#BUT A KID DRESSED AS A TRAFFIC LIGHT????? FUCKING SERIOUSLY????
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Danny & Constantine, Orange, Butterscotch Ripple
@imbreonix
Prompt fill set #4
It started out as a joke that turned into an actual event: Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It sounded absurd, of course it did. The Justice League was hardly work and certainly not a social club, but once it had been said people started to actually think about it. More and more of the heroes were taking on mentorship rolls for the next generation. While the heroes, of course, tried their best to provide what their mentees needed, they were still grown, experienced heroes and their sidekicks were kids.
Kids who lived a life that most could never understand.
Eventually it have been talked about enough in passing and over rushed meals and before meetings that it ended up on the agenda.
“Robin believes it would be beneficial for the younger heroes to know others in the same positions as themselves,” Batman had explained, as if that answered anything. The Big Bat wouldn’t even clarify who Robin was.
But there they were, Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It actually was a pretty nice event with snacks, drinks, and several enthusiastic sidekicks. It turned out Robin was Batman’s sidekick.
“Partner,” Robin insisted boldly, whenever the term sidekick was used within his hear range (which was disturbingly good).
The kid was the very opposite of Batman: bright, personable, and always in motion. Flash was more than a little concerned how quickly Robin and Kid Flash seemed hit it off. “They’re plotting something.”
“Hn,” was Batman’s reply, though he was watching the two whispering sidekicks too.
All in all it was a cheerful success.
It made John’s skin crawl. He jiggled the unlit cigarette in his fingers. He didn’t do social events, not outside of bars, and he really, really didn’t want to be here.
“We can just go back to the House,” a small, nervous voice suggested hopefully from behind John.
That was the thing, though, he wasn’t here for his own sake.
“No, we can’t,” John said with a sigh.
“We really can, though. We haven’t even talked to anyone. I bet they haven’t even noticed we’re here—”
“John! I did not think you would be attending,” Wonder Woman said as she approached, a smile in place. A good chunk of the founding members trailed after her.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, well,” John said with a little shrug. He didn’t admonish the kid for cussing, he didn’t have a leg to stand on there, but by Superman’s puzzled face the Big Blue had clearly heard it. “Figured I had better bring the kid.”
“The kid?” Hal repeated incredulously.
John reminded himself he really shouldn’t punch his teammates.
“Yeah, the kid,” John said. He stepped aside to reveal Danny who had been hiding behind him. “Geist, Justice League, Justice League, Poltergeist.”
“Um, who, Constantine?” Flash asked, sounding nervous.
John looked to his right, which for all appearances, was an empty spot of air. “Seriously, kid?”
“Sorry,” Danny whispered.
“It’s okay, kid,” John said, holding back a sigh. The kid was sensitive to that sort of thing, so John had been trying. (He still messed up plenty, but he was trying.) John looked back the Justice Leaguers and shrugged. “Ghost. Visibility is like that sometimes.”
“Ah,” Diana said with a sage nod. John admired the woman for how nothing seemed to phase her. She simply looked to where John had been looking and smiled. “Hello, Poltergeist. Welcome to Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day.”
“Partner!” a kid dressed like a damn traffic light called from across the room where he was talking to who was clearly a mini Flash.
“Oh,” Danny said. (It was clearly weirding out some of the heroes to hear Danny but not see him.) “I’m not… John doesn’t let me help that much? I don’t know if I count as a sidekick.”
“That’s because last time you tagged along you went intangible and fell through a bridge, kid,” John grumbled and then immediately felt bad. “You know we’re working on it.”
“Yeah,” Danny mumbled.
John couldn’t see Danny, not any more than the others, but he could picture the way the kid would be scuffing his toe on the floor, head down as he rubbed at the back of his neck.
John sighed. “Ain’t your fault kid, powers take time to master.”
“Robin,” Batman called.
Immediately the tiny traffic light was literately bounding across the space to stand next to Batman. The kid smiled up at the Big Bat like the man had hung the moon.
“Yes, B?”
“This,” Batman said, nodding to the empty space, “is Poltergeist. He came with Constantine.”
“Oh,” Robin said. He spun to face the spot of air and held out his hand without hesitation. “Come, Kid Flash and I are— um,” Robin shot Batman a look, “talking. You can join us! I bet you will be really useful!”
Flash mouthed the word ‘useful’ with a terrified look on his face, but no one actually said anything while Robin just stood there, smiling, with his hand out. And then Robin’s grin impossibly widened, his hand closed around nothing, and he took off across the room.
“…anyone else worried about that?” John asked after a moment.
“So worried,” Flash said.
“Hn,” Batman added.
“Right then. I need a glass of shitty punch to spike,” John said and abandoned his teammates to find the refreshments. Thank the gods, the fuckers, for hip flasks.
-
“I live with a ghost now, Bats, you’ve got to up your skills if you want to sneak up on me anymore,” John said before taking another sip of his much improved punch.
Batman stepped up into the corner of John’s vision, which felt like such a Bat thing to do, so John felt the placement was very purposeful. John wouldn’t complain, it let him watch Batman without taking his his eyes off where Danny was sitting with Robin, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl. Danny was pretty see through, but he was slowly becoming more visible the longer he spent in the company of the other teen heroes.
“How long have you had him?” Batman asked.
John snorted. “That’s what you go with? Not how it works to fuck a ghost?”
Hal and Aquaman weren’t as quiet as they thought they were, but maybe that was on purpose. Maybe they had wanted John to hear. He just hoped the kids hadn’t. He might not have a clean mouth, but even he had limits.
“He doesn’t have to be your blood to be your son,” Batman said in that certain way of his.
It had John finally glancing over at Batman. It was a lot to admit and John hated to be on uneven grounds. “How long have you had yours?”
No one would ever believe him, but John could swear that Batman almost smiled.
“Nearly five years.”
John hummed and took another sip of the punch. “Only six months, not even. And he’s not my son. Kid deserves better than me as a da.”
“They always deserve better,” Batman said, his voice a low rumble that John swore he could feel in his battered bones. “We just have to try to be better.”
“Yeah, well,” John said with a bitter chuckle. “I’m not you, Bats, I don’t think I have better in me.”
“Yes you do, you’re here, after all,” Batman pointed out.
John swallowed and looked back the kid, his kid. Danny was almost solid now. His white hair floated as he threw back his head in laughter at something Robin had said.
“Yeah… yeah I am.”
---
AN: So. So. This has gotten away from me. I blame Moku. So much blame. I can't promise I'll continue it but there is... there is a good bit of plotting TO continue it. It would be after I get done with City Pigeons Bleed Green though, as that's my current family feels fic.
If it gets continued we have a John/Bruce tired dads with issues slow burn fuck buddies to lovers, Danny and Dick being friends (and family), canon divergence, Tim joins the Bat family early, Bats with magic (and the world should fear them), and Alfred's judgemental eyebrow.
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first lines in 2024
i've been a little quiet on here because i've actually been plugging away with writing, but i was tagged by the super-nice and super talented @betaot4 (seriously, go read their works, they are so. good) and thought it would be fun! here's two excerpts, one from my butters/scott fic, the other from a secret project 👀 the malkinstotch fic was technically started dec 27th, but idc idc, it counts, lol
Malkinstotch Fic:
After the break was physical education. Scott dressed in his shirt and gym shorts and skipped energetically out to the field.
He’d always liked P.E. Most of the kids he went to school with thought physical education was just a gimme class — and, to be fair, they were right — but Scott welcomed the opportunity to get out and exercise, even if he got tired pretty easily and was almost always picked last for everything. His mother hated that he was still taking P.E., even though, according to her, he had a serious medical condition and should have been excused. Scott didn’t see what the big deal was. His mother worried about him getting hurt, and maybe that was fair; any injuries he got always took him twice as long to heal on account of his being diabetic.
But then again, his mother had spent his entire life worrying about him getting hurt, often and loudly, much to the chagrin of his childhood Pediatricians. If wiping his ass had the potential to hurt him, Scott was halfway convinced his mother would be doing it for him. He loved her, but her concern for him sometimes felt like a watery grave slowly being filled one cup at a time. Not enough to kill you outright, but you’d eventually drown in it all the same.
It was raining out, so they were inside today. Scott could see Butters standing on the other side of the basketball court. Butters turned his head to one side as Scott looked, presumably to catch Clyde Donovan’s latest lame joke, and laughed. Scott watched Butters’ eyes go soft at the corners, big and bluey-green, watched the magical way they seemed to shift more green than blue and vice versa whenever the light hit them just right; whenever Butters laughed it was like Scott was pressing into an old bruise, the way it hurt and felt kind've good all at once. Butters was like a controversial flavor of pie — banana cream, maybe — in that not everyone liked him, but it was okay because he was still sweet.
Secret Project:
His Narcotics Anonymous group met every Friday evening at 8 PM in the gymnasium of the local high school.
Butters didn’t get off work until seven-thirty, though, and the veterinary clinic where he was employed as a tech was forty-five minutes across town. With traffic, he was almost always fifteen or twenty minutes late, on top of being tired, stressed out, and covered in animal hair — or worse. Bebe had told him over and over again that it was okay. She knew he was working, and she didn’t care how late he showed up as long as he kept showing up. Her reassurances, gentle as they were, had fallen on deaf ears. Butters’ stomach twisted itself into knots every time he walked in here, bile slicking the back of his throat, anxiety slithering under his skin like some parasitic worm that existed only to amplify all his bad thoughts.
If it hadn’t been for his therapist, Butters probably would have stopped going to these stupid meetings a long time ago. But Stan, in an uncharacteristic display of offering an actual fucking opinion, seemed to think it would do him some good to see that other people had struggled with this, that he wasn’t as alone as he’d always felt.
Butters chuckled miserably as he parked the older model white pickup he’d traded in his Mini-Cooper for when he moved back into town. His old car had been cute when he lived in Los Angeles, but he was in the boonies now, as rural as he could possibly get without becoming an actual hermit. Maybe these meetings would do him some good, but god, all he could think was how much his mother would have hated the thought of him coming here, how she would have berated him for being such a weak, useless, fairy-fucking moron who couldn't keep his shit together.
Which, of course, was part of the problem.
I am tagging @thegloriousninjaturtle and @stennyandbaddecisions!! Totally optional, ofc!! 💕
#SP Fanfiction#Scott Malkinson#Butters Stotch#Kenny McCormick#WIP#My writing#SP Scutters#Tagging for relevancy lol
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I have decided that my favorite headcanon for Batman is that Bruce is utterly convinced that people want to meet Batman. And like, he's not right but he's not wrong either. Lots of people in Gotham want to meet Batman.
All the weirdos who dress up in brightly colored costumes and spandex while committing crimes for instance.
And small children who all seem to be ready and willing to throw down at a moments notice.
But on the whole? No one wants to meet Batman. He's like firefighter adjacent. You see them on the street and you're like "oh a firefighter, neat" as they drive by in the truck.
But in no circumstances do you want to actually meet them because 98.7% of the time it means either A) you're involved in Some Shit, or B) you're a victim of Some Shit.
And having Batman on your tail is absolutely the last thing you want? It's the Gotham equivalent of seeing a cop car driving in the lane next to you and everyone slows down.
(I say the Gotham equivalent, because I firmly believe that Gothamites see a cop car without it's lights on and immediately just brake in traffic. 90% of Gotham's traffic is just civilians stopping in the middle of the street as a cop car drives by; like those high school movies where the lunchroom doors open and all conversation stops. Dead silent while everyone stares as the MC walks in. No one likes Gotham PD, not with how they have to rely on a fucking weirdo in a rubberized military-grade anthropomorphic bat suit and his flock of brightly dressed children to deal with criminals. (Seriously does GCPD do anything but arrest people and then fail to hold them in their cells for 24 hours??))
But Bruce is completely oblivious to this, mostly because 90% of his interactions with kids are his kids, and they're all one breath away from commiting violence in some form. All the adults in his life? Leeches with plastic smiles lying through their teeth (executives, the rich), Alfred (who at least supports him dressing up in his specialized Not-a-Fur suit), and the fucking Justice League, who are also weirdos who dress in bright and outrageous costumes but for Heroism this time.
Because all of his friends are weirdos in costumes who people want to meet, he assumes people want to meet him in his weird costume. And he's 110% wrong.
#Batman#Bruce Wayne#Batman Headcanons#Look Bruce is super intelligent and clever#But I personally subscribe to the idea that his Brucie persona is also a very intrinsic part of him#Where is is just completely oblivious and vapid at the absolute worst times and with the most obvious of things#And it's a part of my head canon that I love dearly
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robin as a concept is genius because imagine getting your ass kicked by a fucking tater tot TWELVE YEAR OLD. i’d never recover. fucking HUMILIATING. never committing crime again.
#batman#batfam#dick grayson#dc comics#but seriously#that's so embarrassing like why would you even go on at that point#i'd cry so much dude#like batman is one thing#that's a man running around in a gimp suit i'm allowed to get my ass kicked#BUT A KID DRESSED AS A TRAFFIC LIGHT????? FUCKING SERIOUSLY????#no#absolutely not#batfamily#bruce wayne
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I need a batfam AU where they all get caught Doing Weird Things (That Could Potentially Expose their Secret Identities TM).
Except the default answer to all of their weird shit, that they give the media, is "I'm from Gotham. What do you expect?"
And it works
Because it's Gotham, and Gotham is a weird fucking place ok? People gotta survive. And when your go to heroes are a broody furry who dresses as a bat, and all of his genius underage birdlings who wore WAY too much yellow, Jesus they looked like traffic lights, to fight a maniacal clown, a man obsessed with riddles, and a giant screeching manbat you do what you gotta do.
So the eldest Wayne kid gets caught walking on his hands a few stories up of the GCPD? The kid was an acrobat who's probably using his police work as an excuse to visit home. Really, this is Gotham, leave the kid alone to go visit his dad.
Some random intern gets a video of CEO Drake-Wayne pouring redbull into his morning coffee while ranting about how Ivy's plants "Literally forced us to reroute traffic! I mean-this is GOTHAM! We are a CITY DO YOU KNOW WHAT REROUTING TRAFFIC DOES TO EVERYONE'S WORK SCHEDULES I BARELY SLEPT AS IT IS BECAUSE OF YOUR GIANT MAN EATING TURNIPS??!!" Followed by ungodly screeching? This is Gotham and teenagers don't get enough sleep as it is, and really Ivy should have known what a bitch rerouting traffic is. People gotta work, so Tim is really just being a whole mood tbh.
And as time goes on they just start doing more and more ridiculous things, but the excuse works E V E R Y T I M E. EVERY TIME.
The Wayne's attend some random technology showcase charity auction and some rich a-hole says his TecHnOLoGy makes his line of new commercially available cars theft-resistant? Jason gets caught on camera spitting facts about corporations choosing cost over quality at the dude while he climbs on stage and proceeds to not only break into the car, but hot wire it with an old iPod in front of the whole crowd. But really, he's from Gotham, and if you're gonna MAKE something then these rich guys need to be more honest about their products ok? They shouldn't be duping the public and selling junk.
Damian's class is having a school trip to the zoo or something, and the penguin decided to take over the Arctic Animals exhibit and hold people hostage? Photos on the front of the newspaper show Damian racing after a terrified penguin with a broken broom handle as a diy sword, protecting the seals and Arctic foxes from the man's reign of terror. But really, Damian tells them, he's from Gotham, of course his father believes it best for him to learn self defense, and those poor animals didn't deserve the penguin.
Cass not-so-accidentally making a visiting mayoral candidate from another city spill coffee on himself on live TV after moving so silently he didn't notice Cass was there? I'm from Gotham. Tim casually mentioning he's read the thesis of some scientist-turned-supervillain and critiquing it and forwarding it to said villain and complaining when they "Can't take constructive criticism"? I'm from Gotham. Duke walking around in a t-shirt with a Robin design on the front and a "Not Dead Robin's Club" in the back? I'm from Gotham. Getting caught in a bank heist as a civilian so Jason and Damian just start nailing the dudes in the nuts no holds barred? I'm from Gotham.
It becomes the default explanation for all the weird stuff the Wayne family does. It becomes a trending tag on social media every time one of them does something remotely eye catching.
It become a Tik Tok challenge of gothamites playing out all the weird things they do and see every day like "Walking around with a cheat sheet of riddle answers in case I get kidnapped or some shiz. Why? I'm from Gotham" *Cue close up of riddler on a large tv screen while being held hostage*
Or "Showing your friends how to sew so they can make pockets for their dresses! With the help of some awesome ladies! Why? We're from Gotham, and we all agree dresses need pockets." *Camera pans to Catwoman and Batgirl with needle and thread
Or even "Was pretending I was a Broadway actress and got into a duet with my fav person ever! Why? We're from Gotham!" *Shows video of the Red Hood singing with a girl for the Into The Woods opening song*
And Bruce. Poor, long-suffering Bruce who has been tagged online in every video of his boys going viral, who now has a professional sounding statement outline for media releases of his kids doing weird and dangerous shit that was ran through his lawyers, who has had to sit through justice league meetings while Hal and Barry crow when another round of #imfromgotham hits the internet, is at his wits end. Seriously, he's pretty sure either Alfred or Jason have a collage of all of the dumb newspaper headlines that have made circulation recently.
#batboys#batfamily#batman#dc comics#dcmultiverse#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#tim drake#red robin#damian wayne#robin#duke#cassandra cain#headcanon#headcanons galore#gonna put on my masterlist don't mind me
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Thanksgiving at Home (The Re-Up)
plot: a loving shot at my family through the eyes of Chris Evans and Reader.
a/n: ....I’m stupid. Thanks anon who told me that Boston was not in Maine. ...i feel like an idiot.
“No. It’s your turn.”
You couldn’t deny it. It was an absolute fact that according to the terms of your agreement that it was, in fact, your turn.
In the beginning of your relationship, which had started three years ago, holidays had always been a source of frustration. He was from the north, Massachusetts, and you were from the south, Georgia. You wanted to see your family, and he desperately needed to hug his mom.
So, you decided to split the holiday, you would go home to Georgia and he would go back to Massachusetts. After that first year, you would flip flop who you spent holidays with. That meant that the next year you spent Thanksgiving in Boston with him, and Christmas at home in Georgia with your mother and Sister.
So yes, that meant it was your turn to spend Thanksgiving with your family. But that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it.
“Seriously, we don’t have to do Thanksgiving in Georgia. I’ll take Christmas again. It’s nicer.” You were sitting on the bed, looking at his half-packed suitcase, Dodger laying next you, his eyes moving to and fro watching his Dad pack a bag of clothes.
“If I wasn’t sure that you loved me, I’d really think you didn’t want me in Georgia.” He looked back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. “You got an old boyfriend you don’t want me to meet there.”
“A? Many. And who said they were old boyfriends. Maybe I’m still seeing them.” You smirked back at him. You couldn’t help but fall into games with your man, even though you were far from light and joyous.
“Watch it.” He pointed at you with a mock serious look on his face. “I hate to have to fight them.”
“I doubt you could take them.” You looked up in the air. “One was a football player; he’s actually playing for the Falcons now.”
Chris looked back at you, a white button down in his hands. “Are you serious?”
You nodded, “Oh yeah. He actually sends me tickets from time to time. There’s actually a game on thanksgiving! Maybe we should go. I’ll send him an email.” You stood up, to grab your laptop.
“Y/n, so help me, I will throw that piece of tin out of the window.” He said, a smile threatening to burst onto his serious face. “Stop fucking with me.”
“I’m not. We should go to a game. We’re going to be in Atlanta anyway. …you know unless we go to Boston.”
Suddenly his eyes lowered and he shook his head, folding the shirt in half and walking towards his open luggage. “Dodger.”
The dog barked softly.
“Tell your mom that she’s got to try a lot harder to get one over on me.”
You rolled your eyes, flopping back onto the bed. You laid back and Dodger took this change to take a position on your stomach, making himself comfortable. “This is so stupid.”
“I mean, you know we bought the tickets, already right? So, the time for you to try all of this plan changing would have been a month ago.” He sat next to you running his hand over Dodger’s body. “And you were so fucking excited. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. …Nothing. I’m just nervous.”
“Why? I’ve met your family.”
You sat up, making sure to do so slowly so Dodger could adjust himself accordingly. “You’ve met my Sisters, their boyfriends, and her mom. Not my family.”
Chris looked at you, “I’m failing to see the problem. So we do some introductions and get to know each other? What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal Christopher Robert Evans-“You had hopped up, Chris grabbing Dodger before you flung him towards in the wall in your movement.
“Ooh Dodger, she used the government name. She’s serious.”
You tried hard not to smile, but couldn’t stop the thing from breaking your serious expression. “Stop it. I’m serious.”
“I know.” He smiled at you, and then rolled his hand around as if to say continue. “Come on lay it on me.”
“I’m from Georgia.”
His eyes shifted from side to side, as if the answer to his confusion was in the room. “I’m from Massachusetts…so what?”
“No, you don’t get it. I’m from Georgia…not Atlanta. My family is from Georgia. There’s a difference.”
In silence of the moment, Dodger slipped out of Chris’ arms into the living room. Chris folded his arms, looking at you.
“…If I get what you’re being obtuse about. You’re trying to say that you don’t want me meeting your overall wearing, one tooth, inbred, backwoods cousins.” He had that smirk again. You wanted to both kiss him and wipe it off of his face.
“Hey! None of my cousins are any of that.”
“Okay then, so what’s the problem.”
You sighed and sat down, and he pulled you closer to him. You placed your face in his neck, his gold chain pressing slightly against your nose.
“I’m not embarrassed by them…” You said a little muffled by his body. “I just want to say that.”
“Okay… I’m listening.”
You sighed again, pulling back from him. “…It’s just…like…okay. Your family, like the house was put together and everyone was sitting around the table. We passed plates and it was all very nice.”
“Okay, and at Christmas at your mom’s we sat around the table and we didn’t pass plates but no one needs to do that. It was nice too.”
“But it’s not going to be like that at Thanksgiving Chris. Most of my immediate family will be there. The table we at for Christmas will be covered in food. We’re going to walk around the table buffet style, and everyone’s going to sit around the house, wherever they can fit. There will be no real plates, no real spoons. There’s probably going to be a kids area that will be messy.”
“Kids are messy everywhere baby.”
“I’m not done. There will be foreign foods. Oxtails, and chitterlings. Dressing…not stuffing.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It is not!” You shook your head. “It’s totally different. There are going to be several things going on too. My uncle is going to sit in the middle of the room, with tequila, a lime, and he’s going to tell stories we’ve all heard 18 million times. He’s going to curse and we’re all going to be annoyed. My younger cousins are going to sneak out of the house, stand in a huddle behind the house and smoke weed, and talk about us old folks. My grandma is going to get drunk on Sparkling Cider, and probably try to flirt with you, and you better flirt back Chris.”
He chuckled then rubbing your back, “Of course I will. Now are you-“
“And I haven’t even told you about Spades.”
“Spades?” He found your eyes. “Like the card game.”
“Yeah. Spades goes down at Thanksgiving, and it is SERIOUS Chris. It’s like war, but less civilized.”
He rolled his eyes and stood up walking back into the closet, “You’re being dramatic now.”
“I’ve seen my cousin pull a gun out on somebody who reneged. I SEENT IT.”
“So okay, I won’t play spades.”
“What? And look like a bitch in front of all my cousins. You’ll never live it down. They’ll be at our wedding giving a toast like, ‘Hey Chris is a cool white dude, but he still a bitch cause he won’t play Spades with us’. I don’t want to be the cousin who married a white dude who won’t play spades. I can’t do it. I’ll be the black sheep.”
Chris gripped your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. “Breathe baby.”
And you did.
“Again. Good and deep.”
And you did again.
“You feel better?”
You did, so you nodded.
“Good. Now, I’m saying this because I love you.” He grabbed your shoulders and shook you back and forth. “You’re acting like a nut.”
“I know. I know.” You said when he let you go. “I just want them to like you.”
He kissed your forehead. “They will like me. I mean how could they not first of all?” He grinned at you making you roll your eyes. He smoothed his hand down the side of your face, “And even if they don’t like me right away, they’ll grow to like me. And if they don’t…” He kissed you softly, soundly. “It doesn’t matter. I love you. You love me. And that’s all that matters. Okay?”
You closed your eyes, nodding. “Okay.”
“Say it.” He commanded gently.
“I love you. You love me. That’s all that matters.” You opened your eyes and your irises met his, you felt calmer.
“Good.” He smiled. “Now pack, boarding is at 8.”
--
Atlanta never failed to take your breath away. It was so familiar, yet every time you returned there was always something new being built or done. You pointed out so many spots that you wanted to see before you returned to Los Angeles, and Chris made sure to note them all down on his phone wanting you to enjoy your time home as much as you could.
After your father died, your mother decided that the deep south had nothing to offer you and your sisters anymore and decided to uproot you from all that you knew. Suddenly you were nearly two hours from the bulk of your family, living in a suburb of Atlanta that you knew no one in. It wasn’t your home at first, but eventually you had come to love Atlanta as much as you loved your little small town in Southern Georgia.
As you came closer to your neighborhood you began to point of places of significance.
“There used to be this spot right there. Oh my god, they used to have the best hot wings. Like everyone tends to rave over American Deli, but they had better wings than anything I’ve ever tasted.” You said as you passed a spot that was under construction.
As you passed through the opening of the subdivision of your neighborhood, you smiled and pointed at the sign. “The neighborhood kids all used to hang around that sign. I had my first real kiss right there.”
Chris raised one of his eyebrows, “Real kiss?”
You smirked, “Tongue.”
He chuckled. “How old were you?”
“13.”
“Weak. I was 12.”
“Lie.”
“It is not a lie.”
“Chris, you’re about to pass it.”
“Shit!” He pressed on breaks, making you skid slightly to a stop a few inches away from your house.
There were cars parked along the side of the road, a few on the grass without care to your mom’s poor lawn. You figured you’d be a little late, traffic was heavy, the airport had been busy of course, but …this was a Black family thanksgiving. 1 meant 3, not 2:30.
“Fuck. We’re walking right into it.” You said, sighing.
“Will you calm down? It’s fine. I’m fine. You’re definitely fine.” He waggled his eyebrows a little making you smile and then really smile when his eyes traveled down your white knit sweater dress covered body to the camel colored knee-high boots that he nearly begged you to wear.
You reached over and adjusted the collar of his white cable knit crew neck under his camel colored jacket. He wore a pair of khaki trousers, that you thought gave him an air of formal to go with his more casual upper attire. “You’re pretty fine too.” You smiled and leaned over to kiss him-
Thump.
But you jumped instead when your sister appeared at your window, somehow sneaking up on you. You rolled your eyes, sighing and rolling down the window.
“Hello Cassie.”
“Hello Y/n.” She grinned. “Hey Chris, I’m so happy my sister is no longer hiding your beauty from the world.”
“Hey Cass. Glad to see you again.”
“Glad to see you too.” She smirked.
You thumped her forehead, “What did I say about flirting with my boyfriend?”
“Don’t do it when you’re around?” She joked.
“Wrong, you little bitch.”
She laughed.
You grinned too. “Where’s Falen?”
“Feeding Cam. He’s so chunky.”
“I can’t wait to hold him.” You smiled at Chris. He grinned back at you. You had been talking about kissing all over your nephew for a month now.
“Well if you stop hiding in this…very nice car. You can. Come on Chris, everyone is really excited to meet you.”
And just like that you were following behind your boyfriend and your little sister into what could be a doomed thanksgiving from hell. You nervously followed them into the house, not joining in on the conversation as Chris and Cassie talked about politics. Turning without much fuss, as Chris took off your duster and hung it in the closet, doing the same with his jacket.
You only followed numbly as you walked through the opening to your home, heart beating faster as the sounds of your family got louder. Just as it was at it’s peak, you gripped Chris’s hand, stopping in your tracks therefore stopping him.
He looked back at you, Cassie kept walking still somehow talking about how Biden was not the President we wanted or needed. You looked up at him, not able to say anything only looking up at him with wide eyes.
His lips were on your forehead quickly, placing three kisses in succession, one there, then your nose, and finally your lips. Silently he reassured you that things would be fine, and together you stepped through the threshold into your family room.
Gatherings could be a lot for you. In a lot of the memories of the gatherings attended by you in your youth, you could only remember being a fly on the wall. Choosing to instead be passive instead of active like your sisters and your cousins. You weren’t anti-social, but you felt more comfortable laughing at the jokes then trying to tell them.
As you grew it got a little better, but you never felt quite comfortable in big group of people. In fact, after an event such as this one, you often needed to sleep for a long time. When you told Chris this before your first Thanksgiving with his family, he admitted to being kind of the same. He might not need to sleep after a big event, but he wasn’t quite the social butterfly either. It made you happy that he understood when you had to excuse yourself from drinking eggnog with the family late into the night. It made you even happier when he told you the next morning that his family understood too.
With your family it was much of the same, your family understood that you weren’t the loudest and most of the time they were too busy being loud themselves to need you to be just as loud as them. It was just enough for you to be there sharing in the love of the family.
But not this time.
This time all the attention was on you and it was time to speak up.
“So, Chris…where did you two meet?” The slight drawl of your Aunt cut through the sounds of The Temptations singing Silent Night, a favorite of your mom’s anytime of year…obviously.
“Uh, she…I mean Y’N was a consultant on a movie I was doing. I saw her and she was too beautiful for me not to get to know. So I asked her out for coffee.” He smiled at you then. “She said no.”
“You said no?” One of your male cousins, Taylor, called out. “Shiiit, if I was a girl I would have jumped on his ass.” He sucked his teeth. “Hell, shit, I’d jump right now. He got hella money.”
The room erupted into laughter and all of sudden the ice was broken. Chris was no longer an interloper…well he was, but he was no longer covered in plastic. He could be touched, he could be handled, he could be interwoven into the group.
You sighed, a little of your worry dissipating.
Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.
To his credit, if anything was making him feel uncomfortable, he was taking it in stride. Chris had enjoyed when all your little cousins came up to him and asked him questions about Captain America, and asked if he was always Captain America or just on TV. You could tell because when he smiled, his face creased. He even did a few poses for them, which they loved.
When one of your cousins, Devontae, came over to Chris with a bottle of something clear and a smile you knew that this one would be a little harder. But again, he took it in stride as Devontae pitched him an idea of a TV show with talking Weed Plants, kind of like Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Chris simply smiled through it, shaking his head when you made eyes at him obviously getting the message that you could save him if he wanted you to. After Devontae walked away needing to captivate the attention of at least 5 other people in the room.
He was considerably more relaxed in a group of the male cousins you had grown up around. They had formed a sort of semi-circle, Chris in the middle with a long neck beer in his hand, nodding at what ever George had to say.
“Chris is doing good.” Falen said, leaning over slightly, adjusting Camden’s bib while he was in your arms.
“Yeah. He’s really fitting in.” You smiled and then cooed at Cam bouncing on his knee. “I want to take him home.”
“He’s yours. I’ll sign the papers today.” Falen joked. “So, it’s serious then.”
“What?”
“What?” Falen mimicked you, rolling your eyes reminding you of yourself. “You and Chris.”
“You know it’s serious Fay.” You mom chimed in. “She brought him home.”
“I brought him to Christmas last year.”
“Thanksgiving is different and you know it.” Your mom said pointing her wine glass in your direction.
“I told him that.” You mumbled, looking down at Camden who only looked back up you with sweet innocent brown eyes.
“Well I’m glad you are trying to lock him down. You two match, you know.” Falen grinned.
“And the matching outfits were just the right touch.” Cassie chimed in smirking at you.
You flipped her off, discreetly. Your grandma was still in front of you…although already sleeping.
“Shut up Cassie.” Falen chuckled. “Seriously. …I think he might propose soon.”
You chuckled shaking your head, “Nah. I don’t think so.”
Falen grinned, “If you say so little sis.” She patted her knee and then looked around. “Ma! When’s the food going to be ready. You said 1!”
“You know that means 3. Don’t get brand new in front of Chris.” You smirked.
The spread of food was glorious. A beautiful turkey, a delicious ham from Honeybaked Ham cause no one had perfected the art of making a good ham, a huge pan of cornbread dressing collectively called dressing, two pans of Macaroni and Cheese cause one pan never survived your family’s greedy hands, turnips, collard greens and cabbages, cornbread muffins, hoe cakes, yams with marshmallow topping (your Auntie’s one and only dish that tasted okay), and a plate of various pieces of fried chicken. But none of this would be complete without your mother’s potato salad.
It was a feast to end all feasts. A dinner you dreamed about. You would have cried if it wouldn’t have made you look crazy. Chris held two thick paper plates, one for him and one for you, while you held Cam who you were never going to give back. You patted the baby’s back, he had just had a bottle full of milk thickened with a little baby rice, a special treat for Thanksgiving (it was your grandma’s idea).
“Come on little Cam, burp. Chris, more dressing. That’s not enough. It’s gotta be nearly half the plate. And you gotta put the cranberry sauce on top.” You said. It was comical to watch Chris hold his plate, your plate, and also try to ladle dressing onto a plate.
“Here.” You chuckled holding out Cam. “You hold my new baby. And I’ll make our food.”
“No, wait. I need to ask your sister if I can hold him first.” He said looking around for Falen.
“It’s fine, you won’t drop him cause if you do I’ll kill you.” You smirked at him.
“I need to wash my hands.”
You rolled your eyes, “Now who’s acting like a nut.” You took one plate from him then the other sitting them down and then walked into his personal space. He opened up for you almost cradling you and Cam.
“Now I know you have held a baby before, so don’t freak out now.” You handed him off to Chris and he instantly held the Camden in his arms, supporting him as Cam settled in the crook of his neck. You looked at the sight, your man holding a little brown boy, and you could almost imagine that Camden was your baby.
Your stomach flip flopped, and you gnawed down on your lip at the sight.
Chris smirked, knowing exactly what was on your mind. “Make the food.”
“I am. I am.” You chuckled, not daring to look at any of your family members.
“Ohhhhh, we’re making plates now. Okay, Y’n!” Julie, your Aunt’s daughter called out, making you chuckle in embarrassment.
Making plates had a lot of connotations in black families. It all but signaled that Chris was your man and you were totally subservient to him.
“You want some yams baby?” You said putting on a sickly-sweet voice to amuse your family members.
The room filled with Awws and whipping noises at your question. You turned and found Chris’s face red, but he was still patting Cam’s back like you had been doing.
“He didn’t burp yet?” You asked.
“Not yet, I don’t think.”
“Mm. We probably need to get you a burping towel. It might be-“
The wet burping noise stopped your sentence stopped you in your tracks, making you look up at your man who was looking down at Cam, who was looking quite satisfied at the burp he had just let out and the off white spit up stain he left on Chris’ shirt.
“Oh no babe.” You laughed a little.
“He spit up a little.” He said, a little amusement in his voice.
“Yeah. Good job baby boy.” You rubbed Cam’s back.
“Oh nooo. I’m so sorry Chris.” Falen came over easing Cam out of Chris’s arms, which made him a little agitated. “I can pay for dry cleaning.” She frowned a little.
“No. No. No. It’s fine. It’s just a little spit up. No need for all of that.” He laughed.
“Well Y’N, at least go try to clean it up.” You mom said. “We have tide pens and stuff in the upstairs guest bathroom.”
Your mouth opened up, jaw hanging a little, “But my food! It’s gonna get cold.”
Your mother put her hands on her hips, “Well yeah it is, cause you’re sitting here back talking me instead of getting your behind up those stairs and cleaning his shirt. Now go.”
“Yes mam.” You put the plates down on a slightly clear space on the table and grabbed Chris’s hand. “Come on Chris.”
--
Chris sat on the edge of the tub and watched you as you washed Cam’s spit up out of his shirt.
“Dang it Cam. Now my food is getting cold.” You muttered.
“You’re calmer.” He commented.
You looked over at him. He was only wearing his pants, a tank top, his pendant necklace hanging off his neck. He looked…really good.
“Yeah. It’s been a good day.” You nodded, putting more hand soap on his sweater. “Are you having fun?” You looked over at him, hoping that he would say yes even if he didn’t mean it.
“A blast honestly. Your family is so warm, and inviting. So funny. And I love how they love you.” He hitched his pants up and stood, walking over you and standing behind you in the mirror. You looked at his reflection, his shirt momentarily forgotten.
“But you know what I love even more?”
You smiled, “Me.”
He grinned too, kissing the top of your head, “…Your mom’s potato salad.”
You turned around and smacked his chest with a wet hand making a loud noise.
“What it’s so good. Oh my god. Get that recipe.” He chuckled and pulled you close to him wrapping his arms around you. You looked up at him, kissing his chin. “No, seriously. I love how bright you’re smiling. How happy you are to be home. How relaxed you are. That accent you have slipped back into.”
“I did not.”
“Oh yes you did.” He smirked. “But I love how you, you are right here in this house. …I would give up every thanksgiving to see you be this relaxed.”
“I love you Chris.” You said quietly.
“I love you. So much.”
And then he kissed you.
And you wished you could say that kiss lasted forever, or went on and on but of course-
Knock, Knock.
“Yn, Mama said no fornication in her Christian household.” Cassie shouted.
And you both laughed.
Epilogue
You placed Cam down on your Mother’s bed, patting his back and kissing his head.
“He’s an angel. Ugh, we’re going to be here tomorrow and you better be here.” You said to Falen pointing at straight index finger at her.
“I will be. I’m not letting yall eat up all the leftovers.” She rolled her eyes and then smiled at Chris. “You did really good with Camden today Chris.”
“He’s a sweet baby. I did nothing.” Chris shrugged.
“So…planning to have some of your own?”
“Oh kay, we’re leaving now. Tell mom I see her tomorrow and Cassie I will see her tomorrow and to eat a dick.” You gripped Chris’ hand pulling him to the coat closet, allowing him to help you into your coat, and helping him smooth out his jacket.
“Goodnight everyone!” He called out, earning many well wishes as he walked out.
“Oh shit.”
You walked out of the door, focusing on closing the door after yourself. “What’s wrong, is there a big dog out her or-“ You looked up and almost laughed.
Damien, your ex-boyfriend the Falcon football player was standing in front of you two. A bag in one hand and a smile on his face.
“Oh shit, Damien. I can’t believe you’re here!” You passed Chris, hugging Damien.
“Oh yeah. I always come out to your mom’s house after the games. Can’t pass up on the potato salad.” He smiled, sharing a laugh with you and then smiling at Chris. “So this is the dude. Nice to meet you man. I love Captain America.”
Chris shook off the shock, and stuck out his hand, shaking with Damien. “Thank you. And you’re a great football player.”
“Thank you man. Yall need to come out to a game. I’m always offering your girl here tickets but she says you’re a Patriot fan.”
“Oh yeah, gotta go with the home team.”
“Respect man.”
Chris and Damien talked for another couple of minutes before Damien excused himself into the house. Chris looked at you, shock written on his face.
You smirked, “You thought I was bullshitting you didn’t you?”
Chris shook his head, taking your hand and walking towards the rental car. “When we get home, I’m throwing that piece of tin out of the window and you’re changing your email.”
You smirked.
“Jealous.”
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Cape Disappointment | Part One
Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Black!OC [Chantel Williams]
Summary: Miguel doesn’t rescue a damsel in distress because Chantel Williams is not a damsel in distress.
Warnings: None yet.
Chantel Williams was a lot of things. Quirky, witty, sarcastic. Condescending, impulsive, sometimes even chaotic. She could be all those things and more, but she refused to be anyone’s victim.
“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m not a damsel in distress…” She chanted over and over in a low tone.
On the side of a low traffic road, snow raining down on her head, Chantel willed the words to be true. Unfortunately, she remembered very little of what her Papa taught her about cars, eyeing the confusing parts under the hood with frustration.
Papa was a school teacher but he worked as a shade tree mechanic on the weekends to be able to afford dance classes for little Chantel. Teaching was his passion through and through. He would talk her ear off in the car on the way to recitals or while she did homework on the bench in his workshop. Being a bratty kid, she learned to tune him out when the topic didn’t interest her and not for the first time she regretted not soaking up more of Papa’s wisdom before he passed.
If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the road with no solution in mind. Empty handed and no closer to fixing the car, she shuffled through the snow. It wasn’t much warmer inside the car despite the thick North Face coat she wore with a matching hat and pair of gloves. She was sure she resembled a wet dog as she shook the snow off, not wanting the ice to melt into water droplets that would surely sting.
Just a week earlier, she’d splurged on the fanciest new smart phone after losing the older model at a dinner party. Even with all its promised features, it was useless. No signal and no nearby WiFi networks to connect to meant she couldn’t call her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend for help even if she wanted to. She couldn’t even call a tow truck!
Pride.
Another one of Chantel’s many traits. She liked to think of it as a positive thing. It kept her from being desperate, saved her from being dependent on others for her happiness. No one else seemed to agree her pride was a good thing.
Among the naysayers was her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend, Adam. Pride was what had led her to take off from the Yurt they shared on their week-long winter break getaway to race back to her industrial loft in the heart of Seattle despite the weather advisory. She would never admit it to anyone else, but she realized her pride didn’t always serve her well.
If not for her bruised ego, it would have been funny that her car had chosen to break down a few miles north of Cape Disappointment State Park. It was where she had been staying with Adam. The yurt was too far away to walk back to in the snow but still close enough that it only made sense to stay there for the night once the car issues were resolved. She wasn’t looking forward to ending the night with him.
Remembering Papa’s belief in God showing up when most needed, Chantel sent up a quick prayer. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long for someone else to come down the otherwise deserted road. Winters in Washington were fairly mild so she wouldn’t lose her extremities to hypothermia or anything crazy like that, but she’d certainly suffer by way of the shivers.
Any sane person was cuddled up next to the fireplace in their cabin with a bowl of chili, or participating in heat-inducing sexual activities in their yurt to keep warm, not on the road driving. It was only natural for her thoughts to snowball into all the types of un-same people she could run into.
Indigenous women from Washington and Canada went missing far too often on roads just like the one she had so conveniently broken down on. Chantel had a bad habit of researching everything there was to know about topics when they peaked her interest and she knew too much about human trafficking in the area to not feel a considerable amount of fear.
“That would be my luck.” She muttered meanly to herself, resolving that whatever happened would be her own fault.
It wasn’t like a whole lot of people would come looking for her anyway. She had a large group of friends in Seattle, but she kind of had a reputation for taking off without saying much. She hadn’t even told anyone about the weekend excursion to Cape Disappointment! The family she had left she wasn’t close to, and by the time Adam realized she hadn’t made it back home it would be too late.
Yellow headlights bathed the narrow road, the light blinding her the closer it got. Her hazard lights blinked red, signaling that she was broken down, but Chantel second guessed whether she wanted the help.
“I’m going to be a sex trafficking victim all in the name of independence. Way to go, idiot.”
Her fingers fumbled around in the gigantic backpack she’d been using as a purse for the weekend, hastily pulling at the zippers until she found what she was looking for. A purple taser she purchased on Amazon for a whopping ten dollars. She doubted it would stop anyone in their tracks, but it was better than nothing.
It turned out the man who knocked on her window wasn’t an axe wielding serial murdering rapist, or at least he didn’t appear to be. She tucked the small device into her side as the ridiculously handsome middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard smiled at her through the foggy glass.
He looked harmless enough, sporting a pair of smart designer glasses and what Chantel knew to be a really expensive cashmere turtleneck sweater underneath an equally expensive Canada Goose coat. She wasn’t shy about looking him up and down as she assessed the risk. What if the male model was a decoy?
His neatly manicured eyebrows twisted down in confusion and she thought it was one of the cutest things she had ever seen.
She rolled down the window with a nervous smile.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
She hated how breathy the words came out but he was truly stunning.
Tall, fit, well-dressed.
“Are you alright? It looks like you’re having some trouble.”
A gentleman.
“What would make you think that?” Chantel spoke before she thought it through, but the stranger didn’t seem to take offense if the amused smirk on his face could be trusted. “I’m kidding. Yeah, no. I’m not alright. The car was making weird noises so I pulled over and now it won’t turn back on. I looked under the hood but I have no idea what’s wrong.”
He nodded attentively while she spoke, watching her lips with interest. She noticed him staring and licked them.
“I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be.” His bronze skin reddened with the admission and she wondered if he was blushing or if the cold was getting to him. “I don’t know anything about cars but I can give you a ride wherever you want.”
She’d like a ride alright. In his cushiony truck that may as well have been a royal carriage considering the circumstances. Or on his handsome bearded face that she couldn’t stop staring at.
Chantel wondered if he could tell what she was thinking.
Movement caught her eye and she noticed an identical black SUV pulling off the road to park behind the one Prince Charming departed from. Her hand squeezed around the taser instinctively.
Was the sexy stranger bait to catch naive, unsuspecting girls?
“...but I’m sure we’d both rather leave it to the professionals.” He gestured back towards the dark truck and paused, noticing they weren’t alone. Her breath caught in her chest when four bulking men slammed their doors shut and started walking in their direction.
“I apologize. That’s my security team. I left without telling them.”
Hmm. A kindred spirit.
Who was he to have a security team? Was he telling the truth? Or just stalling?
She wanted to believe him. To trust that it was in human nature to help one another without some ulterior, sinister motive.
Did she even have a choice? How long would she have to wait on the next passerby? There was no guarantee they would be any better than the (so far) kind stranger and his friends.
Chantel Williams was a lot of things, but she was not naïve. With surprising coordination, she swung the door open, knocking the man back several steps. Her boots crunched as she landed in the snow.
“Back up or I’m going to tase you!” She warned, putting space between herself and the stranger while keeping an eye on the approaching men.
The corners of his mouth turned up as he fought back a smile.
Chantel scoffed. He wasn’t taking her seriously.
“I’m not fucking around!” She insisted, charging up the small device. The buzz felt more powerful than she remembered. The man seemed to think so too, changing his approach. He spoke in a soft tone. “Can we slow down?”
“Don’t patronize me. Just back up like I said. No, this way!” She ordered until he stood across from her with his back to his men.
Behind him, they speed up their approach but they could only move so fast in the snow. Following her gaze, the strange man looked over his shoulder and gestured for the men to stall at the front of his truck several feet away. One of them shouted at her to put the taser away from his position. He sported two braids and a cut in his brow. Chantel shouted back at him to ‘shut the fuck up’
Mr. GQ gave another signal and like he was the conductor of an orchestra, all noise ceased. Well, all external noise at least. Chantel swore she could hear the sound of her heart ringing in her ears.
“Hey!” He demanded her full attention. His hands were up in a defensive position. “What are you looking for here?”
It was a great question but she had no answer for him.
Trouble maker. Fire starter. Full-time agitator.
Chantel was that way even as a child, responding to normal adolescent teasing with violence. Sharp bites in the classroom or royal rumble style fights on the playground were her specialty in grade school. She made anyone stupid enough to provoke her regret it whether big or small, male or female. That wasn’t to say she was organized or calculating in her plans. She acted and dealt with things as they came.
She had no idea what the endgame was when she pulled the taser, but she had to stick with it. The crowd of onlookers made her feel more justified in her rash decision.
“I don’t think you really want to hurt me.”
“Now, what would make you think that?” Chantel asked incredulously. He didn’t know her from Eve.
She was even more steadfast in pointing the taser in his direction but he didn’t seem phased.
“When you want to hurt somebody, you don’t wait around or warn them. You just do it.”
“Are you suggesting I should’ve tased you?”
He shrugged as if they were discussing the weather.
“That certainly would have been more effective.”
Was he serious?
“I mean I still can. If you keep talking I just might.”
He had the gall to laugh in her face.
Hysterically.
And it wasn’t fleeting or sarcastic. It was genuine laughter from deep down in his gut. She hated how beautiful he was, even in the middle of showing blatant disrespect for her ability to harm him.
“Seriously?” She griped, fighting against the way her face muscles twitched.
Giggle box.
When somebody at church mispronounced a word during the announcements or when her aunt murdered a hit song, she giggled uncontrollably. Papa chastised her for it, but it couldn’t be helped. When the urge struck and she got that itch in her throat, she had to laugh.
So naturally, like two birds of a maniac feather they shared a laugh in four (and counting) inches of snow.
***
GENERAL TAGLIST
@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus
MIGUEL TAGLIST
@thesandbeneathmytoes @taylortheeshowpony
#mayans mc#miguel galindo#miguel galindo x black!reader#miguel galindo x black!oc#miguel galindo x reader
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12:27 AM [kuroo tetsurou x reader]
pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem reader (platonic relationship)
genre: fluff and angst
warning(s): swearing, brief mentions of alcohol consumption
word count: 2.8k
overview: you go on one, final late night food run with your best friend to commemorate your last evening in tokyo
notes: as stated above, the reader and kuroo’s relationship here is purely platonic. it just felt right. also, this one’s a bit more dialogue-heavy than usual, but it’s intentional :) hope you enjoy!
At 12:27 AM, Kuroo’s standing in the kitchen, poring over an open cupboard of food—none of which seems to fulfill his cravings. Tapping the toes of his house slippers against the tiled floor, he sends a glance over at where you’re sitting on the couch, watching the movie he’d put on with rapt attention. His attempts at successfully blocking out thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow are foiled once more when his gaze settles on the luggage waiting patiently in the entryway.
“Hey, (f/n),” he calls out to you, shutting the cabinets in front of him and turning away from them. The eyebrow you raise at him expectantly has him continuing, “Whaddya say to going on one, last late-night food run in the city with your old pal?”
With a snicker, you toss the mountains of blankets off your body and stand up as you say, “You act as if today’s my last day on the planet, Tetsu.”
“Seriously, though, who knows when we’ll be able to do this again?” he wonders, “Might as well live like it’s your last day on the planet, even if it’s just for a night, right?”
You shake your head as you pull on an old Nekoma hoodie out of your backpack that matches the one he’s wearing. “Quit it, dumbass; you’re gonna make me all sentimental.”
A grin spreads across his lips and he gives you a playful shake once the two of you have stepped into your shoes and left his home. It warms your heart but shatters it at the same time, since you’re painfully aware of the fact that tonight will be the last time you see it in person for what could be months. And if his words hadn’t already made you a bit emotional, the drive through Tokyo would’ve done the trick.
He rolls the windows of his car down, letting in the cool, nighttime air that whistles past as the vehicle picks up speed. In an effort he wants to seem as spontaneous as possible, he plays music from a playlist the two of you had made together back when you were in high school, shouting and dancing along to the lyrics of every song with you with an enthusiasm that has you doubling over in your seat with laughter.
Every stoplight gives other drivers and pedestrians buzzing around the bustling downtown area the opportunity to shoot you judgmental looks or those of entertainment, but you’re too busy living in the moment with him that you barely notice or even care, for that matter. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you don’t bother to ask. Instead, you find yourself lost in admiring the dazzling array of lights passing you by during your drive through the lively city. Knowing you’ll be in a new one by this time tomorrow has you gazing upon everything you’d simply passed by before without a second thought with a newfound appreciation and lingering nostalgia.
Eventually, after Kuroo’s impressed you by maneuvering his car into a tighter parking spot than you thought he could fit in, you find your destination is a small restaurant tucked away in one of the back alleys aglow with neon signs. Though it’s packed to the brim with other patrons enjoying a late-night meal, there’s plenty of conversation between you and your friend to fill the time you spend waiting for a table.
Once you’re inside, you bask in the warmth heavy with the delicious smell of fresh food as the two of you sit together and reminisce over steaming bowls of ramen. “You know one thing I’ll never forget?” Kuroo begins, fishing out a few plump noodles with his chopsticks. You glance over at him expectantly while you blow on the broth in your spoon and he chuckles before adding, “The look on Lev’s face when he hit you in the back of the head during warmups and you gave him the coldest stare I’ve ever seen.”
“I felt so bad when I realized it was him, though, ‘cause I thought it was you!” you defend.
Kuroo’s unoccupied hand flies to his chest to complete the feigned look of shock on his face. “And you were gonna look at me like that if it was?”
“You were always aiming for me, Tetsu.”
“You were always on the court!”
“Helping Coach toss and keeping hitters like you from fucking up your ankles by coming down on stray volleyballs, you asshole.”
Kuroo shrugs and comments, “I never hit you hard, though,” and moves another serving of noodles to his lips. “Just wanted to keep our beloved manager on her toes is all.”
With an incredulous scoff, you retort, “Yeah, you did that, alright. And even well into uni, too.”
There’s a pause in your conversation as you both take a moment to enjoy your food before Kuroo questions, “Could you please submit your evidence to the court?”
“Halloween,” you state, (e/c) eyes laser focused on his own, hazel ones. He’s narrowing them, as if he’s trying to remember the event in question, so you help him out by continuing, “You and Kou were insistent on coming with me to a raging house party that night. The two of you got so, annoyingly drunk that you were laughing at the top of your lungs like hyenas about videos of pets dressed up in costumes at three in the morning.”
He raises a finger contemplatively. “I might’ve blacked out, but that does sound like something I’d do.”
“In that case, you probably forgot about all the noise complaints I got, then; and how the owner of the place came to scold me in person.”
A bashful grin forms on his lips at the memory you’ve reminded him of, and he concedes, “Alright, alright; we’ve both done a lot of stupid shit in the time we’ve known each other, so let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to remind you of the time you lost your bikini top in the ocean and were too mortified to move, so you made me swim in and get it, right?”
“This conversation is over,” you declare, face growing hot with embarrassment as a vivid image of the moment in question flashes across your mind.
As the two of you continue enjoying your delicious meals and reminiscing about other, more positive experiences you’ve shared together, you feel the knot that’s been settled in the pit of your stomach for what seems to be weeks now make itself known once more. In spite of your outward calmness and enthusiasm, you were starting to have trouble hiding your nervousness. The last thing you’d wanted was for anyone to notice and try to talk you out of your decision, but Kuroo’s far more perceptive than most and knows you well enough to understand what you’re thinking.
When the two of you finish your meals and find the strength to scoot out of your chairs, he notices the way you gaze longingly at your surroundings. He catches sight of the gentle glimmer of emotion in your eyes as you request that he drive you anywhere he wants—just to hold off on going back to his place for a bit longer. And each time he takes his eyes off the road ahead to cast a glance in your direction, he finds your attention fixated on all the buildings and people that pass by.
But it’s not until the two of you arrive at a nearly empty parking lot outside a large, sprawling park that he decides to bring up the question of what’s on your mind. “Hey, (f/n),” he says, making you turn on your heels to face him where you’d been standing a few feet away from his car, watching the twinkling lights in the distance. He looks so carefree, perched on the hood of his vehicle, hands shoved into the pockets of his black joggers, whereas you’re much more on edge, trying to keep your foot-tapping against the loose gravel to a minimum.
“Hmm?”
He purses his lips for a moment before answering slowly, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while—the last day we’d spend together. And it’s one of those things that you just can’t really prepare yourself for, no matter how hard you try to, y’know?” The muscles around your brow relax, and your expression becomes more curious upon being pulled out of your worrisome thoughts. “I know how I’m feeling, but how are you holding up?”
Your fingers interlace themselves as you bite the inside of your cheek. Even if you want to, there’s no bullshitting Kuroo. Not when he’s seen you in every state you can imagine and is often one to pick up on your feelings before you’re even aware they exist, though he often brings them to your attention with a more lighthearted approach than most would think appropriate to take. Doesn’t mean he cares any less, however; and you can see the genuine concern in his hazel eyes shining a paler color in the white moonlight.
“I’m excited,” you tell him. With the way your heart’s pounding in your chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear its pulse in your voice. Moving towards him to occupy the space on the hood beside him, you take a deep breath and look up at him. “But I’m terrified at the same time.” It’s instantaneous, the way you lean into his touch the moment he slings his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Since we were kids, I was always talking about wanting to move to another country, remember?”
“I thought you just said that to make me sad whenever I pissed you off.”
You lightly swat his chest and argue, “Oh, be quiet.” But, before you can continue with what you were going to say, you find yourself focused on the words he’d spoken instead. “Wait, did you actually mean that?”
With a gentle chuckle, he shrugs. “Nah, I was joking.” The adam’s apple in his throat bobs when he turns his attention towards the sky and admits, “But I always did get a little sad whenever you mentioned it. Still do.” A moment of silence filled with the distant sounds of traffic and the chirping of insects ensues during which you watch your fingers toy with the aglets hanging off your hoodie. “I mean, come on, now; what kinda kid wants one of his best friends to move away when he knows how big the world is but how singular and small he is?”
“Tetsu,” you murmur softly, feeling your lip tremble with emotion and your eyes sting with oncoming tears, “You’ve always been there for me through, like, everything. Or, at least, it feels that way. Part of the reason why I’m so scared of leaving is because I’m gonna be all by myself, in a brand-new place, just thrown into the deep end of things and having to teach myself how to swim all over again. But another part of it is because I’m gonna be away from you. And even now, as an adult, I still don’t wanna move away from my best friend.”
He doesn’t even have to look at you or hear you sniffle to know you’re crying, and he tightens his grip around you, placing his other hand on your back. Appreciative of the gesture, you bury your face in the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and pull him into an embrace so you can hold onto him for a few, long moments that you wish didn’t have to end.
“Hey, it’s all good as long as you don’t forget about me once you make it big out there, okay?” His tone is teasing and lighthearted, as per usual, but you can hear the subtlest break in his voice that has more tears cascading down your cheeks and pooling in the creases of his sweater.
“I’m not gonna forget you—I could never—but, what if I can’t do it?” you whimper, “What if I get there and I hate the job, or I hate my coworkers, or I hate life over there? Then I’ll be stuck out there with no one.”
Rubbing your back gently, he assures you, “If worst comes to worst, you can come back home and regroup. You’ll always have a place to stay here. Well… unless I get super famous and end up being offered a job to travel around the world.” You can’t help but snicker at his comment, and neither can he. “Even if I’m not physically there, I’ll always be there in spirit. And don’t discount the possibility of me showing up at your doorstep, since we know I have a tendency to do that.”
“Like a stray cat I keep feeding.”
“Exactly. Maybe you’ll even get two if I can convince Kenma to come with me. We’ll have to see how long he can survive off his Switch alone.”
Your bodies both shake with laughter for a few moments before you pull away from each other, and his hands slide onto your shoulders to give them a firm squeeze. Keeping your head lowered for a moment, you drag the sleeves of your hoodie across your eyes to wipe up any stray tears you hadn’t left on his. When your gazes meet, though, the confidence in his almost entirely dissolves the knot that’s been building in your stomach for so long.
“Hey.” He shakes you gently, and you jokingly let your head roll about, eliciting more snickers from both of your mouths before looking at him expectantly and with your full attention. “Don’t let the worst-case scenario hold you back from something that could be great. You’re so quick to think about how likely the worst possible thing is to happen, but why can’t the best be just as likely?”
Playfully, you tease, “Wow, seems like someone’s trying to get me outta here,” with a smirk.
“(F/n),” he sighs, sending a long plume of steam upwards from his mouth. Giving you a firm pat on the arm, he admits, “I’m gonna miss you like hell. But this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, and I want you to do it so badly. Partly so I can say that I have a vacation property abroad, but mostly because you know I want the best for you, since you deserve it.”
Your lip quakes once again at his confession, but you manage to blink back the tears this time and crack a smile. “Okay. But if you’d better not get even the slightest bit sentimental or teary-eyed tomorrow or else I’m gonna cry like a bitch all the way through the airport.”
“Eyes will be dry as long as you promise to video call me the second you land so I can go on the cab ride with you and see the whole, cute apartment reveal thing that’s so trendy these days.”
A mixture of a giggle and a gentle sob leaves your mouth as you watch his figure distorted by your swimming vision rise from the hood of his car. You feel warm hands on your wrists pulling you up onto your feet before you’re ensconced in another tight hug while Kuroo rocks from one foot to the other.
“You’re gonna be fine.”
After giving you a squeeze hard enough to push the air out of your lungs, he releases his grasp around you and opens the door on the passenger’s side so you can climb in and retreat from the coldness of the night. “With all these emotions plus the food, I’m gonna knock out so fast when we get home,” you mumble with a soft sniffle, reaching for the packet of tissues in his glove compartment once he’s settled in the driver’s seat.
He scoffs and furrows his eyebrows at you as he sticks his keys in the ignition. “Who said you were sleeping tonight? You’ve got the whole plane ride tomorrow to do that.”
“Alright, you can’t blame me for being cranky, then.”
With a shake of the head, he shifts the car into reverse so he can back out of the parking lot and start the journey back to his home. While the music you’d been blasting earlier plays softly from the speakers, you rest your head on the door once more to watch your familiar surroundings breeze by outside.
“Tetsurou.” You glance over at him and his head of haphazardly styled hair that you’re sure won’t fit on the screen of your phone the next time you see him, and his eyes meet yours when he brings the car to a halt at a stop sign. “Thanks for spending my so-called last night on the planet with me.”
extra that didn’t make the cut: kuroo didn’t shed a tear at the airport until after he thought you’d left. but you’d actually just hid somewhere and caught him with watery eyes. you still video called him as soon as you landed, though.
when night falls masterlist ⭐︎ treat me to a coffee!
taglists (send an ask to be added to the when night falls taglist!)
when night falls: @aoyukai, @why-aminot-dead, @yamagucji, @toutorii, @shibayamasbae, @tsukkisbean, @devlovesiwa-channn, @captain-shittykawa, @ghblh, @postsfromthe6, @omibaby, @deerixiie
general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki, @dominikmagnus, @tendo-sxtori, @krynnza
kuroo: @lotsoffandomrecs, @heyhinata, @cuddlysoftbear
#haikyuu x reader#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo x reader#x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu fanfiction#reader insert#kuroo tetsurou#tw alcohol mention#fran writes hq!!#ahkaahshi//wnf
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Mommy Issues
@harringroveweekoflove
Harringrove Week of Love Day 4: School Dance
Rating: T
Words: 1633
Summary: Steve and Billy have a philosophical discussion that they're both way too sober to have.
“Are you a Mama Bird or a Mama Bear?”
The question comes way too early in the dance when the kids are only just barely beginning to cross party lines and venture into the neutral ground that is the dance floor. Steve has only had one cup of punch and he barely spiked it because he’s trying to make the flask in his jacket pocket last. So he still feels way too sober for this brand of bullshit.
“Hargrove,” he sighs. “We’re the only people between the ages of 16 and 40 at this dance.” He doesn’t have a follow up for that. He could end it with ‘Could you not be a dick?’ but he’s honestly not sure that’s in the cards when it’s Billy. Sure, he’s trying to be ‘better’ in some vague and unidentified way, and he is here with Steve acting as emergency chaperones for the school dance since there’s a shortage of people willing to be out after dark in this town these days. He just still doesn’t do the ‘nice’ thing. Ever. So Steve just kind of leaves the sentiment hanging and hopes Billy takes something away from it.
“Please. You’re a 40-year-old woman at heart,” Billy scoffs, pulling a cigarette from the packet in the breast pocket of his white dress shirt. Which looks annoyingly good on him. He even buttoned it all the way up. Steve isn’t sure if that’s because of the formal setting or the scar on his chest, but the end result is the same. Billy Hargrove can absolutely pull off shirts with high collars and Steve has to live with that knowledge. “So. Are you a Mama Bird or a Mama Bear?”
“Dude, I don’t even know what that means,” Steve groans. “I’m not a mom at all.” Glorified babysitter who doesn’t actually get paid and spends more time fighting monsters than trying to monitor who’s watching a scrambled porn channel, sure. Mom? No way.
“I saw that dish towel over your shoulder at Byers’ place. You’re a mom.” Billy looks at his cigarette like he’s really contemplating lighting it.
“You can’t smoke in here.” Steve realizes a moment too late how that sounded, and Billy is already grinning widely. No taking that back now.
“Yes, Mama Steve,” he says, tucking the cigarette behind his ear.
Steve downs the rest of his punch. He’s kind of surprised that Billy remembers he was wearing a towel over his shoulder almost a year ago when he’d be hard-pressed to remember a single thing Billy was wearing that night, much less some accessory. But then again, he’s pretty sure he got a concussion that night too so… that probably has something to do with it.
Halfway through the night, Mike and El have ventured out onto the dance floor. They’re probably a little too warm and snuggly for Hopper’s preferences but he’s been remanded to staying home and watching The Magnificent Seven again. Steve has no doubt he’s watching the clock to get a head start on beating the traffic on that 9 pm pickup time.
Dustin and Will are huddled in the safety of the boys’ side of the gymnasium, heads together like they’re forming some kind of strategy. Except they never actually make any attempt to move or anything. Steve isn’t even sure if Dustin has permission to dance at this thing. Long-distance relationships have too many nuances and kudos to Dustin for trying one right out the gate. He’s a brave kid.
Max and Lewis are loitering by the punch bowl and every time Max makes a vague motion towards the dance floor, Lucas appears to look around and then decline. Steve pauses in his kid check to follow one of Lucas’s covert glances to where Billy is staring the kid down from across the room. Well, that’s probably something he’s gonna have to deal with because who else is going to?
Steve comes back to stand beside Billy, pulling the flask from his pocket and offering it up. “So… what does that stuff mean?” he asks, because he has to make conversation about something, and what do he and Billy even have to talk about that’s not horrifying?
Billy reluctantly pulls his eyes away from where he’s glaring at Lucas. “What?”
“Bears and birds. What was that about?”
Billy takes the flask, shakes it experimentally, and pours a large amount into his cup of punch. Steve’s hopes of even getting a mild buzz to offset the pain of this whole affair drain into Billy’s cup with too much of his stash. “Christ, Harrington, didn’t you even pass the animal chapter in biology?”
This is going great. “Pretend I slept through most of it.”
Billy rolls his eyes and takes a sip from his punch. Then he empties the flask into it entirely before handing it back to Steve. “You some kind of superhero or something?”
“Sorry?” Steve tucks the empty flask back away, making a mental note to never try and share with Billy again.
“No parents, no sleeping, chasing monsters with a fucking bat…”
“I’ve got parents.”
Billy takes a longer sip from his punch and sighs out through his nose. “You’ve got landlords. That’s what you’ve got.”
Steve takes a breath. Counts to five. Reminds himself that dealt with a Russian interrogator for longer than he’s dealt with Billy so far, and if that didn’t kill him then neither will this. And he only has to deal with him for another 90 minutes.
“What’s the difference between a Mama Bird and a Mama Bear?” he asks again.
Billy looks him up and down, and for a second, Steve thinks he’s going to refuse. Make some snide comment and put them right back at the place they’ve been stuck for weeks and months now, with Billy hovering around the edges of Steve’s life while trying to re-integrate himself with Max. Seems like if anything, he’s at least realized that Max is something good in his life and that he’s a little short on good things so he should probably hold onto that.
“It’s like… a mama bear is gonna protect her kid, right? Baby bears are all cute and hikers think they can just go pet it because it’s friendly and then the mom shows up and rips them apart,” Billy says. Steve is sure he notices that Max grabs Lucas’s hand and drags him onto the dance floor, but he doesn’t comment on it, and that’s some growth right there.
“That’s horrifying,” Steve says in a conversational tone that implies he understands and Billy should continue.
“Where the mama bird straight up shoves her kids out of the nest so they’ll learn to fly.”
“That’s… also horrifying,” Steve says, in a new tone that implies that… that’s horrifying. “Mama birds are assholes.”
“You gotta show the kids the door sometime, or they’ll sit in the nest forever and eventually starve when winter comes,” Billy says, like that somehow makes it less terrible. Send a kid plummeting towards the ground to teach them to leave home? Nest. Whatever.
“Well, I wanna be the bear then.”
Billy looks him over, a look on his face that Steve can’t for the life of him decipher. “Yeah. You are a Mama Bear, aren’t you? You chase all the monsters away.”
Steve shrugs. “I mean, I’m not gonna leave that up to Dustin. Have you ever seen him swing anything? That kid is a goalie at best.” And not a great goalie either. Passable, but he’s definitely not someone you trust with hitting anything.
“What happens when the monsters come and Mama Steve left for college?” Billy presses.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Steve has a stack of college rejection letters that speak to that, but Billy doesn’t need to know that. But he’s also stopped applying because one, he’s not smart enough to get in. Obviously. And two, seriously, none of these kids can get any power behind a swing. Someone with a decent batting average has to be around. “You talk like you’d rather throw a kid off a ledge and hope for the best.”
“Yeah, because that’s how you find out if they’re gonna make it,” Billy says, taking another swig from his punch.
Steve doesn’t think that’s remotely true. Billy is no bird, even if he’d like to be. He did a lot of damage overstepping every boundary ever while he was trying to keep an eye on Max, and maybe he’s scared of doing it again. Maybe. They don’t exactly talk about stuff like fear and emotions. Or much of anything unless they’re really bored and forced to make conversation because they’re stuck around a bunch of kids. Conversations like this feel like poking the surface of a lake with a stick and trying to guess where the deep parts are.
Steve kind of wants to ask if Billy was once the baby bird in this weird National Geographic metaphor they have going. He doesn’t because he thinks he knows the answer and he also thinks that Billy will probably take a swing at him if he pokes. They’re not there yet, and Steve hasn’t figured out if they’re heading there or not.
“Well I know they’re gonna make it,” Steve says, taking Billy's cup of punch and draining it because he really needs at least a bare-bones burn down the back of his throat to finish this conversation. “Because I’m gonna be here.”
Billy eyes him, but he doesn’t argue. Eventually, he just scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m kicking all of these brats out of Hawkins when they go to college. We’re not staying in this hick monster town forever.”
Now that is a level of Mama Bird that Steve can work with. “Deal.”
#my writing#harringrove week of love#harringrove#billy/steve#post s3 except everyone stayed and Billy lived#which basically makes this wish fulfillment#who am I kidding anything where Billy lived is wish fulfillment#Billy is trying he's just not very good yet. at anything.#neither of these two are qualified to be chaperones except in Hawkins
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wedding doves
[requested]
member: chan
wc: 1.3k
genre: fluff, friends to lover au, wedding au
warning: explicit language
note: this is so...everyone’s legally allowed to throw cheese to my face
[8:18 AM]
You sit on one of the pews at the back of the chapel with some of the wedding sponsors, tulip bouquets carefully placed on the cushion kneelers. Chan sits next to your on your right to the aisle, scrolling through his Twitter, while the Maid of Honour, Sana, props an elbow behind you to support her cheek, careful of the intricate make-up you spent almost all morning to make. In front of you, Jeongin keeps the children from doing anything but trouble and throwing their rose petals too early while you can only imagine what the ruckus Jisung and Seungmin have been doing behind you for the past 10 minutes.
“Who are we waiting for again?” You ask Sana, crossing your arms and legs impatiently. After a while, watching Jeongin play with the kids, counting the chapel lights, and memorizing the paintings on the walls have become too tiresome and boring as you wait for the ceremony to start. Curse this bridesmaid’s dress with no pockets.
Sana looks up at you from almost dozing off in her seat, contemplating on your question for a bit before answering, “I think we’re waiting for the doves?”
From your peripheral vision, Chan’s eyes perk up from the mention of your pet names and turns to you, “Yes, dove?”
You turn to him and scoff playfully, waving your hand in between the two of you dismissively. “No, not you, dove.” You clarify in between chuckles. “I was just asking what’s taking so long.”
With your attention away from her now, you miss the way Sana dramatically presses her free hand to her forehead in frustration at the cheesy pet name you always throw around with your best friend. These two, seriously, she sighs internally to herself. She also curses Jaehyung for being on the other pews, leaving her to third-wheel.
“Oh, uh yeah, we’re waiting for the doves.” Chan nods in agreement, closing his phone and placing it back in his pocket. “Younghyun’s aunt has them and she’s running a little late because of traffic.”
“It’s really a pity Younghyun’s aunt couldn’t stay with us at the hotel since they don’t allow pets,” Sana sighs, sitting up properly now and fixing her dress. “That way we wouldn’t be waiting this long.”
[8:20 AM]
You briefly check your wristwatch, only half an hour pass the time stated on the wedding program. “The doves are for releasing after the ceremony, right? Would that be safe?”
Chan nods, “Younghyun‘s aunt’s a trainer and they said she’s taught the birds to fly back to her after so I guess it’s pretty safe.”
“Besides, Sooyeon wouldn’t allow it if it weren’t safe for the animals anyway.” Sana adds, gesturing over to the bride who peeks slightly from behind the chapel doors with the biggest bouquet of tulips you’ve ever seen, a hand fan, and an umbrella. “So I’m guessing they practiced it too.”
“Don’t worry, dove, they’ll fly away safe later.” Chan reassures you with a lighthearted tone and a smile, patting your head carefully and affectionately. “Don’t worry too much.”
Still, you purse your lips in worry. “I hope so.”
[8:26 AM]
And as if on cue, Younghyun’s aunt came barreling in through the side entrance with doves, making the entire wedding party erupt in relieved sighs and cheers.
“Finally!” Sana exclaims dramatically as the three of you stand up, picking up your bouquets from the kneelers and handing yours to you as you now walk to the chapel entrance. She then overtakes you and Chan, naturally leading the wedding party to their places. “Alright, everyone, we’re about to start the procession! Places, please! Younghyun, fix your tie!”
You follow along, holding your bouquet in one hand while fixing your dress with the other as you walk. Next to you, Chan matches your slow pace, hands in his pockets as a light blush dusts his cheeks. He seemed to have almost forgotten where the two of you are, by the way he’s momentarily dazed once again at seeing you in your bridesmaid’s attire.
When you finish dusting your dress, only then does Chan offer you his arm shyly, “Let’s go?”
You only hum, linking your arms with his.
Behind you, a flower girl, one of Sooyeon’s nieces, tugs on Jeongin’s arm, innocently asking and pointing at you and Chan. “Are they a couple?” She asks, gripping on her basket of petals nervously. “They kept calling each other ‘dove’ like my parents do with each other!”
Jeongin can only shrug at this, “Well...we can’t tell that yet, Sunny.”
Next to Jeongin, Chaeyoung, another bridesmaid, snickers. “Humor the kid, Jeongin.” She retorts playfully before turning to the little girl, Sunny. “They’re definitely a couple, Sunny!”
[10:30 AM]
After a lengthy and tear-jerking ceremony, you finally leave the chapel, gathering right outside the gates to shower the newlyweds with rice, coins, and flowers. You reunite with Chan once again after sitting through the ceremony on opposite sides of the altar, the two of you standing not far away from Younghyun and Sooyeon like the rest of the wedding party.
“When are the doves coming out?” You ask Chan curiously amidst all the group photos and falling rose petals, peering through the crowd as you try to find them.
Chan points the doves conveniently for you, held in Mrs. Park’s hands right behind the newlyweds as they prepare for their photo on their own. “Right there.”
“Oh they’re flying during the photo op? That’s a really cool idea!” You comment, lifting your hand up to clap in amazement only to realize that Chan’s holding your hand. Nevertheless, you clap anyway, making Chan laugh. “Usually, I only hear people releasing doves before or after taking photos.”
A thought suddenly crosses his mind, getting ahead of him before he can even process it. “What about you? Do you want to?” He suddenly blurts out, eyes growing wide when you turn to look at him.
“Do what?” You ask curiously, swaying your hands gently in between the two of you now.
He doesn’t answer immediately, speechless with the way his face heats up under your gaze. Why did you ask that, fool? He scolds himself. Heaving a sigh, he thinks fuck it and continues, “Have doves on your wedding day?”
Your eyes grows just as wide as he did in surprise, making you stammer, “W-What are you talking about? I don’t really...I don’t really think—about that.” You laugh it off towards the end, turning your eyes away just as the photographer takes a photo of Younghyun and Sooyeon, timing it perfectly with the doves flying away and landing on the chapel’s gate a few feet away from the crowd. “Dove, the wedding’s getting to you!”
At that, Chan internally asks for the land to swallow him whole but a voice inside his head comforts him and tells him to try again later. He disguises his embarrassment with an equally awkward laugh, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I was just curious,” He shrugs the weird question off, turning his gaze back on the newlyweds again. “Maybe the wedding is getting to me—it was too beautiful.”
You look back up at him at this, a small smile on your lips. “Though, now that you’ve mentioned it,” You point out, your smile turning into a wider grin when he looks back expectantly at you again. “I think it’d be really weird if I had doves on my wedding—unless you’re there, of course.”
“Hm? Me?”
“Yeah, you.” You shrug shyly. “doves are our thing, after all.”
Oh.
Oh.
Holy shit, at that, Chan’s inner voice starts shifting all the gears in his head to panic mode.
“Dove,” You call him by the pet name almost teasingly. “the wedding really really is getting to you.” You chuckle nervously, moving your hand up to link your arms again. “Come on, we’re heading to reception.”
m.list
#stayverse#stray kids#skz#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids au#stray kids oneshots#stray kids fluff#stray kids drabbles#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz au#skz oneshots#skz fluff#skz drabbles#chan#bang chan#stray kids chan#skz chan#chan imagines#chan scenarios#chan au#chan oneshots#chan fluff#chan drabbles#requested
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Doki Doki Grist Panic! Ch. 6
Another chapter of my Magical Boy JohnDave au!
This chapter is SFW!
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802735/chapters/80258332
The city was, as before, beautiful. Humans wandered along the sidewalks and streets performing the activities of their daily lives in the fading purple and pink light of the sun. It reminded John of how his home used to be, how it would soon be again once he returned and revived things. Once everything was restored and fell back into the steady rhythm of living life, his people too would be wandering around like busy ants in a colony, following their own destinies freely. In a way it made him feel hesitant to disrupt the flow, seeing just how perfect and aimless everything looked. This was the kind of evening that John would have spent with Dave on his lap happily enjoying the weather, but he supposed that was not to be any longer. ...For now, at least. John was still hopeful that if he could re-capture Dave in different circumstances and get him home, release him from the bonds of this world, that he might change his mind and give the new world a chance. The chances were slim, but honestly, even if he kept him as a pet instead of a lover it would be worth something.
It was time to act, however, peaceful appearances of the evening or none. John had more chess pieces he’d been working with, more ogres, and plenty of imps at his disposal. He’d start things from here and work outwards, spreading their oil slicks and chaos as far as they could reach so the grist flowed like water for collection. Did he need every drop? No. Was he going to take every drop from this wretched world for himself? Yes, most definitely, whether Dave liked it or not.
Screams rang out at the appearance of the first ogre, its large body disrupting traffic and sending grist bouncing down the street with each strike against the ground attacking humans both in and outside of vehicles. John watched from above as the imps began to descend and wreck things, destroying everything they touched, spreading oil and corrosion wherever they bounced and ran.
It was beautiful as well, this chaos. Frenetic and absurd, the shiny baubles of grist glittering under the starlight and lamp posts, in the abandoned cars headlights as bodies lay left and right on the ground where they’d fallen victim to his creatures. Though John knew it was just a matter of time before he’d have to fight once more, standing off against those who would interfere with them. He only hoped that, when the time came, he’d be able to preserve Dave somewhat. The rest could rot, but the human was still a soft spot for him in his plans. He turned from the lovely scene to direct the imps and ogres further South, towards the heart of the city where they could cause bigger chaos as their numbers began to increase. He gestured with the hammer like a conductors baton, steering them before their free will kicked in, a game of long distance chess against an entire world.
The whoosh of air behind him was no surprise, when it happened. John turned so fast his white hair ruffled over his eyes for a moment, guarding himself with the dark wind and the side of the hammer against Dave’s new blade, white and deadly as it skidded in place. He wasn’t able to fly, not normally, so it was only through this point of contact that he was staying in the air at all.
There was that look again on his face.
Determination.
Hate.
Love.
Disgust.
Delicious… He wanted to bottle this mixed emotion, drink it like a fine wine on cold nights. Wanted to distill its essence to have and hold even after this world ended, to show that such a spark existed on it in the first place, a spark that could actually make him feel things.
“So soon?” John asked, arm ever so slightly shaking from the pressure being exerted against him. “I’d thought you’d at least give me a wider berth after last time. Or are you that excited to see me again? There’s still plenty of room on my ship for you.”
“Shut up,” Dave hissed. “You already know this isn’t personal, it’s just business. You attack my world, I put you down. Simple as that.”
“If it was as simple as that, you’d have killed me by now,” John said, grunting and adding his second hand to his hammer, forcing Dave back and downwards towards the ground once more. His cape fluttered as he went down, face defiant as ever, to go and dispatch some of his ever increasing number of minions. It would be a fruitless venture this time, their numbers had increased dramatically from before and Dave was but one man vaulting between them like a red blur. John watched with interest as the white haired figure bounced and bobbed, weaved and feinted and struck left and right one after another. The red gears turned in the air like electricity, disappearing and reappearing along with him as he slowed time as required. The violence was hypnotic, lovely. It brought to mind the figure he’d gotten to glimpse while dressing him before, lithe and athletic. Every curve of that body was tense in battle, every muscle working in tandem to further his goals.
Goals John needed to put a stop to, now, before he started making actual headway against his minions. Time to smash a magical boy in the head with a hammer till he behaved.
Dropping down on the curve of the wind, John made a beeline for Dave before smashing the ground beside him, forcing the red clad figure to jump and dodge the aftershocks. He could just as easily force the wind after him to stop this… though, then again, Dave could stop time as well. They would be at a stalemate, which seemed to be why neither of them was pulling their top cards to put an end to things outright. At least not yet. If Dave wanted cat and mouse games, however, John was pleased to oblige. His minions would take him head on, while he threaded along around him to swat and swipe and hammer at him while avoiding return slashes from that bastard of a sword he’d suddenly obtained. He knew better than to take direct hits from that thing. It felt more dangerous than his original blade with the gilt handle somehow, sleeker and more deadly, and seeing how cleanly it sliced through his imps, John felt he made a good decision in the end.
When Dave suddenly stopped catapulting himself between imps and ogres, the ground slick with iridescent topped patches of oil and scattered grist, John was surprised for a moment. One second he’d been swinging at the small pests and avoiding his attacks, the next he’d turned and gone full throttle on the offensive. The blade sang past his face, cutting the air cleanly and taking a few wisps of his hair with it before the breeze carried him back in a dark cloud out of his reach. It was a close call, he could almost taste the metal in the wind, could feel the way it slicked back and forth like liquid in Dave’s hand. How did he have that much skill with a new blade? Surely there was some kind of learning curve, but nothing that he could detect. Was it a blessing from who he was contracted under, perhaps…?
“You’re in my way,” John grunted, slamming the hammer down beside a car, forcing it upwards as the wheels did a hard bunny hop from the percussion against the ground. Dave jumped off the hood and took another slice at his head, not pulling his punches this time. He was really aiming to cut him, wasn’t he? Fair enough, it wasn’t as if John was playing now either.
“Why did you even come back?” Dave asked, aiming a backhanded slice towards his middle followed by a series of jabs to keep him at arms length when he crept too close for comfort. He wanted distance? Time to stay pressing close then, almost close enough to catch those lips again, close enough to see the sweat coming off his brow already from exertion. “I told you your plans weren’t going to work, that I’d stand in your way. Do you really think I was kidding? Or that I wasn’t going to notice?”
“Oh I knew you’d notice, I hoped you’d be so kind as to let me defeat you quickly, but I see you’re all out of favors,” John hissed, sending his breeze forward with a hard gesture from his hand. It caught Dave suddenly, forcing his cape to whip wildly behind him as he skidded to stop himself, grunting when the momentum caught him enough to slam him to the ground. Another roll, another avoided hammer blow, and Dave was soon scrambling to his feet, only to dart low and fast towards John’s to swat at his ankles. That sword had to weigh a lot, why did it seem weightless in his hands? The weight was negligent, an afterthought at best in his hands. Contracted weapons, he supposed, given that his hammer was the same way despite his beginning strength.
“Are you seriously flirting right now?” Dave asked, angry all over again. Fuck this guy!
“I’m doing whatever you think I’m doing,” John said, managing to turn just in time to block a stroke against his side with the hammer, frowning in surprise when it left a jagged scratch in the finish. So it wasn’t impermeable after all… Hm. That put a bit of a damper into things, he’d need to be careful to avoid seeing if it was breakable by other means then. More strategic than he’d been being.
“Being a pest!” Dave cried. “This is my planet, these are my people, and it’s under my contract that I’m taking you down! This ends tonight! You’re not walking away this time, John!”
So he was that serious, then. This was to be to the death.
Though grim, John couldn’t help the wicked smirk that spread on his face, the glow that took his eyes. To the death? Such a threat on his life while making that determined face? What a treat. He lifted the hammer with one hand and readied the dark breeze with his other hand, only to have a moment of confusion. One moment Dave was several paces away in the air and springing towards him, the next he was already there and a sharp pain was spreading in John’s stomach and ribs as he took the strike head on. He toppled and rolled before jumping back up, rubbing at his clothing as the pieces separated and hung from his gray toned body, dark blood welling up from where the surface of the skin had been sliced open.
Blood. Dave had actually drawn blood by using that damned time trick of his.
“That costs you dearly, doesn’t it?” John guessed, going on the defensive as Dave drove him back further yet, dancing practically while holding his hand to his side to quell the ache and stem the small bit of blood he’d managed to draw. “How does it feel to buy my life with your own blood?”
“Disgusting,” Dave admitted, stabbing downwards from a height, only to blur out of view when John blocked. Another strike, too fast to see almost, against his other side. A third followed to his back as Dave slowed, and even halted entirely, time to do as he needed to do. Every instance was costing him, but Dave didn’t exactly have the time to care. There were things he needed to do tonight aside from taking John down in order to make things right. The fact that John was a bigger pain in the ass to deal with than his minions was just another aside that he had to deal with.
“Romantic,” John corrected. “Your life costs less than mine at this rate, doesn’t it? You can stop time to kill me, but think how much you lose. And is it even fair in your eyes?” he asked, having to roll to avoid a quick strike, taking only half of it strategically that way as he whirled to raise his hammer in another block in preparation. “Killing a man when he can’t even fight back? Not very heroic.”
“You’re a monster, what wouldn’t be heroic!” Dave snapped, surging forward recklessly and getting hit for his troubles. Another hard skid on the shoulder and he was getting back up, dropping into a ready pose and sizing up his target before jumping to action again, going for John’s legs before being side attacked by two imps and having to withdraw to tangle with them first. The smaller beings grabbed at his cape, at his legs, their oil slick hands and bodies marring his pale blade as he slashed them apart.
“I was a monster the entire time I held you, will you still deny me?” John asked, rushing forward on the breeze face first to try catching Dave in his open hand. He managed to land a palm on his right forearm and grip tight before being struck by the pink toned lightning. Electricity raced up and down his spine, crazing his teeth, lifting the hair at his nape. His heart hammered and his vision blurred into two distinct points, his awareness shifting as if splitting in two. It lasted all of a second before stopping, forcing him to release Dave and look around for the source in rage. Someone was interfering. Someone who had also managed to strike Dave due to their bodily contact, arcing the electricity from point A to point B.
The source seemed to be an aggressive looking fellow in shades of pink, sleeves flapping as he leapt up to take a slice at him with a thin blade. John was guaranteed to be struck by one of them at this point, unable to guard both directions at once. Dave, despite looking a little dazed, was quick to move his legs, pressing one boot against John’s body before kicking hard as he could at his ribs to dislodge himself. The fellow in pink took his slice and was blocked by the hammer, not wanting the more lethal looking damage to take. It sucked for his ribs, John feeling a decidedly unpleasant crunch at one point, but what could he really do?
Call a storm was what he could do. He could harness the winds in this wide open space and build up enough strength to level the fucking city if he really pushed himself to do so. What would be left for the poor magical boys to save if everyone was dead and their grist was splashed about like a fallen pinatas goodies? One on one was one thing, but two on one was going to be annoying to deal with, especially as this fellow seemed to be able to do ranged attacks as well. John lifted his hammer towards the sky to start summoning winds, hair whipping around as the clouds overhead began to swirl steadily as if going down a massive drain, the air starting to gain traction.
One moment he was holding his hammer, the bright colors stark against the moonlit sky. The next John was aware of neon red lights behind his eyes, the fading after image of gears and-
“HEY, GIVE THAT BACK!” he shouted, looking around for where Dave had sprinted off to. The winds stopped swirling as he lost focus, the clouds dispersing overhead as the pull he exerted on them was broken. Dave was dropping back to the ground and sprinting at top speed towards a break in the buildings. He paused, watching John, and smirked once he knew he’d been spotted before turning and rushing out of sight with the heavy hammer in hand.
“Going somewhere?” Dirk asked, coming up for close contact and another lightning strike, hard enough and uninterrupted enough this time that John saw double all over again. His chest ached, and he could hear a distinct sound in his ears.
Ringing.
Music?
Piano… he knew the melody, but it had been years since he had a name for it.
He could feel himself being ripped in two by the electricity, fingers caught in a clawlike motion, heart distancing itself from his body, dripping in the same black substance as his imps. He could hear screams in his head, the sounds of the damned, the dying, the already dead. Or was that just him screaming? Some kind of noise was escaping his throat as he struggled under the attack, trying to hold himself together. It took immense power to straighten an arm out and force wind Dirk’s direction with the intensity of a battle axe, slicing at his limbs and body as the attack had an unobstructed route to his body.
When the electricity stopped flowing, John took his leave immediately and rushed to where he’d last seen Dave, breathless and dizzy. He took twists and turns between the buildings, around corners, over fences, following the steady thuds of boots and the distinct noise of a fluttering cape.
“YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE, HUMAN,” John shouted, voice broken. That attack had done more to him than he’d assumed at the time. Something very distinctly was wrong. He didn’t feel quite himself, felt slower, didn’t feel as solid dominion over the wind as he raced along with it. What had that fellow in pink done to him?
Around the corner ahead was the flutter of a cape, and John surged forward to snatch it, yanking Dave back and downwards towards the ground. Dave threw the hammer as he fell so it was some distance away, his sword nowhere in sight. He was unarmed now? What was he planning? Growling, rage filling his wavering heart again, John grasped Dave’s neck with one hand and pressed his hand to his chest with the other, pressing him down at both points. Dave gagged and reached up to grasp the hand at his neck, trying to pull him off, but to limited avail.
“Going to stop time again, trickster? Or are you going to have the other turn up and blast me again?” John hissed. “I should’ve knocked you out the second I saw you.”
Gritting his teeth and trying to huff air, Dave continued to wrestle with John’s arms, arching his back and kicking his feet to dislodge him from the sturdy position in which he sat.
“I-! I’ve g-hrrk. CONTRACT,” Dave got out. Curious, John released some of the pressure on his throat to give him air, frowning as he gasped it in greedily. He watched his hands, watched for hints to his motives, but what the magical boy did was unexpected. Instead of attacking, or even defending, Dave went for his own heart. Both hands on his own chest, Dave’s eyes rolled back briefly as he released the proof of his contract to the open air in a shimmer of red light.
The gear was smaller than John expected but formed of sturdy looking pure red crystal, with intricate pieces of metallic clockwork stuck inside that moved and ticked the steady beats of his life down. It shone with immense power, and just with a glance, John could tell it was worth a ridiculous amount of grist. Showing the proof of ones contract should be difficult to do, however, unless in the presence of the contractor. The hairs on John’s nape stood up as he furtively wondered if the contractor was indeed nearby, waiting, watching. Some higher being who dared not interfere in the matters of humans, ready to replace those beneath him at a moments notice should they fall.
“...What are you doing,” John said, suspicious. “What do I care about this. This is worth a lot of grist, but it’s not nearly enough for a planet. Are you suggesting I hunt the guardians of this world instead of the humans? Hah, I’d rather do both and have a surplus.”
Dave groaned miserably when John tightened his grip on his throat again.
“Maybe I should break it, though. Take the grist, put you out of both of our miseries. ...It’s a shame, Dave. You’d really love my world…”
The gear clicked louder suddenly, drowning out John’s words. He frowned as the ticking started to change pace, mimicking the heart racing in his own ears. The melody from before… Like a metronome, he could hear the music starting up in the back of his head.
“What is this-” he started, only to cry out when, for a third and final time, pink lightning overtook him from behind. Dave, his heart exposed, took the blast directly as well while forcing his contracted heart against John’s chest like a weapon, closing his eyes tight to not look at the light show that was being created.
Heat.
Burning heat, like lava in his veins. John screamed wildy and tried to draw back from Dave, clawing at his chest where the gear was touching him, trying to block the lightning. Trying to call the wind. There was no escape. He was grounded for the count, feeling his soul split in two while being seared from the front. Was this their plan, then? Kill him? He could hear the ticking growing louder in his head, the melody, and-
He was in his childhood home, playing the piano with his father. His short legs swung from the bench, just long enough to reach the pedals, but his father was the one working them right now for both of them. It was a duet of sorts, a song that he’d played many times with him, haunting and sweet in its refrain. Simple. Soothing.
“John,” his father said. “I’m so proud of you…”
The night was crisp and the wind felt like a new friend. He was thirteen and freshly contracted to guard his world, and the feeling of being able to fly was still new and exciting. He could do anything. He was Superman. He was the one who’d keep his Father safe, keep everyone safe. He dipped below the clouds cover, soft as cotton candy, and laughed as he startled some birds out of their flight path. It was time to patrol.
Like so many others, his father was dead. The world was dying, he could hear its screams on the scorched wind. War. Famine. Fire. Flood. Earthquakes. Everything was destroyed, down to the last, leaving John behind. No doubt there were other guardians somewhere, others somewhere in range who might have been able to help, but no help came. His skin had gone gray and his eyes bright, white beginning to take over the darkness in his hair. It was just a grown John in a wasteland, then grown John in his ship, plotting his trajectory for the biggest source of grist his scanners could find.
He was still a magical boy, abandoning his post for a short time to revive it.
To save everyone.
He was Superman.
John’s vision cleared, and he felt weak. Nauseated, in fact, but soothed by warmth instead of burning in hellfire any longer. There was cool air licking at his face, and moving dark strands of hair in front of his bright blue eyes. The glow was gone, as was the rage. The ticking had gone quiet in his head, and the music had gone away. The gear hovered in the air still, the mechanism stilled, but its light still shining, its grist value undisturbed. The lightning had stopped. Dave rested on the ground with his lips parted, breathing shallowly, eyes closed and arms limp out to the sides. Hovering in front of John’s chest was a swooping double symbol in pale blue crystal, shimmering like sunstruck diamond despite the low light of the alley.
His contracted heart, unhindered by oil and sludge.
“So you really are a guardian,” Dirk said curiously, stepping closer to take a look at the newly displayed symbol, heels clicking on the concrete. “...Look better with dark hair, too. That was a stupid ass idea Dave had, blasting you both to dislodge whatever crud was on your heart while he struck directly. ...But it worked,” he admitted.
Purified.
Water streaked down John’s cheeks as emotions he hadn’t been able to feel for quite some time came to the surface all at once, leaving his mind blank, awash with thoughts. What had happened? Had he really been so corrupted that it took two people to fix him? He’d just wanted to save his home…
“Dave, I-” he started, then grimaced when he realized the other guardian wasn’t responsive right then. The contracted heart was still there, even if it wasn’t ticking, so he was alive. He would recover. Maybe, John thought, he was having dreams of his own right then.
Ignoring the two symbols’ proximity, John leaned forwards to kiss Dave’s slack mouth, murmuring in apology, asking him to wake up.
The symbols touched with a soft strike of crystal on crystal, and with it came a dazzling light as they interacted. Gears appeared all around them, unmoving in midair, till the breeze whipped up and spun them back to action, forcing the pieces to move and click until the ticking picked back up. Time, though not having been stopped for anyone but Dave, was moving once again. Red eyes slowly opened in time to see John grinning at him, a normal looking John, dressed all in shades of blue. A long hood was caught in the breeze, whipping up towards the sky with a soft tinkling sound from a rounded bell at the end. Bracelets were stacked on his wrists, and beneath his folded legs, pointed yellow shoes peeked out from beneath layered dark blue pants. There was color in his cheeks, and though his eyes were still supernaturally bright, they no longer glowed.
Dave opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance.
Grist was appearing all around them, welling up as if from the ground itself, from the sky, whipping around on the unnatural breeze that funneled its way into the alleyway. It chimed as it rang out, focusing solely on their location like a broken fire hydrant spilling water into a pond.
“What’s happening?” John asked, confused.
“You’re being given a boon, it looks like,” Dirk said, stepping to the side to tap at a massive chunk with his sword’s tip.
“From who? Why?” Dave asked, just as confused.
“Earth. Hell, maybe your contractors too. You must’ve done something they approved of, or done something when your contracts interacted.”
“Look at it all,” John mused quietly as it continued to pour out from its unspecified source, wind picking the smaller pieces up to carry away towards his ship he assumed. “I’ve never seen this much grist in one place.”
“Guess you found a new way to earn grist aside from theft,” Dirk smirked. “Now that you’re not all fucked up and gray, I assume you’re gonna stop the whole tryin’ to kill people for theirs thing?”
The kiss was not discussed, though John slowly got up and helped Dave to his feet after the contracts returned to their original places, then darted up into the air to get a better look. The grist wasn’t just coming from where they’d been fighting. It was coming from the entire city, from the trees, and appeared to be separate from the distributed grist caused by the earlier destruction. A higher value. All of it was going towards his ship, collecting itself on the breeze and being stored. He drifted back down and quickly hugged Dave, spinning him around with the force.
“This is going to be more than enough!” he said excitedly. “If this keeps up, I’ll be able to get my home back! I’ll be able to get everyone back! My world will be okay!”
“When will you be leaving?”
“As soon as it’s done being collected, I guess. There’s no time to waste, I’ve been away long enough and nothing will happen until I get there and-” John rattled off, only going quiet when Dave hugged him back.
“...I’ll come back, you know,” John said softly.
“Do you promise?” Dave asked. “I only now get to see the real you and you’re leaving.”
“I promise. Someday I’ll come back to you. And this time it’ll be as a friend,” John swore, savoring the closeness while he could as the dark sky was alight with floating chunks of gemlike grist that twinkled like candies in the moonlight.
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cake for dessert
Grayson wants a slice of MJ for dessert on a rainy day
4.8k
warnings: badly written smut
A/N: one of the MJ things I promised to upload. It’s storming like crazy here and this is all I want in life rn so I figured this was the one to post.
***
A chilly spring rain has descended over LA out of nowhere, as MJ discovers with surprise when she and her best friend Lainey step out of their final store at The Grove. That Saturday had started off warm and sunny, a perfect weekend day to spend out and about, but the storm rolling in is suddenly derailing her and Lainey’s plans for a chill afternoon at the beach.
“Well, shit,” Lainey remarks, glancing up at the dark clouds looming in the not-so-distant skyline.
���Right?” MJ concurs. She scrunches her nose and watches Lainey pout as they consider what else they might do with their Saturday. With MJ still busy working hard at her new job and, admittedly, being wrapped up in the fading newness of Grayson, she and Lainey haven't had much time to spend together. Especially considering her friend’s own relationship and hectic schedule.
A fat raindrop surprises her by landing on her nose, and both of them giggle as the sudden light sprinkle becomes more steady. They hurry down the walkway to the parking garage until they find MJ’s car, hurrying inside and slamming the doors just in time for the rain to start really coming down.
“Looks like we’re going home, unless you want to fight the LA drivers who have no idea what they're doing in the rain to go to a movie or something,” MJ jokes, selecting her favorite rainy day playlist full of Tame Impala, Bon Iver, Rex Orange County, and the like to serenade them on the way back to her apartment.
Lainey laughs. She’s also from out of state and shares MJ’s anecdotal opinion of the LA natives. “Yeah, as much as I want to stay and cuddle and feed each other takeout, I think for that reason I’m gonna have to head out when we get to your place. It’ll take me an extra hour to get home because of this.”
Now it’s MJ’s turn to playfully but also somewhat seriously jut out her lower lip in an impression of Lainey’s earlier pout. “Who’s gonna dangle pad Thai noodles into my mouth, then?”
“I don’t know, babe. Don’t you have a boyfriend or something now?” Lainey smirks, snatching MJ’s phone from her lap and waving it in her face so her lock screen illuminates, an accidental candid she had captured of said boyfriend with that beautiful smile shining right at her.
“It’s not the same,” whines MJ, entering the rapidly congesting highway. “First of all, he’s busy most of the day. Second, he makes it sexy, whereas you’re just plain cute. I don’t think I’m in the mood to be sexy today.”
That was true, for sure. Her outfit consisted of a pair of black leggings, one of Gray’s t-shirts that hung off her body shapelessly, and a baseball cap to hide the fact that she wore no makeup. Between her stuffy nose from the cold she’s fighting and the lack of sleep from the night before, she couldn’t be bothered that morning to try any harder.
Lainey, who had been listening while checking the visor mirror to see if her mascara had survived the rain, feigns offense. “Wow, bitch, are you saying I’m not sexy?”
“Boo, you’re sooo sexy. Grayson should probably thank you for half of my skills based on your tips over the years, now that I think about it,” MJ grins, causing Lainey to cackle.
Their girl talk continues the rest of the surprisingly short car ride back to MJ’s apartment building. MJ pulls up behind Lainey’s car and hugs her bestie over the console.
“Love you. Text me when you’re home so I know you survived the drive.”
“Will do. Love you, babe.”
MJ makes sure Lainey is in her car before driving into her covered spot. The tiredness had been real before, but the pure exhaustion hit her out of nowhere as her mind processes that she’s now home. She’s suddenly looking forward to nothing more than ordering said takeout, soaking in a too-hot bath, and watching The Hobbit series all afternoon.
She shuts the door to her apartment behind her with a sigh and trudges into her room, tossing her bags on her bed. Desperate to start the second half of her day of relaxation, it takes her all of 30 seconds to strip down and make her way into the bathroom. As the soaking tub fills, she selects a Lush bath bomb and bubble bar from the basket on the counter.
With a last-minute face mask applied, hair piled on top of her head to keep it dry, and New Girl ready to play on her phone, she’s just settling into the water with a light moan when the phone begins buzzing on the ledge of her soaking tub. She dries her hands and smiles when she sees Grayson’s name on the FaceTime call.
“Hi, baby,” she answers once his handsome face fills the screen, scooping some of the foamy bubbles closer to her chest so they fluff out cloud-like from her skin.
Grayson grins and takes a second to admire at her. “Hi, sweetheart. You look so fucking cute.”
MJ rolls her eyes but flushes and smiles appreciatively. “If you say so. How’s filming going?”
He puffs his cheeks and blows out the air slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Good, but it’s been a long day. E and I both decided to call it quits early; we’re both way too strung out on no sleep and anxiety to get much else done, especially now that the weather’s gone to shit.”
“I’m sorry, Bear, I know you both wanted to get everything wrapped tonight,” she laments with him, wishing she could comfort him with a kiss to his plump pink lips. “I’m kind of in the same boat. Lainey and I couldn't go to the beach, and between this cold I have and the fact it’s getting harder and harder to sleep without you, I’m so tired.”
Grayson smiles at her in that way he reserves only for her — soft, crooked, his hazel eyes sparkling in the center and crinkling just the tiniest bit at the corners — especially at the sound of her little pet name for him.
“Can I come over? I’ve been thinking about you all day, but I didn't want to cut into your time with Lainey. I just need to be with you.”
“Yes please,” MJ agrees with a sniffle. “As long as you’re the big spoon while we have a couch day. That’s about all I’m gonna be good for today, I think.”
“Of course,” he grins, getting into his car. “Are you gonna be my little cuddle bug all afternoon, Peach?”
She hears an exasperated ‘oh my God’ in the background and can practically see Ethan’s eye-roll out of frame.
“Yeah,” she coos back to her boyfriend, then, “hi, E.”
“Hi, MJ,” he grunts. As she’s naked underneath the clouds of bubbles, Grayson doesn’t angle the phone towards his brother, but she can still hear his voice. “You know, he’s already a cornball most of the time, but you really bring it out of him in droves, dude.”
Grayson doesn’t even react to Ethan, his gaze fixated instead on MJ through the phone. “Good. I sleep better with you in my arms, too.”
“Ugh,” Ethan complains. “Where are my fucking AirPods?”
She does, indeed, hear rustling, presumably from the older twin, but she chooses to ignore him as well. “Can you pick up Thai or Veggie Grill or something on your way over?”
“Oooh, yeah, either of those sound awesome. I’m starving,” Grayson agrees. “I’ll have to drop E off at home first and hopefully traffic wont be too bad both ways. Be there in an hour?”
“Sounds good. Thank you, baby,” she says quietly with a sweet, content smile.
He winks at her, and his voice drops a couple of notches. “No problem, Peach. As long as you’re my dessert.”
Her body rushes with heat, and not from the temperature of the water she’s soaking in. Before she can answer, Ethan groans louder than ever.
“Oh my God, dude, I fucking heard that! Can you keep your cheesy sex talk at zero while we’re literally right next to each other?” His voice suddenly picks up even louder so she can hear him. “MJ, I can’t believe you still let him fuck you when he says shit like that.”
“He makes up for it with the other things his mouth can do,” she retorts, winking at Grayson. Her giggles join Grayson’s howls of laughter and taunts at his brother, who apparently is very much done with the conversation. “Alright, I love you both. Drive safe, please.”
True to his word, Grayson shows up a little over an hour later with a bag of Veggie Grill in one hand and a Starbucks medicine ball in the other. MJ absolutely despises hot tea, and he knows it, but he also knows she won’t be able to resist the soothing warmth of it — especially considering he took the time and effort to get it for her.
He smiles at the sight of her cocooned in the plush, cozy fabric of her favorite blanket and leans down to give her a quick kiss. He hands her the drink, which she does indeed accept with warm eyes and a soft heart. She takes a sip and lets the hot liquid coat her scratchy throat as he plops down next to her with a sigh and sets the food on her coffee table. Grayson cups her cheeks to draw her in for another kiss — lingering, closed-mouthed pecks this time.
“Hi,” he says, smiling and dropping one to her red-tipped nose for good measure.
“Hi,” she whispers, her voice hoarse from mouth-breathing more and more throughout the afternoon. “Sorry I look so gross. This cold is kicking my ass the later it gets. You’re probably going to catch it.”
“First of all: worth it. Second: are you kidding? This is my favorite MJ,” he assures, peppering little kisses all across her forehead as he draws her in to his chest. Her hair is in the same messy bun from her bath, her glasses are on, and she’s dressed in her old college crewneck sweatshirt, boy-short Calvins, and fuzzy socks… “No one gets to see you like this except me. All fresh-faced and beautiful and undone. All mine.”
“Mmm,” MJ hums, snuggling into him and sniffling. “We’ll see how you feel when I’m snoring like a 300 pound grandpa in a little bit because I can’t breathe out of my nose.”
“Okay, but I don’t see how that’ll be different from any other night.” She draws back and smacks him on the arm playfully, scoffing incredulously. He just barks out a laugh and kisses the frown off her lips before distributing their late lunch between them.
They make comfortable small talk while The Office plays quietly in the background, mixing with the patter of rain on the large windows. A fuzzy warm ball settles in the pit of her stomach that has her feeling almost heady at the simple intimacy of the moment.
MJ finishes first. She takes off her glasses and places them on the coffee table next to her tea so she can curl into a ball and nuzzle into Gray’s shoulder. He kisses the top of her head affectionately and finishes his meal in silence while they watch the antics of Michael Scott and gang for the millionth time. Eventually his empty plate joins hers and he opens his burly arms to gather her in his embrace, lying down and bringing her with him.
Grayson chuckles when she fully climbs on top of him so she’s straddling his hips and hugging him with all of her limbs like a koala would a tree, her nose buried into the five o’clock shadow on his neck. He makes sweeping passes up and down her back. “Needy today, sweetheart?”
“A little,” MJ mumbles, eyelids already feeling heavy, even more so when he fixes the oversized blanket around the both of them. He smells so good, feels so solid and warm, his breath tickling her ear soothingly. They FaceTime every day, but their crazy lives have made it where this is the first time in days that they’ve seen each other in person. “Missed you. We both work too much.”
He lets out a little hum of agreement, sighing when he feels her lips pucker to dot baby kisses on his bronze skin. His hands stroke up and down her back comfortingly. “I missed you, too. E and I should have just one more day of shooting before we’ll be home more to work on editing and stuff with the team.”
“I’ll be in Seattle most of next week for a new client recruit,” she reminds, recognizing the inexplicit invitation. “Otherwise I’d come over and work remote with you.”
“Ugh, that’s right,” Gray laments, sighing. “Kiss me. Please?”
MJ gives him a lazy smile when she feels his fingers tilt her chin up. Their makeout is slow and simple and just what the both need, reconnecting after days and lives apart.
A few minutes go by until MJ groans a little and sits up in his lap with a sigh, a string of saliva connecting their lips before breaking with a snap.
“I can’t breathe laying down like that. Or just out of my nose,” she pouts. One of her hands plays with his hair while the other smooths down his t-shirt over his chest where she had rumpled it by laying on him.
Grayson grips her hips and follows her up, hugging her tightly around the middle with those huge, burly arms. “Since you can’t sleep anyways…” he looks at her, and she cocks an eyebrow, her lips quirking questioningly. “Can I have my dessert now? You can sit up on the couch. And no mouth-to-mouth required.”
MJ chuckles and wraps her arms around his broad shoulders, biting her lip as she considers his request. As much as she wants Grayson in any capacity most of the time, today is one of those days where sex just isn't on the table for her.
That being said, can she really resist that tongue? Those lips?
Before she can answer, he continues. “I know you don’t feel good, so I’ll understand if you just aren't up for anything today. But I’m not expecting you to reciprocate at all. I’ve just been wanting… like, basically needing to eat your pussy all week. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for so days.” He traces her jawline with his nose until his lips reach that little spot right behind the hinge and just below her ear, where he licks and nibbles until her hips start shifting in his lap of their own accord. “Please?”
Well, how the fuck is she going to say no to that?
She can’t, and knows he can sense her giving in when he starts to turn them around so she’s reclined against the back of the couch. Grayson grins while he arranges the blankets and pillows around her to get her as comfy as possible.
She watches him fuss over her with loving eyes, but wants to make sure he really is okay with the arrangement, too. “Are you sure? I don’t want to blue ball you. And I can speak from experience that that rug isn't a fun place to be on your knees for an extended period of time.”
Gray smirks at her and plants one more kiss to her lips before sinking down her body, snatching a couple of stray pillows to cushion his knees. “One problem solved. And don't worry about any chance of blue balls; it’s been way too fucking long since I’ve done this, and I’ll be lucky if I don't cum in my pants before I even get you to your first one.”
“Oh, so I’m in for more than one orgasm today?” MJ smiles back down at him and lifts her hips so he can drag her panties down her toned legs, placing her feet on the edge of the couch so she’s nice and open for him once he had the fabric tossed behind him somewhere. “I’d say that was big talk if I didn't know you could back it up.”
She knows he likes a challenge, and combined with his love for being praised and her bare pussy exposed to him at long last, she feels like she’s got a little bit of an upper hand here.
“Always,” he murmurs.
His lips start at the inside of her knee, working their way up to her inner thigh, across her mound to nuzzle in the little patch of hair she hadn't bothered to trim down between waxes, before trekking down the opposite leg. MJ knows his goal is to build up the anticipation for them both, and he’s succeeding; she can hear his breathing intensify as he tries to take in her scent, and she can feel the wetness beginning to leak out of her without so much as a lick from him.
Finally, he brings his hand up to trace her smooth lower lips, glancing up at her with warm yet lustful eyes as he takes in how his teasing is affecting her. MJ gives it right back, sneaking a hand under her oversized sweatshirt to play with her breast. It drives him absolutely crazy seeing her touch herself, but also not being able to see. If she didn't know any better, she would say sometimes he was more obsessed with her boobs than her actual vagina when they get down.
When his eyes turn dark, she grins and uses her free hand to rake through his hair and pull him towards her pussy while simultaneously pinching her nipple just the way she likes. Grayson growls and turns his attention back where she’s directing him, finally parting her with his middle and index fingers to expose her clit. He places a quick kiss directly to it, causing MJ to gasp and grip his dark locks tighter.
He gives it a more sensual smooch and pulls back to watch more of her juices trickle out of her until he can’t resist really getting to work anymore. His moan vibrates against her when his tongue swipes through the sweet wetness, trailing it to her clit with his mouth and giving the nub a gentle suckle before slipping his tongue back to her entrance. MJ lets out little whimpers of bliss as he makes out with her pussy, his tongue reaching as far inside her as it can, wiggling around and slurping down everything that comes out of her.
She lets him eat her out with no real purpose, thoroughly enjoying the constant stimulus of his lips and teeth and tongue without a driving need to make her cum behind it. Her hands flit between stroking his hair comfortingly, to playing with her breasts, to digging her nails across his clothed shoulders.
“Feels so good,” MJ whispers while she watches him work. Her fingers are combing gently through his hair once again to push the dark strands off of his forehead just in time to see his eyes flit open to meet her own.
“Tastes so good,” Grayson growls back, taking a moment to sit on his haunches and get a thorough look at her spread out for him. Her pussy is swollen and wet, the insides of her thighs bare the faint markings of his teeth, and her face is pure bliss even as she sniffs and coughs a bit. “You okay?”
MJ nods. It’s sweet of him to check, but all she wants now is his face back in her pussy. She bites her lip and one of her heels, still clad in a fuzzy sock, digs into the middle of his broad back to push him in. Grayson smirks darkly and follows her lead, his lips immediately suctioning around her plump little clit.
“Fuck…” MJ moans. Her voice is raspier than usual and, like everything else about her today, goes straight to his dick, which throbs untouched in his grey sweats.
He starts working her over with purpose now, determined to get her to cum in the next 30 seconds. He knows he can do it even if she hadn't started chanting, “like that, like that, don’t fucking stop…”
Her moans reach peak levels, as loud as she can be with her sore throat, and her clit throbs on his tongue. Her back arches off the couch and her hands dive fully in his thick hair now to hold him to her, her heel still pressing against his spine doing the same.
Grayson groans and has to remove one of his hands from her hips to reach into his boxers and squeeze his dick hard enough to stave off his own orgasm. He slips two fingers of his other hand in her dripping pussy to give her something to clench around, which doesn’t help his attempt at not cumming literally in his pants when he feels her walls gripping his digits like a vice.
“Baby…” she whines as he brings her down with little kitten licks on her pulsing clit, her thighs quivering around his head. Grayson hums and nuzzles into that delicate skin until the muscles beneath stop trembling, and the flutters around his middle and ring fingers have ceased. He never takes his eyes off her face — eyes closed, mouth agape, cheeks flushed. Beautiful and dismantled because of him.
Once he feels she (and, frankly, he himself) have calmed just enough to be able to take more, he starts to press and curl the fingers inside her. MJ whines softly as the build picks up again, which turns into shrieking when he wraps his swollen lips around her clit again and sucks the nub sharply into his mouth. Between the sloppy wetness of his mouth and the way he applies pressure just right on her g-spot, it takes all of a minute for her to fall apart again. She marvels, not for the first time, at how fucking good he is at this, how well he knows her body.
‘Always’ is right.
Grayson sits back, removes his hand and mouth from her and growls at the sight before him while he pushes against the backs of her thighs. So much for sitting up, as she’s now practically on her back, but neither of them are complaining or stopping to readjust. She’s perfectly exposed for him, her juices and his saliva coating her skin and dripping down her ass, she’s that wet.
“MJ…”
Her name escaping his lips in that husky voice finally gets her to lazily blink her eyes open until her gaze focuses on him as clearly as she can. He looks sexy as fuck on his knees for her, pupils dilated and the stubbled skin of his chin and jaw covered in shiny wetness.
Grayson’s big hands knead the insides of her thighs until he’s confident he has her full attention. He smoothes his palms to the crooks of her knees, moving her gently until she’s practically folded in half, and without breaking eye contact shifts his head that much further down so he can go to town on her even lower.
MJ gasps and shoots one of her hands to his hair, her first instinct being to push him away, until half a second passes and she’s doing the exact opposite. No one has ever done this for her before, and now she’s wondering how she had gone so long without the sensation of his tongue swiping up her cum from that virtually untouched hole.
If she was in any right state, she would have seen Grayson’s smug, quite literally ass eating smirk at her reaction to his ministrations. He isn’t sure why in their nearly eight months together he had never eaten her ass before; it isn’t the first time he’s done it to a girl. Maybe because he treasures sex with MJ more than anyone in his life before, maybe knowing in his heart that they have a long future of making love ahead of them had caused him to wait. What he does know, is that he’ll never be able to resist doing it again when the desire to rises, especially given her voracious response to it.
“Fuck!” MJ wails when he spreads her even more open with his hand so he can have better access, his tongue rimming and prodding her asshole to perfection while the thumb of his free hand presses upward on the hood of her clit. He knows her so well, can sense she’s too sensitive for direct stimulation there, but the pressure right above the bundle of nerves is exactly what she’s craving without her even realizing it.
But he does, and it feels so good — too good; Grayson’s eyes drop closed as he lets her taste and sounds overcome his senses, and it’s like her pleasure is his as his hand finally begins to jerk himself off. He builds up the speed of his strokes with her increased pace of breath, until she cums for a third time, and his tongue is quickly swiping all the way up her crease, from asshole to clit as he stands to his feet. He leans over her with one hand on the back of the couch and licks the last of her off his lips as he takes in her body to fuel him even more, even as clothed as she still is.
MJ starts to come-to enough to realize what he needs, and lifts her shirt to expose more skin to him. She drinks in the sight of her gorgeous boyfriend towering over her with his sweats and boxer briefs pushed down just enough for his equally beautiful dick to be out while he strokes the head aggressively. He’s about to explode and she knows it, just as attuned to his body’s tells as he is with hers.
His face is hovering just above hers, and she watches his mouth drop and his eyes train on her exposed skin. MJ bites her lip and whines, pulling roughly on her nipples while her eyes flit between his face and his cock. “Cum on my pussy, baby, I want it — want your cum all over me, make it your pussy…”
She’s rambling, but it’s all he needed as a deep, relieved groan escapes him, followed by soft grunts as he shoots all over her, exactly where she told him to and then some. MJ moans quietly and knocks his hand out of the way to finish him off herself, squeezing the last drops of the pearly white from him. The fingers of her other hand collect what she can from her skin to keep it from dripping on the couch, spreading it instead over her swollen lower lips.
His chest still heaves when she looks up at him with a tired smile, which he matches with a laugh when her final stroke makes him flinch. He pushes her hand off his cock and tells her, “Don’t move.”
She obeys, and watches him lean over to grab his phone off the side table, unlocking it and swiping up. “Is this okay?” he asks, motioning with his head. “This is too fucking sexy. Need a memento while you’re out of town.”
MJ giggles and nods, spreading her legs a little more as he goes to town. She does her best to coat her pussy in his cum, her long, glittering manicured nails adding a certain aesthetic to the shots. She even scoops some up and let him capture her sucking it off her middle finger.
Grayson smiles tiredly and kisses her sweetly, the gentleness and simplicity of it a little stark after the pure filth of the last twenty minutes. He tucks himself back in his pants and goes into her bathroom to get a wet rag to clean her up with, chucking it in the washer when he’s done. On his way back over to her, he picks up her long-forgotten panties off the middle of the living room floor with a smirk and hands them to her, plopping next to her and dragging her into his lap once they’re back on her body.
“I’m gonna have to insist on you having dessert every day,” she yawns into his chest with a sniffle. “I didn't know you liked cake so much.”
Grayson laughs and squeezes her tight to him, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead as he confirms to Netflix that, yes, they are indeed still watching. “And Ethan says I’m the cornball.”
“If he only knew.”
#idk if i like this or not#but it is what it is#hope its okay#dolan twins#grayson dolan#ethan dolan#smut#grayson mj
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🌸just let me adore u🌸
Yoongi has a new kink and, that kink is love.
(set in the fear and dumplings universe because IM SO SOFT FOR YOONGI TODAY OH MY GOD)
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
A/N: I am...a mess. i love yoongi so much, that is all.
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: smut, language, LOVE!!!!!!!!!! SO MUCH LOVE!!!!
The next morning, you awoke to the sound of rain against the windows of the car. The sound is calming and accompanied by the familiar hum of morning traffic. You feel a sense of peace as you snuggle further into the warm body underneath you. The events that had transpired the night before played over and over as you tried to contain the sleepy smile that teased your lips. Yoongi’s profession, his hands, his throat, the way he spoke to you: it was everything you could have ever wanted. There was a serious urge to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming but, you decided against it when you realize that you and Yoongi had fallen asleep in the same position you two had fucked in. Your dress still lay on the floor of Yoongi’s back seat and his button up was still hanging haphazardly off of his body. You bit your lip as you took in the sight of Yoongi’s neck which was decorated with at least 5 purple bite marks from your frantic mouth. The color suited his throat entirely too well and, you had to resist the urge to suck more of his tender skin into your mouth. You knew that Yoongi definitely had a few pent up kinks that much was clear but, you weren’t sure if he would appreciate a hicky as a wakeup call.
Sound familiar?
Of course it does.
You did this a few weeks ago only…
This time…
This time, you were in love.
“Are you awake?” Yoongi’s gentle voice pulls you out of your daydream as you slowly untuck your face from his neck.
Yoongi’s sporting a bemused expression, his eyes filled with genuine adoration, his pretty lips curved up into a small smile, “There she is…good morning.”
There isn’t anything else to do but, kiss him at this point because; he looks so adorable you want to die.
Soft kisses are placed into his smiling mouth, your hands bracing themselves against his cheeks causing him to giggle into your lips.
“Good morning my beautiful…” kiss ��beautiful” kiss “beautiful” kiss “boyfriend.”
Yoongi’s hands secure themselves onto your waist, pulling you closer to him, relishing in your attention, feeling like a kid on Christmas.
“You still want to be my girlfriend I see…” He remarks playfully but, you know there is some seriousness in his question.
It is Yoongi after all.
Incredulously, you pull away from his lips, “Still? What do you think I slept on it and, then woke up and, was like ‘hmm actually I hate that guy’ lemme dip out really quick?”
Yoongi chuckles, but there is softness glued to his features, “I don’t know…I thought maybe my skills between your thighs had you feeling some type of way…”
Heat rushes to your cheeks as you literally feel the sensation of Yoongi’s tongue echoing against your core from the previous night.
He had a point…
“I could say the same for you, you know. You professed your love to me while you were inside of me soooo…”
You nudge his nose, giggling as his hands move to pinch your sides.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about…” He mumbles against your lips, smirking slightly before leaning in to kiss you again. “Also, why didn’t you tell me you knew some Korean hm? I was trying to be slick…”
God, he sounded hot in the morning…
“Yoongi you said Saranghae…that is like the first phrase anyone learns in Korean.” You laugh, pecking against his lips, “I got a few other words too, although the fact that I don’t know everything you said to me is slowly eating me alive so, thanks for that.”
He chuckles warmly, leaning back against the backseat of his car, “You’re welcome. I gotta have some sort of advantage...now that my secret is out.”
His attitude tickles you, as it’s a part of Yoongi’s charm but, it’s also one of his coping mechanisms.
But, he’s working on his sincerity and, so are you.
So, this morning, underneath the sound of the rain, you decide that you’re going to let him have it…
“I really am so in love with you…” You whisper, softening your gaze, thumbing across his cheek, “When I heard you say it…I…” A deep breath is pulled through your nose as the stinging of tears threatens the corners of your eyes, “I felt like I was dreaming. I couldn’t believe I was lucky enough to have someone like you fall in love with me.”
Try as you might, the tears win the battle and spill over your bottom lashes.
Yoongi feels his heart constricting in his chest as his hands quickly pull you against him, his lips finding the side of your face.
“You’re going to make me cry, stop…” He chuckles but, there is instability in his voice as he cuddles you closer, “How could I not fall in love with you hm? You didn’t give me much of a choice.”
A shaky chuckle leaves your lips as you wrap your arms around him, feeling soft and small in his grip, something that is usually foreign to you.
“So, you’re saying this was by force then?” You tease, tucking your face into his neck.
With another kiss to your cheek, Yoongi pulls you out of his neck, cradling your face between his hands. His eyes are glossy and, you know he’s doing everything in his power to hold back the tears.
“I’m saying…” He smirks, his pinky tracing underneath your right eye, “…when someone so beautiful…” He kiss your lips, “So kind” another kiss, “and so, fucking brilliant.” One more kiss and, then he pulls back to look at you, “gives you the time of day, you have no choice but to fall in love with them.” Yoongi chuckles almost incredulously, kissing you again before whispering, “…falling in love with you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
And, once again, there really isn’t another choice is there?
You gotta kiss him, for the hundredth time.
And you do, for a few moments the two of you grin and, indulge in one another like the lovesick fools that you are.
While you’d like to have another repeat of last night, Yoongi isn’t content with fucking you in his car again.
He wants you back home in the comfort of his bed, where he has the room to love on you like he wants to.
And, he lets you know as soon as you start pressing your hips against him.
“As much as I want you to fuck me, we don’t have the space for what I want you to do to me…” He croons into your ear causing you to groan in frustration.
“Noooo…” You protest, wiggling in his grip, eliciting a rickety chuckle from his throat, “tell me what you’re saying…no more secrets.”
Yoongi’s laughter continues, kissing all over your face in an attempt to lessen your pouting, “Come back to my place with me, I wanna make my girlfriend breakfast” He smiles as your expression seems to soften before placing a kiss against your ear, “and then, if you want, we can go to my room and, take care of eachother.”
Well, that made your panties wet.
‘Take care of each other’ is probably the sweetest way to describe sexual activity but, the way Yoongi’s raspy voice murmurs it in your ear, makes it sound like a dirty secret.
Like it’s something just for the two of you.
It feels like that sometimes…
“We can do it all day if you want to.” He whispers again, nibbling on your earlobe and, if you’re panties were wet before, they feel as though they are drenched now.
---------------
After resisting the urge to beg Yoongi to fuck you in the backseat, the two of you drive back to his place.
According to him, Hoseok and Namjoon are probably upstairs sleeping off a hangover due to their presence at a frat party the night before.
Yoongi makes you breakfast; bacon, eggs, toast and, a big bowl of fresh fruit you help cut up while he was frying the bacon. The two of you ate at the dining room table, speaking between bites of food about the ending of the semester, Jimin’s showcase and, everything in between.
Breakfast moves along comfortably but, Yoongi’s been watching the way your lips form around your words, the way they close around a morsel of food. He’s been watching the way your eyes light up as you talk, the way they sparkle with enthusiasm as you speak to him.
Fuck, he’s never been more enamored with another person.
He doesn’t really care how well he eats or how well he scrubs the bottom of the pan, right now, all he wants is you.
“I’m cold…”He mumbles into your hair as he arms secure themselves around your waist, his voice slightly smaller than before , “are you almost done?”
You giggle, setting down the dish your currently drying to cuddle back against him, “Yes, do you need me for something?”
He grumbles, tugging you further away from the sink, tucking his face into your neck, “It’s time for beeeedddd…”
This causes your laughter to increase because, despite the sun being hidden behind a few clouds, it’s clearly 10am.
“We literally just had breakfast.” You point out, stumbling as he continues pulling you towards the bedroom.
He chuckles shamelessly, tugging you through the doorway of his room, “Its. Time. For. Bed.”
Yoongi sounds slightly childish and, its warming your heart from the inside out. You’ve never seen him so playful before, so carefree…
“Can I at least have something to change into then? Since I never have a chance to pack before coming over to your house.” You giggle as he detaches himself from you, rushing over to his dresser before tugging out a mass of black material and, tossing it towards you.
“Here…” He mutters, smirking fondly at your failed attempt to catch it, “How did you manage to miss that?”
“Shut up…” You giggle, pulling off your dress and, slipping the soft t-shirt over your body.
Not more than thirty seconds later, you’re sitting on Yoongi’s lap, placing sweet and messy kisses against his lips.
And, he’s smiling into yours all the while, his hands exploring the curves of your body.
He’s throbbing and hard beneath you but, there’s no need to rush, you’ll be on him soon enough.
“I can’t believe you’re actually my girlfriend…” He whispers, beaming, nuzzling his nose against yours.
He’s being so sweet, caressing your skin, sucking gently on your lip, taking the time to play with your hair, he’s all over you.
“I can’t believe you’re actually my boyfriend, I used to think you hated me...” You giggle and, this causes his own giggle to show itself as his lips find the tender spot on your neck.
“I’ve adored you for so long though, I just never let you see it. Cause I didn’t think you’d want me.” He confesses, feeling safe enough to disclose his doubts, cause he knows you get it.
You always do.
“Well I do.” You smile, kissing the side of his head and, his breath picks up slightly when he feels you press your core against him, “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I don’t think I’ll ever want anyone else this way…”
He’s inside of you moments later, slowly unraveling you from within but, the two of you take your time with eachother, not rushing the end, not wanting the end.
Yoongi pulls away from your neck, his dark eyes locking with yours as he guides your hips on his dick, “It feels so good…how does it feel so good everytime jagi?” He doesn’t break your gaze but, he looks desperate for an answer, he looks so in love, you feel yourself getting choked up.
“Cause you deserve it…” The reply is whispered against his lips and, even through the haziness of his pleasure, you make him smile.
“Yeah? You think so?” His voice is growing reedier when your hips pick up their pace on him, his whole body becoming infected with pleasure, “fuck please don’t keep doing that, please…don’t stop.”
How could you?
How could you stop when everything feels so good, when your beautiful boyfriend is pleading into your neck.
“Are you going to cum for me beautiful?” You whisper into his ear, causing a shiver to wrack through his body, “Are you gonna cum inside for me? Show me how much you love me?”
“Mhm…” He whimpers, his hips moving with more urgency whilst his heart thrashes in his chest, “You love me too right?”
He’s checking because, he still can’t believe it’s a yes but, also because the phrase coming from your lips ruins him, because he knows if you say it…he’s done for.
With your hands sliding up his back, you kiss all over the side of his face, your own orgasm careening towards you, “I love you so much Yoongi…is that what you want to hear baby? Does hearing your girlfriend say she loves you make you wanna cum?”
You’re driving him crazy.
He pulls his face from your neck, his eyes wild with desire and desperation as they lock onto yours, “Please say it again, please oh my god…it makes it so good….so good, baby please tell me you love me again…”
“I love you…” You smirk as he fucks into you even harder, his face smoothing out in complete and utter pleasure, “I love you, do you hear me Yoongi? I love you so much…”
“Again…again please…please baby…I’m so close, I’m gonna cum so hard for you,” He’s lost it again, he’s drowning but, he doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care how desperate he sounds, he wants to hear it a thousand times.
“Look at me, focus right here…” You coo to him, attempting to reign in his scattered gaze, your hands coming up to hold his cheeks, “I love you Min Yoongi, I’m so in love with you and, I wanna see you cum for me…because I love you, I love you I love you I love you.”
Yoongi lets go, cumming hard enough to blur he’s vision but, what else is new?
You follow suit, trying to wonder what you did to deserve the precious man currently snuggling into your neck, professing his love over and over into your skin.
This time, he doesn’t stop as things settle down. He pulls you into his arms upon laying down against the warmth of his duvet.
As he holds you, he kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips, your fingers…
Any part of you he can reach, all whilst saying those three little words over and over again.
“When we were on the Ferris wheel, I told you us getting together would be a bad idea…” Yoongi’s voice is hoarse with emotion as he touches you, long fingers tucking your hair behind your ear, “and I need you to know that it wasn’t because I didn’t want you. It was because; I already wanted you so bad. I’ve spent my whole life denying my emotions because, it made things easier for me. The rejections, the self-doubt, the insecurities…everything. But you’ve shown me that I was wrong. Denying my feelings has never helped me, it’s only led me farther from the things I want and, I know that because as soon as I let myself feel again, as soon as I opened my heart…I got you.”
Tears spill over your eyes and, silently, Yoongi kisses each one away, smiling delicately at you.
“I would never hurt you…”
Is all you can manage because, anything else would lead to you sobbing in his arms.
Yoongi’s smile brightens as he nods, “I know and, that’s why my heart is yours now...”
With a sniffle, you kiss him again, long and hard, holding him tightly before whispering, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
#smutcentralnet#yoongi#suga#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#agust d#agust d smut#agust d fluff#yoongi drabbles#yoongi one shots#yoongi fanfiction#suga bts#bts#bts yoongi#bts suga#min yoongi#bts one shot#bts smut#bts fluff#fear and dumplings#bts fanfics#min suga#suga pd#yoongi cute#yoongi hot#yoongi x reader
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Little Red Riding Hood - Pt. 1
For my O.G. nonny who requested Lil’ Red, I’ve revamped it slightly and if you guys like this, I’ll bring back the remaining chapters and finish this one out. Enjoy and watch out for a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 🐺💋
“Jackie, get the fuck in here!”
Nikolai was always an asshole, but he was in an especially shitty mood. He didn’t like waiting and I had made him wait with Jackie at the trap house for over an hour. I misplaced my car keys and had to toss my whole apartment for them before I left. I was stuck in bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic before I finally got there.
They thought I was backing out and were arguing loudly when I knocked on the door. First, there was silence as Nikolai checked me out through the peephole. Then, the sound of the deadbolts unlocking and the chain coming off the door. The door opened abruptly and I was greeted with a shiny, special edition glock to the temple and forced into the kitchen.
Nikolai yanked Jackie by her skinny ass arm and pushed her down into the chair next to me. “You have thirty minutes to learn how to swallow this shit and then get it all down, Red. I’m not fucking around. You don’t want to fuck this up.” He slammed down a bottle of vegetable oil, an industrial size box of condoms and about 100 packets of heroin stacked high on a plate.
“Nik, what the fuck! That wasn’t the agreement. I’m not swallowing that shit,” I yelled out and backed away from the table. “What the fuck do you mean that wasn’t part of the agreement?!” Nikolai was waving the glock around and sweating profusely. “She’s taking the shoes, babe. I toooold you Lana’s doing the balloons! You’re such a fucking tool.”
Jackie was in the middle of laughing when Nikolai backhanded her across the face. Her lip was bleeding, but she just sniffled and wiped at the blood with her sleeve. She was still laughing a little. I couldn’t stop looking at her track marks.
“Fuck…right…um…come here, Red I don’t have all day here,” Nikolai said impatiently as he walked over to the closet. He pulled out a pair of black, Gucci wedges. “There’s 50 packets worth of H inside of each shoe. Well, not so much inside as they’re part of the fuckin’ fabric. My guys liquefy it and shit.” Nikolai stepped back smiling. He was proud of himself. The shoe method of drug running had worked everytime.
“So don’t be fucking around with these shoes on, they’re delicate. Take the plane into Gotham International then go to down to the East River Pier. Falcone will send a guy to come and pick you up at the airport and take you to the yacht and that’s where you make the drop. I’m giving you $2K up front and you get the other $7K when you finish the deal.”
I pulled off my Prada flats, put on the wedges and shoved the money Nikolai gave me into my tote. “$10K, Nikolai. They’re supposed to give me $10K altogether. So maybe you’re supposed to give me $3K?” I stood there with my hand out. Nik rolled his eyes and peeled off another $500 and shoved it into my hand. “Tough shit. That hour you made me wait cost $500, bitch.”
“Fuck Nik, I need that money!” I screamed out. I needed that money badly. I was a high-end shopping addict with a penchant for prescription pills and liquor. I owed money to a grimy loan shark and was late by three weeks on the vig. I was holding him off with heady flirtatiousness but he was becoming increasingly inpatient. He threatened to slice my face with a razor the last time I walked out of my apartment.
“Take the shoes and get to the fucking airport Red.”
——-
I waited on the packed TSA line behind a mom and her two kids and prayed for no drug sniffing dogs. I had my docs ready and handed them over to the TSA officer. “Scarlett Agnelli.” He said my name like he was reading a weird recipe he googled on the internet. It was strange hearing my government name. Everyone I knew called me Red. He looked me up and down. I smiled a toothy grin and he gave me a wink. “Have a nice flight, beautiful. Take care of yourself.” I never have any trouble with men. At least at first. They all pretty much high tail it when they discover I’m a lunatic.
I waltzed my way through TSA without ringing any alarm bells and even had time to visit the M.A.C. store before boarding the plane. At least Nikolai sprung for first class this time. I ordered a glass of white wine, swiped on a bit of red lipstick, spritzed myself with perfume and threw on my red cape. It always got cold on the plane and I wanted to snuggle up for a nap.
I woke up and we were throttling into Gotham International. The snow was starting to fall over Gotham making it look like the inside of a snow globe. I turned on my phone and sent out a text to Nikolai to let him know I landed. I freshened up with a little Evian spray and combed out my long brown locks. I grabbed my carry-on and set out to meet whatever goon was sent to get me.
I stood outside on the arrivals platform looking around. Gotham was beautiful at night and even though it was cold, I didn’t mind waiting. I pulled the hood of the cape over my head so my hair wouldn’t get damp with snow. Pretty soon I’d be collecting my money and be snuggled up at whatever boutique hotel they put me up at. I was already thinking about the mini-bar and room service.
A low voice woke me up from my thoughts. “Hey there, little red riding hood. I’ve been waiting for a sweet thing like you all night.” I looked up to see a very pale man with slicked back green hair and cool blue eyes. I gave him a once over. He was dressed in a white button down shirt and black trousers. His shoes were expensive as was his watch. His extended hand was covered in gold rings. His look was a little strange, but I decided he was suitable to drive me.
Falcone must have sent one of his made men. I guess he stepped up his game because of the amount of H in these shoes.
I shoved my carry on toward him. “Is this going to fit in there?” I motioned over to the purple Lamborghini by pointing at it with my mouth, my chin coming up slightly and my lips pursing. He started laughing uncontrollably. His laugh chilled me to my core but I couldn’t help but be curious. I decided then and there that I was up for a little adventure. He couldn’t touch me with all this H on me anyway.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He grabbed the bag from me and our fingers touched. I felt an immediate spark of heat. “Scarlett, but call me Red, everyone does.” He rolled his head to the side and snarled. “Red. I like that.” He drove like a maniac, peeling out, not stopping at traffic lights, blowing stop signs and generally being a nut case.
“Hey, what the fuck are you doing? Hello? Precious cargo over here. Do I have to remind you that I’ve got the product on me? You’re attracting unwanted attention. Falcone is going to slice your balls off if we get pinched, sweetie.” This got his attention. “Falcone?” He asked in a soft purr. “Yes honey, your boss. What’s your name anyway?” He grinned a wide smile and I could see his metallic teeth.
Fuck. Falcone has some seriously scary people on the payroll. He’s pretty hot too but he’s about as sharp as a spoon.
“Call me, Mister J.” I took my phone out and started getting driving directions to the pier area. “Ok, Mister J. Where are we staying tonight? I need to rest so we can make this drop bright and early tomorrow at the pier. Listen, I’m looking for 5-star but I can do 4-star if Nikolai forgot to make the reservation.” He leaned towards me with a wink. “I know just the place, doll.” His eyes were undressing me. It was nothing that I hadn’t experienced before but this felt different. I found myself flushed and hot. “Can we roll the windows down in here?”
“Sure Red, anything for you.” J smiled and put his hand up to my cheek. The coolness against the warmth building there was explosive. We parked outside the hotel and I tried to get myself together. “Did you bring the other shoes for me?” I asked curiously. “Shoes?” J had opened the car door and was standing over me. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, allowing me to admire and the tattoos that peaked out from underneath. Suddenly he snapped his fingers.
“Stay with me, kitten, you were saying something about shoes.” J grinned at me again and I had to look away to keep from melting. “Yeah, I can’t keep wearing these. I’m wearing the H you know?” He knelt down and started taking the shoes off of me. He slipped them into my tote bag and left my stocking covered feet shoeless.
“I’ll carry you.” J’s eyes were burning through me. I was slick between the legs and my breasts were swelling beneath my blouse. I was so enthralled by his gaze that I didn’t hear the texts buzzing in from Nikolai telling me that Falcone’s guy was at the airport and where the fuck was I because he was still looking for me.
#joker#leto joker#the joker#joker fanfiction#little red riding hood#mysterious#imposter#stockings#drugs#drug mule#wolf in sheep's clothing#revised
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Have I really ever requested one thing of you (the pegging telltale Riddler h/c)? Time to change that; let's see how the Eddies would respond to being told by their partner that they're a "bad boy" and "need to be punishment" (sexually, of course) - Pegging Anon.
I really enjoy these kinds of asks. honestly just give me a blank check for mayhem, unleash me upon the riddlers like a plague of locusts
nsfw below the cut
Arkham! Riddler
please be careful with this riddler. He has problems reading peoples tone and if he thinks youre angry at him you're liable to send him into a panic.
he really doesn't like dirty talk. dont call him a slut or a whore or anything like that. Not only is it demeaning and humiliating( 2 things this riddler doesnt deal well with) its just a terrible way to get him to do what you want.
again, the idea of punishment in a sexy setting is a turn off for him. He’s afraid of being strangled or choked and he doesn't find being hit sexy.
to put it simply, this riddler reacts better to the carrot than the stick. if you want a good reaction out of him, praise and affection work better. call him a good boy, give him pets and rewards.
IF you were to coax him into it, safeword, soft restraints and reassuring from you that everything will be ok, he’ll still probably cry. he might enjoy himself but the emotional stress will still leave him in an utter state.
i know some people use BDSM to cope with trauma but maybe dont try this on him. pitch the idea and let him mull it over. dont bring it up more than once or twice and let him decide
he always needs a lot of aftercare. he needs to be constantly reassured, not just after sex, that you love him , that he’s done well. lots of kisses and soft words and let him rest from the heavy stuff for a little while.
Blacklight riddler
another riddler you need to tread carefully with. he’s a kinky shit but like...a soft kinky shit who bruises easily.
He wont need coaxing. its either a hell yes or a hell no and you shouldn't push that. He likes sex games but he’s got trauma, sometimes something that was fine yesterday is triggering today so please be gentle and respectful with him.
He doesnt mind being called a bad boy, just not too often. mix it up and don't patronise him all the time . you can tell him off without treating him like a kid.
he likes edging and orgasm denial as a punishment. just dont ruin his orgasm or he wont let you do it again.
please don't ever hit him during sex. a playful thump on the arm when he’s telling a bad joke is one thing but if you touch him roughly during the act, even if he knows its coming, he finds it triggering.
He’s pretty exclusively a sub but don't think that means he’s into punishment all the time. mostly he just likes his dominant to take care of him.
BTAS Riddler
i feel like it would throw him for a loop. he’d be confused as all hell, even if you said it in a sexy voice he might not get the message.
he’d probably scoff at the idea. the notion that he’s anything other than perfect is laughable. he’s certainly not some sort of bad boy. you should sit on his lap and get him on the same page as you. watch his mouth go dry and his eyes go wide as you explain all the things you're going to do to him for being bad. he’ll do his best to stay composed but we both know its you who’d be wearing the pants by the end of the conversation.
he’d want to be tied up. he’ll be gibbering and rambling the entire time, desperately trying to stay in control of the situation. He’ll try to do things for you but a gentle reminder that you’re in control and if he doesn't anything he’ll be punished more will have him biting his tongue.
I think humiliation works best on this one. im imagining something with rope or his suits since he’s so fond of them. maybe try and make him cum while still clothed? maybe some shibari under his suit jacket? i’ll let you decide.
he doesnt have a safeword bc he thinks its strictly a bdsm thing and refuses to admit he’s into that. he prefers to use the traffic light system. although you probably had to teach him that. before hand he was using some nonsense riddler made system involving humming different songs. ode to joy for fun/keep going and vivaldi winter for slow down. you will have to gently explain what a batshit insane idea that was.
Original Riddler
I imagine he’d be into it, moreso initially than the others. He doesnt have so much emotional baggage and he’s game to try anything once.
I dont know if he’d find the idea of punishment sexy but he’ll try it for you. he’d probably just prefer you to frame it as impact play or degradation or whatever “just because” you wanna try it. something about it being a meant as a punishment just seems weird to him
he does like being called names but in a cute playful way. he’s not liable to take offence at anything you say, inside or outside the bedroom but digs at his appearance do sting a little. even if youre “in character” so to speak when you say them. just reassure him after that you dont really think those things.
He’s one of the tallest riddlers and also has zero shame so you’ll need to be inventive when thinking of punishments. tying him up could actually hurt him with his circulation, he runs around in glittery spandex all day anyway so good luck trying to humiliate him.
Because he is so tall and strong, its hard to hurt him. you could try spanking him, ask him to count out the spanks and listen as his voice gets higher and more unsteady with each one.
actually in that note and given his penchant for dress up maybe you could try sub/dom roleplay? pretend you're a doctor/nurse or something and you're punishing him for his bad diet? if the punishment thing doesn't work out at least you’ll both get a giggle out of it.
Telltale Riddler
Oh he is absolutely going to fight you on this one “i think YOU'RE the one who needs punishing , love.” . if you want to punish him you’ll have to fight for that right
he’s never really subbed before he met you. He’s happy to show you how to punish a sub but he really needs practice letting someone else hold the reins.
he pretends he doesn't like dirty talk. if you get him riled up and start whispering filthy things in his ear he’s going to melt a little.
I cant think of a specific he’d like or something he’d find egregiously offensive, so i think you've got a blank cheque for mayhem here. do what you like and he’ll tell you then and there if he’s into it or not.
but no blinders or restraints though. he’s claustrophobic after being in that icebox. He IS an escapartist mind you. even if you put him in something he’ll have wiggled out of it before you can blink . he MIGHT tolerate something just there for aesthetics or because the fabric feels nice, like maybe his tie or your hair bow tied loosely around his arms.
in the same vein, he’s sensitive so maybe you could lightly torture him with some sensory stuff. ice cubes or wax play?
Zero year Riddler
i Cannot stress to you enough what a horny fuck this one is. at the mere MENTION of sexy punishment he’s like “oh yes punish me ive been bad “ wiggling his ass in the air like a target. will call you Daddy regardless of your gender because we all know he has issues.
He’s 100 percent going to lean into it, goad you and taunt you to punish him more, get angrier or hit him harder. he gets off on the pain, yes but he also just really enjoys being an insufferable shit.
“EDWARD THIS IS PUNISHMENT YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO ENJOY IT” - you, probably.
i dont think the traditional sexy punishment things will work on this one. youre going to have to get creative. like tell him you are in charge of his wardrobe and death traps for the week.
something that MIGHT work would be forcing him to wear a toy or even just some lingerie under his suit. He’s going to be embarrassed as all hell because this riddler is a big buff cheeto puff who takes his appearance seriously. BUT he cant deny the thrill of maybe the lace poking out over his waist band when he bends or the outline of a bralette being seen under his shirt, isnt a little arousing.
please dont be surprised when he turns around a week later and pulls this exact same shit on you.
there you go nonnie ! this one was quite a lot of fun! i have a rule of trying not to write more than 6 points for each but it was hard to compress down this time around. so much variety in personality and temperament in the one character there's a lot to write about
got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜
#asks#riddler headcanons#riddler#edward nygma#edward nigma#arkham riddler#arkham knight riddler#arkham knight#blacklight riddler#blacklight au#btas#btas riddler#batman the animated series#original riddler#telltale riddler#batman telltale#zero year riddler#zero year#my stuff#my writing#my headcanons#headcanons
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New Dynasty Chapter 28
“Oopsy-daisy!” Deadpool said as he shook the body off his katana. The katana he had to then throw to the side since it was bent in the middle.
[I told you not to get them from that vendor. He clearly didn’t know what he was doing.]
{Ugh—his guts are all over our feet.}
Deadpool laughed maniacally, twirled, and shot the next four enemies. Then he looked around, slightly disappointed that there weren’t any more to kill.
[That was what, five bodyguards plus target? It was too easy.]
{There’s someone behind us.}
Deadpool whirled again, gun raised to the head of a young man. The man had white streaks in his orange hair, was dressed in an impeccable suit, and looked nervous. Deadpool didn’t take the nervous part personally—most people were when they talked to him. The young man had both hands raised and part of Deadpool sighed with regret that he wasn’t going to be able to kill the young man. He had two rules: kill no one unarmed and not trying to kill him (unless he was being paid insanely well for it) and two: no children—ever. There was not enough money in the world to make him consider killing a child.
The young man swallowed hard. “I’ve—I’ve heard a lot about you Deadpool.”
Deadpool shrugged without moving the gun. “People have. People talk. People die,” he said simply. “It’s all in good fun, I mean money. I mean money and fun.” He giggled.
The young man looked unnerved. Most people did after talking to Deadpool for a few minutes. “Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about.” The young man swallowed again. “I want to hire you to kill someone for me.”
“Oh? Who is that?”
“Spiderman.”
[Who the fuck is that?]
{Eh, forget. Let’s just kill this fucker.}
“Now now, we can’t kill him,” Deadpool said reasonably. “After all, he’s going to pay us to kill someone else.”
[And just what are you going to do with more money? Buy another shitty sword?]
“I’ll spend my money how I want it!” snarled Deadpool. The young man took a step back. “So, mister—uh—what’s your name?”
“Osborn. Norman Osborn.”
“Well Normie,” Deadpool said as he slipped his gun back into its holster. “We maybe have a deal.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe. I have no fucking clue who Spiderman man, and I don’t kill kids.” He picked up the bent katana and sighed. “White’s right,” he muttered, “cheap ass sword. I bet the bastard wasn’t even a real smith.”
[We can always kill him on the way out of town.]
“So you’re going to do research?” Normie sounds surprised—astonished even.
“Oh yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he told the man. He swung the katana a few times.
{I don’t think it’ll work if we straighten it.}
“Shouldn’t have bent in the first fucking place,” grouched Deadpool as he lumbered off. He walked right off the roof, died, healed, and kept going. Once he reached his place (a real dump, but he didn’t care enough to clean up), he got on his computer (a state-of-the-art laptop because who wants to look at grainy porn), and started researching Spiderman.
According to the inter-web, he he, the spider has only been around for about six months, was both credited for stopping a terrorist organization and cited as the menace behind the organization, and basically did hero stuff. Like one of those stick-in-the-ass Avengers he occasionally ran into. Oh, and he had a blog. Wait—Spiderman had a blog?
Curious he began browsing it. The thing had several different threads; one of them was a rant thread about his villains—yadda yadda yawn—another was about food—was there anything the spider didn’t eat? Not that Deadpool was one to judge—but the third one caught his eye. It was about “everyday heroes.” A clerk spotting a runaway some money for milk (bet she never saw that money again), an officer helping a kid, off the clock, with homework, a gang leader rescuing a kitten from a tree—weird random shit. And Deadpool knew random.
[Oh, that should be our new catchphrase!]
Then Deadpool came across a recent post, and stared for a moment.
I’ve been hearing a lot about a mercenary known as Deadpool. I’ve heard that he’s got no morals, is certifiably insane, and has a larger kill count than the last world war. If you read this Deadpool, I want to tell you something: Don’t kill in my city.
{That’s practically an invitation!}
[Don’t go. It might be a trap.]
“With this shit? No way.” Deadpool jumped up and grinned. “We’re going to New York City!”
[We’re not really going to not kill people, right? Just because a blog said so?]
^^^
Of course, Deadpool hadn’t expected a group of thugs to meet him on one of the buildings. “Osborn ain’t happy with you ‘Pool,” one of them sneered. He flipped out a switchblade—an honest to God switchblade—against Deadpool. “We’re here to kill you.”
“Fellas,” Deadpool said, “I’m flattered—I really am, but have you actually thought this through?”
[His face looks like a gorilla’s ass!]
{Do you think he knows that?}
“No, I don’t think he knows his face looks like a gorilla’s ass, but I’ll ask. Hey flat-face! Did you know your face looks like a gorilla’s ass?” The man’s face suffused with rage and he lunged forwards to attack Deadpool—only to be pulled back by a thick, white strand. Deadpool watched, fascinated, as a figure in a blue and red suit with a white spiderweb symbol on the chest began wrapping the man in the threads.
“Holy shit! It’s Spiderman!” One of the goons crept up behind Deadpool and he landed a punch—that deformed the man’s face.
[What’s that jaw made of, glass?]
“Hey Spidey! I haven’t killed anyone in your city!” He noticed the man on the ground, not moving. “Oh, shit, you are still alive, aren’t you? Don’t make a liar out of me!” He yanked the man on the ground, pulled him up to his ear, and listened. He heard the unmistakable sound of air rushing through tubes. “Yup, still alive,” Deadpool said with satisfaction letting the other man drop to the rooftop.
Spiderman rose from a crouch and looked over at Deadpool. Unlike Deadpool, his mask wasn’t emotive, so Deadpool couldn't tell what Spiderman was thinking. “You must be Deadpool,” Spiderman said.
[He knows who we are!]
{Of course he does! He practically invited us!}
[We’re still going to kill him, aren’t we?]
{Are you nuts? He just saved us!}
[Yeah—but we didn’t need saving.]
{Not like he knows that!}
Deadpool just beamed at Spiderman. “Yes I am!” he said. “And I haven’t killed anyone in your city!” Spiderman walked over to Deadpool.
{I don’t think he’s happy.}
[We should just kill him now!]
Spiderman reached out, and gently touched Deadpool’s shoulder. “Good job,” he said.
[Did—did he just praise us? For not killing people?]
{Not for not killing people, weren’t you listening? For not killing people in his city!}
[Still a first either way.]
“Bank robbery,” muttered Spiderman looking away from Deadpool. “At this time of night?” he asked.
Deadpool couldn't see the hero frown, but could hear it in his voice. Deadpool bounced and clapped his hands. “Oh! Let me come too! I want to help too!” he said.
[He’s not going to want our help, dipshit.]
{Look, just because he invited us to the city doesn’t mean he wants our help.}
“All right,” Spiderman said grudgingly, “but let me call someone first.” He pulled out a phone, flipped it open (seriously, who still has a flip-phone in this day and age) and began to dial.
“A cabbie? A helicopter? Your lady friend?”
“Police,” Spiderman said vaguely.
[Say what now?]
{Eh, if he tries to have us arrested we can just kill him. We were hired to do that anyway.}
Deadpool listened to Spiderman request both police and an ambulance for a criminal that was severely injured during the capture procedure. Then the spider closed the phone and tucked it into the suit—and there wasn’t even a bulge to indicate where it came from. “Holy shit, and they say I’m amazing. Well, never twice, but holy shit! Where, in that tightness, did you put a pocket?”
“Are you going to be like this the whole way?” demanded Spiderman. “Because, if you are, you can find your own way to the bank.” He rattled off an address.
[Holy—not only did he not call the cops on us, but he’s still letting us tag along!]
{I don’t think we can kill him now. Maybe Osborn? But not in this city.}
The spider had long since swung off. “Guys,” Deadpool said, “this nice thing—it’s only an act. I’ll kill him when he slips.” He grinned. “But until then—let’s see where this takes us!” He pulled out a grappling hook and fired it at the next building over so that he could swing like the spider towards the robbery.
^^^
The act didn’t fade. Spiderman not only let Deadpool patrol with him to help the police stop crime (although that was difficult in itself—trusting the police) he frequently thanked the merc for his help. It was—strange. Nice, but—strange. People had never really thanked him before—not even the few people he knew who could listen to him without getting nervous.
That was another odd thing about Spiderman—he didn’t get nervous around Deadpool, not like other people did. Hell, just the other night a criminal had turned, seen Deadpool right beside Spiderman and literally wet his pants right there in fear. It was a given response—a normal response. Deadpool was having trouble with Spiderman’s lack of response.
The blog was fun though. At first he hadn’t thought twice about it, posting about the night’s patrol under the rant section (and was oddly pleased that he wasn’t one of the people Spiderman ranted about)—until Spiderman began responding to his posts which was—frankly terrifying. He wasn’t sure why it made him nervous.
And that day he was reading “Everyday Heroes” to see—himself. A post about how Deadpool, notorious mercenary and cold-blooded killer, waded into thick, NYC traffic to save a kitten that had somehow ended up in the middle of the street. The post was, like all the others in the Everyday Heroes section, short and sweet.
Only thing was, that incident happened in the broad light of day, and Spiderman had been nowhere around.
{He did tell us that he sees more than we think he does.} Yellow sounded anxious.
[He’s making us feel again. That’s never good. We should just kill him and forget this whole thing.]
But—Deadpool didn’t want to kill Spiderman. Hanging out with Spiderman was fun. The hero would laugh at his jokes, praised him for not killing people (in New York City), and thank Deadpool for his help. It was nice, it was fun, and he didn’t want it to end yet.
[You’re right. We should wait to kill him until after he hates us.]
{Spiderman isn’t going to hate us!}
[Everyone hates us; just give it time.]
Deadpool, alone in his crappy apartment (because, again—immortal and who cares), nodded. He would do that. White was right—everyone hated him eventually, and he could enjoy hanging out with the spider until he hated Deadpool too. Then he could kill him.
^^^
It wasn’t until the capture of the giant green lizard that Deadpool realized that Spiderman—Spiderman wasn’t going to hate him. In fact, Spiderman was worried about Deadpool, about how casual Deadpool was with his own life. Staring at the ranting spider the mercenary came to an odd—and yet right—conclusion: Spiderman—cared. Spiderman cared more about Deadpool’s life than anyone else—including Deadpool. It was heartwarming, it was wonderful—and it was terrifying.
[Well, we can’t kill him now.]
Spiderman’s rant ran down and Deadpool frantically searched for something to change the subject. “You hungry? I know a great Mexican place—open twenty-four hours!”
Spiderman stared at Deadpool for a moment in silence.
{I don’t think he’s happy with us.}
[Let’s kill him now!]
Finally the hero heaved a huge sigh. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” he asked. The two of them walked to the restaurant, leaving the human that used to be a giant lizard in a box in the alley. They made the walk in silence, they ordered—and Spiderman pulled out his phone and started texting.
“Who are you texting?” asked Deadpool as he helped himself to some of the complimentary nachos.
“Mrs. Conner. We’ve worked out a system; I’m letting her know he turned again and where to pick him up.”
Deadpool stared at Spiderman, as if he hadn’t seen the hero before. “Spidey—are you helping someone avoid the police?”
“Do you honestly think he’ll get the help he needs in prison?” Spiderman demanded. “Besides,” he added as the waitress (sadly, one of those that won’t serve alcohol without a photo ID) brought them their drinks, “he didn’t hurt anyone and honestly? That company deserves a little cosmetic damage. Maybe then people might see them for the monsters they really are.” Spiderman pushed his mask up to his nose and took a sip of the carbonated beverage.
“You should put that on your blog,” Deadpool said. He too, had pushed up his mask. Spiderman either pretended not to see—or really didn’t care.
[Don’t kid yourself—he’s being polite. Besides, it’s dark in here. It’s dark everywhere the two of you go to eat.]
{Maybe. He actually seems to like us.}
Deadpool watched the lower half of Spiderman’s face twist in a grimace. “I really just want to focus on more positive things in that blog.” He gave a tiny smile.
“Like saving kittens in traffic?” Deadpool’s voice was harder than he meant it to be.
The slight smile faded. “Do you mind?” he asked. “If you do, I’ll pull it off.”
[Whoa. He’s offering to change his blog for us!]
{Forget killing him; you should marry him!}
“Eh, no, it’s fine,” he assured the young hero. While Spiderman had never given Deadpool an age it was clear the hero was young. Possibly even young enough to make him qualified for the “no children” rule—although Deadpool was kind of hoping not. The waitress brought their food and walked quickly away. “I was just surprised. I didn’t see you anywhere around at the time.”
Spiderman smiled again. “I told you,” he said calmly, “I see more than you think I do.”
Deadpool couldn't let it go. “Then what about the ones that don’t have a good reason for what they do?” he asked thinking back to the days, not that long ago, when he was one of those people. “What if they can’t change?”
The white eyes of the Spiderman suit met his calmly and the hero shrugged. “What if they can?” he asked.
^^^
A few days later he got a tip about a man he’d been chasing around the globe—and was on a bridge, at twilight, waiting.
{This might not be the best idea. Isn’t Spiderman waiting for us to patrol?}
[It’s Francis! We can’t let that bastard get away with what he did to us!]
“No,” Deadpool said, suit tight over scarred skin as memories of screams and pain washed over him for a moment. “We can’t.”
{We can’t kill him in the city! Spiderman trusts us!}
[Easy—we knock him out, take him outside the limits, and then kill him. Then we’re still not killing someone in the city and we can kill Francis.]
{I think Spiderman might object to that logic.}
[Then we kill him too.]
“We’re not killing Spiderman,” Deadpool muttered as the car his informant had told him about came into the street. “But we are,” he added grimly before getting into position to jump, “going to kill Francis.” He jumped into the car on the street below.
Something unexpected happened after he landed on the car. Several other cars, nearby, braked and then surrounded him in a circle as he felt an odd stinging sensation in his neck. He reached up and pulled out—a dart with a plunger?
“Poor Wade,” said the smooth voice of Deadpool’s most hated enemy. The British accent almost brought back waking nightmares of torture. “Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me? I’m far smarter than you think.” The tall man with his shaved head and hallow eyes stepped out of the car and grinned down at Deadpool.
Deadpool tried to focus—but the world was bleeding into color.
“Did you think you destroyed everything in the facility?” asked Francis, sounding warmly amused. “Oh, we still have all your data—and not even your healing factor can save you now.” Francis strode forward and gripped Deadpool’s chin—and Deadpool couldn't move. His arms were coated in lead. “This time,” the man said savagely, “you will become a perfect little mindless slave.”
There were yells, shouts, and gunfire. Francis pulled his hand away and Deadpool collapsed as the ground turned into a mass of technicolor bubbles with teeth. Teeth that wanted to rip into Deadpool—to rip him apart.
“Deadpool?” asked a familiar voice. ‘Oh, shit!”
[Not like…Spidey…to swear.]
{Ow.}
Deadpool’s world dissolved into nightmares. He had no idea how long they taunted him, haunting him. Making him live through the torture again. To watch his best friend, his only friend (before Spiderman) die again.
He knew when the nightmares stopped though. He could hear birds chirping nearby. He opened his eyes—to see a young man—no, a young teenage boy—right next to him. He froze as he tried desperately to remember how this had happened.
The boy groaned slightly, opened brilliant amber eyes, and then leaned forward to place his cool, smooth forehead against Deadpool’s own.
[Oh my God! He’s touching our skin!]
{Where’s the mask? Where’s the mask?}
Deadpool—was frozen. He knew his face was hideous and that he looked like some kind of old school movie monster. What if the boy realized it? Where had the boy come from? And where was Deadpool for that matter?
“Good,” murmured the boy in satisfaction. “Your fever broke.”
“Fever?” asked Deadpool. He hadn’t had a fever since—not since the first time he saw Francis. Not since his healing factor had kicked in. Since he stopped being able to die.
The boy didn’t answer him, but rolled over and off the bed. “Aunt May,” he called as he padded from the room, “his fever broke!”
“What fever?” asked Deadpool again, his voice harsh and raspy. He rolled over, only to collapse back against the bed panting. His limbs felt like weak, overcooked noodles. “What happened?” he asked.
[Had something to do with that damn dart.]
{Weasel gave us up!}
Deadpool felt a brief wave of anger at the bartender/informant—that quickly drained away. Of course Weasel had given Deadpool up the same way that Deadpool would have done the same to Weasel if their positions had been reversed. Deadpool couldn't hate him for that.
[I’ll hate him for all three of us then.]
An old woman, dressed in a button-down the front blue blouse with faded blue jeans, came into the room and looked at Deadpool, mouth pressed into a thin line and eyes narrowed. “So you’re finally back with us. Well, Deadpool or whatever you call yourself, get dressed.” She gestured to a chair with clothes on it. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”
[Who is she to give us orders?]
{Where are we? And why do we feel weak?}
“Good question,” muttered Deadpool. He looked up as the boy entered the room again. “Where am I?”
“My house,” the boy said calmly, as if he carried injured mercenaries into his home every day. Maybe he did. “I didn’t know where you lived and you needed help.” The boy frowned. “Aunt May used to be a nurse, so I thought—well, she knew what to do.”
“Wait,” said Deadpool, confused. “What?”
The boy blinked those huge amber eyes and then grinned. “Sorry,” he said, “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Peter Parker. Also,” he added with a sly twinkle, “known as Spiderman.”
Deadpool stared for a moment. What—Spiderman—here? Spiderman willingly took Deadpool home? “How—how did you know I was on that bridge?” he asked warily.
“I keep telling you that I see more than you think I do,” the boy—Peter responded.
And Deadpool realized where he’d seen that face before. When he’d waded into traffic to save that kitten, that face had been on the sidewalk, watching him as he verbally abused the drivers who would run over a helpless little animal because they were in a hurry, Peter had been one of the faces in the crowd. One of the few weren’t being exasperated with him. “You were there,” he said wonderingly, “that day I saved the kitten. But—I didn’t—I didn’t notice you.”
Peter, instead of taking offense, merely chuckled. “It’s an art to be unnoticeable,” he said. “I’ve been perfecting it for years.”
Deadpool laughed a little breathlessly. He started to hold out a scarred hand, and hesitated.
[He’s already seen us.]
{And he’s not making gagging noises!}
Deadpool swallowed and held out his hand. “Wade,” he said introducing himself for the first time since the torture. “Wade Wilson.”
Peter gently took Wade’s hand, and then helped the man stand up. Wade wasn’t surprised—on one of their patrols he’d seen Spiderman lift and toss a huge concrete pillar from a parking garage that collapsed. Wade was more surprised by the fact he needed help getting dressed—since the healing factor kicked in he hadn’t been weak for longer than it took for him to come back to life. He also needed help getting down the stairs to the table—which was set with homemade waffles, fake maple syrup, and bowls of fresh fruit next to tall glasses of juice.
It was a better meal than anything Wade had seen in years. “Thank you,” he said as Peter helped him into a seat.
The old woman—Aunt May—watched him with narrowed eyes for a moment. “I understand,” she said looking at him, “that you’re the reason Peter has decided to come clean about his—extra curricular activities.” Peter winced.
“I had no idea he was going to be there,” Wade protested.
“Of course you didn’t,” said the woman. “You don’t understand,” she said, “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m saying that Peter has finally found a reason to talk to me again.”
Peter winced. “Aunt May—” he began.
“Yes, I know—you were trying to protect me.” She snorted. “I have a better chance of not being in danger if I know that there is danger!”
Peter shrank slightly. “Yes, Aunt May.”
She snorted. “Reckless child,” she muttered affectionately. The three of them sat down together and ate.
The experience was—novel. The closest thing Wade had to compare to it was those late night meals he grabbed with Spiderman. Prior to that Wade hadn’t had a meal in company—a meal eaten with another person—since before the torture.
And no one at this table wanted to kill Wade, or torture him, or hurt him. It was—new.
Near the end of the meal Peter spoke up. “About that—man,” he said grimly, “that shot you with the dart. Francis.” Oddly enough Peter made the name sound like a curse and Wade looked up warily. Bright, amber eyes met his and he said grimly, “I told him he had twenty-four hours to get out of my city.”
“Don’t kill in my city.”
Peter was giving Wade permission to go after Francis and finish the man off.
“That’s nice,” said Aunt May blithely, reminding both of them of her presence. “Peter, take the dishes to the sink and then take garbage. I want that bin by the curb for them to pick up.” Peter kissed his aunt on the cheek as he gathered the dishes and left the room. “He’s a good boy. We raised him well,” she said absently before turning to face Wade again. “As for you,” she said grimly. “You like him.”
It wasn’t a question, and Wade didn’t respond to it.
“If you kill that man, and I’m not going to say he doesn’t deserve to to die after the nightmares you had—”
What had Wade said in his sleep? How much did they know? He stared at the old woman and realized—she’d never tell him.
“—but if you kill him you will change the relationship you are building with that boy forever. Be prepared for that,” she said firmly as Peter came back into the kitchen.
^^^
A few weeks later saw Wade completely healed.
[Don’t you think it’s odd that we’re not calling ourselves Deadpool anymore?]
{No more odd than the fact we’re calling Spidey Petey.}
He found himself in Weasel’s bar, and if he’d had any doubts about the man’s information the way the bartender went completely white at the mere sight of him showing up would have killed them.
[I still say we should kill him.]
{Not in Peter’s city.}
[Eh.]
“Dead—Deadpool,” Weasel stammered. “How—how are you buddy?” He swallowed.
“A lot better than our mutual friend Francis wants me to be,” Deadpool said as he sat on one of the bar stools. He leaned on his elbows on the bar and looked over the bartender who looked nervous.
“I’m sorry man,” the bartender said. “I didn’t want—it’s nothing personal.”
Deadpool smiled. “Oh, I know,” he said cheerfully. “The same way I know that if our positions were reversed I would do the same thing. No, I came here because you’re going to do me a favor.”
“A favor?” asked Weasel.
“Nothing you haven’t done before. You’re just going to spread some information—for me this time.”
“And what—information would that be?” asked Weasel nervously.
“Anyone who tries to go after Spiderman will have to go through me.”
Wade never did leave the city to hunt down Francis. After all, if Deadpool left New York—then who would protect Spiderman?
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