#to which the shop owner replied they didn't want to be messy

[medusasbush]

.

[your-nanas-house]

NANA ME NEED AUSTIN BUTLER HMMMMM🦫🦫🦫🦫

*feeding you bit of Austin Butler*

"Mr. Coleman suggested that...."

(Credits to the owners)

◇ Pairing: Stepdad!Austin Butler X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, "bond" therapy (invented by me, dunno if it exists), food play, hobbies, kind of dark?, fluff, pervy, stepdad x stepdaughter dynamic, dry humping.

◇ Summary: Austin indulges in another of Mr. Coleman's suggestions.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. For other fics like this.

"Ooohhh... stepdaddy" Y/n sing-sang softly as she managed to open the door of their house with her feet, her other one balanced her body as she carried two big paper bags.

The young woman had just returned from a quick grocery shopping she did as soon as she woke up and Austin was still asleep.

It was around 10:00 AM. The windows were already open, the sun light shining in, illuminating the rooms and warming them up a bit.

The singing of a bird could be heard while Austin's feet echoed down their floor, his footsteps calm and probably still a bit tired but eager to reach his stepdaughter. "Where did you go, silly goose?" He rasped out as soon as he appeared, his soft blonde hair still tousled and messy from the sleep and his body still protected by the soft material of his pj's.

"I was doing grocery shopping like a big girl, for me and my baba... since we will try out another suggestion of Mr. Coleman" the younger woman replied with a proud smile as she put carefully down the bags and rushed to her usual seat to finally get in her 'home clothes'.

The actor smiled as he began to help out put away the groceries; before opening a bag and pulling out some fruits like apples and grapes. Just to rub one of the vine fruit against the fabric of his shirt and then pop it in his mouth to taste its sweetness.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Y’know, it means a lot to me how helpful you always are.” He murmured out while still chewing, his big hand moving to ruffle his stepdaughter's hair just the way she claimed to "hate"

"No problem at all..." she hummed out, shooing his hand away with a little huff and an amused smile.

They were going to bake together that day, their therapist had suggested them to try and do some hobbies or activity together so to make their bond stronger. The recipe they had choose were simple chocolate and vanilla cupcakes decorated with sugary icing or whipped cream and fresh fruits.

"Managed to find everything that was on the list?" Austin asked as he leaned on the counter next to Y/n, watching her move around the kitchen to gather all the ingredients they needed. A small smile appeared on his face at how independent she was and at how still childish she could be when she wanted.

"Yup! Luckily... I didn't feel like going to look for them elsewhere" the young woman declared while checking if everything was there before starting anything.

She was wearing a pink-ish baggy shirt with his face on it and some silly sentence on the front, her legs were bare, there was just her lacy pink panties decorated with small strawberries that was bit protected by the fabric of the shirt and her feet were comfortably covered by her soft, furry slippers.

Austin, on the other hand, was wearing his pajama pants and a white t-shirt that did justice to his fit physique; he was barefoot yet still taller than her.

"Shall we begin, baby?" His raspy voice asked as he rested his chin on her shoulder while hugging her hips from behind in a soft cuddle. His light eyes scanning her action as she hummed out a small 'yes' before reading with him the steps, which would have hopefully led to some delicious cupcakes.

The first tasks went smoothly, one started to cut the fruits while the other weighed the ingredients, lots of playful and teasing moments were shared... till they reached the icing.

Austin grabbed a spoon and tasted the frosting that was in the bowl, the sweet flavour invading his mouth as a mischievous smirk appeared on his handsome face. He had a little bit of the icing on his finger, and while he was still behind Y/n, he quickly tapped her on the nose before laughing at his action, praising the cream as a way to hopefully get away with it

“It’s good.” His words echoed in her head as she registered what he had done.

It surely needed revenge, and he too could sense it since her hand tightened the grip on the spoon she was holding, and her circular motions came to a stop. She just had to turn slightly around to make the older man take a step back with an uncontrollable chuckle that didn't stop when she smeared some icing on his face.

In fact his eyes simply widened slightly when he felt the cold icing on his cheekbone, his acting skills kicking in as he pretended to be surprised, offended while still having a playful glimpse in his eyes that didn't go away as he reached up to feel the icing on his skin and scoop it as best he could to taste some again

"Did you just do what I think you just did?” Austin murmured out with the tone of someone that was about to attack again, successfully making her move slightly in fear to be hit again with the sweet dessert

"Yes, I did" the younger woman playfully replied, her eyes staring intently at him ready to react at any movements or action that would end up with her getting dirtier and stickier.

"Yeah?" The man challenged with a grin, his hands reaching quickly for the back of her head so to press their cheeks together and smear the frosting on her face even more, his tongue dared out to lick her skin clean while still fighting with the spoons.

"Eewww, Baba—" Y/n whined out, her hand grabbing into his shirt as she wiggled to try and escape the affectionate attack. Her eyes closed and her back arching on the counter, nearly knocking over the bowl while she kept fighting playfully back.

The frosting going anywhere.

The older actor laughed again as he held onto her hips, keeping her pinned against the cold surface of the counter while he continued to lick up the rest of the icing, moving his tongue up and down her neck. Her hips kept moving, wiggling and shaking as she chuckled while being pressed down, little spasm caused them to hit Austin's hard enough to cause a short groan to leave his throat. The unexpected action taking him by surprise and making his grip on her tighten. His body now pressed up against hers as he continued to kiss around with his sweet, sticky mouth.

His bulge pressed between her legs, grinding carefully enjoying the way they moved together. He moved his mouth up to her ear, his breath hot on her skin as he panted and groaned.

"Darling—" Austin cursed, freeing his cock from his pj's pants to position it right on her thong, rubbing carefully his red tip across of it making sure to wet the fabric with his pre-cum before starting to dry hump her. His big hands grabbed her thighs, moving her legs up to his shoulder, thrusting his hips in smooths circles as the silence was slowly fading, now replaced by heavy breaths.

The room was filled with noises, groans and humming; wet noises came from her dripping pussy as his slender fingers started to move with experience the fabric of her panties, making it rub exactly against her needy clint.

No further words were shared except for a few curses or exclamations coming from both of them.

His cock kept rubbing against the drenched fabric, resting against her folds as his balls made contact with her barely covered ass.

His smooth movements, the lustful music that their body played were accompanied by the ticking of the oven timer, making their desire for a peak imminent and almost obligatory. Each tic Austin's hips would thrust forward, and each tac they would shift backwards, leading to a quick and steady rhythm that was making both body shake and twitch with anticipation.

Tic, tac, tic, tac.

His pre-cum wet further the fabric and her skin as his mouth took care of her flushed neck.

Tic, tac, tic, tac.

Austin was breathing heavier, his stare getting more intense and focused on Y/n's expressions of pleasure.

Tic, tac.... rrring.

The muffin were ready, finished and ready for the decorating just like the young woman's body, which just came down from her climax and accepted the warm, thick seed that rested on it like the frosting that was about to be put messily on each cupcake.

[esmeelvr]

WET SOCKS. — LIBRARIAN!TECHNOBLADE X !READER

.. .. .. ..

— it was a soft drizzle when you first left your home, hoping to go on a short walk before the rain really came down.

you were only out for a few minutes when the rain started to gradually get stronger, forcing you to take cover in a random book store. your wet hair stuck to your face and the back of your neck, the long sleeve sweater you were was somewhat drenched.

"hi, you look a bit soaked over there." came a calm monotone voice.

you turned around to see the owner of the voice, coming face to face with a towering man, his eyes were a gentle red and his long pink hair was pulled up into a neat yet at the same time messy bun, he had sharp pointed ears and two small tusks that stuck out the corners of his mouth and his skin was fair.

"uh yeah, the rain kinda came outta nowhere." you laughed lightly, the stranger smiled a little bit.

"well i was about to close up shop but you can stay here till the rain calms down."

"oh you don't ha—" you began quickly explaining to the man that he didn't have to do that but you were cut off mid sentence, amusement clear in the man's eyes.

"i don't mind." he laughed at your sudden eagerness to run back into the heavy rain. "it would be rude of me to make you go back out into that storm anyway."

internally sighing in defeat, you simply nodded your head with a small smile, walking over to sit at a table close to the window so you could look out at the street; watching as people rushed to get out of the rain.

it was quiet for some time, the soft patter of rain hitting the window and the smell of books and coffee was calming. occasionally you'd steal a glance to the piglin hybrid who barely looked up from his book, allowing you to take in his features.

"what's your name?" the sudden question made you jump a little bit, your heart racing as you rushed to look back at the window even though he hadn't looked from his book when he asked the question.

"what?" you replied dumbly which earned an amused hum from the man. "i asked what your name was."

"oh! um, my names y/n! what's yours?"

"technoblade."

'what a strange name.' you thought to yourself, staring at the man with mild curiosity. "really?"

the curiosity in your tone made technoblade look up from his book, a single bushy brow arching up. "is it hard to believe that my name is technoblade?"

the back of your ears heated up in embarrassment. "um..it's uh..a bit strange?"

your response had technoblade staring at you with clear amusement while you shrunk down in your seat, avoiding all eye contact with the hybrid. "that's a bit mean."

"sorry, i didn't mean to offend you."

"you didn't, i found it funny."

"oh."

his laugh made you look up from your hands, a small smile creeping up onto your lips. "i like your laugh." you blurted out before your brain could stop you.

your compliment didn't seem to bother technoblade at all, he seemed even more amused by your clear embarrassment after you realized you had complimented him out loud. "i like your dinosaur socks." he chuckled.

you smiled shyly, looking back down at your hands. "thanks, they're a bit wet though."

after that you and technoblade spent the next hour waiting out the rain, he even offered to drive you home once the rain wasn't so heavy. you refused the offer a few times, not wanting to trouble him but he insisted, jokingly saying he didn't want your dinosaur socks to get more wet from the puddles.

you eventually agreed after some coaxing and a random job offer that you're half sure was a bluff on his side.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 5

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationship, swearing, past drug use, alcohol

Word Count: 1.8k

Notes:

Parts ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR

Your injury, and consequential recovery time, couldn’t have come at a better time. The harvest was done and the apples had to rest before being pressed, which meant Frankie was now free to start working on your home. The work didn’t often require more than two hands so the days found you doing menial tasks being his gopher.

“You know,” Frankie had had to explain to you, “Go’fer this, go’fer that.”

This mainly consisted of you passing him tools while he was swearing under his breath in the attic, or groaning after rapping his knuckles under the sink, or white-faced and clinging to the weathervane on the roof. 

You had discovered Frankie’s sweet tooth on the first day of renovations, not noticing until after he’d left for the day that more than half the cookies you’d baked that morning were already gone. Making sure he was kept happy, you had a new treat ready for when he walked in the door. 

He was a coffee drinker though, and while you owned a coffee press you had never actually used it yourself, preferring tea leaves for your dose of caffeine. You’d tried, the first morning, to make a cup for him. You even googled How to Make a Cup of Coffee? to make sure you didn’t fuck it up. 

You could laugh about it now, but the look on Frankie’s face after he’d taken his first sip made you worry you had poisoned him. He had spat the black sludge out and handed you back the mug with a look of bewildered disgust. Apparently, you needed to grind the beans first, who knew?

An efficient, if not quite comfortable, rhythm had been forged between the two of you over the past week and a half. Frankie would arrive at nine in the morning, scarf down half a dozen treats while discussing the day’s projects. You would run to town in his truck (yours was still at the autobody shop awaiting parts) and buy any supplies that would be needed while he set up the worksites and organized the tools that would be required.

You had added popping into the local café for a large coffee for Frankie and a red rooibos latte with almond milk for yourself. The first couple of days you had bought him a brownie too but stopped after he’d only half-finished the first one and mumbled through the crumbs in his mouth that yours were better. It only took you three days before the owner had your order ready for you before you even walked in the door, five days before you noticed the sidelong glances the little old ladies were giving each other as you walked out.

Small towns, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes, had the unique benefit and downfall of everyone knowing everyone else’s business. They’d quit with the hardly-concealed smirks if they knew how awkward working with Frankie was becoming.

You had been sure, in the immediate aftermath of waking up in Frankie’s arms while his truck sat in your driveway, that he was never going to speak to you again. The two of you and hopped out and began explaining away whatever conclusions Jacquie and Mark had made. Then Frankie, without even looking in your general direction, told Jacquie to get you inside and have your wrist looked at. 

To his credit, he had taken care of everything regarding your truck for you. The tow truck came and hauled it to the yard, Frankie had commandeered the inspection report and, after calling them out on trying to swindle you into buying unnecessary parts, had ordered what was needed and paid. 

You had, naturally, argued against this but you both knew you weren’t in a position to afford it. Frankie shut down your arguments gracefully, and broke his apparent vow of silence, with a gruff “I’m just doing it so I can drive my damn truck without you changing the radio station.” The absolute charmer.

It was your damn house, though, so you decided you'd talk as much as you wanted and it would be up to him to interact. Either that or you had music blaring from the radio, never playing his favourite country station purely out of spite. 

Never quite sure if he was listening or not, you rambled on about anything and everything. You explained your vision for the house and the plans you had for a greenhouse in the yard. Memories from your childhood were described in great detail, as were embarrassing stories from your year in college. Baking tips, waxing poetic about your love for sunflowers, interesting animal facts, you'd even downloaded a Word of the Day App and made a game of fitting the words into your daily uninterrupted monologues.

It took three days for Frankie to break.

You had been reminiscing about your trip to Disneyland as a child when he abruptly cut in, voice muffled due to the nails being held between his lips.

"You never talk about it."

You assumed he was referring to the little all-day nap you’d shared in his truck, as it had yet to be spoken of, but were taken aback by the slight accusatory tone.

"Talk about what?"

He took so long to reply, you started to think that he had interrupted purely to shut you up. The silence demanded an explanation though, so you kept your mouth shut and waited.

Clambering down from the attic, where he had been strengthening the trusses throughout the sagging section of roof, Frankie pinned you with his gaze and softly repeated himself.

"You never talk about it. The time in your life when you were married." He must have seen your hackles rise because he quickly set down the hammer and held his hands up in a placating wave.

"You still haven't answered my question about being in the army," was your quick response, finished with an ever-so-mature, "so there."

With a resigned sigh, Frankie twisted his hat around backward and scrubbed his hands across his face. "Come on" -waving you towards the patio doors- "these kinds of conversations require fresh air and a drink."

Reluctantly you followed him outside but rather than sinking down onto the porch swing you opted to lean against the post facing it. Opening two ciders, which you now had free access to, you handed one to Frankie and watched him over the top of the bottle.

Half of your drink was gone and your mind had wandered to greenhouse and flower garden placement before Frankie spoke again. His voice low and quiet catching you by surprise.

"Yeah," he broke the silence with another ragged sigh, "I, uh, I served. Started in the Air Force, worked my way up to Special Tactics Squadron. Made enough noise there to get recruited to Delta Force."

"Oh, fuck," your exclamation was soft with shock "you've seen some shit then." Blast your runaway mouth and its inability to wait for your brain to catch up before blurting out your inner thoughts. "I'm sorry!-"

"No, it's okay" Frankie interrupted, trying to reassure you and remove the horrified look that had come across your face. 

"No, no, that was totally uncalled for. Brad, my um, my husband, he was a Marine. He hated talking about it, said no one liked talking about it. I should have known."

"It's not that," Frankie reassured you again, "You were the first person to ever ask me about it, in all the time I've lived here. Just took me by surprise."

Leaning over in the swing, Frankie pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and handed you a photo from inside it. Five men beamed up at you. You could recognize them from a few of the photos that had rested on Frankie's mantle, they looked older in this one.

"Tell me about them?" you asked, knowing that most of the request was due to curiosity but a small part of you hoped that if you kept him talking you could avoid the subject of your marriage.

The sun was beginning to set and you'd long moved inside to eat dinner by the time Frankie was done sharing. It must have been cathartic, you mused, for him to bare this much about himself. He had never looked more relaxed in all the time you'd known him, which wasn't saying much and it could just as easily been due to the amount of alcohol thrumming through his system.

The room fell into a companionable silence, each of you digesting the information that had been revealed. You were in awe of the fact that, despite the life of violence he had witnessed, Frankie still maintained his humanity. Even after a messy divorce and lost custody battle, Frankie continued to choose the path of healing. He was clean, was fighting for shared custody of his daughter again, running his own business, and still had found time to endear himself into the town's hearts.

Frankie was, for all his sharp edges and gruff words, a sweetheart.

It put into stark comparison how Brad had reacted to the lemons life had served him. Born into an upper-middle-class home, the only son, doted on by his parents, Brad had been raised into a life where every door was open to him. Despite this, or maybe because of it, he had grown hateful of those weaker than him. He was controlling but had just the right amount of charm to pass it off as caring.

"I've met men like that," 

You nearly jumped out of your skin from surprise. Looking at Frankie with wide-eyed shock you wondered again what the hell was in the cider. This was the second time you'd poured your heart out to a virtual stranger, but this time you hadn't even realized you'd started speaking your thoughts aloud. 

Squaring your shoulders and holding Frankie's gaze you continued, almost challenging him to find someone worse than Brad had been.

"He made me quit college because he said he wanted to start a family. Then berated me and acted like it was all my fault every time the pregnancy test came back negative. You know what that asshole did?" Tears were threatening to fall but you held on to Frankie's gaze, "He had gotten a vasectomy months earlier. I didn't find out about it until after he died; going through paperwork that had been stored in his desk."

Frankie was up on his feet now, pacing around the kitchen island, too distraught to keep still. How could anyone be so cruel? Let alone be so cruel to someone as sweet and pure as you. He hated seeing you cry but knowing you weren't receptive to people being in your personal space, wasn't sure how to comfort you. 

Acting on pure instinct he grabbed the kettle and started preparing you some tea, not allowing himself to ruminate how he knew which flavour you preferred. Setting your favourite pottery mug in front of you, along with the little honey pot, he also decided to grab the fluffy throw blanket off your couch. 

"I get it now," he thought to himself offhandedly, "why women have so many fuckin' blankets and pillows in every room."

Placing the throw around your shoulders he was preparing to say goodnight and let you have some peace but was stilled by your hand reaching up and covering his.

"Please. Stay."

Part SIX

If you want to be tagged please send an ask! Replies get lost

TAGS:  @rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov @trash-dino-5000 @reader-s-cantina @pascal-rascal424 @alberta-sunrise @pascal-rascal424 @bts17army @sarahjkl82-blog @grogusmum @radiowallet @vonschweetz @greeneyedblondie44 @diaryofkali @cassandras-nest @silverstarsandsuns @haapeaness

[mwahmisfiire]

tim murphy & the outfit emergency.

as much as you loved tim, you couldn't deny how utterly in shock you were when he was the one to ask you out. you could've thrown in the question yourself but you were just as much of a wuss as he was - or not, since he made the first move.

it wasn't hard at all for you to say yes almost instantly.

you couldn't believe how much of a weirdo you were when you found yourself dancing around your apartment with music blasting from your brand new speaker, hours away from the big date, as you chose your outfit for the occasion.

you didn't want to look too casual but you didn't want to look like you had tried too hard to look pretty for him. you had promised yourself long ago that you'd dress up for no man.

but oh boy, did you like this one. you wanted him to see you and have his mind completely blown. you couldn't help it, you really couldn't.

you'd never admit this but despite the happy and bubbly mood that your music put you in, it took a while for you to decide what you were gonna wear. but all of that thought culminated into a cute outfit that you absolutely adored once you saw it perfectly neat and organized on your bed.

just when you were about to start changing, your phone started ringing. you went straight to the living room, turned off your music and picked up.

"hello?"

"y/n, hey." you heard tim's voice on the other end of the line. he sounded a bit... preoccupied. "listen, uh... i kind of need your help with something?"

"okay? what is it?" you asked, your brows furrowing in confusion.

you heard him huff. for some reason, this wasn't very easy for him. "i, uh... here's the deal. you know how i don't really pay attention to what i wear except for the times when i wear a white t-shirt underneath my actual t-shirt?" you hummed in reply, still not quite understanding where he was coming from. "well, apparently i've been doing that for a while and now i have absolutely nothing to wear for our date tonight and i really want to look good for you and -" he cut himself as you let out a nervous chuckle at the flattering comment. "do i need help?" tim wondered.

"yeah, mine." you answered with a smirk, earning a snicker from him. you thought about the matter for a few seconds. "hey, why don't i swing by your place and we can go to the mall and pick something nice for you to wear for our date? it could be fun." you smiled.

"yeah, for you." he pointed out. "you're a girl, shopping is kind of your thing, right?"

"only in life or death situations, tim. like this one for instance." you said. you couldn't see tim but he was definitely rolling his eyes at the comment. "be ready in ten." you said lastly before hanging up.

you got dressed in less than three minutes, called an uber in two and were at joe's place in five. quick ride for a quick plan, apparently.

you rang the doorbell and waited patently for the house owner to open up the door. you heard some sounds inside (probably tim getting emotionally ready to see you) and a couple seconds later, tim opened the door.

and let me tell you, he nearly fell on his ass when he saw you.

he knew he was staring, he knew it would eventually be awkward if he didn't say anything but he couldn't help himself. you looked... sweet baby jesus...

you snickered because, yes, he had said those last three words out loud.

you were extremely pleased. because you knew you were getting a reaction out of him. "should we go or...?" you teased him.

tim blinked a few times, pulling himself back to reality. "y-yeah!, yeah. j-just... let me get my coat." he said before walking away and going to get his black coat. you just stared at him while he did so, trying not to focus too much on the fact that his messy hair was oh, so incredibly hot.

there was a mall not more than three blocks away from tim's house so you two decided it was easier to just take a walk. you'd just come back afterwards and take tim's car to go on your date.

the walk was pretty peaceful, it was a pretty nice autumn day. you guys were talking about what you had done during the day and you were specially careful not to mention how hard you had worked to find the perfect outfit.

once you were there, you practically dragged the poor guy around the entire place looking for a store that had clothes that he liked. but to be honest, tim had never been one to care too much about what he wore. he usually stuck to the same five things and had a few other stuff at the very bottom of his wardrobe that didn't even fit him anymore. tim would always joke about how much money he's saved in dry cleaning over the years. sometimes it was funny and sometimes it was concerning.

luckily, the mall had just opened a forever 21 and for some reason you just knew there'd be something worthy of tim's attention there. he just blindly trusted your good judgment, hoping it was the right thing.

you made him try many things. a lot of them were very good, others not so much. mainly because tim was very self-conscious about his body and how cool clothes looked on him.

"y/n?" tim said as he looked at himself in the mirror of the stall he was currently in.

"yep." you said, carefully leanig against the door.

"is it just me or do i look terrible in everything?" he asked. he didn't even sound sad, his tone seemed awfully neutral which actually concerned you a lot. his tone led you to think that he had wondered things like this before in his life.

"definitely just you." you replied.

you heard him snort. "that was a rhetorical question, y/n."

"i don't give a rat's ass, you idiot." you chuckled. "look, can i come in?"

tim waited a few seconds before giving you an answer. "s-sure."

you opened the door slowly and carefully as you saw him wearing the outfit that you had picked out for him.

it was very simple but now that you saw it on tim, you were in love with it.

but his face did bother you quite a lot. he looked so... uneasy and insecure. it broke your heart in half.

you bit your bottom lip. "you look amazing." you murmured, still biting on it.

timm only looked down at his feet, not quite keen on the idea of believing you.

"hey. hey," you said, putting one of your hands on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. his eyes were glossy. you kissed the top of your nose. "i love every single messed up bit of you, okay? more than i'd ever admit to you, that's for sure." you let out a shaky breath as tim sucked on his bottom lip, a single tear falling from his eye to his cheek.

you were quick to wipe it away. you didn't know what to do, he looked so sad and helpless and afraid that you just did the first thing that popped into your head.

you leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

you could tell it shocked him because he made a little surprise noise before instinctively grabbing your hips with his hands to steady himself and not fall backwards. slowly but surely, he kissed back. but you could tell he was nervous because he only moved his mouth when it was truly necessary which made you giggle against his mouth.

"god, i like you so much." you couldn't help but breathe out as your hands wrapped around his neck. because you did.

and that's when he smiled. "really? y-you do?"

"yes." you whispered, almost desperatly. you just really needed to get him to understand how incredible he was and how ridiculously gorgeous he was... you almost couldn't handle it, not now that you had kissed him and there was nothing holding you back anymore.

joe's fingers started playing with the fabric of your dress as he leaned onto you even more, longing for the sudden comfort he had found in you and that he never wanted to let go of. "i like you too." he whispered, his cheeks turning pink.

you smiled, pulling away from him and taking his hands. you just looked at him up and down, making his face go even more red. he looks so good, who the hell does that?

i really can't handle him, huh? you thought to yourself as you laughed and leaned in for another passionate kiss.

you definitely couldn't wait for that date.

your outfit :-)

tim's outfit :-)

[esselley]

It’s @celesoran‘s bday!!! Please accept this small Speed Demons ficlet! :D

On a scale of one to ten, one being the least worst, and ten being the absolute most terrible, a rowdy bar in the rougher part of town on a Saturday night is probably on the higher end of Asahi's discomfort spectrum.

He knows Daichi and Suga love this place, though, because it reminds them a little bit of the old days, the scent of smoke and danger always lingering in the air, the possibility of fight or flight always right around the corner. Asahi doesn't miss those days nearly as much, and he knows the two of them are more or less happy in the relative stability they have now, but he does understand the notion of rose-tinted glasses born from nostalgia.

Asahi likes the quiet, though. That's why he watches from a booth in the corner of the room, nursing a soda and snacking on admittedly delicious chicken wings, while Daichi and Suga jostle for elbow room at the crowded bar. They're both already tipsy, and are making a game out of swatting each other's asses and then acting like one of the other rowdy bar patrons around them is the overly friendly culprit.

"I have a question," a voice to his right says, and he looks over at Kageyama, who is frowning at the bar over his beer.

Kageyama is also not a fan of the whole bar scene, as far as Asahi can tell. He regularly has trouble trying to make out what Kageyama is thinking, though; unlike Suga, who always knows, or Daichi, who Kageyama just informs willingly. Asahi never knows, and he's too nervous to just ask, so he has to guess.

This time, however, it seems like Kageyama is initiating things, so Asahi says, "Yeah?"

"Do you sit over here because they're so embarrassing?" Kageyama asks, tipping his bottle in their friends' direction.

Asahi looks over, just in time to witness Suga haul off and let fly with a devastating smack of his palm, except he misses entirely, hitting the backside of the guy standing next to Daichi in his drunken state. Asahi and Kageyama both cringe visibly.

"Yes," Asahi says, "yes, it is."

"They did say it was fine if you didn't want to come, though," Kageyama points out.

"I know," Asahi admits, "but, sometimes I like to come along just to make sure—uh oh…"

He starts to stand, as he watches Suga trying to apologize to the man he just accidentally and violently spanked. Asahi can already tell from the gleam in Daichi's eye and the hard edge around Suga's mouth that the man may have had a few choice words of his own to say.

"Sometimes," he says quickly to Kageyama, "I like to come just to make sure they've got a fast out when they need one."

Asahi hates confrontation more than anything. But he'll be damned if he doesn't back his best friends up in a fight.

By the time he gets there, Daichi is already using The Smile. Not a good sign. People are starting to watch them, but Asahi pushes his way through the crowd, muscling his way through as gently as possible. He's taller than most, so it's not hard. Behind him, he hears an angry curse followed by a distracted "Sorry," that sounds like Kageyama has squashed someone's foot and doesn't particularly care. Asahi is grateful to him for following.

"Hey, Daichi," Asahi says, as congenially as possible. "How are you guys doing?"

"Hey, Asahi!" Daichi says, about three times as loud as is necessary. "We're good, we're good! Some people just don't know how to accept apologies, that's all!"

"I don't want an apology," the man says, "I want my wallet back."

"And we already told you," Suga says cheerfully, "that it's not our problem you forgot to bring it and want us to pay your tab." He jerks his head in Daichi's direction. "I only buy him drinks, asshole."

Asahi sighs. Here they go.

"What'd you call me?" the guy asks. "What'd you just say?"

"What?" Suga asks lightly, with the biggest shit eating grin on his face Asahi has seen to date. "I didn't—did you guys hear me say anything?"

"You called him an asshole," Kageyama says, helpfully. Suga blinks at him and then burst out laughing.

"You're right, I did!"

"Okay!" Asahi says quickly. "I think maybe it's time we—"

"Hold on a second, headband," the guy says, and Asahi realizes he is being addressed. Awkwardly, he touches the band holding his long hair back, and the guy nods. "Yeah, you. None of you are goin' anywhere until you gimme back what you stole."

"Listen," Asahi says, "they didn't steal anything. We're sorry for the other… thing, but—"

It is at this moment that the night turns, as they say, wild. Asahi watches, eyes widening, as the guy grabs a nearby bottle and then smashes it against the bar top, shattering the bottom into messy, jagged edges.

"Ah," Asahi says, "that's an escalation."

"Listen up, you little shits," the guy says, and Daichi and Suga look ready to fight, and Asahi is trying to figure out whether to just start throwing punches or get Kageyama out of the brawl zone first, "I don't like getting the cops involved in my affairs. So either you can hand it over, or I'll—"

That's where he cuts off—with a startled, grunted "OOF—", eyes going bug wide in his face as he hunches over and drops the bottle, which shatters all over the floor.

Everyone stares at him, confused, but Asahi is staring at the person behind him, because that person has just headbutted their angry accuser right in the kidneys.

Whoever this newcomer is, he's small and wiry, with brown hair spiked high enough to make him look a little taller than he actually is. He looks up at Asahi, and his eyes are sparkling. He seems utterly thrilled to find himself involved in this altercation.

For a brief moment, it flares, for Asahi—that rose-tinted nostalgia, the thrill of danger.

Then someone yells, "FIIIIGHT!", and the brawl breaks out.

Asahi ducks a swinging fist just in time, coming face to face with Daichi, who shouts, "Time to go!" The owner is already yelling down his phone to the police. He spots Suga, who is giggling maniacally like the orchestrator of doom that he is, and points.

"HEY, YOU!"

Suga stops laughing. "Okay, yes, time to go."

A hand grabs Asahi's wrist and he whirls in panic, before realizing, it's the guy with the spiky hair.

"Out back!" he shouts over the noise. "Come on!"

Asahi has no idea who this guy is, but he follows him without a second thought.

A glance over his shoulder reveals Daichi and Suga are at least following—also, Kageyama, who literally flings some hapless drunk clean out of his path in his hurry to keep up. He looks like he actually may be trying not to grin, judging from the way his lips are moving. He does that sometimes.

They bang out the back door and into an alley.

"Where are you parked?" asks the guy.

"Uh…" Asahi spins in place, getting his bearings. "It's this way—"

The wail of police sirens in the night cuts him off and they all jump to action, sprinting away from the building.

"Go, go, go!"

They have to scale a fence. The spiky haired kid is like a little gust of wind, scrambling up it in two seconds flat and swinging his body over onto the other side before Asahi is even halfway up it. Suga can't stop laughing and almost falls trying to climb back down the other side—Daichi turns just in time to grab him around the waist. Kageyama refuses to just dump his beer and has to climb the fence one-handed, and it's a wonder he makes it over before the cops come flying down the road, screeching to a halt in front of the bar.

But they're already gone.

"It's that—one—" Asahi pants, pointing up ahead. They parked on a quiet side road a few blocks from the bar.

"Shut up," the newcomer says, and Asahi looks at him in surprise. "That's a fucking 1971 GSX! That's yours?"

"Uh, yeah," Asahi says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No way. No fucking way, dude," the guy is still rambling, as they all pile in. Asahi isn't exactly sure why he's getting into the car, too, much less the front seat, as Suga, Daichi, and Kageyama pile into the back, Kageyama squashed between them.

"Did you punch anyone, Tobio?" Suga asks.

"No," Kageyama says. "Should I have?"

"There's always next time," Daichi says wisely, slinging an arm over his shoulders. Suga ruffles his hair.

"The two of you are turning him into a delinquent," Asahi admonishes them, as he starts the car. The rumble of the engine earns him a low whistle from his front seat passenger.

"I'm already a delinquent," Kageyama protests. "I fix cars for an illegal street racing organization."

A head of spiked hair whips around, first staring at Kageyama, then at Asahi. "You race? Here?"

Asahi shrugs, hunching over the wheel at the sudden earnest attention he's receiving. "Yeah—well, I mean, I guess? Sometimes."

"Asahi, come on!" Suga says. "He races more than sometimes, and he's a menace behind the wheel."

"I'm not a menace," Asahi says. "I always follow safe driving practices."

"Do you race this car?" their new acquaintance demands and Asahi laughs.

"No, no… we have a lot of cars back at the shop, but this one's just… it's not really racing material."

"Not really racing—!" the guy slaps the dashboard so hard Asahi jumps. "Asahi, right? This is totally racing material. This could be the racing material!"

"No, it's an old model, I haven't kept up with it as well as I should—"

"Because you won't let us," Daichi calls from the backseat, while Kageyama nods.

"Could I have a look?" the guy presses, insistent, and Asahi stares at him briefly, before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Wh-why do you want to have a look?" he asks.

"Because I bet I can convince you to race it," comes the confident reply.

Suga whistles from the backseat. And then says, "Wait, who are you?" He loudly whispers to Kageyama and Daichi, "Has he been here this whole time?"

"I'm Noya," says the man with the sparks in his eyes. 

Asahi chews on his bottom lip. It’s not that he doesn’t want to race this car, it’s just that, as attached to it as he is, he doesn’t know if he could handle something happening to it—or worse, finding out this car, of all the ones he’s raced, can’t make the cut. 

“Why do you think that asshole thought we stole his wallet, anyway?” Suga asks Daichi in the backseat.

“He’ll find it where it’s supposed to be, now,” Noya tells them. “I figured he was going to be having a way worse night than I am, so I put it back.” 

Asahi’s mouth falls open. “You...”

Noya throws back his head and laughs. “Yeah... he’d been a dick all night, but even I felt bad for him after that shot to the ribs.”

Asahi can’t help it. He laughs, too. “Noya... if you want to take a look at the car, then... anytime.” 

“Yeah?” Noya asks him excitedly. When Asahi nods, Noya grins at him. “ "Then say the word, Asahi, and I’ll fix this baby up like new."

Happy birthday, Cel! 

And if you want more street racing, check out the rest of the verse here!