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lily-drake · 1 year

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Lesson 8: Find What's Worth your Protection

Random: *glares at Marin* Marin: *blinks* … Jon: *leans slightly towards her* what’s her deal? Marin: if looks could kill.. *grins* well, I still wouldn’t care but- Jon: she’s glaring at you like you killed her mother. Marin: *blanks* …. Jon: did.. did you ki- Marin: *snaps her attention towards him* no???? *smiles warily* at least I don’t think so- Jon: Marin! Marin: *pushes his shoulder playfully* what??? *looks back at the Random* I had many missions, who knows, maybe shes a cousin or whatever. Jon: *groans into his hands* ~~~~~~~ Marin: …you’re not fazed by this. Jon: you’re Damian’s sister. Marin: I’ve done considerably worse than my brother has. Jon: again, you’re Damian’s sister. Marin: …which means? Jon: that you both were raised to be assassins and I? Don’t? Care? Marin: …you’re not fazed by my molds. Jon: *grimaces* Damian kind of.. explained the situation. Marin: *blinks* …did he? Jon: yeah… Marin: … Jon: sorry-? Marinette: *shrugs* its whatever, so what are we going to do later? Jon: uhh- homework-??? Marinette: sweet!! Let’s go. Jon: uh-huh..

Damian stared at the letter laid across his desk. He had read it, reread once, twice, thrice, and yet he still couldn’t fully process the words.

“ I don’t want to be found so don’t look for me. I am going to be who I want, I’m going to act how I want, and I’m not going to force myself to do things that will make me feel terrible. You will no longer be able to pressure me, and that means you will NOT pressure someone else instead. ”

Was he truly that terrible? Was it truly his fault for pressuring her and unintentionally pushing her away in the process?

“ I love my dearest little brother. Stay strong and know that I will one day visit. For now, I’m figuring things out for myself, and I finally feel like I have a grasp on my life. ”

He reread those few sentences over and over and over again reassuring himself. She would return, she would come back. She never broke a promise, not once. He scowled when he had read the last part of the letter, Jon was afraid of him! But then again, Jon still hadn’t told him despite the fact that Marin had been gone for three weeks now. It was infuriating. Speaking of Jon, he hadn’t heard his annoying voice at all yet, something was up.

Damian tucked the note away in his desk almost reverently before he stood up and marched out of his room. He would check the kitchen first, but the only one there was Beast Boy.

“Where is Kent?” He demanded while crossing his arms. Beast Boy turned to him with a confused frown before he shrugged.

“No clue man. Last I heard he had a “private call” to make, something about someone calling him, or whatever.” Damian’s frown deepened. It didn’t matter, he would just head to the training room, nothing defeating the highest level of holographic enemies wouldn’t fix.

______ Jon was on a secret mission, well, secret in the fact that he just didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing. What was he doing, well, currently he was trying not to let the craziest of the al Ghul-Waynes cut his head off. “Hey, hey! It’s me Marin! Please don’t kill me!” He shouted, keeping his hands up and forward in a show of peace and surrender. Her eyes were dark and predatory as she studied him.

“What are you doing here?” She growled, baring her teeth in a way that was definitely threatening.

“Is it so wrong to want to make sure my friend is okay after weeks of radio silence?”

He could hear her heart skip slightly at that, she was surprised. “What makes you think we’re friends?!” She snarled, pushing the blade that no doubt had bits and pieces of Kryptonite in it, further against his neck. He was so screwed. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

“The fact that we spent years together attending Gotham Academy and you know, our side job.” He replied nervously, making sure to keep perfectly still unless he really did want that dagger slitting his throat.

Marin let out a small hum, thinking over his words while allowing the dagger to stay firmly planted against his neck. “Fine, your answer is acceptable.” And just like that, the dagger was removed and hidden in one swift motion.

Jon let out a sigh of relief, moving slightly away from Marin to catch his breath. “Damian still thinks he’s scarier than you and I still don’t know how to convince him he’s wrong.” Jon gasped, cupping his throat as if that would protect it. He could feel the slight sting against his next from where the blade laid across the skin.

“Damian assumes much and understands little. He will not allow himself to believe that others can be feared more than himself. That’s one thing that will never change.” Marin stated with a roll of her eyes, “Now, why are you really here?” She demanded with a simple raise of her brow.

“Is it really too much to believe that I just came to check-up on you?” He asked, trying to show how sincere he was. All he really knew was that there was a falling out between Marin and the rest of her family that was so bad that she refused to come back. He wouldn’t pry or ask details, but he wanted to make sure his friend was okay. Her heart quickened slightly.

“As it’s coming from you, I guess not.” She replied flippantly. Jon honestly could not tell what she was thinking, she’d always been hard to read.

“So while I’m here, why don’t we go somewhere?” Marin sent him a sharp glare, and Jon quickly put his hands up in surrender once more. “Somewhere public of course. And it doesn’t have to be somewhere you visit often! I just wanted to catch up with you is all.”

“If you try anything, I will disassemble you piece by piece with my strongest and dullest kryptonite knife.” She watched the way the boy paled, enjoying the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed back his fear. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

Marin gave him a sharp nod before she turned on her heel and started walking away. Jon stood there for a few moments more, still frozen in shock before he hurried after her. “Wait up Marin! Come on, it’s not like we’re in school right now.”

Marin just rolled her eyes, a small smirk on her lips as she watched Jon running after her. Once Jon was right at her side, her smile was gone without a trace. “Sooo…” Jon began, side eyeing her with a large grin.

“None of your business.” She replied sternly.

“Come on, I didn’t even ask anything yet.” He whined. Marin rolled her eyes, but never faltered in her steps.

“Doesn’t matter, the answer is still the same.”

Jon sighed and crossed his arms, “I just wanted to know if you like anyone you’ve met here.” They walked in silence for a few minutes, before she finally answered. It wasn’t that she hated this type of silence, she just liked making people wait in suspense.

“There are a few people that I’ve come to tolerate.” She replied flippantly. His eyes lit up with curiosity.

“Oooh, is that so? And what have these people done for you to even “tolerate” their existence?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, that’s why I asked.” Goodness, she forgot just how infuriating this farmboy was.

“Well isn’t that just a shame, guess you’ll just have to suffer in your curiosity.” She mocked as she weaved through the crowded streets with ease, all while Jon attempted to stay by her side.

“You never were the merciful twin.” He muttered to himself.

“Only when it suits what I need.” She shrugged, stretching her arms slightly. Jon gave a small exasperated huff before they continued walking together in silence. It lasted all of five minutes before Jon slightly nudged her to gain her attention. She raised a silent questioning brow at him, usually he just called her name. She watched as he tilted his head slightly to the left in the direction of a middle aged woman that was glaring at her, and specifically her.

* Marin blinked a few times, trying to see if the woman was familiar at all, because no one glared at her like that without a reason. She felt as Jon moved in slightly, whispering next to her ear, “What’s her deal?”

“If looks could kill,” she started, a small grin creeping up her face, “well, I still wouldn’t care but-”

“She’s glaring at you like you killed her mother or something.” Jon muttered jokingly, cutting her off. Marin didn’t falter in her steps, but it was a near thing as any signs of amusement quickly fled her face. Jon actually pauses and stared at her with a mix of fear and worry in his eyes. “Did…did you ki-”

Marin felt her body snap to attention, a jolt of fear rushing through her. For a second, she thought Bruce was there, waiting to catch her slipping up so he could finally turn her away. But he wasn’t here, she needed to remember that. He. Isn’t. Here. “No?” She tried to give Jon a smile, pulling in as much of Rebecca as possible, but came out as more of a grimace than anything. “At least I don’t think so…” She said trailing off slightly, trying to recall if she actually had done that. Rebecca was always getting lost in thought, she was always the dreamer.

“Marin!” Jon hollered in shock. She needed to focus right now, maybe Rebecca was the wrong mold to use. But she was also very nice and playful, so she’ll stick with it. Rebecca Marin playfully shoved Jon at his shoulder, before continuing her walk, almost skipping down the street, forcing Jon to pick up the pace after her once more.

“What?” She said with a smile, glancing at the seemingly random person one last time before looking forward. “I had many missions. Who knows, maybe she’s a cousin or whatever.” She said in an almost playful tone. She could hear Jon’s muffled groan, but she didn’t care, she just needed to get away from this place. Get away from the people she may have harmed when she was in the League.

Jon watched Marin, he could tell she was currently using one of her molds, it was a little jarring at times, but he understood why she did it. As they walked farther and farther away from the crowds he watched as she slowly removed her mask, returning once more to being Marin. He had seen her do this so many times when they were at school or on missions, but no matter how many times he watched her do it, it never took away the sense of hurt he felt for her.

They stayed silent for another long while, traveling everywhere yet nowhere at once. This time, it was Marin to interrupt the silence, “...You’re not fazed by this?” Her tone was flat, not giving away any of her emotions. Marin was officially back.

“You’re Damian’s sister.” He replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“I’ve done considerably worse than my brother has.” She countered.

“Again, you’re Damian’s sister.” He responded as if that explained everything.

With a small huff of frustration she asked, “Which means?”

“That you and your brother were both raised to be assassins and I? Don’t? Care?” Marinette watched from the corner of her eyes as he tilted his head slightly with an unsure, almost sarcastic, smile.

“So, you're not fazed by my molds?” She asked, raising her brow in challenge.

Jons smile became more of a grimace as he glanced away uncomfortably. “Damian kind of…explained the situation,” he answered hesitantly.

Marin really shouldn’t have been surprised, but as she blinked at Jon, she could admit (never out loud) that she was a little shocked. “...Did he?” Damian always tried to avoid talking about the League, and especially her molds. Damian hated them, so it was a little shocking that he would even tell someone else about them rather than pretending she had Multi-Personality Disorder….Now that she thought about it-NO! She wasn’t going down that rabbit hole right now.

“Yeah…Sorry?” he still wasn’t looking her in the eye. She didn’t like that, but who cares. It’s not like it really mastered in the end. When she looked away from Jon and back to the street in front of her, she noticed that she was in front of the bakery. Well, if he wasn't fazed, then it didn’t really matter who she was right now.

So, with a shrug of her shoulders and a lightness to her step that always seemed to follow Marinette, she replied. “It’s whatever, so what are we going to do later?” She asked with her brightest smile, it almost felt real when she watched Jon’s reaction to her switch.

“Uhhh, homework?” he asked more than stated, obviously unsure where this was headed.

“Sweet! Let’s go.” She cheered as she grabbed ahold of his arm and started dragging him towards the bakery, and away from the eyes she could feel following them.

“Uh-huh.” Jon let her tug him forward with a roll of his eyes, his farm drawl coming out slightly. She would never admit this out loud, but it was nice to have an old friend teammate here, and hopefully for once, she wouldn’t be the reason they got killed.

Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123 @iloontjeboontje @heartsong18 @raeuberprinzessin @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @jennifer-rose123 @moon5608 @corporeal-terrestrial @skitarii-alpha-c6-555 @saltysugarysembei @phantom120 @kking13 @depressed-bitchy-demon @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @iamablinkmarvelarmy @fleursroses @buginetye @humanoid606 @ev-cupcake @blackroserelina @rainbowbunny0159 @bambicambi

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rainbow-arrow · 10 months

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they're finally realizing what will grab my attention to finish this season

#let's go #luka couffaine #mlb #ml #miraculous season 5 spoilers #now i gOTTA catch up by saturday #(i already knew he was in the finale it was one of the spoilers i saw)#i love this boy with my whole heart and i can pretend i've moved on but i haven't #and i care so much but i honestly have no fucking idea what's happened past like #episode 11 #kitty noire really got to me y'all i wanted luka with the cat #anywho i did scream bc they open with this but he's not in any other scene from the trailer that just came out

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miraculouslyoverrated · 10 months

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You know what would be kind of a messed up finale plot? Hawkmoth gets ahold of the miraculouses and despite how off track he’s gotten, still uses his wish for Emilie

Instead of everything being great tho, the wish starts causing catastrophic damage to the universe, and in the end it’s Emilie herself who has to make the choice to undo the wish, even knowing what it means for her life

And then the series just ends.

#no one’s allowed to make wishes with the miraculouses because very bad consequences right?#I can’t remember #pretty sure it’s that no matter the wish there’s terrible horrible consequences #but I could definitely be wrong #anyways #mlb #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #emilie agreste #Hawkmoth #gabriel agreste #I’m not up to date AT ALL with the show #have no idea currently what’s going on #but this idea hit me and I had to share it

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blueberrycellsandbees · 2 years

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watching miraculous in a language u don’t understand and just seeing things happen is an experience

#im not gonna lie i have no idea what was going on #like besides the fact that hawkdaddy looked like he was about to become elon #or like bill gates #or jeff #shit went down and i only understood about 37% of it #don’t even they count as spoilers i have no idea what happened #mlb #miraculous ladybug #mlb s5 #mlb s5 spoilers #spoilers

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mothdotz · 1 year

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Traditional art (—because I cannot draw this one character’s hair digitally and it’s hurting my soul). Yippee!!

These folks above are based on characters who were made during the development of Miraculous Ladybug (/pre-canon characters) who are going to be flung into my self-indulgent AU. No idea if I’m going to name them based on the names the fandom has given them (i.e for Concept Chloe: Allegra, Flora— though these names are typically used for two different characters— or Amber. Concept Alya: Alina(?), and Some Guy: Sebastian.

I’m not entirely sure what all of their roles are going to be, but I do know that Sebastian(?) likes crafting tools and making gadgets (probably owning a workshop of some sort) and is going to have a mentor/mentee relationship with Marinette (promptly leading to Marinette creating more inventions/gadgets and shenanigans ensuing between them both).

And as said above, Sebastian is the holder of the Anglerfish miraculous which is the miraculous of deception/ deceit. I think his abilities will be focusing on ‘luring’ and ‘devouring,’ but I’ll have to develop it further before I can actually say.

#he most definitely tries to look creepy outside of his suit to spook people if they so happened to find him #but he doesn’t go out of his way to be seen (quite the opposite actually)#more like he tries to lure his targets to him #still coming up names/ideas for these folks but they are currently rotating around in my mind as we speak #marinette cheng #marinette dupain cheng #pv miraculous #I might redesign ladybug #I have no idea what to tag any of this #traditional art #miraculos ladybug #mlb au #mlb #miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat noir #my art #Seb is the kind of guy that would have the most wretched ideas to use in battle but would get appalled if Marinette or others were to agree #tw body horror #body horror tw

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 month

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for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*

Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.

And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.

And a few of them were also hot.

But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!

He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.

“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”

Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.

The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.

Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.

Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.

Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.

But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.

So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.

Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.

He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.

He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.

“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.

A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.

“What?” He hissed out.

“Do you understand this?”

“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”

Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.

“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.

Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.

“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”

“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.

“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”

Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.

“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”

Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.

“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.

“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”

“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”

Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”

“So you aren’t a natural at French?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”

“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.

“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.

Eddie kinda liked that.

“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”

Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.

“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”

Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.

By Steve Harrington.

“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”

Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.

“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”

Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.

Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required

When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.

Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.

Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.

Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉

Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.

And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.

He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.

Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #the team names are ridiculous on purpose #and I put this in college instead of high school because I felt like it #if anyone wants to continue please do #I’m so sleepy and can’t possibly

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jelliessoap · 7 months

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price x professional baseball player! reader hcs >:]]

male!reader mdni probably long as shit

this idea has been rotting my brain tbh idk why but it’s so !!!!!!! idk but enjoy mwahahaha ( i love this gif sm )

- would meet after the mlb hosted a game in england.

- he didn’t go, you were having a bit of a tour with your teammates and went to grab a drink after a successful game. you were sat next to him at the bar and he struck up a conversation curious about the matching symbols on your hats.

- “never seen that football team before.”

- when you chuckled at him and answered that it wasn’t football finally hearing your accent he was intrigued and your conversation blossomed from there.

- relationship wasn’t a thought for either of you, you were in complete different countries and had busy schedules. but that didn’t mean you guys didn’t wind up developing feelings as time went on

- you guys were more so friends with obvious crushes

- price started learning more about baseball ( watching your game highlights on youtube )

- couldn’t and wouldn’t tell you much about his job though he mentioned it was military. you didn’t pry too much deciding it wasn’t your place

- you decide to fly him out to watch the first playoff game after he congratulated you on making it, before you even told him might i add. he had the time and figured he could use a small get away even if to america of all places to a crowded stadium. it was worth it to see you again.

- bought your bobble head

- did not care for the game until you took the field

- had no clue what was going on but he was cheering for you

- was so excited when your team won

- met up with you after the game and said it wasn’t that interesting but you saw the shirt he bought with your teams logo on it hiding under his arm

- bonus meeting option is some sort of charity event!

now for actually dating lord

- NO. 1 SUPPORTER!!!

- still has the bobble head from the first game of your he went to. he keeps it on the desk of his study and you’ve caught him smiling at it more time than you could count

- goes to all the games of yours he can.

- you live with him in england during off season but have to move back to the US when the season starts up again.

- you both have busy schedules and unpredictable jobs that require travel and at times spontaneous trips but you manage to stay in communication

- should there be a time say when john has a mission that you can’t reach one another you agreed to write letters and exchange them once he returned

- if he can’t watch your game in person its on a tv at base, if theres no tv it’s on a radio. does he understand any of the terminology despite your countless attempts to explain? absolutely not. but his ears perk up and his attention is grabbed whenever he hears the announcer mention your name, reminding him you were still out there.

- you play worse when john is out on missions because you’re worried about him and hoping he’ll make it home unscathed.

- he noticed this watching back on base once and when he got home he wrote a sweet little encouraging note on your glove/bat

- ‘Always watching, give me a good game, slugger. Be home soon. <3 John.’

- heard the term slugger in an old baseball movie you watched together and insisted on making it your nickname

- rented out your home stadium when he proposed to you

- dugout sex

- felt real damn proud of himself when your last name on your jersey changed to price. ( or was hyphenated! )

- you better believe you’ll be rewarded after a good game

- doggy with your jersey still on

- missionary with your jersey on and open so he can rub on your chest and look you in the eyes while he plows you

- “look at their mvp, crying on my cock— what would your team say luv?” omg who wrote that!!!

- he def has a thing for your uniform. those baseball pants show off your ass perfectly

- if he ever bottomed he’d be a power bottom

- would ride you and wear one of your hats you play in or your helmet if you’re a hitter. rimjobs

- you send him dirty pics in your uniform all the time.

- pics with your jersey unbuttoned, drenched with sweat, baseball pants hanging low and your uniform coved in dirt will have him feral for you.

- he’s just a perfect little supportive hubby thh

#too niche?#cod #cod headcanons #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #headcanons #john price #john price headcanons #captain john price #john price x male reader #male reader #cod x male reader

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hazybisou · 8 months

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❛ OH BABY, BABY ❜

🎧 🎸 every single little moment, every single little sunshine

summary - when walking the streets of Michigan, you never know what to expect. maybe that’s why y/n never expected for a little boy to literally run into her with his fine ass cute father behind him.

pairing - f!reader x single dad!quinn hughes

side note - dad quinn 😻😻 that’s all i got to say as of now. my mans so fine 😍😍 (this takes place during the summer so about right now)

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

the slight breeze blew through her hair as she hugged her zip up closer to her body and grabbing the hood, putting it on over her head slightly. y/n had decided the weather was warm but windy enough to go outside and take a walk and get some fresh air. she had the day off from her job as a social media photographer for the Detroit Tigers.

y/n loved her job. she knew the second she saw her sister take part in sports photography that’s what she wanted to do. she took an internship during her junior year at the University of Michigan and once she had graduated, she had applied for the job as one of the photographers for the Detroit Tigers. two days after her interview, she had gotten an email form the organization saying she had gotten the job. since then she had been working with the MLB organization.

the young woman had just turned the corner and made her way into a local park in Michigan. her hand made its way into her pocket and pulled her phone out. she grabbed her earphones out of the other and connected them to her phone before placing them in her ears. she quickly swiped and clicked on spotify before she began to hear the lyrics to ‘Stay Ready’ by Jhene Aiko as she slid her phone into her pocket once again.

the music seemed to block out the noises of the children’s laughter and giggling as they slid down the slide or swung on the swing, being pushed by their parents or siblings or other children. the noise of the cars passing by and their honking were muffled.

she began to think about her life here in Michigan and if she were to stay her the rest of her life. find the one, have kids, grow old. the idea seemed nice in her head but she knew things may never go her way as god had other plans for her.

y/n suddenly felt something hit her leg. she heard a little ‘oof’ and a thud and looked down to see a little boy with brown, wavy hair on the ground. she took her earphones out and placed them in her pocket where her phone was.

she kneeled down to the little boys height and helped him get up. “are you okay?” her eyes scanned his small figure to check for any injures.

“i sorry.” the little voice made her melt. she always had a soft spot for kids. “i didn’t mean to.”

y/n smiled. “i know you didn’t, it’s okay.” she looked around for his father or mother or anyone who might’ve known him. “where your mom?”

he shrugged.

“your dad?” she tried and the boy turned around and pointed towards the way he came from.

“he’s over there.” he told y/n and she looked behind him to see a man with a slight subtle and neatly styled hair looking around frantically.

he was cute.

“what’s your name?” she asked the little boy who looked up at her with big doe eyes.

“roan.” he stated proudly with a grin on his face. “what’s yours?”

her smile turned into a small laugh. “y/n.”

she saw the little boys hand extend. she placed her hand in his and he placed a quick kiss to it and let out a ‘mwah’ as he did so.

“aw how cute.” y/n cooed as she let out a small giggle.

roan leaned in forward. “daddy says when’s pretty girl is around, to kiss her hand when you meet her.” he explained. “you a pretty girl.”

“your dad seems like a wonderful person.”

roan nodded. “he is.”

she looked at him and finally wondered if his father had figured out he was over here with her. her question was answered when she heard the padding of feet get closer but slow down as they neared. she saw the legs of a person behind roan and looked up to find the man she saw earlier looking down at his son. he kneeled down to be eye level with roan.

“roan, i thought i told you to stay next to me.” the man scolded the little boy who looked up at the man while squinting his eyes at the sun.

“i sorry daddy. but i wanted to go play! you promised.” roan exclaimed with his arms up.

quinn shook his head. “don’t do that again, okay? you scared me.”

“ok.” roan whispered as he wrapped his arms around his dad. quinn took the little boy into his arms and y/n watched with adoration in her eyes as she stood up.

the pair pulled away and quinn stood up while roan went and stood by y/n’s side, grabbing her hand and holding it. “daddy i made a friend!” he exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice.

quinn looked down towards her. holy was she beautiful. her smile was warm and gave him a welcoming feeling. he never experienced that from anyone other than his own mother.

“hi, i’m y/n!” she held her hand out for quinn to shake with a smile on her face.

he took it in his own and shook it slightly. “quinn.” he let go of it and watched as she put it down. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too.” she looked down at roan and shook their hands that were still held together . “roan here happened to run into me.”

“did he now?” quinn looked at the young boy who smiled sheepishly. “well i hope he said sorry.”

roan just nodded his head. “ i did. like you told me to.”

y/n laughed. “he was such a gentleman.” she looked at quinn. “roan’s a sweet boy.”

quinn’s eyes softened. “i’m guessing i raised him right if he was called a gentleman by a pretty lady like yourself.” the words left his mouth before he could even stop them. “i didn’t mean it like that, well like i did, but not like that. you’re very pretty-”

y/n let out a small chuckle. “it’s ok, i know what you meant.” she stood there for a second. “you’re pretty hot, you know that?”

quinn felt himself blush and turn red. “oh, um, thank you.” he looked down at his watch and his eyes widened as he noticed he would be late to dinner with his family if he didn’t leave now. “oh i am very sorry but we have to go and get ready.” quinn reached down and picked roan up before settled him on his hip. “do you think i can i get your number?”

“no, i’m sorry.”

quinn’s smiled faltered slightly. “oh it’s fine-”

“but can i get yours before i go?” y/n asked.

“oh, of course. uhh, can i-” y/n pulled her phone out and opened to her contacts before clicking on the add sign. quinn smiled and typed in his number. “here you go.”

“i’ll see you around then.” y/n said and she looked at roan. “bye roan! it was very nice meeting you.”

roan leaned forward in his fathers arm, wrapping his own arms around y/n and she did the same back, “bye bye!” he turned his head and placed a open mouthed kiss on her cheek with a loud ‘mwah’.

“cute kid.” y/n told quinn as she saved quinn’s number and put her phone away in her pocket. “bye quinn.”

“goodbye y/n.”

she turned around and began walking back to her apartment with quinn and roan on her mind. he was very attractive.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

it was 10:13 pm and quinn has just put roan to sleep in his bed after coming back to the lake house from dinner with his family. he walked back quietly to his own room which next to roan’s and got into bed, pulling the sheets over his body. he grabbed his phone, in hopes he would get a text from a certain person. with no luck he sighed and put his phone on his nightstand, ready to drift off to sleep.

*ding*

he grabbed his phone and saw an unknown number had sent him a text. he opened it and quickly saw who it was.

*** *** ****

though i forgot abt you or what?

roan’s daddy

just a little bit

y/n 💞

well goodnight quinn

send my love to roan

roan’s daddy

what abt me??!

y/n 💞

🫢🫢

maybe later

roan’s daddy

goodnight y/n

quinn turned off his phone and placed it where it was previously on his nightstand before he turned around and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep with y/n on his mind.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

turned out way better then expected. anywyas daddy quinn got me feeling some type of way. isn’t roan the sweetest little boy?? ☺️☺️💕💕 first post ever since my last one

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl imagine #vancover canucks #nhl #nhl hockey #hockey #isa’s works 🦭

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of-many-aus · 1 year

Text

Rainy Baseball Days

Summary: you and jake watch some baseball together

Warnings: none

A/N: idea given by @clancycucumber230- thank you so much!!

Take Me Out to the Ball Game Masterlist

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“You’re home early.” You didn’t even try to hide the surprise in your tone as you froze in the doorway of the kitchen.

Jake shrugged, glancing over his shoulder from where he sat on the couch, “Practice got rained out.”

You glanced down at the mug in your hand before turning on your heel and entering the kitchen area once more.

When you emerged a few moments later, you now had a mug in each hand.

“Here,” You murmured, gingerly sinking down onto the cushion beside him and offering one of the steaming cups.

His green eyes flickered down, widening the slightest bit at your outstretched arm, “Thanks,” He breathed out, gently taking the bright purple pottery piece that you made years ago with Nat, out of your hand.

You hummed, settling back into the couch and allowing your gaze to travel to the television, pleasantly surprised to see that the Red Sox vs Yankees game was already on.

“Oh, sorry,” Jake fumbled around to find the remote, “What do you want to watch-“

“This.” You interrupted him, eyes still glued to the screen, “I was actually on my way out to turn it on.”

The blond’s eyes lit up at your words, letting them linger on you for a moment as you stared intently at the screen, soaking up the game and completely oblivious to his stare. He bit back a smile as he too turned his attention back to the closeup of the Yankees batter winding up for the pitch.

“Come on,” You muttered, leaning forward in your seat, “Strike him out, let’s go.”

“You’re rooting for the Red Sox, Angel?” Jake's head whipped over to you in mock alarm.

A scoff left your lips. The man braced himself to be snapped at for using that ridiculous- your words, not his- nickname again.

“They’re not my main team, but they’re sure as hell better than the Yankees.”

He blinked once at you, watching as you stared intently at him, completely serious, before a grin grew on his face.

“That is definitely not true,” He argued playfully, “Yankees could beat that team any day.”

Despite yourself, the corner of your lips quirked up the slightest bit, “Like they are right now?” You motioned to the 3-1 score.

His face now held a dazzling grin, as if he was no longer able to hold it back, “It’s only the second inning, Angel, we’ve still got a ways to go.” He tried to hide his obvious delight- whether it was from being able to discuss baseball, or finally being able to talk to you, neither of you seemed to know- by raising the mug to his lips and taking a long sip, only to quickly pull it away with raised eyebrows, “Hot chocolate?” He asked.

You nodded in all seriousness, “It’s my favorite drink, and it’s cold and rainy out, so it’s perfect. Not to mention that it’s too late in the day to have coffee. You’ll never sleep.”

He hummed, taking a long sip of the chocolatey drink. Jake couldn’t even remember the last time he had this. Perhaps it was back when he was a kid and his mother would make it for him and his sisters on a cold winter night.

And then it began. The back and forth bickering that had no real venom behind it, long debates about all the different MLB teams and which one was really the best based on players and past plays.

It was by far the longest you had ever talked to Jake, and surprisingly, you didn’t hate it. Nat had never shown any interest in baseball, except for when she dragged you to Jake's game a week ago, and none of your other friends knew the first thing about it and didn’t care enough to learn or actually sit through a game with you. Talking about it with him was actually refreshing.

It wasn’t until the seventh inning that things finally quieted down between you two, hot chocolate long since finished and each team in the league thoroughly discussed, when you felt your eyelids begin to droop.

You tried to fight it- you really did- but you had a long day with your classes, and your efforts to stay awake rendered useless when you curled up farther into the seat cushion and your tired state won over.

It only took Jake a total of three minutes to look back over at you, mouth open and ready to fire a question about the play that just took place, only for it to snap shut at the sight of your relaxed- and very much asleep- form.

Your breathing had evened out and your head was lulled slightly to the side.

His smile softened as he looked at you and he moved to stand up, but you shifted in your sleep, rolling so that your face was pressed directly on his bicep.

Jake froze, breath hitching in his throat when you showed no sign of stirring from your slumber, and he allowed himself to relax.

He reached over and gently lay a throw blanket from nearby on top of you and turned his attention back to the game.

Taglist: @djs8891 @pono-pura-vida @shanimallina87 @melllinaa @callsignbirdy @fogle97 @randomfandomgirl97 @averyhotchner @blueoorchid @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misconceptionmistress @ravenclawaddict5285 @j-brielmalfoy @waywardhunter95 @classyunknownlover @whoreforfictionalmen18

#take me out to the ball game series #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin au #jake seresin x you #top gun x you #top gun au #top gun x reader #top gun x y/n #baseball au #college au

502 notes · View notes

billthedrake · 7 months

Text

THE VETERAN

(This is an idea I've been batting around for a while. Thanks to @maturedadsandmen for the inspiration to see it through.)

"This round's on me, Ackerman," Jim Bowers said, with a quick squeeze of my shoulder before he went to get us another round of beers. His blue eyes twinkled, and I could see the wrinkles and crows feet on his weathered, tanned face. Bowers held his liquor better than me, but he was definitely buzzed, too.

It had been a long week, but the summer MLB draft was now complete and a lot of the front office guys - and gals, too, but mostly guys - were out celebrating. Only now, some of the guys were heading off to dinner or going home. A few were in a corner trying to hit on some women at the bar. Which left me chatting with Bowers.

I don't know why Jim had decided to be buddy-buddy with me. Over the last month, the sarcastic putdown of calling me Moneyball had somehow turned into a friendly nickname, when he wasn't calling me by last name. But I leaned into it. The man was a former professional player and a legend in Royals history. He'd coached for a good decade once the boredom of retirement finally sunk in, but then the wave of analytics pushed him out the door. So now he was a special advisor to the GM and the face of the business side of the organization. Not exactly a mascot, but Jim brought in more when his gravitas and old-school knowledge of the game mattered. Which wasn't all the time, and Jim knew that.

I tried not to have the hard-drinking ways that a lot of guys in baseball do, but it was a good occasion to let loose. I was feeling good, and I'd probably get drunk by nighttime. Thank god for Uber.

It was well-earned, but the problem was my sexual thoughts were coming to me with less filter than usual. Jim was making those sexual thoughts come hard and fast. I didn't even go for older guys, at least not that much older, not older like Bowers. The man was in his late 60s, old enough to be my granddad. But there was something powerfully sexy about the man. 6'2" and still had a decently muscled build from his daily gym routine, even if yeah, Bowers was getting his granddaddy on, more by the month.

And, damnit, that day, he was going commando in his shorts. I didn't try to scope him out, I swear, but Jim Bowers had a huge package. Thick, heavy genitals that looked obscene in his khaki shorts. Maybe the man was a show-er and not a grower, but the part he was showing looked pretty damn oversized. I'd forever think of him as Big Jim now.

I wasn't some green virgin. I was 28, with one long term relationship under my belt. I'd gotten my PhD in Applied Math at Minnesota and a plum job with the Royals right off the bat. It was why I'd studied what I'd studied. It was my dream job, doing analytics for a major league baseball team. From my little league days and collecting baseball cards, through playing baseball at my prep school to too many hours spent at college playing fantasy teams... it all led up to this.

My boyfriend Tom wasn't eager to switch jobs and move, and I wasn't eager to do the long-distance thing. We talked it out and, a week before I packed up my belongings, we broke up.

Breakups suck, but the consolation prize was rediscovering the world of hookups in a new city. I'd developed a fondness for Midwestern guys, and as a somewhat nerdy Jewish dude from New England I had fun having a different blond hunk every other weekend. I even hooked up with some older guys. I preferred guys my age but responded to a guy's personality and a shared sexual vibe over looks. And sometimes a daddy fit the bill.... Different looks, different body types and different sexual energy. It was all great.

But for me, Daddy meant like 40. Jim Bowers was rearranging my self-identified age range. Or maybe it was the beer.

"Here ya go," he said as he sauntered back with two beers in hand. Goddamn, the veteran looked FINE. I mean, no one would mistake his body for a 40 year old's or even a 50 year olds. It was mature muscle, but fit. Platelike pecs beneath the man's team-logo polo shirt, and pumped arms stretching the tanned, almost leathery skin that was covered in gray hair, matching the thicker silvery fur on his legs.

And, damn, that package: I could make out the contours of Jim Bowers' junk. There had been rumors of his heyday with the groupies. For all I knew he still had 'em, though maybe not like the current players.

We clinked glasses and the man looked me in the eye and said, "Now that the draft is done, you gonna stop being a workaholic, Moneyball?" he teased. "Maybe you can finally get a goddamn boyfriend."

Everyone in the front office knew I was gay and that was never an issue, but I also didn't make it an issue. No talk about my private life, no mention of the gay thing unless it was brought up. I was the epitome of professional, and when it came to happy hour drinks, well, I'd learned straight-dude male bonding as a way of blending in years ago.

"Come on, Jim," I said. And he knew exactly why.

"I know you got your work self and keep the rest private, buddy..." he said. "But, man, you're not as different as you think sometimes."

I don't know that I resented his words, but they rubbed me the wrong way. How was Bowers to know what I dealt with? Maybe if I hadn't been perving on the guy, I would have been more bothered.

"How so?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Take Campbell," he said, referring to Mitch Campbell, who was one of the scouts. "Good looking guy. Goes on dates all the time, but can't think of a goddamn thing to talk about to girls except baseball." Jim gave a smirk. "Girl doesn't call back, and Campbell's back to Square One."

At another moment, Bowers talk would be too old-school I-told-you-so in its condescension. Now, I was amused as hell. "You got Mitch all figured out, huh?" I teased.

Jim's blue eyes lit up some. "Tell me I'm wrong, Moneyball."

I smiled. "You're probably right," I conceded. Then, feeling my guard let down, I added, "You know, with gay guys, they like the idea of a baseball dude, but it's more the fantasy than the reality, you know?" I blushed as I spoke, but something about the drunken happy hour moment was removing my filter. "Maybe if I were a player, they'd be into the jock thing."

Bowers laughed and gave a smirk. He'd been the recipient of jock worship, even if it was from women. "You're just like Campbell, Moneyball... deep down." He patted my back. "But you're a good looking dude, and a good kid... any man would be lucky to land ya, buddy."

I ate up the words but had to reply, "Not the pep talking I was expecting tonight, Jim."

He reflected a second. "Yeah, I guess I dish out the advice easier than I can take it." Bowers had married three times and was now divorced and, as far as I knew, single.

Our conversation shifted subjects, but we got caught up in talking. I ate up his stories from his pro days, and Jim asked me about the math stuff I did. Maybe the man was right, I wasn't good at talking about much other than baseball, but he was a lifer and his whole life was the game, too.

I emptied my pint glass and had to do a mental calculation if I was gonna have another. I was on the fence. I should go home, but if Jim was having another, I knew I would too.

Instead he gave me a questioning look. "Feel like coming back to my place, Ackerman?" he asked. "We can have another one there."

The last part felt like it was added on to save face. In case I wasn't on the same wavelength. Maybe I'd been dumb in not reading the signals. Maybe I was misreading them now. But that was my first inkling that Jim Bowers was making a pass at me.

I blushed as I replied. "Sounds good, Jim," I said. "But neither one of us is driving."

"Yeah," he admitted. He was buzzed all right. He patted my shoulder. Kind of paternal but with a definite look of sexual interest in his gaze. Damn, this was not what I'd been expecting. He broke that look as he pulled out his phone to get an uber.

The guys had all gone by then and we stepped outside to wait for the car, it was getting dark out. We'd been in there a while.

"Damn, I'm starving," Jim said. "Maybe I can order us a pizza."

"Sure," I said. Hands in my pockets out of nervousness more than anything. This was probably a really bad idea, but I felt crazy attracted to Bowers, more than I'd let myself admit before tonight. This was playing out so different than a gay hookup, so I was feeling out the dynamic. But his touch between my shoulder blades as he guided me first toward the car... that touch alone was enough to make me chub.

Jim's place was big, too big for a bachelor. But it felt surprisingly homey.

"Let me get us some waters," he said. I wasn't overly drunk but he was right, it was good to drink something besides beer.

I chugged down a few sips from the plastic bottle and looked at Jim. "Nice place," I said.

"Thanks," Bowers said. Then with a soft voice, he added, "Damn, you're really fucking cute, Dave." He set down his bottle and stepped up to me.

I hadn't expected Bowers to be into dudes, at all, and I definitely didn't expect him to kiss. But he had no hesitation pulling me into a soft, wet kiss. It was a little drunken, but it was the surprise sexual attraction that made my head light. Fit as he may be, Jim was a mature guy, and I knew I was kissing a 60-something man, a man nearing 70. It was a strange thrill.

"You're into this, right?" the man hissed as he pulled back, giving me an up close view of his handsome features: roman nose, round cheeks, and gray hair growing more silver by the year, cut in a medium-short style. His hairline receded just a little but remarkably he still had a full head of hair. "I'm not looking for any HR issues," he chuckled.

"Oh I'm into it," I answered. "I guess it's just between us, right?" I was asking for his assurance as much as I was giving him mine.

"Absolutely," he said. His eyes were on me but his arm was reaching down. In my peripheral vision I could tell he was unzipping. And pulling out his dick. His grin cocked. "I'm really horny, man," he said.

I looked down. There it was, that pro-veteran baller cock. Heavy was an understatement. Jim Bowers packed a very thick, powerful 8 inch tool that jutted out of his open crotch. It was big and spongy and rock hard all at once. I wondered if he took a pill for his erections. I didn't fucking care. Bowers had an amazing cock.

I gave him one last look, a playful, sexy look, then crouched in front of him. I reached out and touched that meat, holding it. It had a soft give to the erection, but also twitched in my hand. It was my first mature cock, and I decided I liked it. Jim was hot to the touch as I angled his erection down to my lips.

"Oh yeah, buddy..." he hissed. "Lick my cock... like that."

The more I ran my tongue up and down his shaft, the bigger and heavier it felt. He tasted salty but then as I bathed his dick the flavor was cleaner. I finally figured I'd given enough foreplay and pulled that dong between my open lips.

He had enough girth to challenge me. I liked sucking dick, but I wasn't an expert at it. I guess lately I'd gotten more into anal and more into topping in my hookups. Even if I still went down on a guy, as foreplay or the main event, Bowers was bigger than I'd encountered.

But it was like riding a bike, I suppose. My initial difficulties gave way to a steady bobbing on his fat rod, feeling a good four or five inches push the confines of my throat with each motion of my mouth. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

Nothing compared to the pleasure Jim was feeling. "Oh God... hell yes... work my fucking cock, man.... like that, yeah.... "

As I bobbed up and down I could see the silvery hair in his crotch, just a few darker hairs among them. And my hands felt up his mature legs, still strong, and now very furry. I was sucking a 68, maybe 69 year old and I realized I fuckin' loved this.

I always figured old guys took a long time to cum. Jim wasn't a quick cummer, but after about three minutes of giving him head I sensed the telltale signs. The urgency in his voice, the quiver in his quad muscle.

"FUCK! Here comes my fucking load, bud," he announced.

That heavy fat mature dong jerked in my throat as Bowers fed me his seed. I did my best to keep working him through that ejaculation, accentuating his orgasm with my mouth and suction.

He finally pushed my off with a friendly laugh. "Easy there, man... I think you got it all."

I looked up, knowing I felt proud. More than I'd been with my hookups. If I was honest, happier in sex than I'd been with my ex Tom. "Fuck, that was hot," I hissed.

Jim nodded. Face flushed red, his gray hair looked whiter. He somehow looked younger and older at the same time.

"Give me a second and I'll take care of you," he announced.

Not what I was expecting but I wasn't going to turn down the offer. I stood up, feeling drunk and light headed from the BJ. I started undoing my shorts and pulling them and my briefs off.

Jim grinned and reached down to grip my boner. "You 27 year olds are always rock hard," he teased, pulling my dick down to let it thwap up at the release.

"28," I corrected. "And how many have there been?" I laughed.

"Enough," he grinned. He gave my meat another look then said, "All right." And like that, the former baseball star, a man whose card I'd collected as a kid, was now getting down to suck me off.

If it hadn't been for the alcohol, I would have blasted in 20 seconds. Instead, now, I enjoyed getting head from Bowers. The slow suckling, the gentle bobs, the vision of his mature muscled bod in front of me. I ran my hands through his silvery hair.

Grandaddy was gonna work for my load, all right, and that idea was enough to get me to cum.

"Jim!" I gasped, surprised at how quickly orgasm snuck up on me and wanting to warn him.

He was a trooper, readying himself or my cum and then steadily sucking it down as I shot good and heavy into his mouth.

"Like I say," he teased when he finally pulled off. "You fucking need a boyfriend, Moneyball." He gave my leg a gentle pat then stood up. Reaching over he picked up his water bottle. To rehydrate or to wash down the flavor of cum, I wasn't sure.

Sheepishly, I pulled my underwear and shorts back on. Crossing some boundaries with Bowers had been naughty fun and all, but this part felt awkward. I started imagining what life was going to be like in the clubhouse from now on.

But Bowers stood in front of me, unabashed being naked from the waist down. His pJim hung fat and heavy, past his low-hanger balls covered in silver hair. He was definitely a show-er, even if his hard on had measured big.

"The offer for pizza still stands, Ackerman," he said, his blue eyes now normal friendly rather than lusty in their gaze. "If you wanna stay."

"You sure?" I asked.

Jim shrugged. "I'm not gonna be offended if you dash off," he said. "I've done it plenty, you know."

"It's not that," I started to say. Then, "Well, maybe it is.... but if you're OK, I could definitely eat."

That made Jim chuckle. "All right. You a peperoni man?"

****

The drunkenness was wearing off as we scarfed down the pizza. As I worked on the last slice, Jim came in with a freshly opened beer can for me, and one for him.

"I promised you a drink," he said.

"I figured that was just a pick up line," I replied. Something about sex made me feel I could be familiar with the man.

"Oh, it absolutely was," he said. "I'm not the most original guy in my lines."

I looked at his body. Relaxed on the couch. I calculated how his current body compared to a couple decades ago. I liked what Bowers had going on now, the contrast of hard and soft, muscled and aging. "You don't need killer lines when you have a killer bod," I said, flirting some.

Jim laughed but seemed into what I was saying. "You think I have a killer bod, Moneyball?"

I nodded. "Definitely." I looked at him openly. I wasn't gonna bone for round too but I was still feeling sexual. "That bug you?"

"Not at all," he said. He took a sip of beer and seemed to be looking me over, too. "You into older guys?"

"Not really," I answered. "At least not before you." I blushed as I admitted that. "Let's just say you're expanding my horizons, Jim."

He seemed to take that in. "You know, I haven't seen all your goods, Ackerman... feel like showing off a little for me?"

"You wanna see my body?" I confirmed.

"Yeah, I wanna see your fucking body," he said, leaning back into the couch cushion and spreading his legs.

I set down my beer and stood up. I peeled off my T-shirt, then undid my shorts. I spent a lot of time in the gym and had a pretty good body. By most standards it would be considered a great body, but being around professional players, I seemed more ordinary in comparison.

"Nice," Jim said. Genuinely into what I had going on. "Not just a pretty face, huh?"

I blushed. "I try, Jim."

"You do more than try... turn around," he instructed. He took in the view of my backside and my ass, before I turned back to face hi.

"Sorry, I'm getting a little chubbed." My dick was rising up and fast.

"That's hot," he said. With a concerted look he peeled off his polo shirt. I practically gasped when I saw that white-furred muscle. It was magnificent and everything I imagined Jim Bowers would be bare chested. Still had a lot of that ball-player power to him.

"Wow," I gasped. My dick was standing full up at the sight. "OK... I definitely have a thing for older men," I said. Then, "I hope you don't mind my saying that, Jim."

He gave a soft smile. "I don't mind, Dave." He leaned back and showed off his upper body some, inviting my gaze before he reached down to undo his shorts once more. They slipped off easily. I noticed that his legs were strong and sinewed but he had more muscle loss there than his upper bod.

His prick was fully and semi-firm but not throwing hard. "Think I can feel up some of that 28-year-old muscle?" he asked. Scooting down, he lay on the couch, face up and bared in his magnificent nakedness.

I took the invitation and went back to the couch to lie on top of this former star. I still had to pinch myself this was happening. The sex, but the whole evening. We both groaned as I made body contact, my hands on his chest and his on mine, while our cocks touched.

"So, Jim..." I started. "I don't wanna kill the vibe, but what's your deal?"

His hand traveled along my upper chest and over my arms. "I guess I reached a certain age and decided to stop having hang ups. Sex with guys is just easier these days."

"Yeah?" I asked.

He nodded. "A young guy... you can fool around with and he doesn't expect anything, you know?" I could feel his dick move against mine and instinctively I knew our heartbeats were synching up. "I'm not gonna lead you on, Ackerman.... not looking to date or anything, you know?"

"No offense, Jim," I said. "But I probably should stick to guys closer my own age to date."

"Probably, yeah," he laughed. His hands were now openly feeling up my back muscle as I lay on top of him. He was taller than me by two inches and had some more weight to him. It felt comforting and relaxed being naked in this position. Sexual but not we-gotta-fuck-now sexual. "If you ever feel like having fun with an old man, though..." he started.

"I definitely do," I answered. "I didn't think I'd be into this, actually," I blushed.

"Be into what?" he asked.

"The age gap," I said.

He got an impish look on his face. "You into the Granddaddies, huh?"

Fuck, I hissed. It was such a naughty thing, but it made my dick jerk, which made Jim laugh.

He patted my bare ass. "Listen, bud. I'm 69. I'm not gonna be able to get it on twice in one night. But if you feel like staying over..."

"Yeah, I'd like that," I said.

He kissed, softly. And soon we were making out. Feeling each other up. I could have gone for a round two for sure, but I didn't need to. And that made this all the better, just connecting nude body to nude body with Jim's mature veteran-baller build.

By the time we got up off the couch, I was dripping precum heavily on that swirl of silvery hair on Jim's stomach. I was rock hard as I helped him up and helped him tidy up everything and take plates and cans back to the kitchen. Eventually my erection flagged but Jim didn't make a move to put clothes back on, so I didn't either.

I was starting to second guess myself. This was a man I'd see around work. Maybe this was gonna get complicated, real fast, even if we weren't looking for anything serious.

He had a spare toothbrush for me and set out some towels if I wanted to use them. I looked in myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I often went back and forth in my self esteem, feeling cocky about my looks, then feeling all sorts of self doubt about my body and how I compared to whatever perfect guy I imagined or lusted after. But I saw myself in Jim's eyes. Maybe he went for me because I was an out gay guy, maybe an easy target. Maybe he liked that I had that nerdy but fit thing going on. Whatever it was, I was glad I'd spent the last couple of years hitting the weights and eating well.

He was already under the covers when I joined him in the king sized bed.

"Thanks for a fun evening, Ackerman," he said, his voice now sleepy. It was later than I realized.

"God, Jim, it's been wild."

"I don't normally have guys sleep over," he said. Maybe wanting me not to get any ideas.

"I don't always sleep over when they ask," I said.

He smirked. "All right, bud... ready for some sleep?"

"Yeah," I said.

And I watched his thick muscle bunch as he leaned over to turn off the light.

"Hey buddy," Jim Bowers said as he ushered me inside. I didn't always come over to his place. Sometimes the legendary veteran would swing by my condo for some no-strings fun before work, or after playing golf. I'd enjoying giving him a nice BJ - it was kind of my big challenge and thrill, getting used the girth and length of Big Jim's meat and getting off on our age gap. The latter was just as thrilling when Jim would have me kick back for his turn at reciprocating.

We even snuck in a BJ in a parking lot once, but while the risk felt fun, it was, well, risky.

I'd worried this would mess up things at work. Bowers wasn't my boss, but he held a senior position in the front office org chart, an advisor to my big boss. Yet the man was completely normal after our first hook up. It relaxed me for when he hit me up for a second time. Then another.

Sometimes it felt like a booty call, sometimes we grabbed a bite and a beer after sex. It was all good.

But today was different. Big Jim said he wanted to fuck me.

He was looking incredible now, shirtless and showing off that mature muscle, dusted with silver hair.

"Hey Jim," I said, stepping in. We met for a quick kiss, which became not a quick one. I could tell the ex-pro was really worked up today, and despite my nervousness, I was, too. We laughed a little at how horny we were when I finally broke the connection and stepped back.

"You look amazing," I said.

He flexed a little. Best of all, I could see that heavy dick in his mesh shorts. Not hanging either but boned up into a hard ridge. The man was in heat.

"How much you work out?" I asked. It had been on my mind for a while. For a man his age, Bowers was very well preserved.

Big Jim didn't miss a beat. "A hell of a lot, Moneyball," he said with a smirk. He cocked his head back toward his bedroom. "Feel like getting down to it? Or you want a drink or something?"

My heart fluttered a little bit. "I'm horny as fuck," I replied. "But I won't lie: I'm a little scared."

"Scared? Why?" Jim asked. I realized he was sincere in his question. Like it hadn't occurred to him.

"For starters, I don't bottom much," I said, then nodded down to his crotch. "And then there's that beast you got between your legs."

That made Bowers smile. I probably wasn't the first to compliment his endowment and wouldn't be the last. But the ego boost was appreciated. "You seem to like it."

"Hell yeah I like," I said. "I love it," I added in admission. "But that's a lot of dick to take."

He chuckled, stepping up to me, and running his fingers along my cheek. "You're overthinking it, Ackerman. Let's just enjoy this."

Easy for him to say, I thought. But something about him was charming me. The weathered face, the sea blue eyes, the craggly voice. I was gonna go with it. "All right, lead the way," I hissed.

I peeled off my T-shirt and shorts as I stepped into his bedroom. I'd learned to go commando for these hookups and as I freed my meat, my dick firmed up quickly as Jim pulled down the sheets and then slid down his shorts.

I saw one reason for that massive hardon. Bowers had a cock ring on, which made that dick firmer than normal. He saw where I was looking. "Hope you don't mind the ring, bud. Just gives a little more insurance at my age."

I crawled on the bed and showed how little I minded it. Scooting forward, I let Big Jim guide that hard meat to my mouth.

"Yes...." he grunted as I sucked in a few inches, then choked down another. I was getting better at this. My face blushed as I sucked, my bare ass up for Jim's gaze. I wasn't used for being so bottomy, so open in servicing with a guy, but it was a fun new mode. Particularly as I smelled Bowers' clean soapy scent and could see the silvery crotch hair in front of me.

He put his hands on his hips and let me do the work. The man loved a BJ. I mean, who doesn't? But Jim seemed to really crave oral sex. I half thought he'd change his mind today and let me get him off with my mouth. I'd cleaned myself out and prepped for anal, but a part of me wouldn't have been upset with a change of plans.

But I felt his hand on my head, nudging me back.

"Lie back," he urged.

I scrambled back, letting Big Jim see my naked body. The man got off on my youth, on the fact he had a 20-something stud in his bed. He'd told me as much, but his eyes confirmed it now as he stood next to the bed and pumped some lube into his hand, fisting that rock hard granddaddy meat.

"I hope to god you don't think you're just gonna ram that thing up me," I said in a nervous joking tone.

He grinned and shook his head. "Relax, Ackerman, I know what I'm doing." He got on the bed, his core contracting as he shifted his weight forward. Our lips met for a second and I took a moment to feel up that mature brawn. It was still a head fuck that I was having sex with THE Jim Bowers. Even if he wasn't quite my main childhood idle or on my favorite team growing up, I used to watch watch him play all the time, and it felt like I was in the presence of a legend.

He leaned up and I took in that view of Bowers's strong shoulder muscle and thick arms. He gave a couple of soft kisses along my abs as he scooted down. "Lift 'em up, buddy," he urged.

I was nervous but I wanted this, I decided. It had been a solid year since I'd bottomed, but I was getting in the mood now. As I pulled back my legs, Big Jim was gonna get me all the way there. He leaned in and I felt his breath and his five o clock stubble before his tongue darted out to lick me.

Here was a man of surprises, all right. Jim Bowers was really into eating ass. It tickled at first, and I fought to keep the tickling sensation from overwhelming me. It was just my body's defensiveness. It was half mental, but also the unfamiliarity of having my ass stimulated. But Jim's tongue pressed deeper in, and the feeling changed. Rawer, more overtly sexual.

"God," I grunted. It was a mind fuck, too, looking down at this older man, almost 70, going to town on my hole. And me letting him.

He took his time but I could tell he was horny now. After a minute or so he leaned up and let out a soft growl of approval. "Hot hole, Dave," he said, timing the pressing of his first finger perfectly. It was lubed, and I enjoyed the thickness of his digit entering me. He dug around some, worming my sphincter open more before diving in for another rim job.

"You got nice and clean for me, buddy," he said with approval.

"Yeah," I replied, holding my legs back and letting him prepare me. Alternating rimming with more fingering. Pretty soon he was focused on the latter, two then three then two then three fingers, drizzling more lube at the connecting spot.

He looked down at me, horny. Maybe that cock was viagra-ed up or maybe the cock ring was doing all the work. But it was steel rigid.

He pulled his hand back and lined up that heavy, hard meat. "You got this, man..." was all he said, before I felt that dull stinging of his penetration.

"Fuck!" I cried. Not in pain but more in fear.

He held steady, an inch of that fat dick wedged in my ring. "You're tight as hell," he observed. "Just relax, Ackerman."

"I'm trying!" I laughed.

Jim smiled. God he was so handsome and sexy. I didn't think I'd ever be into a guy pushing 70, but at that moment I knew I really was. He pulled back and fisted that big meat. I felt bad I was extra work to get in. But he leaned in and kissed me some. Sensual, tongue-heavy kissing while his fingers went back down to work my hole again.

I was ready this time. He broke the kiss but didn't pull back entirely. Deftly he placed that dong at my hole and applied just the right amount of force. And like that I had three solid inches of Jim Bowers' fatness in me.

I clenched my teeth and gripped his biceps in automatic response.

His eyes challenged mine. "You got this," he assured me. More confident than I was. More pressure was pushing that very wet, very lubed phallus into me. I was tight but also enjoying that stretching feeling. Maybe because Big Jim was going slow.

He nodded at me, his face now serious, not very sexual and horny. "You feel SO fucking good on my dick buddy," he growled in a low voice. That gravely Bowers voice. "You gonna make your Granddad feel good?"

We'd tossed back the granddaddy term. For me it was an extension of "daddy" - a daddy with a few extra years. Mature like Jim. But now that term hit me in a pervy place. My bowels unclenched and welcomed all of that magnificent cock into me.

"Yeah you are," Big Jim hissed.

"God, Granddad..." I moaned, hesitant at first, trying it out.

"I got ya, boy," he said, more aloud as he began his first thrust. Not hard, but a real fuck thrust into me. With Jim's size, it felt like a lot and was rapidly rearranging my previous assumptions - of being mostly top, of not being into grandpas.

His hips swiveled slowly as I held his muscular body and welcomed him into me. I felt like we weren't just having sex. We were mating. I was being owned from the inside out. I didn't normally feel whorish with a guy, but Big Jim was pushing some button deep inside me. Physically and psychologically.

"Fuck me, Jim!" I said, more assertively now. "Fuck me, Granddad."

His lips curled up and he threw more force into his thrusts. I was ready for it now. Unbelievably I was enjoying this. It was intense as hell, like it could become uncomfortable at any moment, but my ass felt alive, and I felt alive beneath this man, who was fucking for his pleasure. The lube on his cock kept my guts from clenching down too hard on his pistoning shaft, or when I did they didn't have anything to grip onto. The man was fucking me unimpeded.

I looked into his wrinkled, weathered, handsome face. Imagining how many groupies he'd nailed over the years. How easy it must have been for him to get laid in his prime. How easy it was for him now.

I didn't think a hands-free cum was a possibility for me. Maybe technically it wasn't since Big Jim's soft belly fur and belly were rubbing against my rigid cock. But I started cumming hard.

"Jim!" I exclaimed, feeling that immense pleasure rising up from deep within me.

That excited him all right. He fucked me and fucked me hard. Fast even, eager to maximize the sensations on his mature cock. "Right behind ya, kid," he grunted.

The idea he was gonna nut in me thrilled me and made another shot of cum push out of my cock.

I love watching men cum and seeing Big Jim in full orgasm was incredible. His older muscle tensing up and his voice sounding older as he cried out. Then him relaxing in tired stillness on top of me for a second before he moved his head to give me a soft kiss and pushed up to relieve the brunt of his bulk on top of me.

I felt that thickness retreat and plop out of me. I felt slutty and maybe not in a good way as Big Jim's cum ran out of my used hole. But in every other way I felt happy and satisfied. Especially seing the smile on the man's face as he rolled off and lay next to me, nudging my chin playfully.

"You were a trooper, Moneyball," he said finally.

"I don't know if I should have enjoyed that so much," I admitted.

"Why the hell not?" Big Jim challenged me.

"Long answer or short answer?" I replied.

"Let's start with the short."

"Maybe I'm a little kinkier than I realized."

Jim shrugged and leaned up, sitting back against one of the pillows. "Nothing wrong with that, fella."

I copied his move, but not before shaking out the cramps from my legs. My ass hole felt loose and wet but the new sitting position made it less exposed. "So the Granddad thing..." I didn't even know what I wanted to ask, but I knew I had to check in with Jim.

He chuckled. "Seems to get you going, buddy. It's a little weird, I guess," he added. "I mean, I have grandkids and all. But I figure this is something different altogether."

"It is," I assured him. I looked down at my body. Dick well sated, cum smeared on my belly and chest. "I'm a fricking mess."

Jim agreed. "Let's get you cleaned up, Moneyball." He slid out of bed and extended his hand to help me up. At that moment, despite being much younger I felt weaker from the sexual exhaustion. "If you have evening plans, that's cool, but I feel like I owe you a nice dinner for putting out like that."

I enjoyed this camaraderie and enjoyed the shower we shared together. A chance to soap up his mature body. A part of me worried if I should be seen in public extensively with Bowers, alone with him, but we did work together and I'm sure could come up with a reason if anyone saw us.

Then as Jim soaped me up from behind and pulled me into his sudsy wet body, that fat dong there, the one that had given me what felt like a second deflowering... I realized Big Jim was right. I was overthinking it.

#drakestories

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 1 month

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You know, I find it funny how MLB thinks just having those fairytale parallels is enough to warrant praise, without actually using them to explore the characters.

Using one of the examples you listed in the finale review, Ever After High took the concept of fairytales and used it to explore the characters in interesting ways. Raven outright rejected the fate people decided she should have, instead choosing to write her own story and use her magic for good. Briar HATED her story, as she knew that while she would sleep for a hundred years, her friends would all be dead when she woke up. Duchess was envious of the others, as her story was doomed to end in tragedy as the next Swan Princess…

I could go on for days. The writers of EAH used the basic concept of fairytales to create genuinely compelling characters and discuss topics like autonomy, existentialism, being your own person vs what everyone wants you to be etc. But MLB just- throws these metaphors in on a surface level and then claim that they’re reinventing the wheel. It’s so infuriating.

Again, fairy tale references and deconstructions can work if they're done right (Go! Princess Precure does a great job with this for example), but the problem with this show is that all it does with that idea is compare the story to a fairy tale without really having anything to say about the tropes commonly associated with the genre.

The idea of comparing Marinette to a knight isn't a bad one, as you could argue that superheroes are the modern day equivalent to King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, but the whole knight idea is just to make Marinette look like a knight, not have her follow the code of chivalry knights are known to follow. Making Adrien the "damsel" is the bigger problem here. When he was compared to the princess, it was just to portray him as helpless and in need of saving... while the fairy tale visual in "Gabriel Agreste" shows him wearing a dress while Marinette wears a suit of armor.

In other words, this show that's trying to be empowering to girls, is essentially associating feminine traits with being weak, while the character supposed to be the female role model girls look up to is only able to get the job by acting like a man. This is why this show needs more than one female writer on the crew.

Maybe I'm overthinking things because I'm not a girl, and therefore, don't see things the same way, but to me, it comes across like the writers only cared about how cool things looked rather than actually diving into what something like this symbolizes. You know, the thing Ever After High has gained a lot of praise for with its discussion of fairy tale tropes?

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #not miraculous ladybug

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months

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I recently had a dream that wouldn't leave me alone so I feel the need to share it with someone else.

I can't remember the name of the fic that had been rereading at the moment but it's a crossover DC/DP/MLB. In the fic Danny, Damien and Marinette are called the three headed beast. At the time I was also reading a fic with Captain Marvel and I got it stuck in my head that what if Danny, Marinette and Billy were the three headed beast and Damien was their baby sibling.

Like hear me out they were made by Ra's without even Talia knowing. He wanted to raise his potential heir without even his daughter interfering. When the three are about 7 some magic bs with a Lazarus portal happened resulting in them living in a separate dimension for decades away from Ra's before being de-aged and sent bad under their grandfather's thumb (honestly I don't really remember what happened, my dream confused me). Once back they quickly jump ship and fake their deaths making sure nobody's are left to try and revive.

Roughly 2-3 years later Talia had Damien. I don't remember why but he knew about the triplets and had been on multiple family bonding trips with them without Ra's or Talia knowing so when Tim said Bruce was alive he just said ok, called his older siblings sounding sad and said find him. And then I woke up (and thought about it a lot).

Sorry for the rant this idea just wouldn't leave me alone.

I can just imagine Phantom and Marvel being entirely different people. Like Captain Marvel doesn't happen until after leaving the league neither does the portal incident so both Phantom and Marvel are completely different heros. The three went their separate ways once out of the league, yes they love each other (and the baby sibling they occasionally pop in on and kidnap for a few weeks to month to for adventures in dimensions that have different time flows) but they are grown adults they have their own lives they want to lead and they definitely haven't needed a parent in decades.

Anyways I'll stop now I just need to share this.

That's honestly such a cool dream. I don't read a lot of Miraculous Ladybug crossovers with DC but I do know the show.

It's interesting how all of them would be extremely powerful for their respective hero personas, but no one would link them as the Three Head Beast.

Also since Danny and Billy would be different heroes, I like to think that maybe Danny would have become more like a meta-human instead of a halfa. Maybe it was due to all his dimension-hopping as I can see him being the triplet that would enjoy exploring the Infinite Realms.

Danny has wanders lust- he hates lingering in one place too long so he is always on the move, always wanting to see new worlds and new timelines.

Maybe he would become Clockwork's human lesion as he can't be King. He happily goes to the living realms of the timelines Clockwork needs him to observe for the stars.

Danny believes the stars are a reminder of his freedom because it's one of the first things he saw the day they faked their deaths. He loves seeing new constellations and can't wait to jump lines again to discover new ones.

Billy meanwhile would fall into Magic again but this time it would be his own magic. He has the highest potential in magic to make him a candidate for the Wizard, but his past of being in Ra's thumb mucked up his purity soul bit.

Still, he finds out that "You're a Wizard, Billy" while traveling dimensions and unlike Danny chooses to stay in a lot of them for long periods just learning all he can of magic.

Marinette, unlike her brothers, is much more willing to stay in one place. Yes, she'll sometimes join them on trips or go looking for an adventure but she wanted to build a home. Danny and Billy see it as a cage, far too used to Ra's locking them up to not get itchy to move about, but she saw it as having control.

She picks her house. She picks the dimensions. Marinette is the one that decides when and where she wants to go. Nothing is bigger "I made it out. I survived you" then staying in their native dimension with Ra's on the other side of the world. If he finds her and tries to bring her back, welp she escaped before she can do it again.

But she didn't want big adventures or conflicts with Ra's, she was comforted. So Marinette opens a bakery in France, living as mundanely as possible but with years of deadly training under her skin and a strong link to Spirits.

Marinette didn't get her Kawami when the Guardian needed to pass them on, because she wasn't there, but years of Lazarus Water, Ectoplasim of the Infinite Realms, and just her aura she can see them.

Alongside thousands and thousands of Spirits that are everywhere. Some get attacked by her and her little bakery. Marinette allows them to live with her and respects them and their domain, so it's not really a surprise when they start bestowing small Blessings on her. She may not possess a miraculous that powers her up but she has a bag of tricks that are close and her own training that practically makes her a miraculous holder anyway.

And that's them the three heads of the Ra's Three-Headed Beasts- monsters, killers, weapons from birth- who lived on as what they wanted.

An explorer with a love of stars.

A mage with a love of study.

A Baker with a love of everyday life.

One day, when a little ninja wanders into Marinette's bakery on a break from his first real mission, the three gain a new love for their little brother.

Damian may not understand his older siblings desire to not be a cape but he respects them all the same. He still trains every day in the hopes of one day besting them but not to prove his worth.

Only to make Danny, Marinette, and Billy proud.

#dcxdpdabbles #mun speaks #I like the potential #Random thoughts on it #sorry if I ran with it #The plot bunnies wouldn't let me be #Miraculous Ladybug X DP X Dc

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beatrice1979a · 3 months

Text

Map of the Problematique - Adrienette

Reverse: Adrienette - Ladrien - Marichat - Ladynoir

compilation

4 part sketch. Yes. This is what happens when I listen to my fav songs. I just keep drawing...

One of the first drafts I ever made for the pair. Neglected for weeks. Originally inspired by a one-shot fic. One of the first shadyclaw fics I read in AO3.

edit: yes, that handmade charm hanging from the phone is the one reverse Adrien gifted her. Reverse Adrien is such a Marinette.

RoFair's Keep me Safe Inside

“You ready, Fleabag?” Adrien turned to see Marinette looking at him with unwavering determination.

“Always.” Adrien grinned wildly.

soundtrack: Paramore we are broken

>>>> More Reverse Paris fics here

You know what I love the most of the reverse evil pair? (the banter of course) but also the idea that we can have fun with them even after the reveal.

Come on MLB writers, get that over and done in the show! Long overdue.

Muse ... yes, we are still doing this...

youtube

Fear and panic in the air

I want to be free from desolation and despair and I feel like everything I saw is being swept away

Well, I refuse to let you go

I can't get it right since I met you

When will Loneliness be over

Scraps & drafts:

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anthrofreshtodeath · 2 months

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Looking forward to this prompt like always.

maybe they get slightly jealous while out, so they grab onto their partner's hand to establish their relationship

here it is! I have no idea what I just wrote but, you know, here we go:

—-

The Childhood Cancer Awareness Gala. If anything in Maura’s life is a black tie affair, it’s this. It comes once a year, in May, just as the spring gives way to summer temperatures, and, unfortunately, when the nascent MLB season really starts to take shape. Which usually means she takes a man, a doctor most times, instead of Jane: the person with whom she much prefers to attend these things. Not only is Jane Maura’s best friend - and thus makes it all genuinely more bearable - Jane has all the social skills Maura wishes she did when it came to fellow donors and hot shots. There are celebrities at this thing, for god’s sake. And that makes Maura nervous, especially since Jane so often has about five to eight games to catch up on by the time late May rolls around and refuses to come. Last time Maura had to bring a surgeon. But this year, by some miracle, the Red Sox have an off day on this Tuesday night, the same that the Gala is on.

And Maura had known this fact for months. In fact, as soon as the regular season schedule was released. That meant that she started her get-Jane-to-the-Gala campaign while snow still raged outside and the year had barely begun. It culminates in the black, strapless gown she wears now, the one showing off her tanned shoulders and her three hundred dollar haircut complete with layers and highlights and the smell of priceless product. There are heels that highlight her calves and make her ass look fantastic; there is a pendant on her neck that draws attention to her perfectly supported breasts. There’s even a diamond ring on her right ring finger, big and belonging once to her mother, because Jane likes to look at things that remind her of tradition.

And Maura had promised, not with words per se, but quite forcefully, quite convincingly, that Jane’s attendance would be worthwhile. The promise had consisted of some rather pointed modeling in the guest bedroom while Jane sat in a lounge chair and watched, of even more pointed half-states of undress, including dropping the garment in front of her with her heels still on so that she could bend over in the skimpiest pair of underwear appropriate for a platonic home fashion show that she owned. It also consisted of the subtle increase in hand jewelry, answers to Jane’s questions about it being, “My mother gave it to me. She couldn’t bring herself to wear it anymore; she finds such signs of commitment provincial. I vehemently disagree - especially when the signs are so exquisite. Don’t you think?”

Jane had sniffled. She’d stood, looking stiff and stupid as her mouth gaped at the ring Maura held out, before she finally said, “it’s on the wrong hand.”

Maura had chuckled warmly and replied, “for now.”

The stupidity intensified up until Jane mopped her jaw off the floor and excused herself to return upstairs. Maura then understood that she didn’t even need to invite Jane: she just needed to bring the Gala up.

That happened about two weeks after the ring incident, which was about two weeks after the dress fitting. Maura stood in front of the vanity in her bedroom’s en suite, rubbing a European moisturizer into the skin just over her cheek bones. “You know, the Childhood Cancer Awareness Gala is on the 28th this year,” she said with the most practiced nonchalance as she frowned to get more of the product into her pores.

Jane had grunted. She leaned against the threshold to the bathroom and crossed her arms, using tox results for their current case as the excuse to be in Mauara’s inner sanctum. Maura had at least given her the courtesy of relaying those lab results before bringing the fundraiser up. “‘S an off day,” Jane said.

Maura made a curious sound. “Hmm. Really?”

“Yeah,” Jane confirmed. “Want me to tag along?”

Maura pursed her lips so she didn’t smile. Jane isn’t hers. But she knows a secret: Jane wants to be, and so she admits she played a little dirty to have gotten Jane to accompany her.

Honestly, though, that was the nonverbal content of Maura’s promise: go, and becoming mine is a distinct, dirty possibility for you. “I’d like that,” she told Jane. “Do you need something to wear?”

She knew what Jane would say. Well, she knew the answer. Jane ended up saying, “I”ve seen what you’re wearing; I think I can cobble something together.”

Contrary to what even Jane herself might have believed, Maura hadn’t wanted to go shopping for Jane anyway - she wanted it on the table that Jane would be dressing to compliment her. Because that meant Jane in a suit. And Maura is attracted to the Jane she knows, not the Jane she can conjure by draping her in couture.

And so, Jane is here, at the Childhood Cancer Awareness Gala, in May, instead of in front of a ballgame somewhere. Jane is here in a suit, with a very expensive white silk shirt under the jacket, with a sleeker, more understated boot than the aggressive block heel she often wears to work, her hair wild and beautiful and the perfect compliment to her sharp features.

It is, by all accounts as Maura returns from the restroom, a win. A complete victory on all fronts. Except, that is, Jane stands close to Doctor Melissa Henry - world renowned OBGYN and overall knockout - listening intently enough, leaning in close enough, to hear above the sociable din.

Jane’s long fingers hold her champagne flute by the rim, the drink Maura had procured for her long before the trip to the restroom, and Jane hasn’t touched it. Hasn’t had a sip. Which, of course not, because Doctor Henry is Puerto Rican and curvaceous and a genius. Why would Jane interrupt her spell to imbibe?

Doctor Henry leans close and says something into Jane’s ear, Jane who turns into the gesture yet again, and suddenly, they are both chuckling. And by god, it’s Jane’s handsome chuckle - the one that crinkles the corners of her eyes and bestows upon her a crooked little grin.

Normally, Maura respects the hell out of Doctor Henry as a leader in the field of women’s medicine. She’s serious and principled and warm… and that’s the damn problem. Maura did a fucking bend and snap to get Jane here (thank Jane’s modern media bootcamp for that particularly relevant reference); she’s not letting go this easily.

And again, she intends to fight dirty.

She marches across the crowded ballroom to where the two women stand, where Doctor Henry places a steadying hand on Jane’s shoulder because her heels are tall and her ankles are crossed. A man bumps into a deadset Maura, by accident, but it only fuels her resolve. She continues, gaze forward, back straight, clutch in front of her hips (the ones that sway as she walks), until she approaches Jane and Doctor Henry. Then she stops.

For all her missing of social mores, Maura can synthesize the details of a situation like no other. So just as she approaches, she comes up to Jane’s left, because Jane’s right is occupied with the champagne. And also, coincidentally, Doctor Henry. All for the better, though, because this means that for her next act, the ring on her hand can do all the heavy lifting, even if it’s a mirror image of where it’s supposed to be.

Her fingers find the ones at Jane’s side, and they slither between them. Once they’re all but entwined, she drags them up, skin brushing as they curl, just before manicured fingers scratch Jane’s palm one time. Then as she fans them back out, down and united again, she kisses Jane’s covered shoulder. Jane shivers and Maura knows it’s because of the metal rubbing on her ring finger. “My mother’s bete noir is here,” she says into the fabric of Jane’s jacket, relishing the delicate scratch against her gloss-softened lips. “The feud is as alive as ever.”

Boom.

Between the touching and the comment just for her, she’s got Jane. She knows she’s got Jane because instead of a statement about how rude it is not to greet the third party, Jane says in that gravel-rich timbre, “she still telling the story about how her daughter styled… who?”

“The Roman Prince of Cerveteri? At least once a function,” Maura replies quickly, all as she turns her gaze on Doctor Henry. “So sorry, Melissa - family issues. You know how it is.”

Family. Issues.

Jane stiffens further, grows warmer; Maura knows there’s blushing even if she can only see Melissa Henry’s straight-out-of-a-catalog face.

“That I do,” Doctor Henry says. Gracefully she steps away from Jane. Is that a bit of fear Maura sees, too? “Do uh, do you two need a drink? I think I’m headed to the bar.”

Jane smiles with her lips closed and simply holds up her champagne flute. I’ve got plenty.

“I’ve had enough for the evening, but thank you,” Maura answers with a cordial smile.

When Doctor Henry walks away after a nod and a smirk of her own, Jane snorts. “I don’t think she’s coming back,” she says.

“God, I hope not,” says Maura. When Jane, without letting go of Maura’s hand, downs her entire drink and steps close enough for their fronts to touch, Maura honors the nonverbal request for an embrace by wrapping her free arm around Jane’s shoulders. “When you’re here, when you accompany me to these events, you’re mine,” she asserts with a growl of her own.

“I’m yours all the time,” Jane counters. She rests her head in the crook of Maura’s neck because in heels, Maura is tall enough.

Maura squeezes, and laughs lowly. “I know.”

#lauren writes rizzoli and isles fanfiction #rizzoli and isles #otp prompts February 2024 #featuring Neanderthal Jane #and also Neanderthal Maura apparently lol #I just know they went home and fucked nasty after this

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