Clambering sideways to get out of his car, his foot caught on a pedal, seatbelt still hooked, Simon called out, "Hey!" grunting when he was knocked back into his seat by the strap. He took a second to collect himself, unbuckled his seatbelt, and climbed out in a less frenzied manner.

"Uhhhmm, are you okay?" You asked, your face displaying how not okay you thought Simon was. You glanced up and down the street, puzzled, "What are you doing here? Don't you live in Cedar Bank?" A suburb on the other side of the river that bisected the town.

Simon debated whether or not it had been a good idea to stop, but he didn't think he could give you an excuse and drive away, either. He dimly sympathized with how Mr. Anderson had felt back in that classroom; splitting threads pulled through the eye of a needle.

He summoned his resolve and turned to face you, "I need to tell you something."

You cocked your head, looked Simon over, and nodded slowly. Simon could tell you were trying to determine what this was about. Realized as you walked him into the little playpark and took a seat on one of the two swings, that he'd come out of nowhere in a move that could easily be interpreted as stalkerish.

"I could give you a lift home if you wanna talk in the car?" He offered, settling into the second swing all the same. The park was deserted, dark, the glow of the streetlights falling short by a few meters.

You shook your head and hooked your thumb over your shoulder, "That's literally my backyard."

Simon followed your indication and saw the top half of an antique build, painted a deep royal purple and trimmed in evergreen, that peaked over a tall, bushy hedgerow. A wooden fence several inches shorter than your family's hedges divided the public space from private property, running the length of the park behind your house and a few others.

"Huh." Simon returned his gaze to yours, "Never mind."

"Did you talk to Nicole?" You asked, possibly thinking that that was what Simon wanted to discuss.

He fiddled with his hands, closed his eyes, and supported his head on the metal chain that held the swing up. "No." He stated honestly. He needed to tell you about Mr. Anderson. Just. Start talking. But the words kept sticking in this throat.

"Simon? You're starting to scare me, is everything okay? Is this..." You trailed off and when you spoke again, you sounded worried, "Is this about Maddie?"

"Kind of," Simon admitted, pressing the meat of his palms into his eyes. "Screw it," He spun the swing so he faced you completely and then uncorked the bottle, "I found a shit ton of money in Mr. Anderson's classroom. Like, wads of it. Probably thousands of dollars hidden in the wall in the closet."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

What the f u u u u u u ck.

One minute you'd been on your way home, trying to parse out why the connection between you and Wally had gone dormant as soon as you'd left him, and now, there you were, listening to Simon basically tell you that he'd unmasked Mr. Anderson like a Scooby-Doo villain.

You didn't have that on your Everything is FUBAR bingo card, that's for sure.

Okay. Okay. This was...big. Huge. And, "Holy shit, maybe it has to do with why he freaked on me in the theater," you said, mostly to yourself though you knew Simon would hear it.

"He what?"

You looked at Simon, "Earlier, I was—" Lie like a smart girl, "—looking for something Tilly forgot in the theater and he found me. But, Simon," You stood, started to pace, "He was acting paranoid like I found his dead mom à la Norman Bates. He practically threw me out of there." Which was, fine, a mild exaggeration, but Mr. Anderson's paranoia hadn't been. "I've never seen him like that. And he kept getting these phone calls that made him even more angry."

"Wait, what do you mean 'phone calls'? Did you hear anything?"

"No, just that he needed a minute. I guess to go find somewhere I wouldn't hear him."

Simon was standing now, pacing in a pattern the opposite of yours.

"He was on the phone when I saw him. Talking to someone about how he shouldn't have given Maddie money."

You felt like the sky had fallen on your head, "He gave Maddie money? Is that why she..." You'd wanted to say ran away, a kneejerk reaction borne from days of convincing yourself she'd just put Split River in the rearview. With what you knew now, you settled for, "Disappeared?"

Simon appeared to notice your choice of wording, peered at you like a math problem, but didn't mention it, instead revealing, "It's a line of inquiry."

You rubbed your temples to ease away the migraine that was building. Today had been too much; too many things unfolding one after the other: First hearing from Wally that Maddie was a ghost, and then just Wally and everything you had to unpack with that, and now Mr. Anderson's apparent criminal activity that may or may not have had a direct impact on Maddie's being a ghost in the first place.

Of course, you reminded yourself, she wasn't a ghost because you couldn't see. her. Which meant that, if he was involved, Mr. Anderson had drugged her to the point of a coma and had hidden her body somewhere.

"Oh my God," You moaned dismally, "This is so f u c k e d." As the gears turned, a thought clawed for your attention. "Simon," you ceased pacing to lift your gaze and regard Simon closely, "Why were you there?"

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon knew he had to give you something, but, Jesus Christ, he was nervous. He'd already decided not to admit he could see Maddie, unable to believe that you wouldn't tell a trusted adult. And he wasn't keen on getting pumped full of antipsychotics and locked in a padded room, thanks.

You watched him, eyes hard, jaw set, more serious than he'd ever seen you, "Simon, what the hell?"

He swallowed, opting for half-truths, because he'd come this far. He needed help. A confidante. Would've preferred Nicole but she'd galivanted off with Xavier, apparently, and took the choice out of Simon's hands.

"I've been looking for clues about what happened to Maddie," Simon confessed, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "Since the search on Monday, when Xavier got arrested—"

You interrupted, fierce, loyal, "He wasn't arrested, Si. His dad was just taking him to the station to give an official statement."

"In the back seat?" Simon deadpanned.

"There's no room in the front of the cruiser!" You threw your hands up as if dealing with the situation would drive you to drink.

"With the lights on?"

"Because there was a crowd of people practically throwing themselves at the car to get Xavier's face on video."

Simon conceded and resituated himself on one of the swings. You followed his example, though, this time, you shrugged off your backpack and dropped it in the sand beside you.

"So, what do we do?" Simon wanted to know, close to getting on his knees and begging you to take the reigns on this because he was exhausted.

"Alright." You shifted to straddle your swing, hands in front of you as you counted details on your fingers. "We know that Maddie went missing on Friday. We know Xavier had nothing to do with it." Your eyes narrowed, daring Simon to comment. He didn't. "We know that Mr. Anderson is hiding money and that he gave some to Maddie. To keep her quiet?"

"That's what we-" Simon tensed, quickly undoing his mistake, "I'm thinking."

That intense look of scrutiny was back on your face and Simon resisted the urge to gulp. Three days ago Simon had figured you for the only person who'd believe him about Maddie's ghost. My how times have changed.

"If he was hiding money in his classroom, he could be hiding other things around the school, too." You rationalized. "Like the theater. I bet you anything that there's something in there he doesn't want us to find."

True. In fact, "Do you think he's hiding Maddie in there?"

"What, like, under the stage? That'd be pretty risky. And the cops went through every room in the school with search and rescue dogs and everything. Wouldn't they have found her if she was down there?"

Simon deflated, "Good point," reluctant to add that those dogs probably weren't the type trained to find cadavers.

"Right." You paused, either to organize your thoughts or analyze Simon further, he wasn't sure, but you soon continued, tone weak, "Simon, if he did have something to do with Maddie...I take back what I said before."

"About?"

You shrunk into yourself, forcing, "Maddie being okay," as if the words had to be wrenched out of you. "I don't want to believe Mr. Anderson could've hurt her but..." You blinked a rapid dozen times up at the sky, visibly shaken as you considered the worst, "I don't think she's okay."

A lump formed in Simon's throat. He was all too aware of the painful truth. His vision blurred, nostrils prickled, the enormity of the situation closing in on him.

"Yeah," He sniffed, "Me neither."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Neither you nor Simon were aware that, only ten feet away, crouched in the bushes, a figure wearing Simon's best friend's face had heard everything.

Cold.

Hungry.

And without an iota of guilt.

💀___________________________

PART TEN - PART TWELVE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[jojojoy1]

That was flirting!? - Oliver Bearman

Oliver Bearman x reader

You always loved going to races with Ollie. Watching him in his element was the best thing in the world. Seeing the passion he has for the sport and the dedication he pours into it.

And seeing him interacting with fans always warmed your heart. But that didn't mean the occasional overly touchy fan didn't annoy you.

You're not a jealous person normally, but you can't help it when drop dead gorgeous fans start talking to Ollie, and god for bid the touch him. You trust Ollie with every bone in your body. You know he doesn't think of those girls as anything but his amazing fans. You're the only one he has eyes for. But it still gets to you sometimes.

After Ollie's amazing qualifying, starting in P1, countless fans came up to you both, congratulating him. It put a huge smile on your face, until one fan started talking to him.

She was beautiful. If you looked up the definition of gorgeous in the dictionary her picture would be there. She completely ignored you, not even a hello. Her hands immediately went for Ollie's arms, stroking up and down as she spoke.

You hated the whole interaction. You hated her.

"Well done on P1, Ollie." She said in a sexy voice.

"Oh thank you." Ollie responded, oblivious to her intentions. "We really pushed today. Now we've just got to wait for tomorrow and see what we can do."

"Well, I'm always cheering for you." Her hand travelled down Ollie's arm and she lightly held his hand.

That was the last straw for you. You grabbed Ollie's hand, knocking her's away in the process. You didn't give Ollie anytime to protest as you were storming to the car park. You could feel the girl staring daggers at you, but you didn't care.

You got in the car, Ollie quickly doing the same.

"What was that?" He asked you.

"What are you talking about?" You sat with your arms crossed, slightly slouched in your chair, pouting and avoiding Ollie's gaze.

"Why did you drag me away just then?"

"Because it's late and you've got a race tomorrow, so you need to rest."

Ollie stared at you before responding, trying to read your face for the truth. When it finally clicked, a small smirk made its way onto his face.

"Oh. My. God."

"What?" You finally turned to face him.

"Is somebody jealous?" He chuckled slightly.

"What!? No! I don't get jealous."

"You are. You're jealous."

"Well can you blame me. That girl was beautiful, she had her hands all over you and she just acted like I didn't exist." You sat up more now, voicing the reason for your weird behaviour. "And you were totally oblivious to everything she was doing."

"What do you mean I was oblivious?" Ollie reached over to gently grasp your hand.

"She was flirting with you and you did nothing."

"Oh. That was flirting!?" The look of confusion on his face made you giggle a little bit.

"Yes, that was flirting." Your other hand went to cup his cheek, gazing into his beautiful eyes.

"Well, who cares if she was flirting or not. At the end of the day I have you and I don't need anything more." His words made you blush, and Ollie smiled in amusement at the affect he had on you.

"Honestly, you'll be the death of me with how sweet you are."

"You love it." Ollie said as he moved closer, bumping your nose with his.

"I do." You agreed with him as he placed a soft kiss against your lips.

[causenessus]

try again

part 0.4. NEXT TIME

"the playground seemed so big when they were younger. and now they’re here again, 10 years later, and it looks small. their world is bigger than just this playset now. the metal that forms the foundation of the structure is still a shiny, vibrant red, but the cracked, faded plastic shows its age. where has time gone? 'who are you now?' she wants to ask. as a kid, time goes by slowly, and you tell your parents you can’t wait to grow old. they tell you to enjoy your childhood, but you never believe them. and even now, she’s not sure she does. she's not old, but old enough to know time goes by fast. since their meeting in her office, she’s reflected more on how she’s grown up. she doesn’t miss her childhood– she likes the freedom that has come with adulthood, but at the same time, it’s slowly weighing her down. she’s old enough, that she can no longer spend her summers relaxed in a quiet house, laying in bed all day with the door open while both her parents are at work. she can't spend the nights stretched out on her back, against wet, dewy grass, looking at the stars with him while staining her favorite shirt. now she has responsibilities to take care of every day, and any little mistake can no longer be taken back. she’s an adult now, and no one is there to pick her up when she falls."

content warnings + notes: calling atsumu a little cupid whore (/lh), drinking, y/n is having a crisis, pay attention to unsent messages :) very long written part... oops </3

she downs the last of her glass in one go. 

it’s cheap whiskey, and she hates the taste. it’s probably the worst she’s ever had, but the burn down her throat is a little pleasant. 

completely going against her plan to drink something light, she decided she would need some liquid courage if she was going to do this. her hands are splayed across the cold bar counter as she stands from her chair, mind buzzing a little as she grounds herself. 

akaashi doesn’t notice her absence in his drunken state, but iwaizumi does. kita looks up as well, but remains seated, keeping akaashi company after nodding to iwaizumi who stands up.

“where are you going?” he asks following her out of the bar, pushing past a few groups of people in their way. he's not asking it like he's accusing her of anything, he just sounds concerned.

but he doesn’t need to worry, and she faces him as they make it out. “going to see omi,” she practically sings the answer, her voice careless as the nickname spills out of her mouth before she even realizes it. it comes too naturally to her, and the thought ruins the nice numbness in her veins from the alcohol. instead, she starts to feel the guilt build up again.

iwaizumi still stands in front of her, arms crossed, matching her own stance. “you’re going to see sakusa?” he repeats, brows raised.

“mhm,” she hums, shifting from one foot to the other. her shoes are starting to bother her, too. she'll probably take them off as soon as iwaizumi lets her go.

“where?”

she sighs, starting to feel restless just standing there. the warm lights and ruckus from inside the bar invite her back in, and so does the pull she feels in the opposite direction down the street, where she'll see him. “an old park, can i go?”

“no, hold on,” he stops her before she can even take a step, “you’re going to go meet a man you haven’t talked to in years after a single interaction at a park this late at night?”

“yes?” she quirks a brow at him, “it’s an old park we used to go to a lot. it’s not far from here and i know him. i’ll be okay.”

“i’m not saying sakusa’s going to do anything to you, but i’m not letting you walk there alone. especially when you’ve been drinking. let me make sure you get there safely and then i’ll leave you, deal?” he proposes, and she sees how much he cares in his eyes. they’re a pretty olive green and despite how sharp they are, there’s so much love in them. it reminds her of her own eyes, and how she feels when she looks at sakusa; her head starts to panic in alarm and get defensive, but at the same time, her heart slows down, as if telling her he's safe.

she knows iwaizumi makes a good point, and there’s nothing wrong with having a little extra safety, or a human purse. “fine,” she sighs, “but only if you hold my shoes.”

their walk to the park is silent, but it’s a peaceful silence. she’s walking next to him barefoot, feeling even shorter than before. he questions her a few times, to make sure she actually knows where she’s going, and she insists that she does. she’s had a little bit to drink, yes, but she’s not drunk. and she's confident she could still find her way to this park blindfolded. she’s walked these sidewalks hundreds of times, ran to this park from every direction and route possible. it was always their spot, whether they lay in the wet grass or sat on the playset. the memories of being with him back then make her feel a little grim, and iwaizumi looks down at her, noticing.

“you okay?” he asks, nudging her shoulder closest to him with his arm.

“yeah,” she sighs, watching the way her shoes clank against each other in his hand with every step they take.

“what’re you thinking?” he asks, still looking down at her and she looks back up at him.

“i just don’t know what i’m doing,” she says, trying to voice her feelings while she turns to stare back ahead of them. “what are we gonna do? what does he like doing now? what if i’ve changed and he doesn’t like who i am anymore? i'm so scared of disappointing him.”

“you’re good enough as you are, y/n,” he silences her and she glances back at him in surprise. “don’t let a man change how you see yourself. you’re good as you are, and if he doesn’t think so, he can fuck off. there's no such thing as an expectation or a right way for you to act. he’s probably changed too, and that’s just how people work. did he text you or did you text him?”

she gives him a smile at his words, nudging him back with her shoulder as a way of thanking him, “he texted me.”

he gives her a grin at that, “he texted you? asking to see you?” when she nods he continues, "damn that's ballsy. he really wants you, y/n. and i hope he's a good person. i’ve seen him around and worked a little bit with him, he seems alright.”  

she flusters a little bit at his words, “i’m sure it’s not like that. we just used to be very good friends, you know that. i’ve never stopped missing him, maybe he felt a little bit of the same way.”

he nods at her words, giving a hum in thought. they’re walking along the fence that’s been set up around the park, and she can see the entrance coming up, where a lone lamp post is lighting the way. “but you want him, don’t you?”

she knows he’s asking it in a romantic sense, and she does. she knows what she feels for him is more than just friendly, and she’s felt stupid for never being able to fall in love with anyone else because she’s been stuck on him this entire time. “i’m happy with anything,” she decides to say, “if we start hanging out again, that’s enough for me. i just want him to be a part of my life.”

they stop at the park entrance, and she can see the playset from here, just a bit down the path. “do you want me to walk you there? or are you’re fine from here? i think the walk helped you sober up a little bit, so i feel better about leaving you here now. just make sure you text me if you feel even slightly off, got it?”

“got it!” she responds with a smile, giving him a small salute as a joke. “thank you for walking me here, iwa. i'll be fine on my own now and i’ll text you when i'm walking home.”

he rolls his eyes at the salute but gives her a smile, “sounds good. i’ll check in with you then as well. i might come meet you halfway or who knows, maybe your guy will want to walk you home?”

he’s giving her another shitty grin that she’d like to slap off his face, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes, “whatever, iwa. see you in a little bit.”

she pulls him into a hug, trying to tell him all her feelings at once, thanking him for his advice and for walking her here, and he’s quick to reciprocate it, rubbing her back for a second before they pull away. he gives her her shoes and waves her off, making sure she steps onto the playground before he leaves, and she sees him.

tonight, it seems they’ll be sitting on the top of the playset, above a tube that connects one platform to another. she steps up onto one of the platforms first, dropping her shoes on it before clambering on top of the structure.

he offers her a hand after watching her (probably ungraceful) climb which she hesitates to take for a second. her heart feels like it's trying to escape her chest as she takes it, the contact sending chills along her skin.

“hi,” she whispers after she's sat down, stealing a glance at him, unsure of where to start.

“hi,” he says back, already looking at her. he looks better than when she saw him last, but perhaps that's just because today has been better for him. there are still bags under his eyes that she can see despite the lack of light around them, but she can also see that his eyes look brighter today. she wants to mention it, say she’s glad to see that he looks like he's doing well today, but she shouldn’t. it’s too early–

“you look good today.”

the words spill out of her mouth and she immediately slaps a hand over it. she had drank more after texting him purposefully, knowing that it would mess with her ability to reason and this was the consequence, although she wasn't sure yet if it was a positive or negative one.

he laughs in response, giving her a small smile that she hasn’t seen in years. she missed seeing it; she missed him.

“thank you,” he says, holding her gaze and she’s unable to look away, “you look good too. although maybe a little drunk.”

her cheeks are burning red and she feels hot despite the fact that she was practically shivering the entire way here, latching onto iwaizumi and his body heat. “no i– well– yes, i have been drinking but i didn’t mean it that way– i mean you do look good–” she has to take a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, “i meant you look happier today, sorry.”

he’s still looking at her, smiling. and maybe it’s a tiny bit bigger than it was before, and she smiles back.

she has no idea it’s because of her–that he seems happier today. he’s only just found her again after so many years apart, and yet he’s glad she’s in his life again. this is only the second time they’ve seen each other after so long, and she’s already had this big of an impact on him. and maybe it was due to atsumu’s influence, and the way that he kept bringing her up, and how it had been their entire conversation over dinner, but he didn’t really care. he was happy to be talking about her again, and to see her again. they had been so close, and it felt strangely nostalgic whenever he saw her, as if he was a child again, tossing and turning on a bed stand, sick to his stomach for home.

but he had been homesick for her this entire time, and he didn’t want to talk about her as if their time together had passed; he wanted to be close to her again. but only if she let him: “that guy you came here with, are you guys–”

“oh, no no no,” she immediately cuts him off, shaking her head before he gets the wrong idea. “he’s just a friend. my roommates and i went out to dinner today and then we went drinking. he just didn’t want me to walk here alone.”

he nods, feeling strangely relieved to hear that. “i just came from eating out with my roommates, too. i cut it short because one of them was being annoying.”

she hums in thought, a smile breaking out on her face, “hm, that can’t possibly be atsumu, can it?”

he can’t even joke back, just rolls his eyes with a sigh at the mention of his friend.

“i just texted him earlier tonight. finally scolded him for setting up that entire meeting between us. i mean– who even thinks to do something like that?”

“just him. he’s got one brain cell working for him and it’s got a funny way of working,” sakusa responds, looking forward to the field in front of them. they used to spin around on that field, trying to stay standing the longest before they both fell onto wet grass, too dizzy to keep standing. “i think it worked out nice, but there were definitely other ways he could have planned that out.”

she can’t help but look at him, slightly surprised. so he was happy to see her? perhaps she should’ve understood that by now; here they were sitting side by side on an old playset. “yeah, it did,” she can’t help but say, not even thinking twice about agreeing with him. “and if you don’t mind me bringing it up, do you think you will come back for a second meeting? i was just wondering.”

“yeah, i’m thinking about it,” he answers, still not looking at her, and she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have asked the question. she’s brought the topic of conversation back to her job, and reminded herself of everything she shouldn’t be doing right now. she shouldn’t be doing any of this. she’s looking forward to seeing him in her office again, but she shouldn’t. she should be treating him as a client, not as an old face or a silly old crush. and she shouldn’t be seeing him outside of the office; it ruins that professional relationship she should be trying to maintain. she's giving into him too easily, even after he had been the one to accuse her of something hurtful upon their first words to each other in years.

a particularly cold wind blows through and she shivers, breathing in sharply as her shoulders raise towards her ears on instinct, trying to protect them from the cold. in her defense, she hadn't foreseen sitting on a playset in the middle of the night today and had not dressed accordingly.

“are you cold?” he asks, hand already reaching towards the open black jacket he was wearing, a plain white shirt underneath.

she’s looking at him, face completely blank. her mind is so far gone, thinking about countless other things, including every single way this interaction could go. ‘what was she even doing here? why did she agree to come?’ the moment he texted her she put up little to no resistance. she lasted one text, trying to set up a boundary between them to prevent herself from getting hurt and then completely dropped it. how could he be so casual about seeing her again? was their friendship something shallow to him? something he could easily replace or come back to?

he’s saying her name, and her mind returns to the boy in front of her, blinking twice before responding, “sorry. i was just thinking about something. i’m fine. you don’t need to give me your jacket or anything.”

“but if i want to?” he asks and this is where she failed last time, and will fail again, and will always fail, because she can never resist him.

“i–”

the jacket is already around her shoulders before she knows it. it’s warm, and the weight of it on top of her shoulders is comforting. the smell of him is enveloping all of her senses and her entire mind, and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but it.

it was simple, and really not that heavy or distinctive of a smell. just clean clothes–his detergent, and maybe a hint of lemon or lavender. it was easy to get used to, and it had become familiar to her after being around him so long in the past, but she hadn’t smelled it in so long, she felt like she was suffocating now. with the smell came so many memories associated with him, and it took everything in her not to let out a shaky breath, giving away her emotions.

he didn’t know what to say, looking at her. her chin was resting on top of her knees, pulled up close against her chest, and her eyes were closed, brows furrowed as if she was trying desperately to hold something in. had he come off too strongly? he liked to think he still knew her, could read her mind, tell when she was cold, and when she needed something, but maybe he was wrong, or just moving too fast. maybe she didn’t feel the same way, and didn’t want to be friends again.

“thanks,” she murmurs finally, eyes opening again, although she’s staring at the ground below them, and he’s unsure of where to look–at her, or the ground as well.

“yeah,” he replies, and the conversation falls quiet between them again.

it’s almost comfortable between them. it would be if she wasn't feeling like she was ruining everything and only digging herself a bigger hole. maybe they went quiet because he was sick of her now, and regretted asking to see her. and should she even care or not? should she get up and leave right now? what was the right thing to do right now, objectively? not what was right according to her heart, but according to her head?

she should be keeping her distance from him, not allowing him to get closer, giving him the chance to hurt her again. he had let them get distant, she reminded herself. he had let their friendship crumble without saying a word, he didn’t see her the way she saw him, and she couldn’t rely on him to be there for her.

“how are you?” he breaks the silence, and the question sets off every nerve in her body. it’s like her mind is being torn in two, trying to find an answer to the simple question. it’s not really that simple– he’s asking it, referring to the last 10 years of her life, and he’s asking her to be vulnerable and share about herself, and she can’t do that.

“don’t do that to me,” she says, shutting her eyes again.

“do what?” he’s looking at her, at his jacket draped around her shoulders, and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to hold himself back from reaching out to fix her hair, which has been slightly caught underneath the jacket. 

she lets out a heavy, quiet breath, “don’t ask me that– like you care.”

“i do care,” he responds immediately, and she’s sure if she looked up at him, he’d be looking at her. but if she looks at him, she’ll break.

“we shouldn’t be doing this. we can’t be doing this. i shouldn’t be seeing you outside of my office. i listened to you talk about your struggles for an hour that you would've otherwise paid for if it wasn't the first meeting. you can’t turn around and ask how i am for free. that’s not fair. we should be nothing more than a therapist and a client. it’s easier for me to look at you that way because–” her voice gets caught in her throat for a second as she tries to talk confidently, but her voice gives away her feelings. she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears before they even reach her eyes, but she blinks through them, “because i look at you and still see what we used to be. but so much happened between us, and then you left, and that still hurts.”

‘then will you let me make it up to you? then can we go back to what we were before? and can we be more?’ the words are heavy in his head, and too forward to say out loud, but he has to say something. he has to say something now because he didn’t say anything back then.

he had always assumed that she had just been disappearing from his life altogether–from his notifications, the school hallways, and his walks home, but he realized now she had done that on purpose. she had purposely removed herself from his life so they would never see each other, and he had never stopped her. of course she hadn’t believed him, when he had said it was good to see her in her office, and of course she hadn’t fully understood what his ulterior motives were when he texted her out of the blue about wanting to see her again, because he had never showed how much he cared back then. but he had to tell her now that she was worth everything.

“i don’t mind paying it,” he ends up saying, and finally gets her to look at him, “i don’t mind paying to see you for an hour. i’d pay to be around you anyday, especially if you’re going to refuse to see me anywhere else, then i’ll just force you to put up with me for an hour every week.”

she laughs with a shake of her head, “you’re not forcing me to see you. i want to see you outside of that time…i just–i shouldn’t.”

“why not?” he can’t help but ask. “you’re still friends with atsumu, too. you text him outside of your appointments all the time.”

“yes but–” i like you more than a friend. hell, i’ve been in love with you for the past 10 years of my life. actually, probably for even longer, but who’s even counting at this point– she takes a deep breath again. she should leave soon, and think about this. she’s going to end up letting him convince her if she keeps listening to him, “maybe next time. i’ll tell you how i’ve been next time, okay?”

she’s giving him a next time, and he’ll take whatever he can get. they can start slow again. being her client is like being her acquaintance. people are always acquaintances before they’re friends; they can grow from here.

"when is next time?" he responds quickly, realizing it sounds like she’s going to stand up and leave soon, but he's not losing sight of her again.

she avoids looking at him, keeping her knees are pulled to her chest as she picks at the worn-down plastic of the playground tube they're sitting on, "i don't know, sakusa. i really need time to think about all of this. i don’t know what i’m doing here, or why i showed up tonight.”

her words feel like a burn in his lungs, but even when his sides are aching on his morning runs, he keeps going. "but you showed up anyway."

she finally looks at him, and he swears he could get lost in her eyes forever. he can’t believe he went through their entire friendship without telling her how beautiful she was, in every single way. he can’t believe he ever let go of her. perhaps that cliche saying was true, that you never know how important something really is until you lose it.

"i did," she echoes, continuing to stare into his own eyes.

"are you going to leave?" he asks, unable to look away.

she looks back down at the threads of green plastic she was pulling at, and his eyes follow. they used to meet at this playset all the time. during the summer, when she’d sleep over, they’d stay up until three in the morning, and then she’d nudge him about sneaking out. he used to worry about what would happen if his parents checked on them and saw that they were gone if they sneaked out, but she always ended up convincing him in the end. they rarely fought or had disagreements. with enough talking, they always managed to persuade the other to agree with them.

“i am. because we both need time to think. you need to think about if you’re going to see me again for therapy and i just need to think. about everything," she replies, and he watches her grab the edge of the tube, steadying herself as she moves to stand before he slides himself off the tube onto the ground below. it’s not that far of a drop for him now, although it was the scariest drop ever as a kid. now he stands eye level with most of the playset, but she's looking at him like it's still that big of a fall, mouth slightly agape in surprise.

“i’ll help you down,” he says with a smile and she blinks.

“no, i’m fine–” her words die out as he looks at her, brows raised in expectancy. this is what he meant: they were always able to push the other to do something, no matter how much they tried to resist in the beginning.

she lets out a sigh, trying to buy time as she fixes her skirt, preparing herself to slip off the tube. it really shouldn't be that scary, but she exclaims as she drops, barely registering the hands on the sides of her waist that catch her while her own clamp down on his shoulders.

her face is red as he lowers her down gently to the ground. whether it’s from the embarrassing noise she let out or the fact that he caught her, she’s not sure. maybe it’s both. even when he lets go of her, she can feel his hands on her still, as if they've been permanently etched into her skin. he’s looking down at her, and there’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes and the smile on his lips. he's too close to her, and she can't stop looking at his lips so she looks down at the ground instead, clutching at the jacket around her shoulders before she remembers it’s not hers.

“oh, here’s your jacket back,” she starts, moving to take off the piece of clothing before he stops her with a hand over he own.

“you can keep it for a little longer if you– if you let me walk you home,” he says, on the verge of losing all of his confidence, but he just can’t let go of her. he doesn't want to watch her leave, but he knows she needs a break.

she looks up at him, feeling like her lips are quivering with how nervous and flustered she feels, “you don’t have to do that, really. i can walk home by myself.”

“but if i want to?”

it’s a repeat of a conversation they had earlier, because she can never give him a complete no, and he always knows to take that as a yes.

she’s ruining everything she’s trying to do for herself right now. she’s trying to set a boundary between them, and horribly failing. because what if he walks her home, and he happens to live nearby again? what if they start to see each other more often? or worst of all, what if he ends up leaving again?

well what if he doesn’t?

oh, whatever.

fuck the what ifs.

they can try again.

.

.

.

"it's gonna rain soon / and pull me back in.

"i had the words / you thought a hundred times

"oh darlin' / will you still walk me back home?'"

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

not really any extras! i just hope u enjoyed <3 and that this chapter was good and not too long or just a bunch of rambles!! i had like three ideas i had randomly wrote down and then just copied and pasted into this chapter and was trying to make them all fit 😭

IWAIZUMI AND Y/N HAVE A PLATONIC SIBLING-TYPE RELATIONSHIP!!! JUST MAKING THAT CLEAR also i'm a sucker for iwaizumi but that's besides the point

omi just kind of got up and left at some point during dinner when atsumu got tipsy and started talking to shoyo and bo. he said goodbye to osamu and then left

they all have each other's locations anyway and shoyo and bokuto trust him to know what he's doing

kita, akaashi, and iwa ended up going home soon after iwa got back from walking y/n to the park and then he and kita stayed up all night waiting for her to come home while akaashi was passed out <3

this fic lowkey goes a little bit off the rails!! but hopefully u guys enjoy it <33

AND I KEEP FORGETTING TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS I'VE KIND OF LOST IT NOW!! but y/n's pfp is a pufferfish because they symbolize protecting yourself and setting boundaries <3 interpret that as u will

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 (4)

Best Friend's Mother Masterlist

Chapter: Four

Milf!Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: A week has gone by since your late night secret with Seonghwa. You kept telling yourself to not entertain the idea of anything more than a one night stand. But Wooyoung, as always, throws a wrench in your plans.

WC: 4.4k

CW: Suggestive towards the end, kissing, touching, lots of teasing, Wooyoung is a cockblock, fluff, cuddles

AN: I spent a whole day writing this, my body hurts, my brain hurts, but I wanted to get this chapter done so badly. I hope you all enjoy it.

Tag List: @hyunjinsjeans @malldreamprincess @unlikelysublimekryptonite @becauseilovedyou @kittkat44 @babyxhoiz @asleepylilcat @mxnsxngie @rxnexxi @mommahwa1117 @acciocriativity @anxiousskylar @h3arteyes4mingi

“Hey guys,” Wooyoung said as he entered the living room. “I have an idea for something we can all do.”

The announcement shouldn’t have filled you with fear, but it did.

The week was a roller coaster, if you had to be honest. You’d wanted to keep your interactions with Seonghwa to a minimum, only talking to him if he talked to you, only if you absolutely needed to.

And it felt like torture.

You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to be nice, you wanted to sit with him and have long conversations about anything and everything. You wanted to give him hugs like Wooyoung did.

But you were scared of what would happen if you let yourself do that. If you fell deeper into him. If your lust for him turned to something more than sex.

You weren’t ready to confront that. Despite Wooyoung constantly dragging you with him to do anything, and “coincidentally” always having Seonghwa be there too, you didn’t think it was something beyond Wooyoung wanting to spend time with you. And of course, you were going to spend time with Wooyoung, so you were in a difficult spot.

And yet, the whole time you were trying to subtly avoid him, Seonghwa wasn’t dumb. And unfortunately, he was more observant than you’d thought he was.

And he hated to admit that he thought about it every time he laid down to sleep. He’d lay in his bed for hours and think about you. About the night you had together.

The way you’d look away when he tried to talk to you, the slight red tint in your cheeks when he’d call you “dear” or “sweetheart,” the little tremor in your voice when you talked to him. He was hopelessly attracted to you, and he knew you felt the same way about him.

And you both were battling with your desires in your own ways.

If only you knew that the gorgeous man you were daydreaming about was doing the same thing just one wall away.

You force a sweet smile at Wooyoung as you come back to the present. Seonghwa also looks up at him.

“Eomma, you know that restaurant you’d take me to as a kid?”

Seonghwa smiled and shook his head. “I’ve taken you to many restaurants.”

“The really expensive one that we went to for special occasions?”

“What’s the occasion?” You wondered. In the back of your mind, you wondered if Wooyoung was about to reveal his “relationship” with San to his mother. But the smirk Wooyoung was giving you shot that theory down quickly.

“Isn’t our presence enough of an occasion?” He answered, standing up straighter, puffing out his chest a little. Seonghwa laughed and shook his head again.

“Your presence is always an occasion, nae sarang, but I can’t just take you. That place-”

“Requires reservations,” Wooyoung interrupted, finishing his sentence. “Well what if I told you I already took care of that?”

You and Seonghwa both blinked, not completely believing him. You had no idea where this was going, or what restaurant they could possibly be talking about. Even if you did know the name, it wouldn’t have helped, because you could never afford to go to a restaurant nicer than Olive Garden.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa started, in the signature disappointed parent tone that said everything without having to say it. The tone that meant “you shouldn’t have done that.” But it didn’t dissuade Wooyoung in the slightest.

“Come on, why not? I haven’t been there in a long time, and it’s something we can all do together.” He put extra emphasis on the word “together.”

You turned your attention to Seonghwa, and he was looking at Wooyoung with nothing but love in his eyes, with a little smile on his lips. He knew that no matter what excuse he made up, he was going to relent. He was going to say yes, because there was no reason to say no.

Part of him wanted to see how serious Wooyoung was. Part of him wanted to see what else Wooyoung was up to. He had his suspicions, but couldn’t tell for certain.

“What day do you have this reserved?” Seonghwa asked, tilting his head back a little.

“Tonight,” Wooyoung said proudly. “The perfect night to go out to eat.”

Time had started to warp and bend for you since you were thr0wn off your usual schedule, but Wooyoung had mentioned to you earlier that it was a Saturday. You realized now why he bothered to point it out.

Seonghwa still pretended to roll the idea over in his head. Both you and Wooyoung knew he was faking it based on his smile, but you two were still waiting with bated breath for his answer.

And finally, Seonghwa sighed and nodded. “Okay, when do we have to be there?”

Wooyoung did a little happy dance and squealed. You smiled and sighed in relief.

You didn’t feel so scared about the idea of going to dinner with Seonghwa knowing Wooyoung was going to be there. You’d have to throw together a decent outfit from the clothes that you brought, but you were sure you could do it.

And that’s what you did. About an hour before you were going to leave, you had taken a shower and made yourself look nice before you went to sort through your clothes. Just a simple outfit, but it still made you look put together. It wasn’t luxury, but it would pass decently for an hour or so.

As you were going to leave the room, there was a knock on the door. When you called for them to come in, Wooyoung peeked in. He took one look at your outfit and shook his head.

“No, that’s not gonna work.” He left and went back into his room. You followed him, befuddled.

“What do you mean, I look fine!” You protested, but Wooyoung was already going through his closet to look for something better. He frantically grabbed at different clothes, looking them over, and rejecting most of them.

“Fine isn’t good enough, this is a high class restaurant.” Wooyoung pulled out a shirt that he was satisfied with and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “Thankfully, your awesome best friend is here to help you.”

You sighed and looked at his outfit. He wore black slacks with a belt, with a white button up tucked into the shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his arms. This was the nicest you’d ever seen Wooyoung in the entirety of your time knowing him, Wooyoung never dressed up for anything. Not even to the formal events your college hosted.

Realizing that, you decided to listen to him and accept the clothes. You let Wooyoung dress you in the outfit he’d picked, and he helped fit and adjust it so it looked good on you. He accessorized you as well, with a couple of necklaces and rings.

You had to admit, when Wooyoung was done with you, you looked much better than you did before. Much more worthy of a fancy restaurant dinner.

Wooyoung also put a coat over your shoulders. “To match the outfit,” he commented.

“I have a jacket, Wooyoung.”

“Not one that goes with your clothes.” You rolled your eyes, but buttoned up the coat regardless. He had a point, sure, but you mostly just wanted him to shut up.

You and Wooyoung made your way to the front door and waited for Seonghwa.

“How do you have all these nice clothes anyway?” You asked, remembering that you never asked what Seonghwa did for work. With his nice house and Wooyoung’s extensive wardrobe, he had to be doing something amazing.

“My mom is a model,” Wooyoung says nonchalantly, looking at his phone.

Oh. Of course he was.

“What does he model for?”

“Mostly shoes, but he does a lot of other stuff. He has a couple deals for a few different luxury brands.”

Of course he does.

As you were about to continue, you heard a bedroom door close, and the familiar click of heels across the hardwood and down the stairs.

Your breath caught in your throat as Seonghwa came down the stairs. Good Lord, he looked fucking stunning.

He’d dressed himself in black slacks, a white, long sleeved turtleneck, and heels. Heels.

His silky black hair was curled and fell down in beautiful waves, his bangs framing his face perfectly. A few gold chains hung from his neck and rings on his fingers. He’d even put on makeup, with small wings by his eyes and sparkly eyeshadow, with sparkly, glossy, pink lips.

You had a sudden urge to kiss him.

You knocked yourself out of your daze when Seonghwa came over to the door. “Are we ready to go?” He asked as he reached into the closet for a coat.

Wooyoung pushed off the couch, already having a coat like you did. “Yeah, we-” And then his phone began to ring. “Oh-Sorry, let me take this.”

Wooyoung took a few steps away as he answered the call. “Hey. Oh, no. Oh, that sucks. Do you want me to come help? Yeah, I can come over. I’ll be there soon. Okay, bye.”

“Who was that?” Seonghwa asked, fixing his coat, which was white and fluffy, and long enough to cover his entire body, leaving it open. You tried to focus your attention on Wooyoung instead, who was putting his phone into his coat pocket.

“A friend from college, he needs me to come over.”

You had a strong feeling who that “friend” was.

“What happened?” You asked, but Wooyoung was already making his way to the door hurriedly. You grabbed onto his arm to stop him, and as he looked at you, you could see in his eyes that he was scared.

There was genuine fear there. Your stomach suddenly filled with dread wondering what could’ve happened to this unnamed “friend.”

“I’ll explain later, I just really have to go.” He pulled his arm out of your grip and opened the door. “I’m sorry, you two should still go enjoy dinner!”

“Wait, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa tried to stop him, but Wooyoung was already gone.

And you and Seonghwa were alone. As the silence stretched on, another realization dawned on you.

You were about to go to a restaurant and have dinner with Seonghwa. Alone.

“Well,” Seonghwa began. “Do you still want to go?”

“Yes,” you blurted, way sooner than you wanted to. Seonghwa’s lips curved up into a smirk.

“You don’t have to hide it anymore, sweetie. He’s gone.”

Your heart stops and you can feel sweat break out all over your body. Of course he knew, of course he’d seen how you were avoiding him and being shy around him. But you weren’t prepared for him to confront you about it.

And all that you can say is a soft, strangled, “What?” Seonghwa laughed softly and closed the gap between you two, standing over you. He made you feel so much smaller than you already were.

And you wanted to grab him. Desire burned in your bones to reach out and hug him, pressing your face into his chest, being safe and happy in his arms, letting the rest of the world fade out.

But you held yourself back, and forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. And he was loving the panic in your eyes.

“You can relax. It’s okay.” Seonghwa grabbed your hand and held it gently. “Enjoy this night with me.”

“But Wooyoung-” You tried to argue, but Seonghwa shook his head.

“He’s an adult. He’ll be okay. I’ll leave my phone on if he needs me.” He squeezed your hand gently. “Please. Come with me.”

And who were you to tell him no, when Seonghwa was asking you to go with him?

You followed Seonghwa into the restaurant, and you were already impressed in the first few seconds.

The entrance had little lanterns on the walls with candles inside them, illuminating the small hallway to the hostess stand and the rest of the building. There were large potted plants along the carpeted walkway, and the walls were adorned with large, gorgeous paintings of different landscapes and animals.

You stayed close to Seonghwa, but still far enough away to not touch him. He didn’t allow that, he grabbed onto your hand and laced his fingers with yours. The small gesture made your stomach flip over.

The hostess looked up and smiled at Seonghwa, and she started speaking in Korean. You heard her say “Mr. Park,” but you couldn’t understand anything else. Seonghwa responded, but there was a slight stutter in his voice.

You looked up at him, but before either of you could say anything else, the hostess motioned for you to follow her, and she led you into the dining area.

The dining area had the same theme of decor as the hallway. Dark moody lighting, lanterns, paintings and plants everywhere. The tables ranged in different sizes, from large to small, and nearly all of them were full.

But there was one open small table, with only two chairs with it.

You and Hwa took your seats, removing your coats first and leaving them on the chairs. You turned to Seonghwa and you nearly choked seeing him in the low lighting. Highlighting the bright parts and increasing the shadows, he looked like a character from a movie.

“It’s funny,” Seonghwa began, looking at you. “The reservation was under my name. For only two people.”

Your heart stopped for a second. And then you couldn’t help but laugh.

Wooyoung, the fucking brat. He set you two up. He was never going to come with you two.

Seonghwa laughed too, a soft, beautiful sound. “Did you tell him?”

You shook your head aggressively. “No, he told me not to.” And as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Seonghwa’s eyes flicked up to you, and chills ran all across your body as when his eyes met yours. A smirk appeared on his lips again.

He was about to make a comment when a server came over and, in Korean, began to speak to Seonghwa. The look on his face disappeared and was replaced with a bright, award winning smile.

And somehow, jealousy began to burn in your bones, seeing the server clearly flirting with Seonghwa. You couldn’t understand what either of them were saying, but the way the server was smiling, giving him half closed eyes, laughing at what he said, it made you angry.

You balled your hands into fists by your sides, trying to keep your face neutral as the conversation went on. It was brief, but it was enough to piss you off.

The server walked away and Seonghwa turned his attention back to you. You forced a small smile and unclenched your fists. Seonghwa smiled back and crossed his arms, leaning on the table. You awkwardly kept your hands in your lap, not knowing what else to do with them.

“I’m sorry you’re getting left out of a lot of conversations. All I did was order for us, I hope you don’t mind what I got.”

“We’ll see when it gets here, won’t we?”

“Of course, we’ll see.”

And silence went over you both. You weren’t sure how to do this. This was less of a simple dinner and more of a date, and you’d been working to avoid this. But now you were sitting in front of him at a luxury restaurant waiting for food.

You had no idea how to fill the gap, since you hadn’t ever planned for this. You could see in Seonghwa’s eyes that he had ideas. But he just watched you.

He delighted in how you squirmed under his gaze. Holding eye contact, but nervously fidgeting and shifting around. Maybe he was just a little bit of a sadist.

“So,” he finally said, sitting up to take a drink of water. You let out a heavy breath and gulped, suddenly needing the water too. “Should I teach you a few words? Just for fun?”

“Sure.” You set the glass back down and put your hands back in your lap, still fidgeting with them. “That sounds fun.” You smiled, but it was weak and forced. Seonghwa was living for your nervousness.

“Okay, first word, eomma. It means ‘mom.’”

“Wooyoung uses that one,” you piped up. “I guessed that’s what it meant.”

“Yeah, that was easy.” He went quiet as he tried to think of more words to teach you, and one popped up in your head.

“What about the one you call Wooyoung?” Seonghwa looked at you, and his smile spread across his whole face.

“‘Nae sarang?’ It means ‘my love’.” His smile made butterflies burst in your stomach.

“That’s cute,” you squeaked out, reaching for the water again. Seonghwa’s eyes sparkled in delight.

“I thought so too,” he mused, leaning back on the table.

He was playing you like a goddamn game and you were falling right into it.

He was teasing you, toying with you. Trying to break you and admit that you wanted him as badly as you knew you did. He saw it all over you, but you refused to admit it.

But he’d made you. He knew he’d make you crumble for him.

“How about another cute one? ‘Jagiya’ means “baby,” like the pet name.”

The looks Seonghwa was giving you while he was teaching you these words was obvious. You knew the game he was playing. And you were powerless to stop it.

“Yeah, it’s cute,” you said softly. Seonghwa moved so he could prop his head up on his hand, under his chin.

“Why don’t you try it? Go on, say it.”

You gave your best attempt at the word, and Seonghwa’s heart fluttered hearing you say it. He was already imagining you calling him that.

And maybe someday, nae sarang.

No. That’s ridiculous. That would never happen. That’s not possible.

But what if it was?

The food came not long later, and the same server from before was the one to deliver it. The server was more bold this time, putting a hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder while she spoke to him.

The jealousy bubbled up in you again. Aren’t servers not allowed to touch customers unless it’s an emergency? This had to be a violation of some kind. Could you report the server for being inappropriate? Maybe, but you don’t know how you would.

“Sweetheart?” Seonghwa called softly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at him. You realized the server was nowhere to be found. How long had you zoned out?

“Sorry, I-”

“If looks could kill, that server would’ve been dead and buried.” He said as he picked up a pair of chopsticks. He spoke so matter-of-factly that it almost sounds like a lecture. Your cheeks burned hot and you looked down at the food, which looked delicious. A noodle based dish. “Go on, try it. I think you’ll like it.

So you did. You struggled with the chopsticks for a bit before you got a hold of them, which Seonghwa found adorably amusing. You grabbed a small bite of the mixture and took a bite.

And he was right, you loved it.

“Oh, this is so good,” you mumbled as you continued to eat, trying to remember your table manners and restrain yourself. Seonghwa could only smile as he watched you.

“I’m glad you like it.”

You both ate with minimal talking. Mostly because you were starving and hadn’t eaten in a long while, and you were loving the food. Seonghwa didn’t mind, because he was happy enough being here with you.

You were adorable. Plain and simple. You were stuck in his head.

Which is why he wanted you to admit that you wanted him to.

You got back into Seonghwa’s car as he did, settling back into the seat.

“Thank you for that, Seonghwa.” You looked over at him. “I really appreciate this. This was really nice.”

“You’re welcome, jagiya.” He started the car and began the drive home. He’d made the drive many times before, with Wooyoung, who had set you both up. It’d be an interesting conversation when you both got home.

You were sitting in the seat beside Seonghwa with your brain shorting out from the pet name. Jagiya. You knew there was a chance he’d use it on you, but it still broke your brain.

“Jagiya?” Seonghwa called softly. He glanced over at you, and he smirked, seeing your eyes glazed over.

Seonghwa placed his hand on your thigh. Gently, very gently. He didn’t move, he just kept his hand there. Just a gentle, steady pressure.

But he felt how your thigh tensed under his hand. He glanced up at your face, and your eyes were wide and clear, but your hands were gripping onto the seat below you.

“Do you want me to stop?” Seonghwa asked softly.

“No,” you blurted.

It shouldn’t have made him so happy to hear that, but he felt the desire bloom in his bones. He gently squeezed your thigh, massaging it.

And it made fire shoot up your leg and all over your body. Your stomach was churning inside you, your head was growing light. You didn’t think you could melt so badly from a simple touch, but you felt like you were actually turning into a puddle in the seat.

Every night, all week, he was in your head. You were thinking about your night together. His hands on your body, his arms around you, how his touch lit you on fire. You craved it more than you knew.

Seonghwa’s hand moved up your thigh, and you couldn’t cover your mouth in time before the whimper fell past your lips. Seonghwa bit his lip at the soft sound.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” His voice had slipped into a deeper octave, something more sensual. “I wanted you back in my bed. Don’t deny it anymore, you wanted it too, didn’t you?”

You bit your lip to stifle the rest of the noises that tumbled out of your mouth. The constant circles he was rubbing into your inner thigh, right next to where you needed him most, mixing with his voice, his confessions, you were a mess.

A mess just like he wanted.

“You wanted me too, jagiya. You thought about me, you wanted me. You wanted me to fuck you again just like I did before.”

Somehow, you were back at the house already. You hadn’t paid attention, how could you? Your brain was wrapped up in Seonghwa, all in him. Just him, and how badly you wanted him again. He was right, of course he was.

He turned to look at you, with his eyes half closed, his hand still on your thigh. He squeezed tighter than he had before.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you, jagiya. Tell me.”

Fuck it.

“I want you to fuck me, Mommy.”

“Good doll.”

You both quickly got out of the car and into the house. You pulled your shoes and coat off, and dropped it onto the couch. You turned to Seonghwa and choked on nothing as he stripped his coat off, tossing it aside, his eyes trained on you.

The only light in the room was a lamp by the door, making him look fucking angelic. An angel here for you.

He grabbed you and pushed you against the wall, his hands on your waist, his body pressed against yours. Your hands locked around his neck and pulled his lips to yours, beginning a messy, passionate kiss, all tongue and teeth.

Desperation clawed at you both like a frantic, wild animal. Seonghwa’s hands wander to your shirt, pulling it up and rubbing up against your skin, his lips traveling down your neck.

“You don’t want to go to bed?” You breathed, gripping onto his pretty silky hair.

“We’ll get there eventually, I need you now.” He gripped onto your waist again, pressing against you harder, almost pushing you up the wall.

Your legs fell open for him almost embarrassingly easily, but all pride had been thrown out the window.

Seonghwa’s hands ran down and grabbed onto your thighs, and you grabbed onto his shoulders, ready to jump into his arms.

Until you both heard the front door open.

You and Seonghwa both immediately jumped away from each other, trying to pretend that you weren’t just all over each other as Wooyoung came in the door.

Seonghwa had gone over to put his coat away, and flashed a fake smile to his son. They exchanged a brief “hi” before Seonghwa tried to cover up the sin you were about to commit.

“We just got home too! Did everything work out with your friend?”

“Oh, yeah.” Wooyoung took off his coat as well, and you couldn’t help but smirk when you saw his messy clothes. His shirt was untucked, his collar wasn’t properly fixed.

And oh, what’s that, just under his jaw? A little bruise. And how would Wooyoung get such a small bruise in a spot like that?

It took everything in you to not burst into giggles knowing exactly where Wooyoung had run off to.

All three of you agreed that everything worked out, everyone pretending they didn’t know anything about each other, before you headed up to your separate bedrooms. Not without you giving a little smirk to Wooyoung.

You’d give him shit in the morning about his dirty little secret. You knew you would.

But you were back in bed, laying awake, thinking about Seonghwa.

Fuck. This was a new level of desperation for you.

And realizing how badly you wanted to be back with him sucked any sexual energy out of you. You just wanted to be in his arms now.

As quietly as you could, you snuck out of your room and went to Seonghwa’s door. You didn’t bother to knock, you couldn’t risk waking up Wooyoung.

You slowly opened the door and slipped inside. Seonghwa was already waiting for you, and happily pulled his blankets back to let you into bed.

You crawled in and laid next to him, putting your head on his chest. He held you tight and close, and finally, what you craved was yours.

“Too risky to continue?” You whispered.

“Too risky,” he whispered back. And that was fine with you.

At least now you had him. You had his arms around you. You were in his bed. He was rubbing your back. Your head was on his chest. And everything felt right. Everything felt good.

Whatever your future held, you knew it would have Seonghwa in it. You would be sure of it. How could you ever let him go?

“Stay with me,” he whispered. “I really did miss you.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

And you stayed.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[hunnysnoops]

₊˚｡⋆❆ 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 ❆⋆｡˚₊

Chapter Three: Get Free

Kenny McCormick x Reader

Sometimes it feels like I've got a war in my mind. I wanna get off, but I keep riding the ride. I never really noticed that I had to decide to play someone's game or live my own life

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: A blizzard takes the town of South Park by surprise

Warnings: I dunno

MASTERLIST

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You stand at the stainless steel counter, your fingers deftly slicing through a plump tomato. Your eyes are focused intently on the task at hand, a slight furrow of concentration etched between your brows. The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow over the food studies classroom, bouncing off the polished surfaces and reflecting in the glass-fronted cabinets filled with an array of kitchen tools.

Around you, the din of your classmates' chatter fills the air. Your group- three obscenely loud boys- are at the counter's far end, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls. They're supposed to be helping you prepare the day's assignment: a simple Caprese salad followed by a homemade pasta dish. Instead, they're tossing flour at each other, their white aprons now streaked with powdery handprints and taking videos of every second of it.

"Hey, how's it going over there?" one of them, Douglas, calls out between bouts of laughter. He's the ringleader, tall and athletic, his messy brunette hair falling into his eyes. He flashes you a grin, one that is equal parts charm and mischief.

Spencer had been the one to coerce you into the group though you didn't have much choice as everyone began to split into partners and you were left in the dust, watching everyone happily rush over to their friends. You were stuck in a group with your ex-boyfriend and his two best friends until the semester ended.

You glance up briefly, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. You give him a little thumbs up and quickly avert your gaze, your cheeks tinged with a faint heat. Interacting with them always leaves you feeling exposed, as if your quiet nature is something to be mocked or dismissed.

"Sweet," Douglas says, already turning back to his friends, who are now cackling while they filmed TikToks with the same repetitive audio.

You sigh inwardly, your grip tightening on the knife handle. It's not that you mind cooking—far from it. You love the precision and creativity it demands, the way ingredients can transform into something beautiful and delicious. But it bothers you how easily your group takes advantage of your introverted nature, assuming you will handle all the work while they waste time. Even though they assumed right.

Your movements are fluid and practiced as you arrange the tomato slices on a plate, layering them with basil leaves and mozzarella. You drizzle olive oil over the top, your eyes scanning the recipe card to ensure you haven't missed a step. The boys' laughter grows louder, a grating background noise that you try to block out.

Next is the pasta. You move to the stove, where a pot of water is already boiling. Carefully, you add a pinch of salt before dropping in the fresh pasta you had kneaded and rolled out earlier, alone, while the boys had debated over an internet phenomenon you didn't quite understand. The dough had been soft and pliant under your hands, a therapeutic contrast to the chaos around you.

There's unspoken tension that rests between you and Spencer, you hated it; the way he chatted mindlessly to his friends about the new girl he was talking to while sitting directly across from you. Though had he not invited you into his group, you wouldn't have one at all. You try not to think about the times you cooked together, laughing and working as a team. Now, he's just another distraction, his carefree laughter blending with the others as if nothing has changed.

As the pasta cooks, you prepare the sauce, your mind drifting to thoughts of how different this class could be if your group were more cooperative. You imagine them working together, each person contributing their strengths. Maybe Spencer could handle the chopping, his energy focused on something productive. The other two, Douglas and Daniel, could assist with the stirring and plating. You could share a sense of accomplishment at the end, sitting down to enjoy the meal you had all created. But most of all, you think of how different it would be if Spencer was still the person you could rely on.

But reality is far less idyllic. When the timer beeps, you drain the pasta and mix it with the creamy tomato sauce you just finished. The rich aroma wafts up, momentarily silencing the chatter behind you. You plate the dish with care, wiping the edges of the plates clean and adding a sprinkle of fresh parsley for presentation points.

You bring a plate and a grading sheet to the front for your teacher, quickly jotting down the names of everyone in your group and retreating back to your kitchen.

The boys amble over, still laughing and shoving each other, barely glancing at the beautifully prepared meal in front of them. "Looks good," Daniel says offhandedly, reaching for a fork. You watch as they dig in, their appreciation for your efforts surface-level at best.

As they eat, you clean up the kitchen area, washing the cutting board and wiping down the counters. The boys are already talking about their plans for the weekend, seemingly oblivious to the time and effort you put into the meal.

You stand at the sink, running a cloth through the soapy water and scrubbing until the debris is cleared from each dish.

Suddenly, a shriek pierces the air, breaking through the usual clamour. You look up to see Douglas staring at the floor with wide eyes. "Fuck!" he exclaims, clearly startled at the tiny creature making its way across the tile.

Spencer huffs a laugh, "Dude, you're such a pussy."

Daniel immediately looks under the table, moving his feet around to try and crush the skittering arachnid. You liked food studies for the class itself, not the people that came with it. Every day felt like you were babysitting three overgrown children and feeding them when they cried.

"Stop that," You move quickly, intercepting Daniel's sneaker as he's about to squash it "How would you like it if someone 3000 times your size tried to kill you?"

Carefully, you approach the spider, your movements slow and deliberate. The spider is small, its delicate legs moving hesitantly over the cold tile. You kneel down, feeling the cool, hard floor against your knees. Your hands, still warm from working through the dirty dishes, are cupped gently around the tiny creature. The spider pauses, sensing the change in temperature, and then crawls onto your palm. You can feel its tiny legs tickling your skin, but you remain steady, lifting it carefully.

You stand up, cradling the spider in your hands as if it were the most precious thing. Without a word, you head towards the door, feeling their eyes on your back. "One sec," you say over your shoulder, your voice calm and measured.

Pushing open the heavy classroom door with your shoulder, you step into the hallway. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz softly, casting a stark glow on the linoleum floors. Each step you take echoes through the empty corridor, the sound bouncing off the lockers that line the walls. You walk briskly but carefully, mindful of the fragile life cradled in your hands.

The school feels different in this moment- quieter, almost serene. You pass by classrooms where students are absorbed in their lessons, their voices a low murmur behind closed doors. The air is cool, a faint draft seeping in from the main entrance at the end of the hall.

Near the exit, Kenny stands by his locker, shuffling through it with furrowed eyebrows, seemingly trying to find something. He's wearing a white long sleeve with a dark T-shirt over top. Kenny casts a quick glance in your direction then realizes it's you and turns his head completely, a smile forming on his face "Hey, what's up?"

You press your lips together, straight-faced. Your apron was still on and held the remnants from the meal you prepared moments before. Whenever you passed him in the halls or at the rink, he never brought up that god-forsaken dinner with your step-dad and though you didn't thank him directly, you were grateful.

"Whatcha got there?" He asks "You smuggling drugs?"

You hold up your cupped hands, revealing the small spider inside. Kenny's eyes flicker to the spider, then back to you, his smile growing wider. Without breaking your stride, you push open the heavy doors, stepping into the crisp winter air, Kenny follows you in tow, abandoning his locker.

"Can I name it?" He asks to which you nod. "Is it a guy or a gal? I guess you can't really tell... how about Ainsley? Yeah? That seems gender neutral."

The world outside is blanketed in snow. The cold bites at your cheeks, making them sting. Snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, their delicate patterns glistening as they catch the light. You walk carefully, mindful of your steps, until you reach a spot where the snow is undisturbed. The ground crunches softly underfoot, the fresh snow giving way to your weight.

Your eyes land on a little alcove in the brick exterior where the snow seems less harsh. Standing in the little nook, Kenny close behind, you open your hands and watch the spider crawl out and wiggle its way up the wall "Bye, Ainsley."

Turning slightly, you see Kenny standing there, his breath forming small clouds in the frosty air. "So what are you doing later?"

"Skating."

"Cool," He mutters "I could've guessed that." 

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Even with your food studies group driving you up the wall, you could unwind at the rink though today you had the displeasure of not even putting on your skates thanks to off-ice training. The training center is bustling with activity, but you and Craig are in your own world, focused on the rigorous off-ice session Katya has planned. Sweat beads on your forehead as you complete another set of balance drills, your muscles burning from the effort. The cold air of the rink feels distant, replaced by the warmth generated from your exertion.

"Keep it up," Katya calls out, her voice steady and encouraging. "Remember, core tight, movements controlled."

You nod, concentrating on maintaining your balance on the wobbleboard. Across from you, Craig mirrors your efforts, his face set in determined focus.

Just as you're transitioning to the resistance band exercises, your phone buzzes in your bag. You ignore it at first, but it buzzes again, more insistently. Then again and again. Katya notices and gestures for you to check it. "Go ahead, be quick."

You nod, stepping off the balance board and grabbing your phone from your bag. The screen lights up with a call from your mom. A sense of unease washes over you—she usually doesn't call during practice. 

"Hello?"

"Baby, are you okay?" your mom's voice is laced with concern. "You haven't been answering my messages, are you okay? Are you safe?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you guys still have power?"

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows as you look at Katya who seems equally confused.

"Baby, the blizzard, do you have heat? Are you stuck inside?"

Your heart skips a beat "Hang on," You move the phone away from your ear and quickly make your way to the main entrance, Craig and Katya following close behind. Your heart skips a beat. You glance towards the windows of the training center, noticing the thick curtain of snow outside that you hadn't fully registered before. As you approach the doors, a sense of dread fills you. You push against the heavy glass door, but it doesn't budge. The snow has piled up, effectively blocking the exit.

There's shuffling on the other end of the line and you hear Todd's loud voice boom through "WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T PANIC," The volume of his words was ironically not helping to soothe you.

Katya, ever calm and composed, takes charge. "Let's not panic. There should be emergency protocols for situations like this. I'll call the facility manager."

"YOU ARE GOING TO BE JUST FINE, KIDDO," Todd's trembling voice sounds out on the other end, it eventually breaks down into quiet sobs. 

You nod, but the knot in your stomach tightens. "I can't get out," You mutter into your phone, voice distant.

"Oh, baby," Your mom says, her voice filled with fear. "Are you safe? Is there anyone with you?"

Both your mom and Todd began to talk over each other, you couldn't make out what they were saying, it was all too loud and incoherent for your ears. Every time you tried to get a word in, they would speak again and cut you off. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, I gotta go. Love you," You said before abruptly hanging up and shoving your phone into your pocket, dragging your hands down your face. While you loved your mom, you weren't sure you could stand to listen to Todd in the background cry and babble about a situation you would definitely survive. 

As you stand by the door, trying to process the reality of being snowed in, the muffled sounds of the hockey team filter through the hallway. Their practice must have just ended, and within moments, they burst into the corridor, their voices loud and energetic, a stark contrast to your stifled nature.

The team is a whirlwind of motion and noise, their camaraderie evident in their playful shoves and shared laughter. They notice the snow blocking the door and, for a moment, pause to take in the scene. One of the players, Mark, lets out a low whistle. "Well, would you look at that?"

"Are we snowed in?" Stan asks, eyebrows furrowing as he takes off his helmet.

Another player, Liam, chuckles and shakes his head. "Guess we're having a sleepover at the rink tonight, boys!"

There's a ripple of laughter and a few mock groans, but overall, the team seems to take the situation in stride. Some of them reached for their bags to call their parents or text their friends about the situation, but the majority seemed comfortable with the situation aside from the few who had made plans.

To you, this was hell on earth.

This almost felt like some kind of ethereal punishment for a deadly sin you weren't aware you committed. Amidst the light-hearted jokes, you notice Craig's boyfriend, Tweek, reacting differently. His expression is tense, eyes wide with concern. He pushes through the group, his anxiety palpable. "We need to get out of here!" he exclaims, his voice rising above the din.

"Tweek, it's okay," Craig tries to reassure him, stepping forward. "We'll figure it out. We're safe inside."

But Tweek is already at the door, pushing against it with all his might. "No, we can't just stay here! We have to get out!" His efforts are frantic, the panic in his movements echoing fear. 

The other hockey players watch, a mix of amusement and concern on their faces. "Calm down, Tweek," one of them says with a laugh. "We're fine. It's just a little snow."

But Tweek isn't listening. He keeps shoving at the door, his panic growing with each failed attempt. You can see the strain in his muscles, the desperation in his eyes. Craig moves to his side, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "Tweek, stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

Tweek's panic only intensifies. He raises his helmet high above his head and smashes it against the door with a loud, resounding crash. The noise reverberates through the hallway, each impact like a hammer blow to your nerves. "We have to get out!" Tweek screams, his voice breaking with desperation.

His movements become more erratic, his thrashing more violent. He swings the helmet back, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like he's going to hit you. You instinctively duck, stumbling backward just in time to avoid the blow. The adrenaline surges through your body, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Tweek, stop it!" Craig yells, his voice strained as he tries to grab hold of him. Tweek's thrashing is wild, his kicks and swings dangerous to anyone close by. "You're going to hurt someone!"

Stan and Jason join in, trying to wrestle Tweek's helmet away from him. "Let me go! We have to get out!" Tweek's voice is raw with panic, his eyes wide and unfocused. His kicks are powerful, each one aimed at the door with the intent to break it down.

You manage to slip away, the fear and chaos driving you to find safety. As you back away, you see Craig finally manage to wrap his arms around Tweek, trying to hold him still. "Tweek, please! Calm down!"

Stan and Jason struggle to restrain Tweek's flailing limbs, their faces tense with the effort. It takes all three of them to subdue him, their combined strength barely enough to contain his panic.

The sight is both heartbreaking and terrifying. Tweek's screams are a raw expression of his fear, each one piercing through the air like a bullet to the skull. "We can't stay here! We have to get out!" His words are a desperate mantra, repeated over and over.

You slip away, your steps quick and unsteady as you make your way back to the training room. The hallway feels like it's closing in on you, the echoes of Tweek's screams still ringing in your ears. Your heart is still racing, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

The training room is a welcome refuge from the chaos. You push the door open and step inside, closing it behind you with a shaky breath. The familiar sights and smells of the room offer a small measure of comfort, a stark contrast to the panic outside.

You sink onto the bench, trying to steady your trembling hands. The cold air from the rink seeps through the walls, but you hardly notice. The adrenaline is still coursing through your veins, your mind replaying the chaotic scene over and over.

Maybe this was hell.

Maybe you have hit your head while training and died, your eternal torture was to be trapped in a rink with the hockey team while they slowly developed cabin fever- well, some faster than others. 

You couldn't make sense of how some of the boys on the team had been laughing at Tweak, the whole thing felt shell shocking to you and made you nothing short of uncomfortable. It didn't ease that your phone was still blowing up with notifications from your mom and Todd. 

New Message- FIFA Man

FIFA Man: Hello 👏

FIFA Man: What's up 👆 buttercup 🌼

FIFA Man: Have you frozen already? 🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶

FIFA Man: It's oky 😭🙏😱😰😨😓😥

You: I know

FIFA Man: Pls stay calm 😌 and dunt panic 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

You: I'm not

FIFA Man: Awesome 😎sauce 🥫

FIFA Man: Text ur mom 🤰 pls 🙏

FIFA Man: She ❤️ you 🫵

New Message- Mom

Mom: Please be careful 

You: Okay

Mom: Stick with Craig

Mom: He can keep an eye on you

You: I can take care of myself

Mom: I know but it's hard to be alone sometimes

You: Okay

Mom: Stay with Craig pls

You: Okay

Mom: Eat something and stay warm

Mom: I love you

You: Okay

You pull your headphones from your bag, the soft clink of the metal pieces a comforting sound. Your hands are still shaking slightly as you untangle the wires and plug them into your phone. The familiar weight of the headphones settles around your ears. 

Scrolling through your playlist, you search for a song that will help drown out the echoes of Tweek's panic. Finally, you find it- a familiar piece that you often use for practice. The first notes are a balm to your frayed nerves, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

You stand, taking a deep breath and letting the music guide you. The first few steps are tentative, your movements still shaky from the adrenaline. But as the music flows through you, your body begins to remember the amicable routines. The soft thump of your feet on the mat becomes a grounding rhythm.

It wasn't like you had anything better to do. Your only friend was trying to bring his boyfriend down from a panic attack, you didn't have anyone else to text or call, the best you could do was keep practicing. 

Your arms rise gracefully, fingers tracing patterns in the air as you begin to dance. The music swells, and you lose yourself in the motion. You spin, the world blurring around you, but here, in this moment, you are in control.

The music's tempo picks up, and so do your movements. You leap, feeling the air rush past you, your muscles stretching and contracting in a familiar, comforting pattern. The focus required for each move pushes the fear and anxiety to the back of your mind. Here, in the dance, there is only the present moment.

Your routine takes you across the room, each movement fluid and precise. The tension in your shoulders begins to ease, your breathing becomes more even. 

But as you come out of a turn, something catches your eye. You stop abruptly, your heart skipping a beat. There, just inside the doorway, stands Kenny. He's leaning against the frame, watching you with an expression of quiet admiration. His presence is unexpected, and it startles you out of your reverie.

You pull out your headphones, the sudden silence almost jarring after the music. Your breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, and you can feel your cheeks flushing with a mix of exertion and embarrassment.

"What are you doing?" You ask, eyebrows drawn.

He straightens up, a small smile playing on his lips. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just... wow. You're a really good dancer."

His words catch you off guard, and you feel a rush of warmth at his compliment. You've always known Kenny to be overly warm and friendly, but this feels different, more personal. You look down, suddenly shy, the confidence of your movements evaporating under his gaze.

"I'll leave, you can go back to dancing-

"I'm fine," You snatch your bag from its spot beneath the bench and move past him, trying to keep the contents inside whilst moving and fumbling to zip it up. He turns and watches you walk away. You can feel his sharp blue eyes on the back of your head though you pretend you can't.

You find yourself needing space again, the earlier panic still a tight knot in your chest.  Seeking solitude, you head to the far end of the hallway, where the cold seeps in through the cracks around the door. It's the furthest point from the bustling group of hockey players, offering a much-needed reprieve.

You pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them for warmth. The chill sinks through your clothes and down into your bones, but the solitude is worth it. You slip your headphones back on.

From your vantage point, you can see the boys on the hockey team gathered together, their faces illuminated by the dim, flickering lights. They're laughing and joking around, their voices a stark contrast to the tension you feel. Their easy camaraderie is just about alien to you, it's a grand display of all of the social connections you can't navigate and don't particularly want to.

Andrew and Brendan are in the center, animatedly recounting some story, their hands gesturing wildly. The others are gathered around them, grinning and chuckling at the tale. Even Tweek, who had been so panicked earlier, seems to have found some measure of calm in the familiar company of his friends.

Despite your best efforts to remain unnoticed, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. Glancing up briefly, you see Kenny, looking over at you. His gaze is steady, curious, and imploring. You quickly look away, pulling your knees closer to your chest and adjusting your headphones, hoping he'll lose interest.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over you, the soft melody blending with the distant sounds of laughter. The cold against your back is a sharp contrast to the warmth you see in the group ahead, but for now, it's what you need.

In this quiet corner, you find a fragile balance between trying to disappear completely and actively making yourself as small as possible. 

It was just you repeating 'I'm not here' in your head over and over again until you felt like you were back in your bedroom. 

Kenny catches your eye again. His gaze is warm and concerned, but it's the intensity of his focus that starts to grate on you. You shift uncomfortably, squirming beneath your skin. Why does he keep looking at you like that? It's not fair that he can just stand there, laughing with his friends and casually putting you at such unease. 

His concerned expression, his small smiles, they all feel like a spotlight on your vulnerability, and it irritates you. You're grateful for his kindness, but at this moment, it feels like an intrusion. You don't want to be watched, especially not now, when you're trying to hold yourself together.

Despite the music in your ears, the warmth of your anger pushes through. You bite your lip, trying to keep your frustration in check. Confrontation isn't your style, especially not in a situation like this. Instead, you lower your gaze, focusing on the floor in front of you, hoping he'll take the hint and stop watching.

Minutes pass, the cold pressing in on you, but the warmth of your irritation keeps you from shivering. You keep your eyes averted, trying to lose yourself in the music, but it's hard to shake the feeling of being under scrutiny.

You glance down at your phone, scrolling aimlessly through the same old messages and apps. No new notifications, no one to text or call. The sense of isolation tightens around you, a familiar but not unwelcome companion.

You move slightly, hoping to remain unnoticed, but Kenny spots you. He nudges one of his teammates and points in your direction. The others glance over, curiosity flickering in their eyes. You feel a pang of discomfort, wishing you could blend into the wall behind you.

The power cuts out suddenly, plunging the rink into complete darkness. The hum of lights and machinery is replaced by an eerie silence, broken only by the initial startled exclamations of the boys. Panic sets in quickly among them, their voices rising in a cacophony of fear and confusion.

"Hey, what happened?"

 "Where's the light switch?" 

"I can't see anything!"

"Where's Ryan?"

"IT'S OVER FOR US!" 

The boys' shouts echo off the cold, now pitch-black walls, amplifying their anxiety. You hear them stumbling around, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Amidst the chaos, the coach's voice rises, trying to regain control.

"Everyone, calm down! Stay where you are! We'll figure this out." Trevor emerges from his office, Katya close behind in a desperate attempt to calm the scrambling teenagers. 

His attempts to soothe the team are met with limited success. The boys' fear has already taken hold, and their nerves are frayed by the unexpected blackout. Their shouts blend into an indistinct roar, making the air feel thick with their collective unease.

You remain where you are, calm and still, a stark contrast to the agitation around you. The darkness doesn't frighten you; it's a familiar companion. You hug your knees tighter, your breathing steady, focusing on the feel of the cold floor beneath you and the muted sounds of the storm outside.

The flash on the smartphones flicks on one by one, flooding the dark corridor with striking light that catches the contours of each and everyone's face. It really looked like you were in a horror movie. Like some creature would scuttle down from the vents overhead and start picking you off. 

You hear the clatter of skates and equipment as the boys scramble in the darkness, their movements chaotic and uncoordinated. Someone bumps into the boards, eliciting a string of curses, while another trips over a stray hockey stick, the thud echoing loudly.

The coach's attempts are met with limited success. The boys' voices overlap, each one trying to be heard over the others. The cacophony is overwhelming, a tempest of fear, confusion, and partial anarchy.

But you remain an island of calm amidst the storm. Seated on the cold floor by the door, you pull out your phone, the faint glow of the screen a small comfort in the darkness. You scroll through your camera roll, it doesn't have much in it aside from pictures of your baking and your dog.

You swipe through pictures of your dog lounging on the couch, playing in the park, cuddling up to you in bed, and napping in a sunbeam. His velvet black fur and soulful eyes pull your mouth into a little smile.

Around you, the boys' panic continues unabated. Some of the boys had put their phones face down so the flash would flood the hall, the beam slicing through the dark, casting erratic shadows on the walls. The light only adds to the confusion, making the shadows dance wildly.

They seemed to care a whole lot more than you did. When the focus was torn from you, you were more than happy.

"That's my stick!" 

"Stop pushing!" 

"Get off my foot, asshole!"

"I fucked your mom." 

"Coach, what do we do?"

Craig stood behind Tweek, arms wrapped around his waist to keep the flailing boy away from the doors while screamed and thrashed even more as everyone was soaked in darkness. 

Stan's voice cuts through the chaos, steady and authoritative. "Guys, seriously, just listen to Coach. We'll be fine."

"Fuck off, Stan!" Another one of the boys yells, throwing his glove at Stan who looks around, more confused than anything else.

Just as the chaos seems to be subsiding, a new commotion erupts. Two of the boys, still on edge from the blackout, start arguing. Their voices rise sharply above the murmur of the group, quickly drawing everyone's attention.

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" one of them shouts.

"Back off, man! It was an accident!" the other retorts.

Before anyone can react, the argument escalates. In the dim light of the scattered phone flashlights, you see them shove each other, their silhouettes clashing. The noise level spikes again as the boys around them try to intervene, shouting and pushing to break up the fight.

"Guys, stop it!" 

"Cut it out, both of you!" 

"World star!"

The coach's voice booms out, authoritative and commanding. "Enough! Break it up! Now!"

Despite the coach's orders, the fight continues to escalate. You can hear the thud of fists meeting flesh, the grunts of exertion, and the scuffling of skates on the concrete floor. The atmosphere is charged with aggression and adrenaline.

You remain seated on the floor, your back against the door, your phone still in hand. The pictures of your dog are a stark contrast to the violence unfolding nearby, but you refuse to let it pull you in. You swipe to another photo, this one of Toothless lying on his back, belly exposed, inviting a rub. The memory makes you smile faintly, a small bubble of calm in the midst of the storm.

Katya, who has been watching the scene unfold, finally steps in. "Hey! Knock it off!" She pushes through the crowd, grabbing one of the boys by the arm and pulling him away with ease despite her small frame. "This isn't helping anyone. No one is going anywhere until the storm is over!"

The coach joins in, pulling the other boy back. "That's enough! Both of you, sit down and cool off. Now!"

Gradually, the fight is broken up. The boys are separated, still glaring at each other, but the physical confrontation has ended. The others backed away, giving the combatants space while muttering amongst themselves.

In the aftermath, the rink feels even colder, the tension palpable. The coach continues to bark orders, trying to restore a sense of order and calm. The boys settle into an uneasy silence, the adrenaline slowly fading.

Kenny approaches cautiously, his figure a shadow against the faint glow of your phone. He sits down beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough that you can feel his presence.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asks, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

You glance at him briefly, then return your gaze to your phone. "You already are."

Kenny sits next to you in silence, the air around you thick with the weight of unsaid words. The rink remains dark and cold, the boys' voices now a distant hum, but the tension between you and Kenny feels palpable. He inches, as if he wants to speak, but holds back, unsure of how to break the silence.

You continue to scroll through your phone, your attention seemingly absorbed by the photos of Toothless. The light from your screen casts a soft glow on your face, highlighting your calm demeanor. To Kenny, you seem perfectly content in your own world, a stark contrast to his thoughts running rampant.

He sneaks glances at you, hoping to catch a hint of interest or an opening for conversation. His mind races with things he wants to say, compliments about your taste in music, questions about your life, anything to bridge the gap between you. But each time he opens his mouth, the words die in his throat.

Kenny sighs quietly, trying to steady his nerves. He likes you-your quiet demeanour, your calm in the chaos, the way you find solace in the small things. Yet, sitting here beside you, he feels an invisible wall between you two, one he doesn't know how to breach.

You don't seem to notice his internal struggle. Your focus remains on your phone, fingers swiping through photos with an absent-minded grace. Kenny watches you, trying to discern your thoughts, but your expression gives nothing away.

In the dim light, he shifts again, his hand brushing lightly against yours. He pulls back quickly, an apology ready on his lips, but you don't react. The fleeting touch, barely there, feels like a missed opportunity, another moment lost to the silence.

He wants to tell you how much he admires your calmness, and how he finds your presence soothing despite the chaos of the night. He wants to share more about himself and find common ground beyond brownies and shared stillness. But the more he looks at you, the more he feels that you're perfectly content without his words.

He swallows hard, the silence stretching on. The darkness around you seems to amplify the distance between you, making every unspoken word feel heavier. Kenny leans back, resigning himself to the quiet. 

The silence between you and Kenny stretches on, but it's not uncomfortable. In fact, you begin to appreciate that he doesn't try to fill the quiet with conversation. His presence is steady and unobtrusive, a rare quality that makes you feel a sense of ease you hadn't anticipated.

As you sit there, tapping through photos of Toothless, a thought occurs to you. You glance at Kenny out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way he seems content to simply be there, sharing the space with you without any expectations. It's a subtle but meaningful gesture, one that sparks a sense of gratitude.

You reach into your bag, rummaging around until your fingers find a small tin. You open it, revealing a collection of homemade caramels, each one carefully wrapped in wax paper. The sweet, buttery scent wafts up, a comforting aroma that reminds you of the calm moments spent in your kitchen.

Wordlessly, you hold out the tin to Kenny. He looks at you, surprise flickering in his eyes before he smiles. The genuine warmth in his expression makes your heart lighten. 

He looks at you, surprised, but then his expression softens into a warm smile. He takes a piece, unwrapping it carefully and popping it into his mouth.

"Thanks," his voice gentle and appreciative. "I can't believe you make this stuff yourself," he mutters so quietly that you barely catch it. 

You nod. The caramel's sweet aroma mingles with the cold air, creating a moment of shared solace. Kenny's presence feels less like an intrusion now and more like a comforting anchor in the uncertainty of the blackout.

The two of you sit there, enjoying the quiet and the caramel, finding a sense of peace and connection in the midst of the chaos. His willingness to simply be with you, to understand your world without needing to change it or rush to fill the gaps of silence that you sought.

As you both sit there, the shared silence grows deeper and more comfortable. Kenny shifts slightly beside you, then turns his head to look at you. "What are you listening to?" he asks, his voice soft and genuinely curious.

You open your eyes and look at him, your heart pounding a little faster. For a moment, you're unsure. Letting someone into your world, even in this small way, feels daunting. But Kenny has been trying so hard to be there for you, to understand you. His persistence may have been chipping away at you.

You hesitate, staring at him, weighing the risk. Kenny's expression remains open and patient, his eyes encouraging but not pressuring. Taking a deep breath, you make a decision.

Maybe, just this once you would take the chance. 

"Do you want to listen?" you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kenny's face lights up with a genuine smile. "Hell yeah."

With a small nod, you reach up and gently remove one of your headphones, offering it to him. He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment.

Kenny puts the headphones in his ear, and you press play on your phone, restarting the song. The soft, calming melody fills the space between you, creating an intimate bubble of sound. You glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes close for a moment as he listens, softly nodding along to the rhythm. "Who is this?"

"Daughter."

"Daughter," he mutters out loud to be sure he remembers "Sweet." 

You nod, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction. Sharing this small piece of your world, there was a little sense of pride that came with the fact he liked your music. 

The soft music envelops you, each note weaving a sense of calm that contrasts starkly with the chaos around you. The hockey team, still restless, starts to settle in for the night. Their earlier laughter and jokes have quieted down, replaced by a more subdued atmosphere. Some of them are sprawled out on the floor, using their jackets as makeshift pillows, while others lean against the walls, whispering in low tones.

"Always wondered what you were listening to," He says absentmindedly "Can you send me this playlist?"

"You don't have my number."

"I think there's a pretty easy solution to this." He was terrified to mess this up. 

His words hang in the hair for a moment and you meet Kenny's eyes, seeing the hopeful yet anxious expression on his face, and your heart softens just the slightest.

You reach into your bag and pull out a pen, holding it in your hand as you hesitate. You press the marker to his skin, pausing for a moment as you feel the weight of the moment. Then, with careful strokes, you begin to write your number on the back of his hand where it rests on his knee.

As you finish, you glance up at Kenny, though he's too busy staring at your handwriting to meet your gaze. "Awesome," He mumbles, staring down at it in awe.

A/N: this chapter felt too slow for me so expect some tweaks in the next one

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — Gregory gets hurt and calls Reader for help.

WORD COUNT — 3K

WARNINGS — hospitals, injury

NOTE — And now for some much needed time to connect with Gregory! I remember loving this chapter a lot when I first wrote it and it still has a special place in my heart so I hope you all enjoy too

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑿𝑰: 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻…𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑬

When you woke up to the sound of your ringtone in the middle of the night, you thought you were hallucinating. 

You blinked your eyes open, feeling around for the buzzing device and answering it without so much as looking at who was calling you. 

“Hello?” you said groggily, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. 

“H-Hey it’s Gregory.” 

The voice of the youngest Bridgerton boy awoke you more than you already were, prompting you to sit up in your bed. 

“Gregory? What’s going on?” you asked. 

He was silent for a moment before, in a quiet voice, he said, “I’m at the hospital, can you come pick me up?” 

You blinked a few times, a swirling feeling in the pit of your stomach after hearing his words. 

“I-Yeah, I’m on my way, just text me the address. Hang tight,” you nodded and hung up the phone. 

Quickly getting dressed into something a little more suitable, but still comfortable, you grabbed your keys, phone, and wallet and headed to your car, starting the ignition and pulling out of the underground parking and making your way to the hospital as quickly and as safely as possible. 

When you got into the ER, you went to the front desk to try and speak with a nurse. 

“Hi, I’m here to see Gregory Bridgerton,” you said. “Is he still here in the ER?” 

“I’m sorry ma’am, who are you?” the nurse asked. 

“I-Just a friend of the family,” you said. “He called me. You can go and check with him.” 

The nurse seemed skeptical, until a doctor came around and overheard the interaction, asking you what your name was. 

“Mr. Bridgerton mentioned you, let me take you to him.” 

“Dr. Jacobs, are you-” 

“It’s the Bridgertons, Olive. Do you really want to risk their donation to the hospital?” he asked and you frowned. 

“I’m sorry, but the Bridgertons would never do that,” you told him. “I understand if there are necessary precautions that need to be taken. Go ahead.” 

Dr. Jacobs looked between you and Olive before asking for a piece of ID from you, which you gave to him, and he took it with him before coming back. 

“He said he knows you.” 

You nodded your head and took the ID back, looking at Olive for confirmation, and when she gave you a thumbs up, you followed Dr. Jacobs to the room where they were keeping Gregory. 

When you saw him, you pressed your lips together and placed a hand on your hip and another on your forehead. 

“It’s bad isn’t it,” he said, and you let out some air in a huff and nodded. 

“What in the world happened?” you asked, coming to sit in the chair next to him. 

“Bike accident,” he sighed. “A few of my mates wanted to do some trail riding in the dark, and I didn’t see a huge root, the bike flipped over with me still on it.” 

“Oh Greg,” you scrunched your nose, looking down at his casted arm and bruised face. “What did the doctors say?” 

“Broke my arm,” he sighed. “Again. There’s some internal bruising, but I think my ribs are intact. At least they feel intact,” he rubbed his hand against his ribcage. 

“You’re on painkillers?” 

“Lots,” he nodded, and you chuckled. 

“Alright, can I get you out of here?” you asked. “Can you walk?” 

“Haven’t tried,” he shrugged. 

“Okay, maybe I’ll give you a chance to get dressed and go talk to Dr. Jacobs about what recovery is going to look like,” you said. “Or are your clothes completely trashed?” 

“Trashed,” he said. 

“Okay, then let me get something from the nurses,” you said and patted his leg, leaving him for a moment to go ask a nurse if it would be possible to get him some clothes so he could be discharged, before going to find Dr. Jacobs. 

You took a few notes about what Gregory should be careful with and when he should go get his arm x-rayed again to make sure it was healing properly, and got the official okay to get him discharged from the hospital. 

When you came back to his room, Gregory was in a pair of sweats and a plain t-shirt and you unzipped your sweater and threw it over his shoulders, knowing the night air could be chilly. 

You placed a hand on his back and led him out of the hospital, towards where you had parked your car. You opened the door for him on the passenger’s side, and closed it behind him before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. 

“I called Benedict,” Gregory said. “He didn’t pick up.” 

“Hmm,” you nodded, but elected not to say anything else. 

“Everyone else would have told Mum,” he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. 

“Even Eloise?” you asked. 

“Especially El. I spiked her coffee with laxatives last week,” he admitted, and you rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

“Now, why would you do that?” you turned to look at him. 

“I’m her little brother, I have to keep her on her toes,” he shrugged. “And she put itching powder all over my headset.” 

“There it is,” you nodded with a chuckle, before taking the exit to leave the city and head to the house. 

The rest of the drive to the house was mostly silent, but before you put in the code for the gate, you put your car in park and turned it off. 

Gregory looked over at you, a little confused. 

“You didn’t call your mum,” you said. 

Gregory nodded his head. 

“You know I can’t lie to her, Gregory, right?” 

He sighed, “You don’t have to lie, just don’t tell her.” 

“Mate, you have a cast on, it’s pretty bloody obvious,” you raised your brows while looking at him, and he groaned. 

“She told me not to go tonight,” he rested his uninjured elbow on the car door, leaning his head against his hand. “I lied. I told her we were just going to catch a movie.” 

You nodded your head, understanding what he was saying. 

“She’s going to kill me when she finds out.” 

“Gregory, Violet isn’t going to kill you,” you sighed. “Will she be upset? Probably, but, then again, you lied, you kind of deserve that.” 

He smacked his lips together and nodded. 

“I don’t think you give her enough credit,” you said. “I know she’s protective over you guys, but she has good reason to be. Everyone is watching what you do all the time, which means that mistakes and stupid decisions aren’t something you will have the privilege of dealing with in private. She’s trying to set you up with good habits.” 

He leaned his head back on the headrest and looked up at the roof of the car. 

“I don’t want to let her down,” he said quietly. “She held us all together when her life was falling apart, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough for her.” 

“Gregory,” you whispered, reaching out to hold his hand. “Where is all this coming from?” 

“All of my siblings are doing something with their lives,” he said. “You’ve seen how proud Mum is of all of them, and I’m just…always getting hurt,” he looked down at his cast. “I haven’t even applied for school,” he said. “I didn’t apply.” 

“Why not?” you asked, as more of a curiosity than anything, trying to probe a little further while he was being open with you. 

“I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know what I’m interested in,” he said. 

“Gregory, that's normal. You’re eighteen, you can’t expect to know what you want to do with the rest of your life right at this second,” you explained. “Taking time to figure out who you are and what you want is human.” 

He struggled to meet your gaze and focused instead on the gate in front of the car. 

“Have you talked to anyone about this before?” you asked and he shook his head. “You know…I think if you chatted with your mum about this, she might be able to help.” 

“I don’t want to add anything to her plate, you know how busy she is,” he said. 

“I know how busy she is, but I also know first and foremost she is your mother,” you said firmly. “There is nothing she wouldn’t want to work through with you, and I don’t think me or any of your siblings will be able to give you the kind of reassurance you’ll need. That has to come from her.” 

“You think I should be honest with her?” he asked. 

“No matter the circumstance,” you nodded. “She loves you so much, Gregory. She thinks about you and frets for you more than you probably realize.” 

He nodded his head, chewing the inside of his cheek, while he thought about what his next steps would be. 

“Would you come in with me to tell her about this?” he motioned to his cast.

“Of course,” you nodded and patted his leg. “You ready?” 

He took in a deep breath before saying yes while you turned the car back on, punching in the gate code and driving up to the front of the house. 

“You know,” Gregory began, “you could have asked me why I didn’t call any of my seven other siblings to come deal with me, or my mum, but you didn’t, you just…came.” 

“I’ve got your back, mate,” you tousled his hair a bit, which made him chuckle. “Don’t let Hyacinth fool you, my loyalties lie with the family, not just with her.” 

Gregory took in your point and smiled, patting his one hand on his leg. 

“Maybe I could call you sometime to help me figure things out when I know what I want to do?” he asked. 

“As long as it’s not at four in the morning, I think we’ll be fine,” you teased and Gregory laughed. 

Turning off the engine, you got out of the car with Gregory and helped him with the keys for the front door. 

“You sure you can’t help me hide?” Gregory made one last ditch attempt to cover up his injury, but you simply chuckled and shook your head, pushing the door open and getting Gregory to walk inside. 

When you walked inside, you saw Violet pacing the foyer, her phone pressed to her ear and her thin housecoat billowing behind her as she walked.

At the sound of the door opening, she spun around, eyes immediately landing on Gregory’s casted arm before saying into her phone, “Never mind…he just walked in.” 

She hung up her phone and placed it on the table that normally held their keys and crossed her arms over her chest, scanning her son up and down. 

“I called you,” she said, her voice soft, cracking with worry. “Over twenty times, Gregory, I thought you-I-”Violet ran a hand along her face. “Why didn’t you pick up?” 

Gregory looked down at his phone and noticed the battery was dead.

“I’m sorry, my phone died,” he said quietly. 

Her arms were crossed over her chest again while she chewed on her bottom lip, looking between you and her son. 

“You went with them, didn’t you?” she asked. 

Gregory looked at you, and you nodded your head, giving him the assurance to go on. He pressed his lips together and nodded his head. 

Violet rubbed the heel of her palm against the freckled skin of her chest. 

“Gregory, you lied to me,” she whispered, and Gregory squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the broken-hearted voice of his mother. 

“I’m so sorry, Mum,” he whispered back. “I-I shouldn't have lied. I shouldn’t have gone,” he shook his head. 

Violet walked a little closer towards Gregory, scanning his face, now noticing the bruising along his cheek and eye. 

“Is it just the arm?” she asked. “Or is there more?” 

“Some bruising,” he shrugged, prepared for whatever punishment his mother was about to dish out for him, but instead of speaking again, Violet lifted her hand to brush her fingers along his cheek before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a hug. 

Gregory let out a shaky breath before wrapping his uninjured arm around his mother, his cheek pressed against her hair, overwhelmed by the relief he felt. When Violet pulled away, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and rubbed her hand up and down his arm. 

“Go get some sleep,” she said. “We’ll talk more in the morning.” 

Gregory nodded his head and walked past his mother, climbing up the stairs to make his way to his bedroom. 

When you could hear Gregory’s door close behind him, Violet looked over at you and ran a hand through her hair. 

“Can we talk?” she asked, and you nodded while she ushered you into the kitchen. 

It was close to five in the morning, the sky becoming lighter as daytime crept closer. The smell of strong tea filled your nostrils just as Violet offered you a cup, which you graciously accepted. 

“He called you,” she started with.

“After trying Benedict and getting no answer,” you nodded. 

“Is there anything else the doctor mentioned, something I need to know?” 

“I have the discharge papers in my car. I’ll grab them for you before I go,” you said and took a sip of the piping hot beverage in front of you. 

Violet chewed on her lip, staring at the vase that was filled with flowers, some still vibrant and others wilting away. 

“Did you…tell him to tell me?” she asked, and you nodded your head, noticing how her grip tightened on her mug. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, and lifted her cup to take a sip of her tea, still staring at the flowers. “I worry about him a lot.” 

“I know you do,” you said. “I don’t think he did though.” 

Violet nodded thoughtfully. 

“He mentioned some things to me and I tried to encourage him to talk to you about it,” you said. “And I know it’s something you can handle. Of course it is, you’ve raised six children before him.” 

“Okay, I’ll see if I can get him to talk to me when he wakes up.” 

You placed your mug down on the table and looked over at Violet, a gentle look of concern over your face. 

“How are you faring?” you asked. 

“Oh, you know,” she nodded. “Just spent a couple hours thinking I was going to get a call from the police telling me my son was-” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, shaking her head and pressing her lips together, tears forming in her eyes. “He never comes home past midnight.” 

You moved over to the other side of the kitchen island, wrapping an arm around Violet, feeling her relax into your side, her head against your shoulder, while she tried to get whatever images had been plaguing her out of her mind. 

“He’s okay, Violet,” you murmured, rubbing your hand along the silky fabric that was against her back. 

“I know, it’s just…” she sniffed, unable to find the words to express what she was feeling. 

You let yourself press your cheek against her hair, before turning your head slightly, your lips resting against her scalp. It wasn’t quite a kiss, no, it was more cautious than that, but you were desperate to offer her some sort of comfort. 

She let out a shaky sigh, one arm carefully snaking around your back before you both shifted yourselves into a proper embrace. 

Violet’s nose was pressed into the crook of your neck, her cheek flush against your collarbone. With every breath she took, you could feel the cooling inhale which paled in comparison to the long warm exhale. You began to bite the inside of your cheek so hard you could taste something metallic along your tongue, forcing you to let go of the chewy flesh. Violet’s arms curved so nicely around you, the movement from your initial position to the embrace allowing them to graze along the skin of your waist and hips, curling around to your back, where fingers rested along the waistband of your pants. Warm, wet tears dripped from her eyes and rolled down your chest and each one stopped above your heart. 

Carefully, you looked down at her as you moved one arm from where it was wrapped around her back, tracing the stitching of her robe until you reached the nape of her neck, fingers hesitantly tangling in her soft brown hair, pulling her closer to you, if that was even possible. 

You took in a deep breath, only to become dizzy by the smell of her perfume that still lingered on her skin after a day of wear. It was subtle, like some flowers, but the closer you got the more apparent it became, consuming your senses, sending you into a sweet, delicious haze of hope and possibilities. 

Eventually, you both had to pull apart, but it was difficult because you had become stuck to each other like glue. 

Violet was about to lift her sleeve to wipe away her tears, but without thinking too much about it, you beat her to it, hands gently holding each side of her face, fingers lightly scratching against her scalp, thumbs wiping away any trace of worry and anxiety. 

You thought if you looked into her eyes any longer, she might turn you to stone, frozen in that moment in time, which really didn’t seem that bad to you. 

After you had wiped away her tears, she held your wrists in her hands, pulling them away from her face before wrapping her arms around you once more. 

Just a little longer. You both needed just a little longer.

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling @fictionalized-lesbian

[redhood414]

Okay so I know that I already asked it I’m going to ask if maybe we can turn this into a possible part 2 or something? maybe like a one shot or something where Damian and yn are trying to introduce their pets to each like Titus and yns pet meeting for the first time since their relationship is becoming more serious but the thing is yns dog is like my pet poodle, dottie, that is more calm, quiet, sweet, and gives everyone a warm and welcoming energy when meeting her, and thinks Titus is scary but then Titus does something sweet like giving yns dog a bone, a Ty of his he likes, or even saving them surprising Damian from the sweet gesture since Titus isn’t usually friendly to other dogs and yn loves Titus even more now and it ends with both dogs becoming friends and yn and Damian more in love then ever

A/n:Loved that idea! This is so cute. Sorry this is short, it's rushed but I had motivation and wanted to write this out😌✨

Meeting the pets. (P.2)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

After you got to meet the pets of Damian, which were lovely and you adored all of them. Damian loved you even more seeing the interaction between the animals and you, not to speak of the way they immediately took a liking to you. All of them.

Later on the week you suggested that Ace should meet your little poodle, Olive. Damian replied that he didn't think it was a good idea, after all Ace was a guard dog and a big one too. After some pleading and saying it'll be good for Ace to meet another kind of dog Damian agreed. You know he can't say no to you, especially when you put those emojis where he compares them with your puppy eyes when you want something. It's a small victory for you.

The week passes quick and the day comes to meet up with each other. Luckily on the day itself it was sunny. Even thought the weather often was really bad, today fate was on your luck side. Though, it was very windy. Your lover said to meet up at the public park. Big enough for the dogs to play with each other. Eventually it was 10 and exactly, like he always was, just like his father, was he there stipt. You were a few minutes later, 3, or something. On the first dates of your relationship he always complained about it. Now he'd gotten used to it and didn't say anything about it. He wore a black coat and neat shoes. A dark blue scarf around his neck. Like it was for a fancy dinner. He always wanted to show his importance, now it's just to show off to you, knowing you found him incredibly handsome, even his scars. You always adored them. Ever. Single. One. It's now a daily thing to remind him his beauty, inside and out.

He smiled as he saw you, Ace, sitting next to him on the leash. Your poodle wagged its tail excitedly and went closer to Ace, Ace sniffed Olive, curious and a bit hesitant but soon Olive made sign to play. You undid the collar and smiled, seeing Olive giving Ace a small lick on his nose. Ace sneezed and you heard a chuckle beside you, Damian seemed amused and happy. He glanced at you, smiling and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder while watching the dogs play and whispering. "Everyday is another day where I fall even harder for you, my beloved."

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Let's all agreed Damian in a black coat and all fancy dressed....🌚

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Dear Crowley, I heard this dashing and very intelligent fox beastman is looking for a job. He used to work as a manager at a popular theme park, so he probably has a ton of experience! Maybe he'd make a great addition to the staff?

The way I choked laughing when I read this interaction 🤡

I decided to structure this interaction like a job interview between Crowley and Fellow (facilitated, of course, by the Reader/Prefect's written recommendation). I thought it would be funnier this way! (Note: Fellow is definitely sugarcoating, glossing over, outright lying, and laying it on thick in some of his responses, but since this is framed mainly from Crowley's perspective, these inconsistencies are not pointed out.)

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

This is the one recommended for the open teaching position?

Crowley eyed the man standing before him. He was beastman, as per the Prefect's description, with a pair of red fox ears and a fluffy tail.

A crimson-lined violet jacket, half a cape tossed over one shoulder, was secured over an olive vest and a snug waist. Golden embellishments and starry badges dangled from his lapels, and the same sparkles studded his top hat. Fun patterns cut into diamond windows raced up his dark green trousers. His long legs were crowned by knee-length spats, and he held an elegant cane topped with a fox in his gloved hands.

His look was professional yet playful.

The candidate was handsome—no doubt about that—and the keen gleam to his eyes implied a sharpness, a pointed wit, about him.

A horrible thought occurred to Crowley: He's not more dashing and intelligent than me, is he? No, no, it simply cannot be done! There’s no one fairer than I!

The headmaster brushed off his concerns, vanity placated, and cleared his throat.

"Let's see here... You are Fellow Honest, correct?" Crowley referred his provided resume. It was handwritten and contained a number of spelling and grammatical errors.

"That's my name! Don't wear it out," the beastman chirped with a wink and the twirl of his cane. "Fellow Honest, at your service."

“Please tell me about yourself, Mr. Honest.”

“Well! Not much to say, I’m afraid. I’m just a wanderer down on his luck, lookin’ to find his way in the world. I saw your job posting and thought I should shoot my shot.”

“I see on your resume that your last position was as a theme park manager…? Why the sudden shift in career, if I may ask?”

"You see, I've always been a lad of big hopes and dreams. I went into the entertainment industry wanting to spread that positivity to others.

"My park used to attract quite a few families and their children, so I came to know the kids quiiite well! They'd tell me stories of their school days, talk about the things they'd want to become in the future. So full of imagination and wonder. I realized I wanted to be a part of that process. Teaching them, guiding them... so they can be the best adults they can be!"

Fellow chuckled—it slid off his tongue easily, as though his laugh was slick with honey. "I thought I'd be the one inspiring them. Turns out, the kids were the ones to light a fire under my tail."

"My, what a stirring story!" Crowley cried out. "I can tell that your passion for working with children is true~

“Now then, why Night Raven College? There are any number of schools you could apply to if you wish to lend your assistance to the youth."

"It's true. I thought to start my own school before this," he confessed, "but Night Raven College called to me. Its graduates are influential, the school's reach immense, and the headmaster most magnanimous... I figured if I wanted to make an impact, this was the place to do that."

Fellow hesitated.

"... And, as one bright young boy once told me, Night Raven College is a place where everyone and anyone is welcome. Even someone from as humble a background as myself can fit in here."

Crowley found himself nodding along with his narrative. The shower of praise was making him feel flattered and floaty—and the more Fellow talked, the more the headmaster felt himself leaning into his words.

But the interview questions. They were not through yet.

The thought slowly sobered Crowley up. His resolution returned, duty and honor-bound to pick the most qualified candidate for the job.

No time for fun and games, not now.

"How would you describe your own magical capabilities? As you know, NRC is an establishment meant for training tomorrow's mages. To that end, many of our tenured professors boast a strong history of magic themselves."

"Ah, that." Fellow’s smile was wry, playing off the anxious little tug at his cravat. “That is…”

“Answer the question, Mr. Honest.”

“Dire, Dire, Dire—may I call you that?” He paused, but failed to grant enough time for a response. Fellow moved fast, talked fast—his cane spinning fast, fast, fast. “I’ll be the first to admit my magical might isn’t on the same level as that of your colleagues.”

Crowley frowned. “Then I’m afraid we cannot proceed with the interview. It would be rather challenging for the students to learn from a teacher who has yet to master magic themselves...”

Fellow’s face fell. “You’ve already made up your mind?”

“I apologize, but this discussion is over.”

“H-HOLD IT!!” he protested, his polite facade dropping. Anger and upset flared on Fellow’s vulpine features. “Where do you get off, cutting me out the very moment I mention…”

Crowley’s expression hardened, the grip on his staff tightening. “Oh dear, it looks as though this interview is headed south.”

Dark power roiled up from within him. The binds on his strength, snapping. Fellow whimpered like a fox backed into a corner by a larger predator.

“A-Ahahahah… Please forgive my outburst, sir~” he simpered, sinking back into his seat. “I-I’d still like the chance to explain myself, oh-so-generous headmaster!!”

“You may,” Crowley replied. His face was almost entirely shrouded by the shadow of his mask. His expression, unreadable.

“You’re right. I… I don’t have a lot of magic to spare. But…!! Even if that’s true about me, I don’t want the students to think like that, judging their own worth based on what an institution says is desired or not.” Fellow’s fingers curled into shaking fists in his lap. “In an ideal world… everyone can pursue their dreams without discrimination, without being told they’re not enough.”

“The final question for you,” Crowley announced grimly. “How do you plan to instruct if you cannot lead by example? How will you instill the lessons and values of Night Raven College?”

“Magic isn’t everything,” Fellow fired back passionately. “It doesn’t matter how much magic history they can recite or how many fancy spells they know.

“What’s most important to me… is that the students find enjoyment in what they learn and can make use of it. That’s how I’d teach them. Practically, and in a way that allows them to laugh and enjoy life for the fun that it’s supposed to be.”

“Hmmm.”

Crowley stared him carefully, like a crow nestled amid the tree branches. Watching, listening.

For the first time, he felt as though he was witnessing the true Fellow Honest.

His interviewee heaved a deep, dramatic sigh, a hand running through his hair. He barked out a bitter laugh.

“I get it, you bigwigs never want to hear what us little guys have to say. I’ll see myself out. It was a waste of my time to try this again. I knew I should have struck out on my own."

Fellow headed for the exit, stomping unhappily, his violet cape trailing behind him. From the other side of the door, a small cat boy in oversized clothes peered in.

“C’mon, Giddie,” Fellow snapped, “we’re done here.”

The child obediently followed. He stumbled in boots that were untied and far too large for him. Still, the concern in his young face did not waver.

Crowley’s eyes followed them until their figures vanished out of sight—but the applicant lingered in his mind. He returned to Fellow’s handwritten resume, mind wandering to the answers the beastman had offered. Different answers, but nonetheless ardent ones.

“… Interesting,” Crowley mused, his lips pulling back into a smile. “Most interesting.”

He's an applicant to consider.

[fancyfeathers]

Okay more thoughts on Trailblazer!Darling(s) for Yandere!Justice League

So just imagine if say all Justice League members had their own darlings and by some way the darlings ended up joining the Astral Express one way or another, like for perhaps some of them it was a way of escape, others it’s just where the trail of fate lead them; onto a life of adventure, and for some there have next to no idea how they ended up there but found a family none the less.

Life would be fine until they finished one trailblazing expedition and boarded the Astral Express, going off to wherever the next destination was until they stop at Earth with the Star Rail stability down and stuck there indefinitely until they seal the Stellaron which is blocking their path. Some of them are excited to be home, while others who are actively aware of the reason why they left are terrified…

To separate it down into just a few for now (saving more for later posts), I’d say Hal Jordan’s darling (who I wrote about here) and perhaps Diana Prince’s darling have no real fear. Like I said in the first post, Hal’s darling was found lost in space by the Astral Express with no clue how she got there and then I think Diana’s darling just saw the chance to join the Astral Express last time they stopped at earth and they took it, seeing what else life has to offer. (other darlings in this category probably include Barry Allen’s darling and Oliver Queen’s darling)

Others like Clark Kent’s darling and Bruce Wayne’s darling knew exactly what they were doing. Like Clark’s darling probably has been rescued enough times by Superman that something about their interactions just feel wrong, far to clingy and uncomfortable, not to mention her golden retriever colleague at the Daily Planet. She would quit and move but new jobs, especially in journalism, are getting harder to find and-

Then she has a chance encounter with a stranger brown haired man in the park, just silently observing everything around him as if something was off, not wrong, just off. He was Welt Yang, a former animator from a different earth and a member of the Astral Express and it was through him that she took his offer and hoped aboard the train that travels through space.

Bruce Wayne’s darling was far more aware on the other hand. Probably married to him and knew about his overprotective tendencies with her, not to mention that he is Batman and owns a multi billion dollar corporation so she was no way of getting out. That until she meets a dark haired aloof man, who certainly reminds her of the children her husband has taken in, when he is wandering about Gotham curiously. For some odd reason she confides in him and in return he introduces himself as Dan Heng, a member of the Astral Express, and invites her to join, and she does without a second thought. (I would also loop in Arthur Curry’s darling into this category as well)

For for darlings like them when they wake up and leave their train cabins and hear the shouts of…

“We’re going to Earth!”

They are terrified.

They stay back on the Astral Express when everyone leaves for the expedition and truly they have no intentions of getting off until they get a call that things have gone wrong, horribly wrong, and they need backup.

Then obviously the threat and disorder a Stellaron, cancer of planets, would bring to earth would not go unnoticed by the Justice League. So just imagine their faces when they witness their darlings, who they thought disappeared off of the face of the world a long time ago rushing into help their friends deal with this otherworldly threat without a second thought.

Then when the dust settles and the Stellaron is sealed they cannot avoid at least having a conversation, especially if it’s Bruce Wayne’s darling given the fact that they were (are?) married. Then they have to give the explanation of where they have been and what they do now, traveling the stars and sealing away planet destroying threats and how many times they have come into close contact with death or something worse- and oh one of their friends they travel with has a Stellaron sealed inside of them like a ticking time bomb.

Why would they let them leave again?

(Also idk why but there is this one line in HSR from one of your allies during the boss battle and it is literally chilling and it reminds me of this little series so much, “Witness… the will of the weak!”)

[ereardon]

Bob Floyd masterlist

*All of my fics are 18+. Please do not repost my work without consent or steal my work. Reblogs and comments give me life so please do interact if you'd like!

✤: Fluff

❂: Angst

❀: Smut

Series

❀❂✤ Friends Don't — Bob x OC [Reid Coleman] – Complete

Bob has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly volunteered to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?

❀❂✤ Golden Hour — Bob x Bradley x OC [Dr. Olive James]

Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

❀❂✤ The Back Seater and the Baker — Bob x OC [Haley Nichols]

Bob hasn't seen Haley Nichols since he was fifteen. But when Haley shows up out of the blue with one sentence that throws Bob for a loop – "I'm turning thirty in two weeks, are we still on?" – all of the feelings from their childhood return. Bob never thought that Haley would remember the marriage pact the two made when they were just kids, even if he never forgot. So what happens when Bob falls all over again for his childhood crush? And what will Bob do when he discovers the real reason she came back to capitalize on the pact is to secure her inheritance and save her bakery from bankruptcy? Will he believe Haley when she confesses that she loves him, too?

❀❂✤ At Sea — Bob x Reader

I’ll be home in five weeks. That’s what naval aviator Y/N told her fiance before leaving for deployment in the Atlantic. But time ceased to stop when she met Bob Floyd, the ship surgeon. Shy and honest, Bob quietly slipped into Y/N’s life, creating a complicated dynamic on an already intense mission. Falling for Bob was not in Y/N’s plan, and as she continues to weave a web of lies, she must make a choice: return to the life she left on land, or forge ahead into the unknown with Bob. But before Y/N can decide, disaster strikes, leaving Bob to make the decision that will alter their lives forever. 

One shots

✤ One Night — Bob x Reader – Complete

You have your eyes on Bob at the Hard Deck, but have to shoot down Jake Seresin first.

✤ Gas Station Tears — Bob x Reader – Complete

After your boyfriend dumps you, your car stalls out in a gas station parking lot. Luckily, Bob Floyd happens to be there to fix your car. Can he fix your heart, too?

❂✤ It Was Never Him — Bob x Reader – Complete

You catch your boyfriend Rooster making out with a girl at the Hard Deck and only one person can comfort you in the aftermath: Bob Floyd. 

❂ What Are You Thinking? — Bob x Reader – Complete

Bob Floyd is a quiet man. Sometimes you have to ask him what he’s thinking just to know what wheels are turning inside of his head. He always gives you a response, until one day, years into your marriage, he turns the question on you. 

❀ When I'm Done With You — Bob x Reader – Complete

At a fraternity mixer, you lose your (admittedly shitty) boyfriend in the crowd. That’s when Bob Floyd, president of Alpha Tau and your boyfriend’s personal nemesis, finds you and decides to make you his. 

❀ She Calls Him Daddy – Bob x Reader – Complete

Coming home from college for winter break, the last thing you expected was to run into your best friend’s father while out shopping for new lingerie to surprise your fuck buddy with. You had always tried to hide your attraction for Mr. Floyd because he was Anna’s father. But all rules are thrown out when Bob invites you over on Christmas Eve while Anna is at her mother’s house. You’ll never be able to look at your friend’s dad the same way ever again.

✤ More Than Enough — Bob x Reader – Complete

The first two times Bob Floyd ends up in your emergency room he’s a mess. You never expected him to return a third time. But when he does, it changes everything.

[luckyroll3]

Crimson Lights: Chapter 26

Masterlist

The fading sun casts a warm glow over the dashboard as I turn onto the familiar street leading to my building. Exhaustion is clawing at my bones after a long day at the clinic, and all I crave is the comfort of home and Chris' arms. A yawn escapes me, my eyes briefly closing before snapping back open, just in time to catch sight of him.

Chris stands there, his muscular frame relaxed, but his attention is completely absorbed by the woman in front of him. Even from a distance, her beauty is arresting—a cascade of black waves tumbles down past her shoulders, a stark contrast to her olive skin which seemed to drink in the last rays of sunlight, and curves for days. Her green eyes sparkled, seemingly full of mischief, as she leaned into his space, her hand placed lightly on his chest as her fingers trace one of his buttons, a gesture that feels too intimate for casual friends.

A knot tightens in my stomach, an instinctual tug of concern, but I push it away. It's nothing, I tell myself, as I head up to the garage and park the car with more force than necessary. Maybe she's a neighbor or a friend. I couldn't let a seed of doubt take root; trust was the foundation we’d built our relationship on.

After dropping my stuff off at my place, then showering and changing, I head to Chris’.

"Hey, love," Chris greets me when I finally step out of the elevator into his penthouse. He pulls me into a warm hug.

"Hi," I murmur against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent. He feels like home—steady and sure. It has been about two weeks since we’d found our way back to each other and things were good. Chris has been more open with me about the other side of the business and now shares when has to lean into his dark side so that I’m not caught off guard or so that I can help pull him back, bring him balance. And I share with him when I’m uncomfortable or scared. We make it a priority to work out our feelings together. We have been very in sync with each other, feeling very much like the early days of our relationship.

We settle onto the couch, the soft fabric embracing us as we curl up together. The TV plays some show I didn't care about, background noise to our quiet conversation.

"How was work?" I ask, tracing idle patterns on his arm.

"Good, good. Had a meeting run way too long, but otherwise, not too bad," he replies, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“And any movement on that other situation?” I ask, inquiring about how they’re handling the potential threat from Marco.

“Not really. We’re ready to move on our end, but JYP has asked us to hold off until we have ‘real’ evidence.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "And you? How was your day?"

"Same old, same old," I sigh, recounting a story about a particularly feisty cat that had given me a run for my money. Chris chuckles, his chest rumbling against my cheek.

As the night wore on, and his voice fills the spaces around us, I wait for him to mention the woman from earlier. But the topic never surfaces. Should I ask? I question myself. No, I can’t be that person. If it were important, he'd tell me.

"Everything okay?" Chris' voice pulls me back, his gaze searching mine.

"Perfect," I lie with a smile, burrowing deeper into his embrace. Trust him, I chide myself silently. Don't ruin this because of some lingering insecurity from you-know-who. Your last boyfriend had scarred you with his infidelities, but you didn’t want that situation to color your interactions with Chris.

"Good," he murmurs, tightening his hold on me. "I'm glad you're here."

The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the tender look in his eyes—it all lulls the creeping worry back into the shadows.

—

The clatter of cutlery and the murmur of lunchtime conversations envelop me as I take a seat at our usual corner booth, with Felix, Hyunjin, and Changbin already deep into their meal. Felix has been inviting me to have lunch with them at least once a week for several weeks now. It’s usually just me, him, and Hyunjin. Felix, the sweetheart that he is, has already ordered my usual for me. 

The aroma of spicy ramen and tangy kimchi fills my senses, but it is their hushed tones that snag my attention. I try to focus on unfolding my napkin, but their words buzz like bees around my head.

"Can't believe Aja's back in town," Felix mutters, his brows knitted tightly under his blond bangs. "She's trouble."

"Always has been," Hyunjin adds, spooning broth into his mouth. "She’s been on the east coast for years, and suddenly she pops up out of the blue? It’s suspicious. Of course she beelined directly for Channie her first day in town, no surprise there."

My hand freezes mid-fold, my heart hammering against my ribcage. The woman from the other day—is Aja? Chris’ ex?

"What does she look like?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

"Curvy Latina, jet black hair, green eyes that probably have seen more dollar signs than stars," Changbin replies sarcastically without looking up, his chopsticks expertly navigating through his noodles.

A lump forms in my throat. That was her—the one who'd lingered too close to Chris.

"Her dad was a big-shot lieutenant in the Syndicate," Felix says, shaking his head. "That’s how she and Chan got connected. Once she had her hooks in him, it was over. Chan always bent over backward for her."

"Despite her treating him like dirt," Hyunjin scoffs. "He catered to her every whim, and she still stomped all over his heart. Bitch."

"Wait, she treated Chris badly?" My voice wavers despite my best efforts.

"Like he was nothing and he just took it because he was in love," Changbin confirms, his dark eyes meeting mine for a moment. This is the closest Changbin and I have been since Chris and I reconnected. We still talk and text almost everyday, like usual, but we haven’t been alone together. He wouldn’t admit it, but Binnie has been avoiding me. "We never liked her, Kay. You're a breath of fresh air compared to Aja."

"Definitely," Felix agrees with a nod. "You're good for him. She...she was like a devil whispering in his ear, pushing him deeper towards the dark side."

"Which is why we can't let her worm her way back in," Hyunjin states firmly.

The weight of their concern presses down on me, mixing with the sour twist of unease in my stomach. Chris had said nothing about Aja, nothing about seeing her again. And yet here I sit, surrounded by his most trusted confidants, learning of a past that suddenly felt all too present.

“Does anyone know why she’s back?” I ask, curious to learn more.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Hyunjin says as he leans back in his chair. “As long as she leaves Chan the fuck out of it. I’ll kill her myself if she gets out of line.”

“Yo, dial that back a notch Jinnie,” Changbin said with a laugh. “We get it; you hate her!”

“I wouldn’t worry about her, Kay,” Felix says. “She’s probably just here to visit family.”

“Or to get more money out of them,” Changbin adds with a smirk. “Either way, she probably won’t be here long.”

"Thanks, guys," I manage, my smile strained.

Changbin reaches out, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before quickly withdrawing. Also the first time he’s touched me since that night in the clinic.

"Anything for you, Kay," he said, his voice low and earnest. "We've got your back."

—

The silence in Chris' penthouse later that evening is deafening, the usual hum of our shared laughter and conversation conspicuously absent. I watch him from across the room, his eyes glued to his phone screen, thumbs tapping out a response with an urgency I haven't seen in a while.

"Work stuff?" I venture, trying to keep my tone light, though the knot in my stomach pulls tighter with each passing second.

"Uh, yeah," he replies without looking up, the corners of his mouth twitching into a strained smile.

I nod, feigning interest in the TV show playing in the background, while the acidic taste of doubt lingered on my tongue.

A few moments later he joins me on the couch. He gives me a gentle kiss on the lips before laying his head in my lap. I run my hand through his hair, as he grabs my other hand and brings it to his chest.

“Everything okay with you?” he asks as he looks up at me.

“Yeah. All good here.” I lean over to kiss him. I want to ask him about Aja, but am worried about sounding like a jealous girlfriend. Despite the few issues Chris and I have had in our relationship, worrying about other people was never one. I’m not sure why I’m so concerned about Aja, given that Chris has never done anything to show that he had interest in other women. Yet, knowing she’s around and in contact with him is putting me on edge, especially given what I learned at lunch.

“You sure?” he asks with concern. “Your energy seems…off. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He reaches a hand up to my face and caresses my cheek.

“I know.” I lean into his hand. “I’m good. I promise,” I whisper.

“Ok.” He settles back into my lap, wrapping my arm around him and turning to face the TV. We watch the show in silence. As a new episode starts up, his phone beeps. He sits up to grab it off the coffee table and sits back on the couch to read and respond.

"Goodnight," I murmur, retreating to his bedroom, feeling very uneasy.

“I’ll be in soon,” he calls out behind me.

I crawl under the covers and curl up into a ball, closing my eyes. After a few minutes, I feel Chris snuggle up behind me. As he places soft kisses along my shoulder, I feel his hands wrap around my body.

Chris' lips linger on my skin, but my thoughts are a whirlwind of questions and suspicions. Why hasn't he mentioned her return? I can’t escape the feeling that something is amiss.

A soft sigh escapes me as Chris pulls me closer, his touch soothing. “Still awake?” he whispers in my ear as he slips his hand down my stomach and beneath the waistband of my pajama bottoms. I nod. “Mmmm, good. Come here.”

I turn my body to face him and he captures my lips, easing his tongue into my mouth. I don’t resist him. I can’t. He shifts my shorts and underwear down my legs and tosses them aside. He’s already naked.

He pulls me in closer to him, pressing my body against his. He lifts my top leg and places it over his hip. Then he positions his dick at my entrance, before sliding himself in gently. A slow rhythm starts between us - hard and fast at first then slowing down to match each other's pace. It feels good to be one with him like this; lying side by side, our noses and foreheads touching, our bodies moving slowly together in unison.

My body responds instinctively, arching into his touch. I try to push my doubts and worries away, focusing on the pleasure he's giving me. But the image of Aja keeps creeping back into my mind, taunting me.

He whispers against my lips, “Let me make you forget about whatever it is you keep thinking about.” He picks up the pace of his thrusts, hitting all the right spots with precision. The tension in my body slowly ebbs away as Chris’ thrusts match his words, bringing me back to the present. Soon enough, all thoughts about Aja fade away and I am consumed by overwhelming pleasure.

Our bodies move together in perfect harmony, skin sliding against skin, breath coming out in quick gasps. I moan softly as Chris' strong hands grip my ass, guiding my hips to meet his thrusts with just the right amount of force. His other hand trails up my spine, landing at the base of my neck. His fingers play with my hair as he buries himself deeper inside me.

“Tell me you love me,” I demand, my hand on his cheek. He pulls back slightly to look into my eyes. He’s usually the one demanding reassurances, not me, so it catches him off guard.

“I love you. Only you, Kay.” I bring my lips to his, kissing him hungrily as I claim him as mine. I already know that he loves me, but hearing him say it in this moment helps to push aside the doubts I’m having.

Chris rolls me onto my back so that he is now on top. He increases the speed of his thrusts, but his lips never leave mine. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in even closer to me.

The intensity between us grows with each passing moment, until we are both lost in each other’s touch. With one last deep thrust, Chris cums inside of me, his rhythmic movements faltering as he rides out his orgasm. I follow closely behind, my body trembling beneath him.

We lay there for a few moments, catching our breaths. Eventually, Chris rolls off of me and pulls me into his chest; our usual after sex position. We lay there silently for a while, just enjoying each other’s company.

Chris finally breaks the silence. “I’m here when you’re ready to tell me what’s wrong.” He kisses my forehead before pulling me into him even tighter. I don’t respond. We stay wrapped up in each other until we both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[isagrimorie]

Concept writing for a potential April Ludgate/Jen Barkley story…

But I can’t just start Jen and April off as falling into some relationship because it won’t be true to April’s character. April truly loves Andy… Their relationship is one cornerstone of Parks and Rec.

But Jen Barkley is exactly the type April Ludgate would Stan, and that we didn’t see them interact on Parks and Rec is a crime!

I know Parks and Rec closed the book on the entire gang with happy endings but as I’ve mentioned again and again; I hated how April gave in to Andy’s wish to have kids when she’s been vocal for several years on the show that she doesn’t want any kids.

Anyway, just trying this out as a concept writing.

---

Eight months after the Halloween dinner with Leslie and Ben, April decided to divorce Andy.

It wasn’t a decision April came to lightly. She loved Andy more than air. She can’t remember a time when she hasn’t been in love with Andy.

But Andy wanted kids and every year that ticked by, it felt like his desire to be a father was a sharp wedge between them that April couldn’t climb.

She even had a talk with Leslie. April hoped that Leslie’s pep talk would help and maybe it did a little because April did like teams and being on the winning team.

The feeling didn’t last long. The next time Andy expressed his wish to have a kid it ended with April staring at the ceiling, staring at one spot, feeling like the walls were closing in.

April didn’t like who she was becoming whenever the topic came up. Angry and biting. She liked being angry, but she didn’t like being angry with Andy. She didn’t like the resentment that was slowly building in her chest or the sick feeling she had at the pit of her stomach she’s beginning to have at the sight of Andy.

Unexpectedly, it was Ann who finally pushed April off the cliff. They all promised to attend an event Gerry was throwing for their old Parks department, and of course, Leslie roped April into helping organize the party. April didn’t mind, she was feeling nostalgic for the old days.

Oliver Traeger and Leslie’s Triplets ran around with Andy chasing them.

“They look so happy,” Ann observed.

April rolled her eyes. “Of course they are, Ann. Andy’s the best.”

“Andy would make a wonderful dad.”

One kid dropped and rolled, Andy stopped to check, but that was a ruse and Oliver tripped Andy into crashing. April watched the kids pummel Andy.

“April, is something wrong? You look… angrier than normal?”

“Do you remember what I told you about my gut?”

It was years ago, but April expected that Ann would remember the few times April ever spoke to her. Ann didn’t disappoint because she answered uncertainly, “That your gut was always right?”

“I’m going to correct that because my gut is killing me. My gut’s being an asshole.”

“Wait, are you sick?”

April glowered at Ann. “No.” And then she crossed her arms. “Did you regret following my advice about your gut?”

There was a thoughtful expression on Ann’s face, and April didn’t like it. “No, I think that was one of the best advice I ever got from you.” Ann’s eyes darted behind her and back to April. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

“No.”

And then April walked away to get some booze.

But she also had her answer, and she hated it.

Two weeks after that, April told Andy she wanted a divorce.

The entire night was… terrible and April never wants to live through that again. She called Ron and Ben and told them that Andy needed their help. April didn’t tell them what for but made sure she wasn’t anywhere when they arrived.

April took an assignment that would take her out of the country. Donna appeared the day the news got out. She knew when it did when she received wave after wave of messages and calls from Leslie. She ignored them all.

But Donna knew her itinerary since she helped April book her rental in Puerto Rico. Donna flew out ��� “I’m only here for the day. Joe and I are heading out for our South American extravaganza.”

“Donna…”

Donna took out a tequila bottle and began pouring them into the hotel glasses. “Drink. I invested in this Tequila company, and it’s fire.”

April did what she was told and drank the burn of the alcohol going down her throat was amazing. “Blaaah.”

“I get it,” Donna said, after things calmed down. She was pouring them another round. “Leslie doesn’t understand why, but I get it.”

True to her word, Donna was just there for a day, she left April her third Fuego tequila bottle and a truly stupendous hangover.

Leslie blew up her phone, asking to meet her, but April shut it. April was back in DC and she knew it was only a matter of time before Leslie found her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

April cringed but opted for the truth. “Because I thought you’d talk me out of it.”

“That’s fair. I probably would have,” Leslie said with some chagrin, but then her face softened. “I told you, whatever you decide, Ben and I will support you.”

“Okay,” April could feel her face crumple."You can go now.”

Leslie ignored the goodbye, as usual, and then hugged her. “Stop,” April ordered, but even her arms didn’t listen and she found herself leaning into Leslie’s hug.

She’s never cried so hard. She felt empty. But, a good kind of empty.

“I promise you, no matter what happens, April. You’re never alone, we’ll be here for you. Team April is great.”

That was a stupid thing to promise.

“I hate being a grown-up.”

“Yeah, me too.”

--/--

tbc, Part 2

[skenisasleb]

Oliver Intro Post

TW: There are some references to touchy real-life events. There is also verbal abuse and child neglect. Proceed with caution.

Oliver Ranch is the second South Park OC I have made. I made him originally to ship with my OC, Ted, since I shipped Ted with Kyle before and I realized that may be kiiiiinda cringe. 😭

Now he’s one of my favorites out my SP OCs.

(All forms of him below are ‘episode’ scenarios I have created for him.)

Oliver’s Main Story

He is the firstborn of his three siblings; he has a baby brother, Bryce, and a younger sister, Blair. He cares for the both of them to substitute for his parent’s horrible behavior.

His mother is a overall angry person, probably where Oliver got his own anger issues. She verbally abuses everyone in the family, and gets close to hitting them on the occasion. Oliver’s father is a drunk and spends all his time drinking, watching football on the TV, and falling asleep on the pull-out couch.

Oliver’s Relationships

Oliver is in a relationship with Ted, and even though before he wanted to punt Ted into the street in the beginning, he now is overly protective of Ted and would resort to dangerous measures to protect him. Oliver also allows Ted to call him “Olive.” If anyone else tries to call him this, he will most likely pop them in the mouth.

Oliver absolutely hates Augustus. He has thought about wringing the clown’s neck multiple times; even making up fake scenarios where he could just gut the guy. In secret, Oliver is envious of Augustus’ progress, running a circus all by himself without anyone overlooking him.

Oliver doesn’t really approach Casey and Ernesto. He prefers to keep his circle tight, where the circle only consists of Ted (Ted takes up his whole social battery anyway).

Oliver’s Sub-Plots/‘Episodes’

“Self-Defense”

The government has passed a law, allowing kids in America under the age of 10 to own and carry guns in order to protect themselves. Most kids don’t know what to do with a gun, or don’t know how to work it and end up massacring each other. Oliver, already owning a pistol beforehand (illegally, might I add) and now with the freedom to own as many guns as he wants, he goes absolutely ballistic and joins in the chaos on purpose.

“Come Get My Ass”

Oliver is deathly afraid of the visitors. Everyone in South Park seems to pass it up as just a thing that happens, but Oliver doesn’t want something he doesn’t want up his ass. He has nightmares where he would look in the mirror and see himself as a visitor. He decides that he will try and stop the visitors himself if the people of South Park won’t.

“AI Generated Slavery”

…. If you couldn’t tell, this is a play off of the disasters of the recent Willy Wonka incident. 💀

But this time, the organizer of the event hired children for low pay because his budget dropped from the shipping of the hologram interactive activity that was meant to arrive for the event, but never came. So now the organizer would be charged for MORE heinous crimes :DD

“Phantom of the Soap Opera”

“The Phantom of the Opera,” but make it a soap opera with goofy-ass side characters like the neighbor, Dave Hillis, and Christine’s boss, Junior.

In this case, the Phantom is Oliver, who is a shut-in who practices the piano, and Christine is Ted, who works a casual job at the hardware store.

It’s really just silly goofy stuff.

“Pride Misconseption”

Oliver completely misunderstood what a Pride parade actually is for. He thought it was just a place to be proud of ANYTHING. Therefore, he went to the Pride parade decked out in Scottish flags. People present were pissed and confused at Oliver, accusing him of not taking it seriously and kicking him out of the parade after shaming him. The whole time, Oliver was just confused, never really knowing what the parade was truly for.

“The Mishaps of the Furry and the School Shooter”

Pretty much an ‘episode’ featuring Blackbear and Dire Dune teaming up in order to beat Cartman’s ass, forming a duo that strayed from both Freedom Pals and the C**n and Friends.

Dire Dune is Oliver’s superhero persona; he is an elemental class that controls sand and strives to control the rocks that the grains came from.

Contrary to his actual personality, Dire Dune is a more calm and collected character who shares wisdom instead of spitting harsh truths.

I have made other ‘episode’ ideas, but they’re not as fully developed as the ones I have shared, so I decided not to share them. That’s all for Oliver’s backstory!! Thank you for reading this far!! :DD

[loisfreakinglane]

@queenofattolia OOOOH MY FAVORITE THROUPLES!!!!!!!!! SMASH THAT READ MORE BUTTON

ben/maddie/ryn ~ siren (never forgive never forget that breakup, they were PERFECT. that show ended with season 2 and i will NEVER EVER EVER forgive season 3's crimes)

kala/rajan/wolfgang ~ sense8 (we were denied a full series arc of them getting together, but frankly i didn't feel it was rushed in the finale. it still felt organic TO ME, largely bc the chemistry between rajan and wolfgang was impeccable immediately)

eliot/hardison/parker ~ leverage (can you believe there's people who watch leverage that don't ship this?!!?!?! there are human beings out there who ship eliot/parker with zero hardison involvement. BAFFLED, FRIENDS)

angel/buffy/cordy ~ btvs/ats (i'm sorry this is based on my own brain falling into the depths of madness when s6/s3 were airing and i was banned from watching buffy so i was reading the transcripts on buffyworld and left to stew over how much i wanted buffy and dawn and tara to flee to la and never look back, while also falling in love with cangel and thinking about how much those three would fit perfectly together, buffy and cordy as two sides of the same coin, just always out of step with the others parallel heroic journey, how much bangel would work so much more for me when it's damaged adults coming together and also raising their impossible blue eyed kids together also connors never kidnapped also also faith moves into the hyperion too and gunn and fred never break up the end okay i'll stop now)

the princess, the prince, and the mermaid ~ the little mermaid (i was infected by the novel mermaid: a twist on the classic tail (heh) in my youth- christopher, lenia, and margrethe had a fascinating relationship i fell in love with. and now!!!!!!!! watching older adaptations of tlm, seeing the interactions between the three of them always intrigue me so hard. pre-disney the princess is allowed to be sweet and kind to the mermaid, if somewhat patronizing to the mute young girl. and when the mermaid fades away, her body in foam and her soul off to heaven, she lays a kiss on the grieving princess's head AND I DIE)

elizabeth/neal/peter ~ white collar (IT WAS SUCH A FUN TRIO I STAND BY THIS CHOICE! also at the time it was extraordinarily refreshing of fandom to not immediately despise and vilify the woman standing between their slash ship. and i adored the canon and the fanon so tbh! this will always stick out as a classique ot3 to me!)

irma/marion/miranda ~ picnic at hanging rock (why aren't we frolicking in oz, wearing white gowns and eating picnic treats RIGHT NOW? anyway they're in love, they're so in love they fell into an alternate dimension)

ann/ben/leslie ~ parks and recreation (am I the only person who was tearing my hair out during ann's search for a sperm donor bc why did leslie never offer up ben's specimen!?!?! she is OBSESSED with ann and way too invasive and beyond controlling and I think way too much about that episode where ben and ann are fighting over the wafflemaker for one of leslie's insane random holidays, then end it off by coming together to make leslie STOP with the incessant celebrations and presents? anyway they should have all wound up together. and not just bc chris was terrible)

huoxin/jing/xiaowei ~ painted skin the resurrection (the lady demon, the princess, and the bodyguard. this trio was EVERYTHING. the demon fixated on the princess and her heart, the princess desperately in love with her bodyguard turned general but clinging to shame over her facial scars, the general who runs from his failure to protect her. ADD IN BODYSWAP SHENANIGANS AND I LOSE MY MIND EVERY TIME.)

ezra/jules/richie ~ imposters (possibly partially queerplatonic bc i'm not exactly sure where jules lies on ye olde kinsey scale, but even if it's platonic on her part i'm incredibly in love with this trio and i SO see it as a working throuple LEAVE ME ALONE)

elizabeth/olive/william ~ professor marston and the wonder women (whether you believe the historical accuracy of this movie or not, this throuple is fucking awesome and i adooooooore them)

gwen/mj/peter ~ marvel comics (i'm so sick of thinking about spider-man rn bc *waves hand at mcu* HOWEVER it would feel disingenous to leave this off my list. i love these three, i love them together so much.)

alex/hal/tom ~ being human uk (the way these characters brought new life to this era of bhuk. these three are in LOVE)

chel/miguel/tulio ~ the road to el dorado (baby's first ot3)

kirk/spock/uhura ~ star trek (THE KELVIN TIMELINE!!!!!!!!!!! THEY'RE SO MUCH. still mourning a fic that was deleted off ao3....... sad bean bear city)

art/patrick/tashi ~ challengers (THEEEEEEEEEEEE PINNACLE! there are ppl who cast tashi as the villain of the story and think art and patrick will flee her when the credits roll, and i am so glad i am not surrounded by those types. this is a love story where every person is desperately needed to complete the triad. they just don't work without all 3 of them)

clark/lana/lex ~ smallville (LOOK LOOK LOOK. SHUT UP. anyway i rewatched this show with my father at the height of the pandemic and lana/lex hit hard in a way it never had before, so now i'm p equally obsessed with every side of this triangle and now i want to smash them all together so bad. THIS IS HOW TO FIX EVERYTHING.)

gaby/ilya/napoleon ~ the man from uncle (ready made ot3, i can't be mad)

mylene/shaolin/zeke ~ the get down (did mylene and shaolin hate each other? uhhhhhhh yep. HOWEVER. THAT ALLOWED FOR SOME FUCKING GREAT TENSION. and they were both equally in love with zeke so like............ i wanted it so bad

i'm SURE i'm missing very important ones, but these are my broad strokes 💗💗💗

ALSO LOOK AT THEM!!!!!!!!! TELL ME YOU DON'T SHIP THEM IMMEDIATELY