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#how dare clockwork do this

tanglepelt · 7 months

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Dc x dp idea 127

After the events of the nasty burger. Clockwork doesn’t rewind the explosion, but rather then fully trust Danny not to allow Dan to happen. He took matters into his own hands.

He deages Danny and in order to ensure he had no contact with Vlad ever again. Unleashes a grieving and peeved super powered toddler on the dc universe.

Jack is a hero’s alternate. Like say Clark or Bruce. Even any of the batkids or super kids. So if a dna test were to occur. Well. It would register Danny as their child.

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flamingpudding · 7 months

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He's my clockwork appointed babysitter, not dad.

They failed, even they managed to beat all the cultist in time. The ritual was still completed. The leader was laughing like a maniac until Hood hit him hard with the butt of his gun, knocking the guy out cold finally. With held breaths, they watched how smoke rose from the ritual circle higher and higher until it started to form a black shadow with stars as eyes and too many teeth and limps. Batman was on his way with Constantine. Maybe they could at least contain whatever that was until they arrived.

"Who in the name of all good and holy dared to summon me?!" A static scratchy voice echoed in their ears.

No one dared to answer at first but of course Red I-fear-nothing Hood had to open his mouth earning him death glares from his siblings. "Aren't you like a demon? Why would you mention anything good and holy?"

That think was blinking at them and Tim did a double take when that think moved its many limps like it was rubbing the back of its neck.

"In the name of all bad and cursed then?" It sounded unsure still a booming echo like voice but unsure. They shared a look. Dick opened his mouth, ready to say something when suddenly a familiar voice shouted from behind them.

"Cut the crap kid! They are the Batsie and his birds belong to the good!"

They turned to see Constantine marching in with Batman right behind him. The man was throwing the but of his cigarette way as he went right up to that demon. Which apparently was not one because right as the Brite was up to it a puff of greenish some blocked their view for a moment before a white haired child stood where the demon had been seconds ago.

"The hell you doing out here kid. I told you to stay at home."

"You try resisting a summon when your all new to the fact that you can get summoned!"

"Your going to make my hair gray faster, you little chaos gremlin."

"Aw love you too!"

"Uh Constantine?" They had question of of them was that Constantine was apparently familiar with that child, demon, whatever.

"Right." The man lit another cigarette but before he could even take one drag of it he side eyed the child staring up at him before he flicked it to the side. "Bats my demon son, Danny the Bats."

"Demon son?"

"Actually I am-" They watched how Constantine covered the child's, Danny's, mouth with his hand shushing the boy.

"What did I tell you about interdimensional secrets? That's right, do not talk about them to just anyone. We are not repeating the Green Lantern incident."

Should they feel offended? It felt like they should. They weren't just anyone.

"Constantine." Batman gruffly warned, but the man held up one hand towards them. Batman was definitely offended that Green Lantern got to learn something he wasn't getting to know on Constantine's watch.

"One moment Batsie. I need to- did you gremlin just lick my hand?!"

The moment Constantine removed his hand the child stuck his tongue out at the JL Dark member and made a break for it to hide behind Batman.

"Get back here you little..."

"No! I am always stuck at home, and you promised me I would get to see the watchtower at last month!"

Batman blocked Constantine from getting to who was apparently the man's demon son. Staring at the man as the boy grinned in triumph.

"Mate get out of the way, this kid needs to get grounded again."

"For what?"

"Being a chaos gremlin that won't listen."

The rest of the batfam had only one burning question on their mind. "Which demon was willing enough to have a child with Constantine?"

Well, except for Tim who had caught the little tidbit of interdimensional secret and was wondering who Danny really was.

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evilminji · 3 months

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You know what would be both Cool(tm) AND Pants Shittingly Terrifying? Eldritch Space Whale Danny!

Except NOT! Because he's not a whale! Just snoozing and Giganto-Fuck-Off HUGE!

Imagine it! Danny. Joint Custody Child of The Ancients Of Time And Space. Space is SALTY AF because their BITCH OF AN EX has used his FUCKING POWERS, AGAIN, to CHEAT. Clockwork how DARE YOU.

You knew he'd be our Son in advance!

YOU SNUCK IN AND STARTING BONDING WITH OUR CHILD BEHIND MY BACK!

YOU [REDACTED]!

Danny? Sitting off to the Side as a Sentient Everything and Nothing made of galaxies and starlight, howls expletives at their Ex, who is being... REALLY snippy back? WOW, Clockwork. I mean, JESUS, man. Danny's from "oh bless their heart" Nowhere, Midwest. And even HE thinks that last one was both backhanded and cold af.

......he should take notes. *continues to eat his popcorn*

Anyway! APPARENTLY, Space Parent has taken him in the divorce. With much huffing. Tucked under their arm Like The Football(tm). And honestly? This is kinda hilarious, so he's cool with it. Byyyyyy~ Clock Dad! See you on weekends~☆!

*Exasperated Time Noises*

It's pretty cool! He learns a lot. Learns he's probably? Gonna be SOME variation of Space Ghost. Might even take over Space's... well, EVERYTHING, should the unforeseeable occur. So obviously, gonna have to learn The Family Business, as it were!

Which?

UNSPEAKABLY HYPED, YES PLEASE.

SPACE AND STAR STUFF! HECK YEAH!

Unfortunately? Still a Halfa. Bleh, squishy need to eat and sleep. Why they get in the way of Hyperfixation? Why no more space dust? Nooooo, don't drag him away from the controls! He can still learn! Sleep is for quitters! Cowards! *whining in Give Me Back My Blorbos, You Monsters*

But, no. He apparently has to "take care of his body" and "not burn out". Eat "real food". A protein bar counts! He probably ate one of those! Give him back his STARS! He doesn't CARE if he sounds like a toddler! That's DIRECT ACCESS TO THE SECRETS OF SPACE ITSELF! He'll BITE, so HELP HIM-! *Is scruffed like a cranky infant being carried off to beddy bye*

Injustice! D:<

But, none the less, body's require sleep. He shovles down his food, washes up, and flops down in his bed. In the nice lil cozy "Safe For My Half Apprentice Who Is Also My Adopted Son" corner. He passes out in that corner. Starts to float, as he has done countless times before, when agitated before bed. Floats OUT of that corner.

That Safe Little Corner.

IN THE CENTER, THE BEATING HEART OF SPACE.

You know... the place ALL OF SPACE connects too. Where Universe Form and Die. The Grand Recycler. Dust to Dust, from the ashes of old, to the creation of new. Where PORTALS are randomly assigned. So that the Omniversal Ectoplasmic Levels may always be balanced at near to perfect levels, allowing free flow of Souls through the various Reincarnation cycles.

Space, of course, doesn't MANAGE the Ectoplasm itself. Nor the Souls! Different Ancient for THAT, but they DO manage the PORTALS. We live in a SYSTEM after all. Everyone has their "departments" as it were. So really, it's quiet... Danny? Honey? Awful quiet back there! You, uh, fallen asleep, Starlight?

*empty room*

(O.O)

*inhale* AAAAAAAAAAA-!!!!!!!

Meanwhile! He be Snoozin'! And Ghostin'! Ghost Snoozin'! Is extra comfy, cause he weightless and got not booooones~☆!

But! He? Is not a child anymore! Has learned to... for lack of a better term, Let Go. To finally ACCEPT his Death. His inhumanity. His Amortality. Death no longer holds him, can no longer let him go. He is... not immortal. He is disowned, by his own doing and his own choice, at his timeless moment of Ending.

When Life let go of his hand and Death kindly offered theirs, he did not take it.

And that's okay.

It took awhile. Talking to older ghosts. Most vague and vast, near formless. Because it's... it's scary. And it's all you know. All, really, you've EVER known. Inherent to your identity, even after you leave that part you behind.

You are "human". "Martian" or "Xy'xeruian", something else, and you never question it. Even when you've left behind everything ELSE. Your name, your eyes, your history and skin. Yet you fly around and pretend. Still alive, still human.

But is that YOU?

Or just the form you found your start in?

And like? It's okay if it IS! Sometimes, yeah, you ARE. You look down deep and find a "don't know what you were expecting, buddy" sign stapled to a mirror. But more often? It's that last hurdle. The final step in Letting Go.

Everyone mourns at their own pace.

And they are the ghosts of who they were.

It helped. Mourning for the kid he was. Who was fourteen and wanted to be an astronaut. Who died and will never have a grave. The longer he exsists, for he can't technically be called Alive, the more painfully young that child seems.

It was okay.

To cry for Danny Fenton.

Then? To let him go. Let his memory, be memory. And his Past be the grave that child rests in. Loved dearly and remembered, but no longer binding his soul.

He doesn't have to wear that face anymore.

No tributes to the Dead.

He got? Kinda... BIG. Like REALLY big. Spiraling, serpentine, cracking ice, and burning galaxies. Like a fourth dimensional dragon, of ice and stars, somehow forcing its way into a three dimensional space. Atop it all, between two vast, impossible horns? Made of glacial ice coating the warping hearts of black holes, who's shape themselves seem to shift in unknowable ways? There burns, like comet trails, with super novas, compressed to decorative gems beneath glittering morning frost, a Terrible Crown.

He? Thinks? He MIGHT have wings.

He can't tell.

Because APPARENTLY he's a fuckin tesseract! Oh, no, sorry. He might me a Zone DAMNED PENTERACT!!! Is THIS what he gets for hanging out with Clockwork all the time? He just liked the quiet! Now his "true form" is PHYSICALLY PAINFUL for most people to look at!

Clock Dad WHAT THE HELL?!

(You see, now, why Space broke up with him? An ASSHOLE)

So! Danny stays, usually at least, in his "Hi, yes, I am Normal Human Man" Ghost form. But NOW? Now it PINCHS. Because it's TOO SMALL. But hey, that's fine! It's not like he has an ingrained habit of transforming when super tired and stressed! To float sleep for Maximum Restfulness(tm).

Ha ha!

Why does that feel like foreshadowing?

BECAUSE IT IS!

Danny? Snoozing! Space? Has LOST THE BABY! Portals? Have done a Jood Gob in Portalling, something they are vaguely sure they are supposed to be doing! Yay them! They have no brain cells but still enjoy helping! They moved a thing! That's helpful right? Yay! Probably!

And on DC's planet Earth?

They? Just choked on their fuckin coffee. One moment? La dee daa~ oooh~ look! Stars! Deep space! Oh, hiiii~ Watchtower! The NEXT? *every alarm in the building starts LOSING ITS SHIT* Giant World OBLITERATING SHAPE completely takes up the screen.

From near PLUTO.

There are NO WORDS TO DISCRIBE HOW FUCK OFF BIG THIS THING IS, MR. PRESIDENT. It will eat our nukes and LAUGH. Call! EVERYBODY!!!

Obviously? Superman. I mean really, OF COURSE Superman. Frankly, all the Supers. Because we would like to KEEP having a planet, thanks. Only? The more reports that come in? The more everyone is getting "oh fuck. This is a Workd Eater" vibes.

A massive, massive, Sleeping Titan of a Planet Destroying World Eater.

That MIGHT BE MAGIC.

*highly stressed Everyone noises*

And WORSE? Superman? Can't TOUCH it! Oh sure, at FIRST he could! But then he apparently pushed too hard in just one spot! And it felt POKED AT. So now, after flicking superman HALFWAY BACK TO EARTH to make him stop? No one can physically touch it!

But! There is hope!

Because? The creature is GREEN. Bright, luminous, Lantern Green! And Earth's Lanterns have already sent for back up. Combined? The were able to move a... hand? Paw? Something. But! With the combine forces of several nearby sectors of Lanterns? They promise the power to either relocate the creature or at least hold it in orbit until FURTHER forces can be deployed!

They refuse to harm the creature until it proves actively hostile, as it could have been seeking a place to nap and chosen one inconvenient to established planetary life. Frankly? Earth doesn't CARE where you relocate the giant Eldritch Space Dragon. Just NOT IN OUR BACKYARD, PLEASE.

....YES WE ARE SURE! We don't CARE if the scientific community of our planet is begging you to set up an area for them to place an "observation satellite"! No giant Eldritch Space Dragons in our solar system! It might WAKE UP!

Naturally, about half way THROUGH this Highly Delicate Operation?

Danny Wakes Up.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

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radiance1 · 7 months

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Gimmie a Danny and Damian twins au, but not one where they're all gushy gushy and huggy huggy about the fact that they're reunited.

I want one, where they HATE and try to KILL EACH OTHER. Where they're extremely fucked up in their relationship with one another, but can't kill the other because Taila hoped that they could get along.

They spew poison at each other, inflict pain on each other as easy as BREATHING and would leave the other while heavily injured while saying that they could take care of themselves.

I want them to be near mortal-enemies wrapped up in the bodies of two highly-competent and powerful 14 year olds who cannot give a fuck about each other, has a fleeting thought of killing the other on the best of days but doesn't because of their dear mommy Taila.

Then force them to interact with each other after a long period of separation. I don't give a flying FUCK how you manage to do it, perhaps Danny has to run because his parents vivisected him, perhaps the Nasty Burger explosion couldn't be reversed because Clockwork said no and Danny is torn or perhaps Vlad brings him to Gotham for a gala (either redeemed or not redeemed Vlad), etc, etc.

Force these two children who fucking HATE each other under the same roof, make them interact, make them watch each other interact and make comments about it. Maybe even make an unstable Danny try and KILL Damian, but is stopped by the batfam, or maybe make it that Danny can't even bring himself to kill Damian because he's (discounting Talia) the only family he has left.

Maybe even (if you go the Nasty Burger/Dead Fenton fam au) make Danny hate Bruce Wayne's fucking GUTS because this man is trying to replace his dead father (even though Bruce IS his biological father) and hates him even MORE because he looks so similar to Jack's face that he's literally torn whenever he sees him. Make it that he never stays in the same room as Bruce whenever he's not in mask, make it that he tells Bruce TO HIS FACE that he hates the man for trying to replace his dead FUCKING dad and that he will NEVER accept him as one, biologically related or not.

Maybe even make him not like the batfam either just for the fact that they associate with both Bruce and Damian.

(I just remembered about that one post I saw, but BOY is this ramble gonna get even WORSE for dear old Danny. Though this part isn't really necessary could just read the on top bit lol)

Maybe they even find a way to take away his ghost side, and Bruce (With or without Talia) say that it's for the best for him, and Danny? Danny just fucking BREAKS. DOWN. He's full-on crying and screaming at Bruce and maybe has to be held back by the other batkids or not, or maybe he's just fulling on trying to hit Bruce and Bruce either dodges or just takes it.

Saying how fucking DARE he take away his ghost side, that was apart of him and he had NO FUCKING RIGHT to take away something so precious from him. Then Bruce could say that he doesn't need powers, he could be fully if not even more capable as a human.

And Danny just goes "You don't even get it, do you?" And Danny just cries harder because technically that was one the LAST things linking him to his parents. His DEAD parents. Sure, the accident was his fault, but phantom was created because of their portal, in their lab, in their basement.

Even worse if the reveal went RIGHT and they starting accepting how he was half ghost and trying to change their views on ghosts as a whole, only to die. Then, for some guy to just, take away something like that from him?

Maybe Danny would even say that, rip into him about how that was one of the only things linking him to his parents and even if it wasn't he didn't have the fucking right to decide what to do with HIS body.

"You never had to fucking worry about your parents not accepting you, I did. They still loved me regardless, they tried to change for me. But you wouldn't even know what that feels like, would you, you stupid fucking rich boy."

[idk why I typed that part out but just role with it.]

Maybe Bruce tries to sympathize with Danny about his parents, but Danny just doesn't have any fucks left to give about Bruce's life, or anyone else life in Bruce's life at all and just shuts it down or steamrolls over it. At the end of it all Danny is just a crying, shivering wreck and stares down Bruce with eyes full of HATE that tells Bruce one step closer, and he would KILL him.

Maybe then Damian (Either walks in or was there the entire time.) insults Danny over his weakness and depending on his ghost form or something, and Danny just sees fucking RED and jumps on him. No care that he's no longer half ghost, so that he means he could die more easily, no care to anyone else in that room, no care that Talia wanted both of them to get along and not kill each other.

He tries to kill Damian.

He fails miserably, of course, but he still tries. Then tries again and a fucking gain.

Then after all that he just, doesn't come out of his room, or tries to escape and leave Gotham every chance he gets. He never gets far, but he keeps trying, and he never opens up to anyone in the batfam, not even Alfred.

He's just a kid who lost everything he worked so hard for, everything he tried to hide from his biological mother and her assassin league who tried to keep whatever he had left. Now that kid is fueled by nothing but pure, revolting hatred for the people who took even that from him.

Basically like Dark Danny, but way more powerless and fully human.

[Okay that's enough of me rambling.]

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny and damian are twins

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ryoalouette · 8 months

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You know, there's this DP x DC that I want-

Of Good Parents Fentons, They Know, Supportive Parents, Ghost King Danny, and Summoning. Maybe some other ppl made this before or nah, can't remember.

So here's the premise:

We as fandom agrees that there's loads of cults in DC fandom yeah? Tho honestly it can be kids being kids, teens daring each other and so on to summon the Ghost King. As it happens, the Ghost King is Danny.

Most of the times he got Summoned, he can get away quick. HOWEVER. This made him tired af, especially since those Summonings are made of Fruitloops demanding for things that he don't want to happen/grant them and he can't exactly reject this Summonings since well. It's still Very New and no one told him exactly how to refuse this summoning.

And also, there's this one persistent Fruitloop with A Cat who keeps trying to woo him when he already got significant other (boyfriend? girlfriend? both? up to you!) and he's not interested in more since he had finally kinda sorta gotten things finally in order.

It's just that this lack of sleep from Ghost Attacks is switched to Summonings. Sure he got so many great views (Sam was very pleased when he got Summoned to Gotham against his will; at least he got pictures then), but it's seriously cutting his time. Especially thanks to Catty Fruitloop. He's the most persistent summoner urgh.

So.

His tiredness was noticed by Jack and Maddie, they got talking about how he as a ghost king can't not get summoned specifically and they got to do some planning. Danny consulted Clockwork and apparently what his parents asked got OK'd by CW? Huh. Welp.

Danny, just tired: Dad, thank you so much for volunteering being summoned for my stead coz I really need to study for this test.

Jack, Golden Retriever Smile: No problem Danny-O!

---

The next time Klarion Summons the Ghost King to Woo him? He got the Ghost King's father wanting a Talk. With his Fenton Gun.

#prompt #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #crack plz?#Tumblr go

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zkvry · 8 months

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Are You Laughing at My Brother? | Shelby Brothers x Sister!Reader

Summary : Y/N is just a year younger than John Shelby, though her immense instinct to protect her older brothers against their enemies reveals that the Shelby name is not to be trifled with.

Warnings : cussing, misogyny, death threats, guns, descriptions of violence, racism

Additional Information : > takes place in early season 1 ; Billy Kimber era (minor spoilers) > written in third person perspective (she/her) > 847 words | 6 minutes

Author's Note : decided to use some gifs along the way, might be distracting for your reading - I apologise. My first work on here, please let me know how you find it! Enjoy <3

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you laughing, at my brother?" She speaks, appearing from behind the bar. For the first time since they've dared to enter the Garrison, Billy Kimber and his two men flinched slightly at her sternness. This only lasted a split second. Still, it didn't go unnoticed.

Billy Kimber flashes a cocksure smirk, pleased at the presence of something less dreadful than matter at hand. "And what do we have here,"

John lets out a humourless laugh. "I'd be careful with that one. She's feisty," He warns Billy Kimber with an all-knowing look.

Billy Kimber rakes his eyes over her physique. "This is no place for a whore - even a pretty one at that," He tuts mockingly, shaking his head.

Arthur inhales deeply as he fights the very last nerve to not cut the cheeky bastard across the face - to not slice his eyes for looking at his dearest little sister. The word 'whore' bounces around in his head. Arthur's lips twitch, knuckles turning white as he grips onto the arm rest for restraint.

He was waiting for a signal - a sound or nod of approval from Tommy or Her. Hell, he thinks, even John could command it and he would bloody do it. No questions asked.

Nonetheless, She makes her presence known. Almost like clockwork - one of the Shelby brothers stand and holds out his chair. In this moment, it was John. He extends his hand and escorts her to his previously occupied seat with care. Recklessly, he drags a chair for himself from a nearby table beside them, and plops down.

Billy Kimber clears his throat wearily but still as arrogant as before. "Right, he's the oldest, you're the thickest. I'm told the boss is called tommy so it can't be this woman you lot here seem to worship. Then I'm guessing that's you, cause you're looking at me up and down like I'm a fucking tart, " He spits out.

Thomas finally unclenches his jaw, the throbbing pain creeping onto him. He puts on a calm façade. Unmoving, he looks to Her direction.

Only when he saw She hadn't intervene, he spoke. "I want to know what you want. And which one am I talking to, which one of you is the boss?" Thomas breathes out as he takes a puff from a cigarette. His finger darting around from Billy Kimber to the two men that accompanied him.

Billy Kimber shoots up from his seat, knocking it to the ground. "I'm the fucking boss, alright!? Enough parley, you fixed the race without my permission. You fucking Gypsy scum. I run the races. You fixed one of 'em, so I'm going to have you shot against the post!" He declares - finger pointing threateningly to Thomas.

"Pick it up," She leans forward onto the table, hands intertwined infront of her.

Billy Kimber looks at her flabbergasted, "What?" He furrows his eyebrows, offended.

She stands slowly, the men around her straightening their backs in alert at her movement. She stares at him, unfriendly.

"I said," She continues, leaning forward once more, arms stretched out on the sides of the table, dominating the space at the table. "Pick. my chair. up," She repeats.

Billy Kimber remains stunned, seemingly not knowing what to do. The audacity of such a woman to demand him to pick up a chair? He was shocked to say the least, and outrageously insulted.

Ready to argue and humiliate her, Billy Kimber opens his mouth but She was quicker.

"You swayed your arse in here like you own the place. Guns out like you're flaunting fuck knows what," She speaks fluently, rage settling in. "We fixed your race, you put a bullet in my ceiling. That's fair, but then you had to run that fucking mouthpiece of yours didn't ya eh?"

"Want to put a bullet in my brother's head, is that it?" Like a predator, She stalks closer to him.

As She approaches, one of Billy Kimber's men crouched down and picked up the fallen chair. Just as the chair was upright, She gathered her strength and slammed Kimber's shoulders down onto the seat and held him still.

"Why don't we put one in yours?" She whispers into his ear, patting harshly on his right shoulder.

In an instant, Kimber's two men draw their guns.

The Shelby brothers lurch forward, in efforts to protect their sister infront of them, moving to draw their own guns as well.

However, the men who were supposedly loyal to Billy Kimber pointed their guns at the man himself. A sinister smile creeps onto Her face.

"Let's do proper business, shall we Mister Kimber? Starting off with your races, " She declares, moving to lower the guns that have been drawn by her brothers and the two men working for Her.

She turns abruptly to face Kimber. "Though, they wouldn't be your races any longer after we're done here, would they? " Her face suggestive of diplomacy, but voice laced with threat.

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little-pondhead · 7 days

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Your Ancient History, Written In Wax

Danny knew he should have put better security around the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep. It wasn’t even Vlad who opened it this time! The fruitloop was too busy doing his actual mayor duties because for some godforsaken reason, the man got re-elected.

No, it wasn’t Vlad. And it wasn’t Fright Knight, either. Nor the Observants. Who opened the Sarcophagus, then? Danny didn’t have time to find out as Pariah Dark promptly tore open a hole in reality and hunting Danny down.

The battle was longer this time. He didn’t have the Ecto-Skeleton, as that was the first thing Pariah had destroyed. The halfa had grown a lot over the past few years, and learned some new tricks, but apparently sleeping in a magic ghost box meant that Pariah had absorbed a lot of power. The bigger ghost acted like a one-man army!

Amity Park was caught in the middle of the battle, but the residents made sure it went no further than that. Vlad and the Fentons made a barrier around the town to keep the destruction from leaking. Sam, Tucker, and Dani did crowd control while Danny faced the king head-on.

Their battle shook the Zone and pulled them wildly between the mortal plane and the afterlife. Sometimes, residents noticed a blow from Pariah transported them to the age of the dinosaurs, and Phantom’s Wail brought them to an unknown future. Then they were in a desert. Then a blazing forest. Then underwater. It went on like that, but no one dared step foot outside of Amity. They couldn’t risk being left behind.

It took ages to beat him, but eventually, Danny stood above the old ghost king, encasing his symbols of power in ice so they couldn’t be used again. He refused to claim the title for himself. Tired as he was, Danny handed the objects off to Clockwork for safe keeping and started repairing the damage Pariah had done to the town. The tear he’d made was too big to fix, for now, so no one bothered. They just welcomed their new ghostly neighbors with open arms and worked together to restore Amity Park.

Finally, the day came to bring down the barrier. People were gathered around the giant device the Fentons had built to sustain it. Danny had brought Clockwork to Amity, to double check that they had returned to the right time and dimension.

Clockwork assured everyone that they were in the right spot, and only a small amount of time had passed, so the Fentons gave the signal to drop the shield.

Very quickly did they discover that something was wrong. The air smelled different. The noise of the nearby city, Elmerton, was louder and more chaotic. Something was there that wasn’t before, and it put everyone on edge.

Clockwork smiled, made a remark about the town fitting in better than before, and disappearing before Danny could catch him.

Frantic, Danny had a few of his ghost buds stay behind to protect the town while he investigated.

He flew far and wide, steadily growing horrified at the changes the world had undergone. Heroes, villains, rampant crime and alien invasions. The Earth was unrecognizable. There were people moving around the stars like it was second nature and others raising dead gods like the apocalypse was coming. Magic and ectoplasm was everywhere, rather than following the ley lines like they were supposed to.

Danny returned to Amity.

The fight with Pariah had taken them through space and time. Somewhere along the way, they had changed the course of history so badly that this now felt like an alien world.

How was he supposed to fix this?

In the Watchtower, The Flash was wrapping up monitor duty while Impulse buzzed around him, a little more jittery than usual. The boy was talking a mile a minute, when alarms started blaring an alarming green. Flash had never seen this alarm before, and its crackling whine was grating on his ears.

Flash returned to the monitor, frantically clicking around to find the issue, but nothing was popping up. No major disasters, no invasions, no declarations of war. Nothing! What was causing the alarm?

Impulse swore and zipped to a window, pressing his face against it and staring down at Earth. “Fuck! It’s today isn’t it? I forgot!”

“What’s today?” Flash asked. He shot off a text to Batman, asking if it was an error. The big Bat said it wasn’t, and that he would be there soon.

“The arrival of Amity Park. I learned about this in school; the alarm always gives me headaches.”

Flash turned to his grandson, getting his attention. “Bart,” he stressed. “What are you talking about?”

Impulse barely glanced over his shoulder. Now that Flash was facing him, he could see a strong glow coming from Earth. “The first villain, first anti-villain, and the first hero,” he said anxiously. “They all protect the town of the original metas. They’re all here.”

“Here? Now??”

“Yeah? They weren’t before, but they are now. The first hero said there was time stuff involved, which was what inspired me to start practicing time travel in the first place.”

“I’m not following.”

“It’s okay. We should probably go welcome them before they tear apart Illinois, though. The history I remember says that some of them freaked and destroyed a chunk of the Midwest during a fight with each other.”

“WHAT?”

#dpxdc #pondhead blurbs #liminal amity park #I’ve seen stuff like this in the mhaxdp fandom and I eat it up every time #basically the fight with Pariah caused the town to jump through time a little #and while they THOUGHT they were keeping everything in #shit leaked out and tainted those points in time #so technically #historically and genetically speaking #Amity Park is the origin point for the meta gene and Danny made history as the first hero #because Clockwork is a little shit #everyone embodies a basic ability and it has grown from there #the flash family are direct descendants of Dani (speed force Dani for the win)#Dash is the reason super strength exists #so on and so forth #go buck wild #bart learned about it briefly in history class in the 30th century #practically hero worships them #booster gold knows about them too but in contrast to Bart’s excitement #booster is fucking terrified because there was a period where Amity Park rebelled against the US government #and he’s from that specific time #he learned to fear phantom because he lived during that part while Bart is from farther in the future when those issues got resolved #guess who’s chosen to welcome the town? >:)#if you’re wondering what happened to the GIW #they turned into the branch Amanda Waller runs #Danny is the first hero #Vlad the first villain #and Dani the first anti hero #there’s an arc where Danny is trying to fix things but clockwork won’t let him into the timestream and all the heroes are horrified #because yeah Danny is the OG but if he goes back in time to fix his ‘mistake’ what will happen to them?

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rboooks · 11 months

Text

The Royal Consort Part 2

Danny nervously took a sip out of the coffee mug. The rich liquid, filled with surgery goodness and creamer, helped settle his nerves as he tried to think of what to say.

Across from him sat Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and a man named John Constantine. Besides Danny, Jazz, and his parents sat, though only Jazz seemed unfazed by the situation, staring back at the heroes as if daring them to start a conversation first.

Sometimes he forgot she was the most mentally stable one in the family.

The Dark Knight had said nothing to him since he was brought up to the watch tower, the white lens of his mask staring back at Danny with no hint of emotion behind them.

This contrasts Superman, who had warmly offered them coffee and pie as they were brought into the meeting room. The man of steel had even allowed them all to pick a mug from the gift shop free of charge, smiling warmly when Danny hesitantly asked for a Martian Manhunter theme.

Wonder Woman had given him a courteous bow befitting her status. She seemed eager to sit down and get the peace summit going as soon as possible. It seemed she had prepared various speeches, bills, and other essential documents Danny had yet to understand in his Government Studies class. She offered the young man a warm smile whenever his eyes nervously wandered to her.

John Constantine mainly had remained silent past the few swears under his breath. He fiddled with Danny's necklace- the Royal Consort necklace. How could he have been so stupid to wear that around his neck for so long without realizing what it was? It did explain why that particular necklace had a whole room to be displayed in.

It was in the center, on a lavish pillow, on a pure marble pillar. Surrounding it were six more miniature lockets, each on their own less extravagant pillar and pillow, with similar symbols. The smaller ones almost tempted Danny until he saw that this necklace had white and red, his favorite colors.

The others had been black and red.

He wonders now what the lockets meant and if giving one to Dani had been a mistake. He hadn't had the time to text her, seeing as he had been whisked away by the Justice League as soon as he woke up.

He was escorted out of his home before ten am with news crews tripping over themselves to get a few shots of Ecto-Royalty. They had his house surrounded, flashes and questions coming from all sides as the paparazzi struggled to be the first to get Consort Daniel Fenton to comment for them.

Danny swears Sam had been one of them, laughing silly with Tucker, who had somehow gotten a hold of a prominent news camera. The two had likely thought his secret had been outed and were trying to sneak him away while pretending to be media.

"Come on. Come on," Constantine muttered in frustration, poking a glowing finger into the center of his locket. Each time he did, a soft ding went off in Danny's head, and he fought to not react. He thinks Batman had seen his flinch the first time it happened, but he hadn't said anything about it yet, so Danny hoped he was wrong.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Danny grimaces as the sound replays over and over again before he can't take it anymore and finally speaks up. "Could...could you not do that to my necklace?"

Constantine blinks, then hastily places his locket on the table as if it burned him. "Forgive me, your Majesty. I meant no disrespect."

"It's cool dude. You, ugh, don't have to call me that, by the way. Danny is fine."

The magic-user shakes his head. "Forgive me, your Majesty, but I could not do something so disrespectful. I can switch to Prince Danny, but never Danny. If His Majesty Phantom were to hear me make such a blunder, it could break apart any form of peace. I'm sure you know how much ghost value rules."

Danny thinks of the Yearly Treaty, Walker with his prison, The Observant's court, Clockwork's time frames, and even Far Frozen formal speech. He sighs. "Yeah, Phantom won't care, but his subjects will."

"Exactly."

"Speaking of King Phantom, would he be joining us soon?" Wonder Woman asks. Danny has a moment of panic before Jazz smoothly steps in.

"Phantom and Danny agree to not have him appear if Danny is near our parents." She says, gesturing to their horrified parents.

"What?" Mom looks close to tears, guilt making her face seem much older than Danny has ever thought possible. "Honey, is this true?"

Danny shifts in his seat. "Yes?"

"Oh Honey, why?"

"What are we going to do today, Jack?" Jazz cuts in again in a poor imitation of their mom. She deepens her voice, trying to match Dad's happy-go-lucky tune as she dramatically shakes her fist. "What we do every day, Maddie. Try to capture the ghost boy and rip him molecule by molecule!"

The other heroes make faces, but nothing compares to the devastated expressions on his parents' faces. He almost told them it was okay, that he had forgiven them, but Jazz glanced sharply in his direction and knew it was best not to say anything.

She has often said the only way he could rally heal from all the unintended trauma their parents inflected on them- not just the hunting but slight negligence- was to have them first see exactly what they had done. It would be harsh, but it would be necessary.

"Makes sense" That is all Dad says. He's been so quiet since this morning. Danny is worried about him.

"That explains why he hasn't answered the summons." Constantine sighs. Danny opens his mouth to ask, but Superman beats it to him.

"You were summoning him?"

"Attempting to." Constantine corrects. "Prince Danny's locket has a calling bacon in it. Someone pressing magic against the center alerts King Phantom that his husband wants to speak to him. It's difficult magic too. Anyone with less control or power would be blown to smithers if they attempt it. Or, in Prince Danny's case tapping his finger against it works too since the necklace is for him. "

"Would anyone with the necklace be able to call Phantom then?" Batman finally speaks up. His voice makes Danny jump in his seat. It sounds a lot....darker than he thought a human could make.

"No. The necklace would only work if Prince Danny willingly let someone have it. If someone tried to take it by force, the necklace would transport itself back to King Phantom's lair or Prince Danny's person."

Danny clears his throat. ''Phantom and I have other rules. He can only come to see me if I'm not in school or if one of his subjects is attacking Amity Park. Otherwise, he mostly stays within the Infinity Realms."

Constantine nods as if that makes perfect sense. "The strain on your body must make it difficult to keep your husband here."

Danny nods, then takes another sip.

"If you don't mind me asking. How did you meet King Phantom?" Superman asks.

"I'm....a meta. I can make my eyes glow in the dark and I can turn invisible." Danny blurts, making both his parents gasp. Jazz nods as if it was common knowledge and not something Danny made up on the spot.

Those two abilities have always been more linked to his emotions, so Danny thought if he established a fake meta gene as the cause if he was later caught doing them, no one would bat an eye. The world was watching him now, he needed to be careful. "It's nothing really impressive, but I guess the day I activated it caught his attention."

"How so?"

"Um, well I was playing in my parents' lab when my best friends dared me to go into the portal. I thought it wouldn't work, so I did, but it launched me into the zone as soon I stepped into it. Phantom was this big ice looking thing flying by when I was falling in the zone- they don't really have ground in there. Everything was floating, but I just started falling and screaming since I couldn't fly. He caught me and offered to help me back to my home. The only thing was I didn't know how to go home, which way was up or down, and I didn't know how long I was gone. We tried to fly for a while, but the Infinite Realms always change. By that time, my home portal had moved to who knew where. Phantom took me to his lair to rest, Phantom, since he thought I was a baby ghost because my eyes glowed until I accidentally cut my hand on one of his icicles and bled-"

"You allowed your human blood to fall in his lair!?" Constantine sounds horrified. Oops? Maybe, stealing one of Frost Bites' few human encounter stories wasn't the brightest thing he could have done?

Oh well, he's already so far into the story. "Yeah, he reacted the same way. I freaked and turned myself invisible when he saw my blood."

"Blimey, I knew King Phantom is a protective spirit, but to think he didn't do anything to you once he found out you are a human- a virgin human no less- in his own lair? Benevolent is too little of a word for him."

Yeah, Danny really didn't like the sound of that. Sadly Constantine didn't seem willing to continue that line of conversation, and it would be really suspicious if he asked for more information since he is supposed to be the most informed person here.

After a slight pause, he continues, trying to sound confident. "He helped me get home after a while. Once we found the entrance to Amity Park, he asked if he could come to see me again in the living world. I told him it was fine, but I didn't think he meant it for real. Sam and Tucker- ugh my best friends- said I was only gone for three minutes but I swear it was much longer."

Danny could feel his face heating up. This is so embarrassing to be talking about himself in the third person. He felt so lame.

Jazz gave him an encouraging nod when he peaks at her. At least the others were buying his story.

"The next thing I know, my town is almost overturned by ghosts because, apparently, our passing through the portal stabilized it and established it as a new permanent entrance. I told Phantom, who vowed he keep it safe for me, and yeah, he fumbled a bit in the beginning, but he did a good job. Whenever he needed to fight I had to find somewhere safe to hide, so that I could keep him here, and that's why I missed so much of school and sleep all of freshmen year. His last big fight was against the old king Pariah Dark after the monster took Amity Park into the zone. Once he won, he was crowned and he um gave me this necklace. We've been going ugh, steady since."

The room was silent until Wonder Woman smiles "A most romantic tale Prince Danny."

Ugh, it really was. His face grew even redder as Jazz snorted. "Thank you."

Feeling an intense stare, Danny looks up, only to be met with Batman's emotionless face. "The reason you and King Phantom look exactly alike is that he took your shape, didn't he?"

What.

"That's standard practice." Constantine waves his hand. "Powerful beings that need to anchor themselves to the human realm often take humanoid figures. If King Phantom saw Prince Danny and thought he was the most beautiful person he's ever seen -which is likely since there haven't been any hints of Phantom having any partner before now- he would, of course, make himself look like him. He even copied his parents' hazard suits because he likely thought that would honor them. Am I right, Prince Danny? ."

I could kiss you, English man. Danny thinks gratefully as he nods.

Batman grunts but for a second, Danny thinks he didn't buy it. He doesn't say anything else.

"Well, what about-"

Whatever Wonder Woman was going to say gets cut off by a blur flying into the room. The heroes all spring up into battle positions as the blur rushes Danny. He's about to throw himself before his sister to protect her until the blur slows down.

It's Dani. She's wearing her own necklace too. Shit.

"Are you okay!?" She gasps. "I saw them take you on the TV and came as soon as I could!"

"Who are you?" Superman demands. His clone turns to the other side of the room, hands pose in a fighting stance and the British man gasps.

"Stand down! She's a royal!." He shouts, pointing at her necklace. His blue eyes flicker between the two halfas until they widen dramatically. "Princess, I swear we have done no harm to your father."

Dani tilts her head, momently thrown. "My father?"

"You are wearing the Heir Apparent symbol. I assumed you were made from Prince Danny and King Phantom. I apologize if I am wrong."

"No need. I am made from Danny." Dani smiles, likely unaware that the magic man meant a daughter rather than the correct answer, as in clone.

"I'm a grandmother!?" Mom shouts, and his Dad bursts into tears.

The room descends into chaos.

( Part 1 ) (Part 3)

#The royal Consort #dc x dp crossover #part 2 #Danny is going for a acting award #Dani is now his daughter #A romantic tale fit for a rom-con #Jazz is holding her own against Batman #misunderstandings

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colormepurplex2 · 4 months

Text

Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop | MYG

▻ Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop ↳ ArtProfessor!Yoongi x Artist/CoffeeShopOwner!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Cozy Romance ⤜ Coffee Shop/Art AU | fluff, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 8,028 ⤜ Summary: It’s like clockwork; you receive the same online order every weekday morning at eight o’clock: large decaf iced Americano, picked up promptly shortly after. His face has become familiar, as a part of your routine as the hiss of the espresso machine. Until, one day, that routine takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself getting familiar with more than just his face. ⚠️ Very mild language, panic over student/teacher potential date (reader is a student, but she's the same age as Yoongi, just taking classes later in life than most), oral m receiving, fingering, kissing, mild dirty talk, cum swallowing, confessions of the heart

A/N: This is part of my 'Heartbeat Melodies' mini-series, where I write fics that are inspired by songs. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here! A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi & @moonleeai for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

“Large decaf iced Americano,” you call out, barely glancing up from behind the counter.

A deep, familiar drawl pulls your attention, “That would be mine.” It’s only familiar for the fact you’ve heard that voice nearly every day for the last six months.

Your eyes snap up from the tablet, where the next online order has come through, to meet warm brown ones. “I should have known,” you reply before you can think better to bite your tongue. Heat suffuses your cheeks. You pull your lips between your teeth to stifle the groan of embarrassment that begs to be released.

The man chuckles, absently using a knuckle to push up the hornrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that comment. But, I guess I do come here a lot.”

Nearly every day for the last six months, at least. That’s how often he comes here—to your coffee shop. It’s tiny, barely big enough for a handful of small tables and chairs. But it’s yours, and you’re proud of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to seem…” you trail off. Not sure how to finish that thought because you’re not entirely sure how you meant it or why you said it other than the fact you’re a bit frazzled this morning and apparently forgot your mouth filter at home. It was a late night last night for you. It's not an excuse, but still.

He waves a large hand in the air, dismissing your apology. “Please, it’s quite alright. I’ll take it as flattery; could use a little boost to my confidence anyhow.”

That almost makes you sputter in disbelief. There’s absolutely no way this man needs any flattery. Surely, he comes by it in droves. Because, well, he’s honestly so gorgeous it should be criminal.

His hair is fluffy, somewhere between charcoal grey and black, though the warm lighting of your cafe gives it a golden honey halo effect. The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses are dark swirls of espresso that match his coffee order—a straight nose sitting above soft, pink lips that have a light glossy sheen to them.

As usual, he’s wearing a pressed slack and jacket combo, a cream-colored collared shirt underneath with a bold print tie. His choice of ties is what drew you to him in the first place, and made you pay a little closer attention to the mysterious man behind the large decaf iced Americano.

You clear your throat, daring to be bold, while it seems you’ve no filter to stop you. “Well, if you ever need further flattery, you know where to find me.” It’s clear that you give him an assessing once over, his eyes locked onto yours as you do so.

“Do you paint?”

The question throws you off, nearly making you drop the tablet in your hands. Your fingers flex against the case, your thumb brushing along the glass screen. Busying yourself with reviewing the next order on the screen, you turn, giving him your back as you decide how to answer his random question. You’ve never actually had a conversation with him; this man that you feel like you know yet is a complete stranger.

“Why do you ask?” you deflect as you go through the motions of scooping grinds and swapping out the portafilter for a freshly filled one. However, you know it’s not always polite to answer a question with a question; you’re just not sure how to decipher his curiosity or where it came from to begin with.

The bell above the door rings, and you wince as the espresso machine gurgles and hisses loudly as you mechanically pop a cup in the machine and hit the brew button. The noise fills the quiet space of the coffee shop. It’s not until the cup is filled, you’ve added two lumps of sugar, and you’re grabbing a lid that the man responds.

“There’s paint under your fingernails. Or, at least, what I would guess is paint.”

Glancing down at the cup in your hand, you take in the colorful myriad of flecks coating your skin. The colors fill the grooves of your knuckles and hug around the bed of your nails.

“Double espresso with two sugars,” you announce, ripping your gaze from your hand to the interior space of your cafe. A woman steps around the man, giving you a hurried smile as she holds out her hand to receive the cup. You hand it off. “Have a good day.”

Giving the cafe's inside a quick glance, you ensure all the customers within are taken care of. A college student is busy pounding away at their laptop keyboard in the corner, utilizing your free wifi. A half-empty cup of hot cocoa sits cold and abandoned beside them. A trio of friends sit at your only table big enough to seat more than two people, laughing softly and sipping hot lattes and teas. No one seems to need your attention; except the man still standing there, large decaf iced Americano in hand.

You lick your lips, a nervous habit you picked up after endless stressful nights pouring your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into opening the small cafe. Most believed it would flop; others rallied to your side and helped your dream come true.

“Look, sorry if I’ve overstepped somehow,” he begins, but you shake your head, letting him know he’s not.

Gesturing at the wall behind the man, you finally answer, “In my spare time.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes zigzagging across the giant unfinished mural covering the windowless back wall of the cafe.

“That?” he asks. “You’re painting that?”

It’s hard to decipher if that’s disbelief or awe coloring his voice.

“I am,” you answer a bit hesitantly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, a giant grin spreading across his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “I’ve been meaning to ask after the artist every time I come in and see something new added, I just uh,” he brings his free hand up and rubs it across the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor under his feet, “well, could never bring myself to.” It’s pretty, the way his cheeks take on a flush of color as his eyes cut to you from over the frame of his glasses. “It’s wonderful work.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help your own flush of shyness at his praise.

“So, uh,” he lifts his cup and gives it a swirl, the ice sloshing around inside, before taking a small sip through the straw, “I know you probably see it on the order, but for the sake of propriety, my name’s Yoongi.��

Min Yoongi, to be more precise, you know. It’s a name you’ve read so many times it’s ingrained in your mind. However, it’s still nice for him to offer it to you. Willingly establishing your connection one step further than his coffee order.

You feel so silly tapping the name tag on the front of your apron, but you do it before you can think better of it, mumbling your name as if he can’t read it for himself after you brought direct attention to it. “Sorry, I’m not normally so weird,” you give a shaky laugh, willing yourself to shut up before you chase him off from how awkward you’re being.

Something changes in his demeanor, his eyes taking on a light twinkle that sits somewhere between mischief and wonder. “I like weird,” he offers casually as if that doesn’t make your stomach swoop and your heart beat a little harder. “Maybe we can talk more about your art sometime. Maybe over dinner? Or lunch if dinner is too forward.”

If you were a cartoon, you’re confident your tongue would actually be tied into a jumbled knot right now with you frantically trying to talk around it, a comical scene for sure. Yet, there is no knot, just a thick feeling that you have to swallow past. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be great. Dinner…or uh, lunch. Both. Either one. Though, dinner might be better considering my hours.”

Yoongi glances at the vinyl hours printed on the front window by the door. They’re backward from his vantage point, but you assume he has no issue reading them, considering he turns back to you and asks, “How does seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” The beating of your heart lurches again, and you can barely hear him over the rushing in your ears.

“Yeah, if that’s not too soon. Perhaps next week, if that’s better? I don’t want to come on too strong. Or well, rather, what I mean to say is, don’t feel pressured.” You can tell he’s feeling hesitant now, trying to backtrack and offer you a way to politely decline his offer for dinner tonight. You didn’t mean to come off sounding so put out. You just weren’t expecting his request to be for tonight.

Mentally, you dig through your schedule. You’re not closing today. Marvin comes in at noon to help with the lunch rush, and then you leave at four to make it to your five o’clock class. It would be today of all days that your new art class starts. It’s the beginning of the fall semester at the local university, and you just so happened to decide to take a few art classes they were offering, the first of which starts tonight.

The class should only be around an hour long, with plenty of time to get home and change before the date. Is it a date? Or just strangers getting together to talk about art? Isn’t that what a date is anyway, though?

“Seven. Tonight. That would be great.”

“Okay, perfect. Can I pick you up? Or we can meet here if that works better.”

It’s endearing he’d offer, both picking you up and meeting in a familiar place. Considering you live above the coffee shop, though, it makes no difference. Though, he doesn’t necessarily know that.

“Here is fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you tried that steak house on the corner yet?”

“The new one that opened last week?” He nods. “I haven’t, no.”

“Perfect.” Yoongi smiles. “Here, at seven. Consider it a date.” His smile falters, and his brows pinch, forming a line between them. “Not that I…well, it’s not that…it doesn’t have to be…if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s—”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, giving him what you hope to be a warm smile to ease his mild panic. “I’ll see you then, Yoongi.”

“See you then,” he responds, tacking your name on at the end in his deep drawl. The way it sounds coming from his mouth should be added to one of those spicy erotica audiobooks you may or may not have downloaded on your phone.

Just as Yoongi is leaving, it’s like the world finally takes a breath, and the exhalation that follows brings with it a rush of early morning commuters seeking their morning fix. The everyday bustle and hubbub of the day filter back in, and you’re soon lost to the sway of the shop, coffee, tea, and cocoa. It all comes alive beneath your nimble fingers, much reminiscent of the way holding a brush makes you feel: a thrill of the soul with each pour.

☕☕☕

Yoongi

In all Yoongi’s years of teaching, he’s never been late to a class, especially on the first day of the semester. Yet, he’s nearly fifteen minutes late getting into his classroom this morning. Students are already filled in and scattered around the theatre-style seating. No one says anything. It’s far too early in the morning for smart mouths and snarky remarks about his tardiness. Not that he would expect that from any of the students anyway.

“Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min.” He drops his bag and coffee off on his podium at the front of the classroom. Turning to the large chalkboard behind it, he scrawls his name to the side and then begins to write directions. “We will begin with Chapter 1, ‘Mediums and Forms’, in your textbook. Please read quietly, and I’ll be with you all in a moment.”

The day goes on, class after class, and the familiar monotony of it brings Yoongi a sense of peace. This is familiar territory; he’s in his element, not like this morning in the coffee shop. He felt totally out of control and swept up in the swirl of uncertainties and possibilities.

To say he’s relieved you agreed to go to dinner with him would be an understatement. From the moment he decided to change up his routine to check out the cafe Namjoon wouldn’t shut up about, he’s been hooked not only on the impeccable decaf iced Americano, nor the beautifully decorated and painted interior but on the smiling face behind the counter.

Yoongi feels a bit self-conscious thinking about how much he thinks about you. He’s always been too intimidated by the idea of speaking more than a few passing words to you. It’s like every time he gathered up the courage, it would abandon him at the last moment. Namjoon calls it a crush, Yoongi calls it frustrating.

The whole conversation this morning is a bit of a blur to him. Yoongi swears once he opened his mouth it was nearly impossible to stop the word vomit from gushing out…and the next thing he knew, you were agreeing to a date with him tonight.

The day's last class rolls around, and Yoongi feels much lighter as he steps out of his adjoining office and into the classroom to welcome the new students. A few offer him quiet hello’s, some he’s seen from other art classes he’s monitored across the entire department and fine arts program.

Turning his back as the last few students filter in, he makes the same spiel he has at the beginning of every class. “Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min…”

And so it begins, the beautiful dance of teaching and introducing fresh minds to the concept of forms and mediums. Yoongi is sure he could recite the entirety of Chapter 1 from memory now, with as many times as he’s gone over it today.

“What if you decide you don’t like your form or medium halfway through the project?” a student from the front row asks after Yoongi explains the medium and forms requisite for the final project for this class.

“We’re going to spend plenty of time during the first part of the semester testing out different mediums to know which best suits each of your individual tastes and needs. Regarding the form, I recommend choosing something you most likely won’t tire of. Something that means something to you but also isn’t so complex that you frustrate yourself and burn out before you can complete the project. You’re welcome to, at any time, bring me an idea of the form you’re considering, and we can talk about the intricacies and any potential issues that might arise with using it.”

Another question comes from somewhere in the middle, “Can we choose people, too?”

“A form can be anything that inspires you. If that happens to be a person, then of course. However, note that portraiture isn’t covered until Art 322, but I’ll do my best to help if that’s what you choose.” Yoongi glances at the clock, noticing there are only a few minutes left of class. “Let’s take the last few minutes to wind down, pack your things. If you have any further questions concerning your final project forms and mediums, please don’t hesitate to email me. Also, my office hours are open Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to six.”

As Yoongi turns to begin putting his things away from his podium, his eyes slide across the faces of his last class students, trying to cram them into his mind for the sake of remembering. He always likes to be as personable and approachable to his students as possible; knowing names and faces is always a good place to start.

He has to do a double take as his eyes flick over the very top row. The shock is felt throughout his entire body. It’s not that he’s surprised to see a face he already knows. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting it…wasn’t expecting to see you. Mild panic makes him jerk around, hands gripping at the papers on his podium, shuffling them mechanically.

The first thought that crosses his mind is he can’t possibly be going on a date with one of his students. Surely you’re just here to…to what? He turns over one of the papers, quickly scanning his roster that he hadn’t bothered to check yet. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to snag on your name.

Unease settles across his shoulders. He hates to cancel the date, as he was really looking forward to it, but it’s just…not right, right? There’s a line he shouldn’t cross with his students, even one who he is sure is his age and not the typical college freshman. Yoongi knows this because maybe, perhaps, he might have spent his lunch hour googling you and the cafe. You’re in your early thirties, given the birth year that was viewable on one of your social media pages, and own the coffee shop, have for several years now…a full-ass grown adult—the perfect person to date.

Except now you’re his student. There’s some moral code there somewhere, something about the skewed power dynamic. The thought of going on this date should have red flags flashing in his mind. Yet…yet, no matter how much he tells himself to cancel, he honestly doesn’t want to. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? A harmless date.

That’s what he’s still telling himself as he dismisses the class a few minutes later. He intentionally avoided looking in your direction, unsure if you’d be comfortable with him acknowledging you as one of his students or not.

Much to his surprise, as the bubble of sound dissipates, a soft voice reaches his ears from a few feet behind him, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yoongi has been so consumed with his own feelings about going on a date with a student that he hasn’t even thought about how you might feel. Are you about to cancel on him? Does he try to convince you not to?

He slowly turns, the stack of papers clutched in his hands, glasses slipping down his nose, yet he doesn’t want to pry his fingers from the bundle to fix them. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not—”

“I’m fine as long as you are.”

He’s relieved for your interruption, for keeping him from saying those words out loud. “Are you sure? If I had known this morning that you’d be one of my students…” he trails off, because he’s not so sure that would have stopped him after all. Considering he’s wanted to ask you out for at least the last four months.

“I’m glad you asked me. Student or not. I promise not to make it weird if you don’t.” You give him a brilliant smile, coy and full of mirth but light enough to make his heart jerk inside his chest.

“No weirdness, got it,” he agrees, unable to help his own teasing smile.

“So, I’ll see you then?” you ask, hefting your canvas bag on your shoulder. His eyes flick to it, noting the splashes and swirls of fabric paint that cover the outside. Yoongi wonders if you painted it yourself.

He nods, letting his eyes drink you in one last time before you turn to go. You’re still wearing the same jeans and thin cable knit sweater from the coffee shop this morning. Even in such casual clothes, you are stunning. A work of art all your own. He doesn’t stop staring until the door to his classroom shuts behind you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. It’s not out of irritation or anger, just an acknowledgement of how truly and utterly he’s got it down bad for you.

☕☕☕

Seven can’t come soon enough. It only took you thirty minutes to get ready, putting on a simple black dress and flats. It’s not too fancy, but it makes you feel far more put together than just jeans and a t-shirt.

At five til, you make your way down into the coffee shop from your upstairs apartment. All of the main overhead lights are off, leaving only the warm accent lights that line the menu board and the display case lights on. Even now, the space smells delightedly of coffee.

It’s kind of funny, the fact that you’re not a coffee drinker. Everyone finds it odd that someone who doesn’t drink coffee would aspire to open a coffee shop. What they fail to realize is you love the smell of coffee. The warm, roasted, mildly sweet notes are what you thrive on, better than any shot of espresso in your mind.

There is a street lamp right outside your shop, flooding the sidewalk with a pool of yellow light. Standing just within the glow is Yoongi, his back to the shop door. You watch as his head swivels, looking down both directions of the sidewalk, completely unaware that you’ll be coming from behind him instead.

The sound of the lock turning over startles him. He jerks around and laughs softly, taking a step back, hand to his chest, as you pull the door open. “Can’t say I expected you to come from inside the cafe.”

“I would have been down sooner had I known you would be a bit early,” you say, locking the door behind you. “I probably should have given you my number or something.”

Yoongi eyes you, his gaze sliding up and down your body like he’s drinking you in. You hope he likes what he sees. “I think I was so excited about the date that I forgot even to ask,” he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when his eyes finally land back on yours. “You look,” —he gives you another quick once over, shaking his head and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip— “gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you preen under his praise. “You look quite handsome, yourself.”

You’re not just saying that to return the compliment, either. Yoongi is wearing the same thing he was this morning, except the tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone, giving you the slightest peek at his prominent jugular notch.

“Shall we?” he asks, offering you his arm.

You slip your hand into the bend of his elbow, falling into step beside him. The walk to the steak house is short, just enough for pleasant exchanges. He asks how your day at the coffee shop went, and you ask after his first day of classes. Neither of you bring up the fact that you were part of one of those classes.

“I’ve been meaning to check this place out. I’ve heard excellent things.”

Yoongi hums, nodding his head at your words. “I’ve also heard good things, though it might perhaps be biased considering all the praise I’ve heard has come from the owner himself.”

“You’ve spoken with the owner?”

“He’s one of my best friends, actually. This will be the first time I try it out. I kept telling him I’d stop by, but it always got away from me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “I can’t believe you know Seokjin.”

“Wait, you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“I’d say know is a relative term. We get deliveries from the same produce truck. He tried to take my apples one time. I had to set him straight.” That makes Yoongi laugh along with you. “We chat sometimes, mostly about the quality of produce and the best places to get ingredients. I had no idea he was your friend.”

“Small world,” Yoongi says. His smile is warm and inviting. You’re sure you could get lost in it if he’d let you. It makes you wonder what his lips taste like. They have a slight sheen to them like they did this morning. Cherry chapstick? Maybe mint? A nice subtle vanilla?

You’re not sure the last time you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. But Yoongi has your sides in stitches and your cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much during dinner.

“Oh gosh,” you wheeze between fits of giggling, clutching your stomach. “Ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh again. I can’t take it.” It just makes you laugh even more, the huffs trailing off as Yoongi reaches across the table toward you.

You pry your hands from your abdomen and slide them into his. His fingers are warm against yours, his thumbs rubbing across the backs of your knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s done several times tonight, silently asking for your hands any chance he could.

“Sorry, you just have such a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I could listen to it all day.”

His flattery hasn’t stopped. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two glasses of wine he had with dinner were going to his head. But, he speaks so assuredly and looks in your eyes like you’re truly something special.

Feeling so intimately connected with someone you barely know might be absurd. Yet, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. If you’re being honest, the attraction started long ago, and tonight has just made it blossom into something so much more.

Yoongi has been the perfect gentleman. He’s not tried to railroad the conversation or make decisions for you like other guys you’ve gone on dates with. Whenever a server approached the table, he would defer to you and your needs before his.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me tonight. Please let me repay you with coffee and dessert. If you’re up for it.”

Yoongi squeezes both your hands before letting them go and sitting back in his chair. “There is no need to ‘repay’ me,” he says, emphasizing the word repay. “But, I wouldn’t say no to a date after this date, say in fifteen minutes, coffee and dessert?”

“Fifteen minutes? Coffee and dessert?” You give him a thoughtful look, tapping your fingers against your chin. “Hmm. I think I’m available.” You both break into more fits of soft laughter, contrasting so highly to the high energy from before; it’s intimate, if laughing can be such a thing.

It’s easy being with Yoongi; he’s attentive and curious. “What made you want to open a coffee shop?” he asks as you unlock the door to the cafe.

“I liked the idea of having a space that could cater to people from all walks of life. Businessmen in a hurry? Get it to go. Students needing a place to study? I have a quiet corner for that. College professor looking for his daily decaf Americao fix? Would you look at that? I got that covered, too.” You usher him inside, closing and locking the door behind you. “It also doubles as a great place to have a private coffee and dessert date after a lovely dinner date.”

You watch as Yoongi looks around the cozy space, his attention ending on the mural wall. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t like coffee?” you ask.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “Really?”

You shrug. “I love the way it smells, though.”

“Acrylic?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward the mural.

“Good eye,” you assess, stepping behind the counter to start making the coffee. You grab two pecan cinnamon twirls from the dry storage where you keep extra treats to take up to your apartment at the end of each shift and pop them into the small convection oven along the back wall. “You teach art, but it might be presumptuous of me to assume you also create. So, do you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to. Pastels and charcoal are my favorites to work with. I like the mildly messy, chaotic feel of them. There are few things better than the feeling of taking something so uncontrolled and turning it into a thing of beauty.”

“Charcoal, huh?” Your mind instantly goes to the framed collection of pieces you have in your apartment upstairs. “I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe I can show you sometime.” Yoongi turns from his appreciation of your mural to watch you work behind the counter. He gestures to a few frames hung up on either side of the giant menu on the wall. “Arfé, right?”

You glance up, moving with automated motions to load the portafilter into the espresso machine. “Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah. An experiment. I wanted to try something new and needed some new decor. I thought it was appropriately on theme.”

The half-dozen pieces are all made with swirls of various shades in brown and tan and depict a mix of cups, mugs, bags of grinds, lumps of sugar, and piles of roasted coffee beans.

“Very appropriate. They’re lovely. You’re an exceptional artist.” You’ve lost count of the amount of compliments Yoongi has paid you tonight. You might have been the one flattering him this morning, but it seems he’s making up for that now.

“Thank you. Truly. That means a lot coming from you.” The hiss of the brew machine fills the air, and the soft gurgle of espresso trickling into the small mug follows. “One decaf Americano for one of my best customers,” you say, carefully carrying the steaming cup over to a table beside Yoongi. “Please, sit.”

Yoongi settles at the table, bringing the cup of coffee up to his nose and giving it an appreciative sniff. “Wonderful,” he murmurs before taking a tentative sip. “Thank you, that hits the spot.”

“If you think the Americano is good, wait until you try this,” you say, scooping the twirls out of the oven and onto a plate. They’re perfectly warm and gooey. “You’ve never tried any of our pastries, have you?”

You sit across from him. The table is small enough that you could reach out and cup his cheek if you wanted, and set the plate on the table before Yoongi. He whistles low, “Wow, these do look amazing. Maybe I’ll become a pecan twirl and coffee guy every morning instead.”

Your eyes track his movements, watching as his fingers pinch and slightly sink into the edges of one of the twirls. Some of the warm glaze and cinnamon sugar filling squishes from between the layers.

Yoongi’s lips part and the tip of his tongue peaks over his bottom teeth as he brings the pastry up to take a bite. The moan he lets out surprises you both. His eyes flutter before landing on you and going wide. He chews methodically, his gaze not leaving yours. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips before he swallows.

“Well?” you ask, settling your elbows on the table and leaning into him, expectant.

The smile that tugs at his lips is coy. “Might be one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” There is a heat in his gaze as his eyes search yours. “What other surprises do you have up your proverbial sleeve for me?”

“Now, if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore, would they?”

That makes him laugh. “Fair point. You know,” he glances around the coffee shop, “I never knew just what it was about this coffee shop I loved so much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling positively giddy.

“Mhm. So,” he mirrors your pose across the table, his elbows nearly touching your own, fingers toying with yours where they’re folded in the air in front of your face, “is it too soon to ask you on a second date?”

“I thought this was our second date.” You raise a teasing eyebrow, a smile quirking on your lips.

“A third then,” he offers, eyes hopeful.

Of course, you want to say yes. And in the spirit of trying to be coy and playful, you lean in with the full intent of showing him instead of telling him how much you want to go on another date.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to your lips, watching as you deliberately lick them as you lean in a bit closer. Acceptance lies within their dark depths, a flash of hunger at the impending response that’s only a breath away.

As you advance, your elbows slide on the table, accidentally knocking the coffee cup. Liquid goes everywhere; it floods over the table and pours off the side…right into Yoongi’s lap.

“Oh fuck!” you yell, jumping up from the table and rushing around to his side. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Does it burn?”

Yoongi pushes back from the table, holding his arms up off his lap as he assesses the mess. “No harm done. It was already cooled off. It's just a bit of a mess, that’s all. I’m fine,” he laughs. “Truly, I promise. Do you have any towels or anything?”

“Oh god, your shirt, it’s going to stain,” you lament, staring at the dark splotch soaking through above his trousers. “Towels? Yes. Yes. Okay. And some baking soda. Come on, let’s hurry. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“Should we clean this up first?” he asks, motioning at the coffee-covered floor.

“I can mop in the morning. Please,” you fret, guilt making you a bit frantic and flustered.

Yoongi lets you lead him up the stairs in the back that go to your apartment. “You live here?” he questions. “No wonder you were coming out of the coffee shop earlier. That’s very cool.”

You make a noncommittal sound. “It’s cool if you like the smell of coffee and don’t mind rising early every day to open shop.”

It’s so hard to think right now, your mind solely focused on cleaning up the mess you’ve made of Yoongi’s clothes. That’s what you get for trying to be sly and answer his date question with a kiss. You’ll be lucky if he still wants that date now, surely.

The bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. You insist Yoongi sit on the lip of the tub while you dig under the sink for the baking soda that you use for cleaning and removing your own coffee stains.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, grabbing your attention. You glance at him over your shoulder, bottom lip clamped between your teeth in an effort not to fall apart entirely. “I promise it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to stress over it. It’s just an accident. It's a pretty funny one if you ask me. If I’d have known we were getting wet on the first—I mean, second date, I would have planned accordingly.”

His words hang between you, full of static and charged with intention. He’s trying to lighten the mood…and it’s working. It’s also making you feel a certain kind of way. Words shouldn’t have the power to do that. Yet, here you are, flustered for a whole different reason now.

“Date’s not over yet,” you respond, unsure where the bold attitude came from, but you’ll take it. His eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with desire, though it’s gone before you can really be sure. “Do you mind?” You gesture to his shirt. “It’ll be easier if I can soak it in the sink.”

Slowly, Yoongi undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. Somehow, you weren’t expecting him to be naked underneath, but every open button reveals another swath of flesh. He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing a toned chest and taut belly. His nipples are hard, dark chips, standing out in contrast to his smooth, creamy skin. Yoongi is absolutely breathtaking.

In fact, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking in a large lungful of air that’s so much it makes your chest ache. He holds the shirt out to you in offering. Your fingers tremble lightly as you take it, quickly turning back to the sink and the distraction of scrubbing at the stain.

Reading over the garment tag quickly, you make sure what you’re about to do is okay. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on your back, like heated dagger points pricking beneath your skin. You turn on the water, letting the tap run until it’s hot, before quickly swishing the area of the shirt covered in coffee under it. The hot water alone makes a world of difference, the dark liquid swirling away down the drain.

“Do you want my pants, too?” Yoongi asks, startling you.

Your eyes flick up to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection. He’s talking to you, but his attention is zeroed in on your backside. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware that your dress has ridden up dangerously high. You can feel the cool air of the bathroom kissing the crease between your thigh and asscheek.

Turning off the water, you slowly turn to face him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to take deep, even breaths, but with the way your heart is revving inside, it’s impossible to do so. “Let’s see the damage,” you say lightly, raising an eyebrow in question, giving him a chance to call you off.

When he doesn’t comment further, you close the distance to where he’s sitting and ease down onto your knees. You mentally tell yourself it’s so you can get a better look at the coffee that’s saturating the dark fabric, but you know better than that.

Being so close to him, you can feel the heat of his body. His chest rises and falls as rapidly as yours, and when you look up and meet his gaze, there is no mistaking the fire that you see blazing there. “Don’t think I forgot you still haven’t answered my question,” he murmurs, lips barely moving as he watches you.

You lift a hand, hooking your index finger under his chin and using it to angle his face toward yours. “I’d love that,” you respond, your lips brushing over his with every syllable.

He kisses you. Or maybe you kiss him. It’ll be something you tease each other over for many years to come. You open yourself to him, welcoming the glide of his tongue against yours. The kiss tastes mildly of coffee, yet for the first time in your life, you don’t mind the flavor.

“For me to take my pants off, or the date?” he teases, alternating between nipping and consuming kisses. Yoongi’s hands frame your face, holding you to him as he continues to ravage your mouth.

“Mm, both,” you manage to get out. “Definitely both.” Sliding your hands down his torso, you marvel at the softness of his skin and the already very prominent bulge that your fingers dance over as you try to get a grip on the button to his slacks.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss long enough to help you with his pants, standing up from the edge of the tub and bringing you up with him. He toes off his shoes, leaving his pants puddled on top of them. “Good answer,” he chuckles.

You let out a tiny squeal as he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs and hauls you up, your legs automatically winding around his waist. Thick erection pressed right against your panty-covered pussy, he slowly walks you out of the bathroom and into your adjoining room. You land on the bed with a soft oomph, Yoongi following you down. His weight is a comfort, settled over your body in a warm, hedonistic embrace.

“I’ll change classes,” you pant, flexing your hips against his. “As long as our next date is to an art gallery.”

“Is it weird for that to turn me on?” he responds, groaning as you roll your hips against him again. “The art part, not the dropping classes part. You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I know your schedule must be pretty set with the cafe.”

You press your hands against his chest, giving him a gentle push until he’s rolling over and you’re hovering over him. “I’ll make it work. I want to make it work. Everything tonight,” you pause and sit back on your heels, dragging your hands along his torso as you do, “I want more. You’re driving me crazy in the best of ways.”

“Says the woman who’s been running through my thoughts for the last several months now.” Yoongi’s lips part in a gasp, turning his last word into a breathly plea as you trace the tips of your fingers over his straining erection. The fabric of his grey boxer briefs is slightly sticky when you brush your thumb over the head.

“It reminds me of making art,” you casually say, curling your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and tugging until he lifts his hips and lets you drag them down. You toss them to the side, marveling at the glory now resting against his belly. Yoongi’s cock is a gentle upward curve, all smooth steel and thick veins. It throbs, bouncing against his stomach, leaving behind a thick smear of precum. “The way you make me feel.”

“Art?” he asks, breathless. His eyes flutter behind his glasses, his chest hollowing as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“Being with you gives me the same feeling as viewing a Duncanson or a Matisse, calm and full of joy. Though, you can also make me feel the chaos of a Kandinsky when you touch me.” To emphasize your words, you wrap your fingers around his girth, angling it up, watching the emotions on his face. The tip of his tongue works at the corner of his mouth, lips parted with every pant and soft moan. “Is this okay?” you ask, leaning down and gently blowing over the leaking tip before tentatively giving it a kitten lick.

“More than,” Yoongi moans. His eye slide closed as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. The flavor of him bursts across your tongue. You can’t help but moan yourself at the idea you’ve made him like this, hard and leaking.

Working as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, you delight in the shuddering convulses you can feel from his body as he loses himself in the sensations you’re bringing him. Yoongi always seems like such a collected individual. He still appeared so well-kept even when he stuttered over his words asking you on the date this morning. Now, though, he’s unraveling into a puddle of debauchery.

It’s a satisfying feeling, similar to when you get into a perfect rhythm when working on a project, bringing him to the edge. You work your mouth and hand in tandem, never leaving an inch of his cock free of your touch.

“Mmm,” you moan, the head of his cock resting in the back of your throat. Yoongi jerks under you, half raising onto his elbows, his eyes zeroing in on where you’re wrapped around him.

His fingers twist into the duvet, bottom lip puffy and flushed as he worries it with his teeth. “I’m going to cum,” he grunts, throwing his head back and moaning his pleasures, deep and throaty.

You quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck in earnest. Yoongi cries out a second before liquid warmth floods your mouth. It’s greedy, the way you swallow and continue to lave your tongue over him, eliciting tiny tremors and more moans.

“Just like art,” you whisper, finally letting his cock slip from between your lips. You’re riding your own high, wet and throbbing between your thighs. You can feel the ache in your clit, begging to be touched. All it would take is a few seconds, a few well-placed swirls of your fingers, and you know you’d be floating in orgasmic bliss.

Before you can even think of bringing your hand between your thighs to find relief, Yoongi is sitting up and urging you backward. Your back hits the mattress, and he settles on his side beside you. Somewhere between there and here, he pulled off his glasses. Despite having just found his release, his eyes are still so full of hunger and desire.

“May I?” he asks, pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You nod, eyes locked with his as he slowly trails his hand upward until his fingers brush over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your mouth in a languid kiss. Your lids flutter closed, consumed as you are by his touch.

Yoongi takes his time, toying with the edge of your panties before tugging them down past your knees. They pool around your ankles as he pushes your thighs apart, exposing your weeping pussy to the air of the bedroom.

“Yoongi.” His name is half moan, half curse as he brings his hand back up and cups your heat. The meat of his palm rests against your clit, right where you need to be touched, but the pressure isn’t enough to satisfy.

“An exquisite work of art.” His lips strum against yours, plucking and teasing just the way his fingers do through your wetness. The tips of his fingers briefly kiss your clit, dancing away before returning; a slow build of decadent pleasure.

It’s not above you to beg. “Please. Yoongi, please!”

“Open your eyes, look at me. Let me watch you fall apart so I can brand it into my memory.”

You snap open your eyes the exact moment he slides two slender fingers into your pussy, thumb finally giving the needed pressure to your clit. You’re so worked up that your body pulses around the intrusion, a tiny fluttering orgasm rippling through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

Yoongi gives you a wicked, knowing smile. “It’s not over yet, beautiful,” he assures you in a whispered promise.

His fingers are long, able to reach the perfect, special place inside you. As he strokes his fingertips, moving them in an undulating wave, his thumb swirls in a circle around your clit.

The next orgasm is less surprising, building to a heightened peak that has you crying out as you careen over the edge, entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. “Yoongi, fuck!” you babble, your whole body alive with sensations of pleasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “So beautiful.”

Your body shudders around his hand, his fingers slowing down their rhythm until you finally recover. The slide of his fingers along your walls as he withdraws makes you wish he’d put them back in…or maybe something else. The bereft feeling lasts only a moment before Yoongi gathers you into his arms. He’s completely naked, and you’re still wearing your dress, but you feel just as exposed as he is…only, it’s your soul on display for him instead of your body.

You wait for the feeling of vulnerability to filter in, that broken feeling of uncertainty. But, it doesn’t come. The only thing you feel is complete and utter content. It’s not even the post-orgasmic bliss that’s clouding it, either. No, there’s plenty of that, but it feels different; he feels different.

“Yoongi,” you begin, resting your cheek on his chest. You want to confess to him, but the words get choked in your throat. Is it too soon? Are you completely crazy? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Fuck. Here goes nothing. “This feels good, really good. Is it too soon to say…?”

“Too soon to say?” he prompts.

You absently trace haphazard swirls and lines across his chest, trying to think of how to word it. “I, well…”

“Too soon to say that I think possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you?” You look up at him, surprised by his words. Yoongi looks at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly how I feel, too.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2023-12-30 ColorMePurplex2

#min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi imagines #coffeeshop au #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts yoongi #professor yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts imagines #micdropnet #bangtanwhq

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crp-low-quality-content · 25 days

Text

💔 The creeps getting rejected

________________________________

🕑 | Clockwork

Oh... Really?

Not that she cared.

She didn't even want to be with you 😒

Just don't go after her... She wants to be alone now.

💕 | Nina the killer

WHAT?

After everything she did for you?

She's your biggest fan, she even carved your name on her arm, and changed her entire aesthetic to match you... 🥺

She will probably isolate herself in her own room and cry all night. (She'll try again tomorrow)

🪓 | Tobias

Serious? Okay then...

At first he doesn't know how to react, but after processing everything he just accepts it.

Well, if you want, you can just be friends, right? He won't try anything else if you don't want him to.

Maybe he'll be down if he sees you interested in someone else but he'll suck it up.

🔪 | Jeff

What do you mean you don't want him? He's EVERYBODY'S type.

Maybe you want Jeff but you don't know it.

He just wants you to do a test with him, walk hand in hand, maybe give him some hugs and kisses.

When you least expect it, you'll be married with three children and a golden retriever, but just to see if you have feelings for him.

🐈‍⬛ | Jane the killer

Wow, she was sure you felt something...

It's okay, she will respect your choice.

Maybe she swallows her feelings and tries to forget you.

Don't talk to her now, she will need time.

🧣 | Liu

Ah, you don't feel it, ok then.

You two can be friends right?

He will act like he never felt anything for you.

Next week he will be in love with someone else.

🫀 | EJ

Damn bro...

It's because of him right?

Don't feel bad, he's used to it, it's okay...

He just thought you were interesting and that maybe things could be different and that he would have a chance this time...

🧸 | Jason the toymaker

How... Dare... You...

Bro, if you're just needy and trying to annoy him, you did it.

How the fuck do you not like him? This is impossible.

Well, if he turns you into a toy, you wouldn't be able to reject him, right?

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #ticci toby #creepypasta x reader #jane the killer #nina the killer #clockwork #jason the toymaker #homicidal liu #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x reader #homicidal liu x reader #clockwork x reader #ticci toby x reader #jason the toymaker x reader #nina the killer x reader #creepypasta headcannons

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idkfitememate · 5 months

Note

Hihihihihi, I couldn't help myself but write something for the otter!creator its on my mind since the brainrot(yes I am the anon who sent that otter idea, and yes I shall dub myself as the otter!anon in your blog)

Set place in Childe in Court

The traveler and Paimon rush out to get out of their seats, seeing childe activing his foul legecy, "Ah! his activing his foul legecy!" Paimon cups her cheeks in shock, while traveler looks around to try and stop Childe from activing his foul legecy.

BOOM.

The traveler blinks, at the sudden slam from the stage, The traveler and Paimon quietly gasp as the dust cleared out, there Neuvillette standing over Childe who appeared knock out at the ground, "I am sorry" Neuvillette voice is loud and echo around the entire court "If you been wronged, we will find the truth" Neuvillette gracefully turn around "But the rules of the court, but be upheld" the clockwork meka rush past Neuvillette to take Childe into the fortress.

Then tiny claps slowly echo around the court, the audience, Paimon, Travelr, and Neuvillette look to the sound, up there next to Furina is an Otter, clapping frequently with their tiny paw pads, the Otter seems be treated well, seeing that the Otter is next to the Hydro Archon and seems to be sitting at the most softest and comfortable pillows known to whole teyert, the clapping continues on, if you look closely you can see tiny stars around the Otter face, seemly amaze by the outcome of this trial.

The Otter finally notice the attention, slowly ease their clapping and let out a tiny embarass "Kyuu..." which silently made Furina 'aww' before coughing loudly and anouncing that the trial is over, and the whisper slowly begin the court room, Neuvillette slighty smirk, perhaps the case wasn't so bad after all, their little friend seemed to enjoy it.

Following Neuvillette and Furina out after the trial, Paimon and Aether quickly gained on the duo.

“Wait!! WAIT!!!” Called Paimon, an out of breath Aether behind her. The pair stopped their little walk, turning to face them.

“Who’s your little friend?” Aether asked.

“Ah! Mon trésor! Yes yes, me and Monsieur Neuvillette’s darling ˈbābē! Oh, they are but a dear friend to us, isn’t that right, Ma raison d’être? Oh yes it is! Aren’t you so beautiful.~” Furina slowly stopped talking to them, instead cooing at the otter she held in her arms, akin to a baby. She rocked them and booped their nose, giggling throughout.

“Yes, I found ma moitié when I was taking a stroll, traveler. They clung to my leg and then held an amazing opulent shell to me. After taking it they seemed to request to be picked up, and how could I ever say no to ma raison de vivre.” Neuvillette gently took off the hat on the otter, smoothing the fur beneath it before patting the hat back on.

“They have stuck to my side ever since.” He mused.

“AND when they met moi, mon preux chevalier just couldn’t resist!~” Furina exclaimed.

“You guys sure do have a bunch of nicknames for them… jeez…” Paimon muttered.

Aether stared at the blue duo before gently reaching a hand out to pet the otter, only for his hand to get slapped away. When he looked back up, he was met with the glares of both Neuvillette and Furina.

“Do. Not. Touch. Mon. Trésor.” “GET YOUR FILTHY HAND AWAY FROM MON ANGE!” Both Aether and Paimon flinched back in shock.

“You dare try to place you hands of their gleaming coat!? I’ll have you know that it costs more than you’ll EVER SEE IN YOUR LIFE to make it this shiny!!!!” “Keep your tainted flesh to yourself.”

The traveling duo stared on in shock. That was… rather hostile. And now they were just glaring at each other.

Of course, that was until the topic of the discussion began to make noise.

All four of them looked down at the now squirming otter in Furina’s arms. They struggled in her grasp before dropping to the floor. They ran over to Aether before standing on their hind legs, reaching up at Aether to be picked up.

He quickly looked up at the others, noting their shock. Then, he hesitantly picked them up, cradling them in his arms. They began to chirp and chitter in happiness. Aether once again looked up at the other two, Paimon hiding behind him.

Furina and Neuvillette both stared with blank faces, before the hydro archon whipped her hat off her head, shoved it in her face and turned around. She bounced on her heels as she squealed.

“AWEEE!-,” she seemed to immediately regain composure however, “*Ahem* I- I mean, look at our ˈbābē!” She said as she turned back around, still hiding the lower half off her face behind her hat.

Neuvillette turned his head as well, his eyes closed and his hand covering his flushed cheeks and trembling lips.

“S- so adorable..!”

The otter simply snuggled into the man’s arms, continuing to chitter away happily.

Otter!Creator breathing: 🙂

Furina, Neuvillette, and basically the entirety of Fontaine: 🥹🥹🥹

Otter!Creator is so soft. Literally the difference between them and Boar!Creator is the fact that one was pampered and the other basically spent their first year entirely in the wild lol ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

They’re probably gonna have their own tag now, and welcome Otter!Creator Anon! When I finally get around to fixing up my blog so it’s neat and tidy, you’re gonna go right on the anon list, first place! (I really feel like people like Otter!Creator over Boar!Creator but it’s fine, it’s cool ૮꒰ ˶꒦ິ꒳꒦ິ˶꒱ა♡)

#genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #x reader #x gn reader #gn y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x you #Otter!Creator #Otter anon <3 #anon <3 #asks <3

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lilacsandpetals · 7 months

Text

Frozen Blossoms

Bi-Han x F! reader

POV: You get pushed into an arranged marriage you didn't ask for, and it's to the heir of the Lin Kuei.

Tags and notes: drabble (for now?), arranged marriage AU, SFW, exploring emotions, Bi-Han can't process his emotions properly, Pre-MK1 or maybe it's an MK1 AU??

Next part here

Your eyes bore into the reflection staring back at you. Your lips were painted red to match the deep shade of the dress that graced your body. A color you found uneasily fitting for the clan you were to marry into. Your hair was neatly tied back with a golden pin to hold it in place. The gems on the pin were in stark contrast to your dress, a shade of blue you had grown familiar with.

Chatter amongst your mother and relatives had faded into white noise as you yet again tried to grasp the reality of your impending future.

You were to be married off to secure an alliance with the Lin Kuei.

Initially, you had thought your parents were playing a cruel joke on you (they were never ones to do so, but you had still hoped). They explained the gravity of the situation. You knew that strife had been increasing in the area and that the Lin Kuei would offer protection that no one dared to rival. Your father shared similar ideals of honor and duty that the Grandmaster was privy to. However, the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei would not be so foolish as to strike up a deal without asking for something in return. Of course, your clan offered resources they found valuable, but it still would not be enough.

It just so happened that his oldest son was to take over the title soon, and that tradition deemed it necessary for him to take a bride.

And so you became the prized bargaining piece.

Naturally, the exchange of your hand in marriage for an alliance weaved its way into conversations between the clans.

Now here you were.

Your eyes trailed toward the door before a veil was placed upon your face. Could you make a run for it at this point? No, there’d be too many to stop you.

Your heart began to beat faster. Bi-Han was his name. He was always cold, much suited for the cryomancer. When the marriage talks began he seemed indifferent, you did not blame him; it wasn’t like you were ecstatic either.

But at the engagement, he didn’t appear happy. You sat across from him, his eyes pierced through you as if he wanted to disintegrate you on the spot. Yet he carried on his duties of presenting the betrothal gifts, which you accepted (it wasn’t as if you had a choice).

You wondered if he would look at you with the same animosity at the wedding ceremony.

—————

You proceed with the ceremony, ever the dutiful daughter. You repeat the vows like clockwork, as does he. You notice how stoic he sounds and you at least attempt to sound happy, albeit not very convincing.

Your families both rejoice, pleasantries and congratulations echo through the air. More so directed towards the respective families than they are at you or Bi-Han.

The rest of the night is spent masquerading under the facade of an eager, happy bride.

None saw through it, or maybe they did, and you chose to ignore their looks of pity. If they had been concerned, they could have spoken on your behalf prior.

Your mother would shoot you a sympathetic glance every so often, engulf you in her arms, and hold you for longer than needed, not that you truly minded. Maybe it was her way of attempting an apology. Yet you didn’t blame her for being complacent. She was no stranger to arranged marriages and this one was needed for the overall good. You will miss her at your new home.

On occasion, you felt as if you were catching the glances of the Grandmaster’s second son. He appeared understanding, his eyes shone kinder than your husband’s. You knew of the Grandmaster’s adopted son as well, he would smile whenever you looked his way.

His brothers seemed kind, why couldn’t Bi-Han come off that way?

Then again, perhaps you were jumping to conclusions. Who’s to say Bi-Han wasn’t as kind? Maybe his serious demeanor was just a front, the same way you kept up your own.

You would be able to tell later on.

Hopefully.

You don’t notice Bi-Han eyes drifting towards you while you remain lost in thought.

—————

The wedding concludes just as fast as it began. You were yearning for the end of it, yet dreading it at the same time.

You exchanged words of gratitude with the guests and said your goodbyes to your family. Reality was starting to hit you at this point. You were going to begin life anew with someone you considered a stranger at heart.

You tried to shake off the thoughts as you were ushered to your new bedroom. Moonlight shone through the windows onto the bed, sheets fitted a shade of crimson with flower petals decorating it. You bit your lip as you changed into your sleeping attire and sat on the bed. A few candles burned nearby, and you wondered if they were aphrodisiacs.

Tradition expected you to consummate your union on the wedding night, but surely he’d understand if you were nervous? You barely knew him… although you had to admit he was physically attractive. His eyes were piercing, his physique enticing, especially his biceps. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was well endowed…

What were you thinking? Perhaps it was your brain’s attempt to calm your nerves,

Time continued to pass by, and Bi-Han still hadn’t arrived. Where was he? Was he even coming?

You couldn’t stifle the yawn that hit you. Maybe he was busy talking to his brother or father? Or maybe he wouldn’t come.

Your mind began to wander. Maybe he had a lover he was saying goodbye to? Or maybe he had run away with a lover. You shook your head,

‘He wouldn’t, not if he’s as responsible and serious as he comes off as.’

You found yourself lying down and resting your head against the pillow. Hopefully, it would not come off as disrespectful. You were just relaxing until he showed up; if he showed up at all.

—————

You fell asleep, you didn’t mean to but the ceremony had exhausted you.

Bi-Han found you sprawled out on the bed, the blanket residing at your feet.

Truthfully, he avoided coming inside the bedroom. He had been pacing around in the main quarters before his father found him. The Grandmaster offered him words of advice and congratulations, which he begrudgingly accepted.

He had also spoken with Kuia Liang and briefly with Tomas. They both seemed to sense his disdain no matter how much he tried to veil it. They advised him to be kind and understanding of how his new bride must be feeling.

How would you be feeling? What stress would you have? You married into the strongest clan Earthrelm had. He on the other hand, now had one more burden to manage.

He hated the idea of an arranged marriage. He didn’t want to be tied down nor distracted from his duties as part of the Lin Keui. However, he knew it was necessary if he was to take on the role of Grandmaster after his father.

His mother and father had their marriage arranged as well. Bi-Han had a suspicion that they had feelings for one another before their engagement, at least that’s what his mother would allude to.

His new bride seemed to be adverse towards him. You barely looked at him, you barely spoke. Why were you so rude?

Both his father and yours had made arrangements between you two to interact prior to the wedding, yet you seemed out of touch. At clan banquets you were indifferent.

He had seen you with others. He had watched you before, prior to the public proposal of an engagement between you two. His curiosity had gotten the best of him so he had kept an eye on you at meetings and other affairs. You were lively, a smile could be found on your lips more often than not. You would speak with passion. You found enjoyment in training with your fellow clan mates. You had a habit of cracking your knuckles when nervous.

He tells himself he only became interested in watching you to better assess the situation; to see what he was getting himself into, or rather what his father had gotten him into.

Why were you so different with him compared to the others? He saw how you interacted with Tomas and Kuia Liang. Did you prefer them over him?

Bi-Han clenched his jaw. What did he lack that made you so apprehensive? He is second in command to his father, he maintains his form, and he fulfills any duty that is required of him. What more could you want in a partner?

Either way, this was an arrangement, he need not be so concerned with the actual ‘happiness’ of this marriage. He would fulfill his duties and he would expect you to fulfill yours.

Yet here you were, already failing at that.

Did you not want to consummate the marriage? Were you so careless towards tradition?

His eyes narrowed at your sleeping form. Did you have a lover? Is that why you were being so distant? If you did he would find out sooner or later, and he would deal with that nuisance swiftly.

He stepped closer. Your eyes were closed and the rhythm of your breathing was steady.

Now, he would be lying if he said he didn’t find you visually appealing.

Your lips looked soft and supple, your eyes warm yet inquisitive, your hands delicate compared to his.

Bi-Han scowled, what was he thinking? Was he already so easily distracted?

He groaned as he prepared himself to sleep. He had an early morning tomorrow, as were most mornings. His father and brother offered him the chance to stay in with his bride, but he wouldn’t bother. His duties towards the Lin Kuei stopped for no one.

As he gets into his side of the bed he notices you shivering and pulls the blanket over your sleeping form. He is able to do that much.

He doesn’t bother to cover himself, why bother when he is accustomed to the cold.

He maintains a noticeable distance between you two and turns his back away from you before he allows himself to fall into a slumber.

————

You wake up the following morning. The spot next to you is empty.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #bi han #bi han x reader #bi han sub zero #bi han mk #lin kuei #I've never written an x-reader AU lol #Hopefully I caught all the grammatical errors #Blossoms signify new beginnings

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nelkcats · 1 year

Text

Earthquake in space-time

When Flash reset time to resolve everything that happened in Flashpoint, he didn't realize how much he was messing up the Infinite Realms. Which were trembling and thousands of portals were opening from one moment to another, portals that led to all moments in time, connected to all dimensions.

Clockwork and Danny weren't enough to hold all the glitches. The ghost king was draining all his energy just to keep the ruptures at bay in the Realms but at some point it wasn't enough.

The main cause, the DC universe was suddenly invaded by multiple portals in time. Different versions of themselves endlessly opening and closing. This became critical when the dimensions began to collide and even the ghosts dared to enter.

Bruce was freaking out watching his father (as Batman?) and his mother (The Joker ???) adopting a jokerized Tim and a ghost Jason. Constantine was wondering how to solve the dilemma when Clockwork appeared through a portal in the middle of the Watchtower meeting room.

Constantine debated whether he should stop the Ghost God from killing Flash. That didn't seem sorry at all. And when he was about to do something, a boy stood between them.

"We don't know how to solve this and it's your fault," the boy said, the dark circles in his eyes were obvious, "but if you don't solve it, we'll take the Speedforce away from you, this is a fucking disaster, no more resets bitch."

And without more to say, he passed out in the arms of his mentor. Was it the end of the Speedsters?

#dpxdc #ghost king danny #he is fucking done #he will confiscate the Speedforce #like a toy #Clockwork is also mad #dp x dc #dc x dp #Flash is not sure how to solve it #The League is panicking watching their alt versions #Constantine is flirting with himself tho #The Ghosts and alts are entering the original dimension and messing around #Martha Joker and Thomas Batman adopted Tim and Jason #Maybe they will finally get some therapy

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lemonlover1110 · 10 months

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 7] The Secretary

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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You’re a bit shaken up when you get off the elevator, perplexed by his words. A surge of emotions flows through you. You’re fighting back a smile while your blood boils. Of course he has the audacity to say that. He doesn’t have that right.

When you’re back at your desk you take a moment to breathe. You can’t believe it. How dare he? He should’ve stayed quiet because he doesn’t have the right to speak to you in any kind of way– To even comment on your looks. You’ll be thinking about this for the entire day, it’s hard not to, considering how fast your heart beats.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice when Shoko walks up to your desk. She taps on your desk, and you look up at her. She raises her brows, tilting her head before commenting, “Caught you off guard. What were you thinking?”

You shake your head, before sheepishly smiling at her. You clear your throat before telling her, “Nothing.”

“Did Satoru do something?” She asks and you shake your head. You’re definitely not going to tell her about Satoru’s comment. You do have a question though.

“Shoko… Is Satoru fucking his secretary?” The question that leaves your lips leaves the woman wide-eyed. She then furrows her eyebrows, she lightly shakes her head.

“How would I know? I don’t exactly keep up with him. I literally found out just the other day that he has a son.” She answers. She puts her index finger up before saying, “In his defense, he doesn’t know it either.”

“So you don’t know. Thanks.” You respond, rolling your eyes, and she ends up shrugging before walking into her office. The thought of his secretary and what he said to you lingers on your mind. How does he even say that when it’s so clear that he’s having some type of relationship with her? Not even that, he’s married. He’s fucking married. You never thought that Satoru was the type of man to cheat but you know that look in his eyes all too well. Maybe you just didn’t know him as well as you thought.

It hurts you to know that Satoru is not the man you thought he was– Well, he had shown himself but you thought that at the very least he’d make a good husband. However, he has proved you wrong. Maybe it’s just a figment of your imagination, perhaps you’re overanalyzing and dramatizing a simple look and a smile.

You doubt it though.

Like clockwork, a rumor goes around the office that there’s something going on with Mr. Gojo, the new president of the company, and his secretary. You don’t start such a rumor though, another employee does. You immediately know it’s true.

Shoko asks you if you made up the rumors, and you deny it. You don’t gain anything from it, and while she thinks you’re lying at first, she believes you. You really don’t benefit from it, maybe they’re just rumors that happen to be true. Maybe an employee caught them. There’s many possibilities.

In the end, it’s none of your business.

“Satoru.” Mrs. Gojo barges into the office, finding her son mindlessly reading a report in his hands. He looks up from it to find his mother enraged. He sighs, rubbing his temple since he feels the headache that’s coming. “Would you care to explain what I just heard?”

He closes the report and tosses it on the desk. He crosses his arms before asking, “What did you just hear, mother?”

“Are you fucking your secretary?” Her tone is more accusatory rather than curious, and while Satoru would like to argue with her for not trusting him, she isn’t exactly… Wrong. But he isn’t going to admit it. He ends up shaking his head, but that obviously isn’t enough. He looks guilty. “Fire her.”

“Why?” Satoru asks, making her scoff. She crosses her arms, her index tapping on her arm. She can’t believe he’s asking that stupid question. She opens her mouth, about to speak, but Satoru speaks again, “If it bothers you so much just move her somewhere else. You were so bothered about my ex yet you hired her to work for you. By the way, why did you do it? I swore that you hated her.”

“Why I hired her is none of your business, Satoru. Plus, I don’t hate her.” She answers, making Satoru sigh. That doesn’t answer any of his questions. But he knows that he can’t push his mother, he knows better than anyone how she is. “I told you to fire that woman, and that’s what you’ll do.”

“Give me a reason.” Satoru says, and she raises her brows. Her nails dig into her skin before she opens her mouth to speak,

“My reason is that because of me, you’re sitting in that chair. You want to live a magnificent lifestyle and have your prestigious job? You follow my orders.” Her words make Satoru purse his lips together. He’s about to argue with her, but she says, “I can turn every board member against you, they weren’t even sure about giving you the presidency. Follow my orders.”

Satoru bites down on his lip. He takes a deep breath. He wants to say something else, but he really can’t. He really can’t say anything else but, “Yes, mother.”

“Good. I’ll get Shoko’s assistant working here while you find a new one.” Satoru doesn’t catch on quickly, but when he does, he knows that she’s doing it on purpose. He sighs before he nods.

“C’mon, Ren. Finish your veggies.” You have to tell the young boy that refuses to eat the broccoli and carrots that are on his plate; he’s become picky lately even though he used to love broccoli and carrots before. You assume that the older he gets, the more picky he becomes. He shakes his head, which causes you to sigh. “You won’t get any kind of dessert if you don’t finish your veggies.”

“I don’t like them!” He claims, pushing his plate away from him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. You don’t have the energy to argue with him, you’re simply too exhausted from the work day. You hear as someone unlocks the front door, and when you’re about to pick up Ren to hide because you assume someone is trying to break into the apartment, you hear her voice when she enters the apartment.

“Where are you?” It makes you sigh. You tell her where you are, and when Mrs. Gojo is at the dinner table, Ren’s eyes light up. He stands up on the chair to hug his grandmother, and she picks him up before kissing his forehead.

“Grammy, I’ve missed you.” Ren says, and you nearly roll your eyes. You know immediately that she’s the reason Ren is refusing to eat his vegetables; while a grandmother’s job is to spoil her grandchild, she must also respect your wishes but she doesn’t. She just enables Ren, disregarding you.

“Ugh, I’ve missed you too, my sweet boy. I’ll be visiting you more frequently, I promise.” Mrs. Gojo tells him. You look at Ren’s plate of unfinished food, and you stand up from the chair and pick it up. Now that Mrs. Gojo is here, you know that the plate will end up uneaten. You begin to clean up, rolling your eyes at the sound of Ren interacting with his grandmother. You can’t stand her.

“Hey, I came here to tell you something.” Mrs. Gojo walks into the kitchen, holding your son in her arms, and you turn off the faucet to completely focus on her. You dry off your hands on your pants before you put your hands on your hips. “You’ll be working with my son until he finds a new secretary.”

“Were the rumors true?” You mindlessly ask, and she furrows her brows and squints her eyes.

“You don’t get to ask questions.” She responds, and you click your tongue before you turn your attention back to the dishes. Too focused on the veracity of the rumors, it doesn’t hit you that she told you that you’ll be working with Satoru. Not until you hear,

“You have a son?” Ren quite doesn’t understand how his grandmother is his grandmother– He just knows he adores her, and it’s quite shocking to know that she has kids. Ren knows why your mother is his grandmother but not this woman…

“Yes, dear, your father.” She says nonchalantly, and your eyes widen. Ren’s eyes light up in excitement and he smiles– So he does have a father.

“Can I meet him?” He’s quick to ask, and you suck your bottom lip in. You take a deep breath, but it’s her situation to handle. She’s the one that brought it all up. When you turn to see what she does, she does nothing but shake her head.

Then it hits you, you’re going to be working with Satoru. You can’t stop your tongue, “What the hell do you mean I’m going to be working with your son?”

“That you’ll be working with him. That’s that.” She puts Ren down on the floor, while the little boy points his hands together. You nearly burst into tears as you watch him beg his grandmother,

“Can I please meet my daddy? Please? Pleaseeee?”

“No, Ren. And that’s final.” She says, and he crosses his arms. He pouts as he walks away, too mad at his grandmother to even look at her. She’s the one that always says yes, so why is she saying no to this? Instead of paying attention to the boy, she looks at you and tells you, “You’ll be reporting to Satoru tomorrow, so don’t bother going to Shoko.”

“And what if I refuse?” You respond. You already agreed to so much, but working directly with Satoru is the last thing you refuse to accept. You wonder what she’d do if you refused.

“You see this luxurious apartment that you’ll never be able to afford?” She begins, and you sigh. Of course. You also know that she’ll take Ren– Maybe not give him to Satoru, but make a nanny raise him. “Do I need to finish? It’s just for a short time, dear. It’s not worth the fuss.”

“Right.” You sigh before turning back around and focusing on the dishes. She stares for a moment before turning around, and going to Ren.

He has a short-term memory for the people that have wronged him so it’s no issue for her to interact with her grandson yet again.

It doesn’t surprise you that when you arrive at the office the next morning, Satoru calls you into his office. He doesn’t let you settle into your desk first, he doesn’t want to waste any time. You stand across from him, while he sits comfortably on his chair. You expect him to be personal, to talk about your previous relationship. It’s shocking when he doesn’t.

“I expect you to be here earlier. You’ll be working with me, not Shoko, therefore you’ll have a different schedule.” Satoru tells you, and you deeply inhale before exhaling. “I expect you to be competent. Leave anything personal at home. You can be professional, right?”

“Satoru–” You begin but he interrupts you.

“Mr. Gojo.” He corrects you.

“Mr. Gojo, I assure you, unlike your previous secretary, I am extremely professional.” You smile at him, and his eyebrows raise. He rolls his eyes. You find yourself irritated at the fact that he expects professionalism from you after the comment he made in the elevator– And you’re shocked to see how fast his attitude has changed. Satoru is not the same person he was five years ago.

“There’s no way you believe those stupid rumors. I thought you out of all people would be smarter than that.” Satoru comments and you shrug in response. You look around the office, looking for a single picture of his wife, but there is none.

“I mean… I saw the way you looked at her. I’m not dumb, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him, and he bites his tongue. He can’t argue with that. You smooth out your skirt before weakly smiling at him and changing the topic, “Would you like to start your day with a coffee or tea, sir?”

“Coffee.” He answers, and you nod in response. You turn on your heel and you begin to walk out of the office, until his voice strikes you and it causes you to freeze. “You know, you don’t have to act like you don’t know me. You’ve always known that I like to drink coffee in the morning.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?” You look at him, tilting your head. “We don’t know each other, how am I supposed to know that you drink coffee?”

“I–” He opens then closes his mouth. It feels strange for a woman that’s known him for twenty one years to say that– A woman that he got to know for sixteen years, a woman that he was in a romantic relationship from eighteen to twenty one. But he doesn’t know why he expected anything different, even when he knows that you know him better than anyone.

“Everything okay?” You ask him.

“Everything’s fine.”

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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dulcesiabits · 3 months

Text

plum blossom soliloquy.

summary: ruan mei is the one person in the universe who can touch you.

notes: 3.6k words, author's notes, themes of codependency/worship, made-up science, loosely inspired by cardia from code realize

Ruan Mei collects pieces of you everyday.

With insulated gloves pulled up to her elbows and safety goggles perched on her nose, she extracts samples of your blood, strands of your hair, and biometric readings from her scanner. This is your daily ritual, and Ruan Mei’s visits mark the beginning of your day. She never fails to come in like clockwork, more consistent than the sun itself.

You don’t ask what she does with the samples; her explanations never make much sense, and your education is woefully limited. But Ruan Mei always hums as she works, delicate strands of music like peach blossoms waving in a spring breeze, and you can never take your eyes off of her as she carefully clips strands of your hair, head bent over in concentration. Close enough that you can smell the plum pastries still clinging to her, warm and sugary and fragrant. She must have had some for breakfast.

“How are your findings?” you ask.

“The high toxicity level of your body remains stable,” she murmurs. “And yet, you still don’t feel any discomfort?”

When she says this, Ruan Mei looks at you with calculations and dreams swirling in her eyes like a galaxy. You flush at her evaluating gaze, as if she can stare past your skin into the hollows of your soul, everything stripped bare in front of her.

“No, not at all,” you say softly. “I feel normal.”

“You’re a marvelous specimen,” Ruan Mei responds.

You bite back a smile at her words, pressing your teeth down on your bottom lip. There’s a miniature sun in your chest, burning and bright, at her praise.

“Will I see you at the same time tomorrow?” you ask her.

Ruan Mei stands, briskly arranging all her samples. “Yes, of course. Your meals will be delivered as per the usual time.”

“Ruan Mei,” you say quickly, “May I make a request?” It’s audacious of you to ask. You’ve never voiced your thoughts to her before. You don’t dare to disturb her, and try to stay out of her way as much as you can. What is so different about today? Nothing, nothing at all, but the sight of her back to you makes you feel lonely. So, you offer your words to her like a worshiper to a god, hopeful for any acknowledgement.

She frowns thoughtfully at you. “Yes?”

“May we have today’s meal together?”

“Together? I fail to see the point of such an endeavor,” she says. “We run on different schedules.”

“I’m sorry if it’s presumptuous,” you murmur. You should have known better than to bother her. “You can forget it if it’s too much.”

Ruan Mei tilts her head at you, squinting as if you’re some particularly strange calculation. Your skin tingles under her gaze, and you fight to keep your own eyes locked on hers.

“I suppose I can,” she says at last, “if that’s what you wish.”

“Thank you,” you say.

She nods, once, before exiting out of the lab. You let out an exhale, before hugging yourself at the unexpected clemency she has granted you.

The two of you do not talk much outside of the scheduled appointments in which she, like clockwork, shows up at eight in the mornings per standard time to collect samples of your body. Though she has given you free reign of her lab, outside of a few forbidden zones in which she conducts delicate research, you mainly squirrel yourself away in the little room she’s provided for you. It’s comforting to burrow in your corner of her lab; the idea of disturbing her experiments with your carelessness worries you endlessly. You’re not used to having space to wander, either, and keeping your world small and limited is easier for you.

Some might call her cruel, but that’s only because they do not understand the nature of her work, so grand and all-consuming that you’re honored to have a role to play in it at all. You would gladly offer up every last piece of yourself if only to feel Ruan Mei’s touch once. After all, what other use would a body like yours have? Your body, which is toxic to the touch. Prolonged exposure to your skin is lethal. Flowers wilt. Birds choke up. Everything beautiful dies when it comes into contact with you.

But Ruan Mei, as lovely as a plum blossom, is the only beautiful thing who hasn’t.

—

Your story before Ruan Mei was painfully dull. There was nothing to say about that time, which was filled only with a monotony of endlessly repeating days, of set meals and lessons and an empty manor, with its carefully preserved artifacts.

You didn’t remember your parents. Perhaps you had killed them, or they had abandoned you. Maybe you didn’t have any parents at all, and had simply sprung into existence by an aeon’s will. You had never learned the truth about your heritage, no matter who you asked. Not that there was anyone to ask. In your frozen wasteland of a home, you had grown up with only a few android servants for companions, who oversaw your education and general health. Outside of that, you were alone. You could only learn about the world through the books you read.

“What’s this?” you pointed a finger at a picture of a tree, pink flowers blooming voraciously across its every limb. You must have been seven or eight, and had never seen anything so colorful before.

“That is a plum blossom tree,” your android teacher said, its motors whirring. “It is a tree that can be found across the Xianzhou Luofu, and is a popular subject of art. It blooms during the spring, and the fruit has a variety of uses in cooking and medicine.”

“Plum blossoms…” You trace the brushstrokes of the petals with your fingers, as if you could feel the soft silk if you just tried hard enough. You knew what trees were, but you had never seen one in person. Nothing green could survive in the icy landscapes of your particular planet. “Do you think I’ll be able to see it one day?”

“Negative. It is too dangerous for you to venture away from your home. It is possible your body could contaminate the tree and sicken it, as well.”

“Oh.”

It was just the way things were. You were dangerous. You could not leave. You would most likely stay in your isolated mansion, surrounded by drifts of snow and ice, until you died.

There were no visitors. All you understood about the world came from the books the androids offered you. There was no advanced technology in your household, as if someone had forbidden all your contact with the outside world. The most you were allowed was a scratchy record-player, out of which poured music you had no context for.

That was your life. At least it was until Ruan Mei arrived.

Ruan Mei had not bothered to knock on your door. Instead, she had picked the lock and strode in as if the mansion belonged to her, even as the androids fruitlessly tried to get her to leave. She brought in swirls of snow, trekking ice across the floor, sending your servants into a panic. She was calm, even as they pushed her with their mechanical arms.

The commotion and the noise had driven you out of your room, where you hovered on the second floor, watching this strange woman. Slowly, you crept closer, down the stairs, to the first floor, to the source of the disruption of your average life.

When Ruan Mei saw you, she strode towards you. Entranced, all you could do was watch her. This was the first human you had encountered in your entire life. Was she a dream? Or a ghost? It wasn’t until she was close enough to raise a gloved hand to brush against your cheek that you flinched back, skittering from her touch.

Still, enough of the glove brushed against the edge of your cheek so that the silk sizzled and blackened against your corrosive skin, revealing her pale fingers.

“Curious,” she said, flicking the glove aside. “It seems the rumors weren’t wrong. You are a strange specimen.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” you rasped, still edging backwards. “You shouldn’t touch me. You could get hurt. It’s— it’s dangerous.”

She tilted her head. “I’m a scientist. It’s part of the nature of the profession to do dangerous things.”

What a strange woman. Were all humans like her? You couldn’t tell, but there was a strange shine in her eyes, an endless hunger when she stared at you. It made something in you catch alight, sending trails of fire through your veins.

She was the most beautiful woman in the galaxy, who disrupted everything you thought you knew and understood. Where had she come from? From your dreams of companionship, like a fairy tale sprung to life? Or from the fervent wishes of your heart, answered at last by a star or an aeon?

“Who… who are you?” you finally brought yourself to ask. You couldn’t look away.

“You can call me Ruan Mei,” she said calmly. She extended her ungloved hand to you, palm up, fingers spread. Pale skin, traced through with blue rivers of veins and valleys of creases. Nothing like the smooth, unblemished synthetic hands which nurtured you for years. “And I am going to take you out of here.”

It was dangerous. You were trapped here for a reason. You couldn’t leave. If there was one thing you had been taught, it was that it was your duty to stay in your manor.

But she was so beautiful. Even if you didn’t take her hand and tried to chase her away, she had stolen something from you that you could never get back.

There was only one choice for you now.

—

You learned more about Ruan Mei’s mission in her aircraft, where you were bundled up in a blanket you brought from home so you wouldn’t burn through the seats. You didn’t bring much with you, outside of a few objects that she wanted to examine.

Ruan Mei wanted to understand life. No, she wanted to create a perfect lifeform. It was her self-imposed mission, and when she had heard rumors of you from a colleague, she had immediately flown to your glacial planet to find you.

“A human who is not a human is the closest thing to an aeon,” she explained calmly.

The idea that someone like you could even be close to divine felt wrong, but the way Ruan Mei said it made you wonder if it could be true.

You learned more about her in the following months. She was diligent and articulate. She loved desserts, and enjoyed embroidery. She was a member of the Genius Society, and took tea every morning before she began work.

From the meetings you overheard her conduct, her coworkers called her cold, and disinterested. But they couldn’t have been more wrong. She was the one who had found a way for you to live in her home without melting everything you touched.

Ruan Mei hypothesized that the entire manor you had once lived in had somehow been treated so you could touch things without your poisonous skin corroding it. The fact you didn’t melt your own body was proof there could be a way to counteract your own poison, and that she could find a way to prevent you from doing the same to the things around you. It took her only a few days to collect samples of your blood and to use the blanket you brought back from the manor to create a solution she used to treat the entire area in which the two of you lived. Now, you could touch things with your bare hands without fear.

“It’s for the sake of my research. I can’t do work if you melt every beaker I try to use to collect samples,” she said, but you were grateful regardless.

You had never been useful before. It wasn’t a possibility you were aware was possible.

“So you’re the lab rat she’s dragged in,” one of her colleagues had told you dismissively. Dr. Ratio, that was his name, perhaps. He had visited to share lab results with Ruan Mei, and you had run into him by accident, jumping a mile in the air at the sight of the stranger.

You had burned with emotion then, and it was only now, after replaying that scene in your head again and again, that you could finally come up with the proper words to refute him.

“So what if I am? She needs me.”

Using you? Even if that was true, what did it matter? Love, affection, care… Those sorts of emotions were quick to fade and notoriously unreliable. You wouldn’t be able to trust them. But her experiments on you, each and every day? Those were real. Those were proof that you were important to her, more important than anyone else could ever be.

Your body’s condition was finally good for something. It had brought Ruan Mei to you.

—

The appointed time of dinner draws closer, and you still haven’t figured out how to prepare for her arrival.

What should you wear? No, should you tidy up the area? There were automated bots who cleaned each room and made the meals, as Ruan Mei found such things a bother to tend to when she was busy. Ah, maybe you should have asked if it was okay to make something for her, perhaps a cake that she liked– not that you could cook. You couldn’t serve her terrible food. And it wouldn’t nearly be enough to repay her for everything she’s done for you.

A soft, elegant knock echoes against your door. The time has passed faster than you expected. You leap up, heart pounding, as Ruan Mei steps into your room, a bot trailing behind her, carrying a tray.

“Hello,” she says. “I’ve brought you your meal.”

You pull out a chair for her, and she slips into it with a word. Her every moment is precise, elegant, with no wasted movement. Every minute of her day must be carefully planned and executed. She could have a mathematical equation for the entire universe, hidden in the palm of her hand.

The bot lumbers over to your side and sets a stainless steel plate down in front of you. To your surprise, it’s not the usual mush, packed with, as Ruan Mei says, enough nutrients to keep you healthy, even if not the most favorable meal. Instead, it is a real dish: fragrant stir-fried vegetables and braised meat, steamed fish and two bowls of rice, set with a pair of chopsticks perched across each bowl. It’s food from Xiangzhou Luofu.

“Well?” Ruan Mei says, already plucking a piece of fish into her bowl. “Eat.”

Emotions choke your throat as you tentatively reach for the chopsticks, and poke at some of the vegetables. The poison in your body makes it hard to taste the food before it dissolves in your mouth, but to your surprise, you can taste every ounce of flavor in these vegetables, succulent and lightly-seasoned.

It’s delicious. Ruan Mei must have done something to your meal; had she poison-proofed it somehow? But for what end? So you could enjoy the meal? But why? It seems the sort of sentimental behavior she doesn’t tolerate.

There’s nothing but the clinking of chopsticks against porcelain plates as the two of you eat. You’ve never been with her for such an extended period of time. What can you talk about? Her papers for the Genius Society? No, you wouldn’t understand a word of it. You could mention the books you’ve read lately, but you don’t know if she would care about romance novels.

“How is your research progressing?” you ask timidly. That’s a safe subject, at least.

“It’s progressing smoothly with your assistance,” she says. She flicks a glance at you, scrutinizing. “How are your accommodations?”

“Perfect! The pillows are soft, and the temperature is always mild, so I never felt too hot or cold. And you’ve given me plenty of books, so I never feel bored,” you say. “Thank you, Ruan Mei.”

“It’s only natural,” she says. “A lack of stimulation might lead to a degradation in your condition. I’m only trying to keep your environment stable for my own research.”

“That’s extremely thoughtful of you.”

“So that’s how you see it,” she murmurs. You sneak a peek at her, but she’s focused on eating. Better not to comment, then. Maybe that’s a sentiment you aren’t supposed to respond to.

Silence falls again. The rice is dwindling, and only sauce is left on the plates. What can you do to make her stay? To engage her interest? This is a rare opportunity, one that might not come about again.

Sometimes, you think about faking illness, if only to keep her by your side for longer. Any change in your condition would concern her. But most likely, she would just send in a medical bot to check on you, and your ruse would be easily discovered. A childish ploy for attention would never work on someone as intelligent as her.

She’s standing now, neatly folding her chopsticks over her plate. Why did she accept your invitation, again? Maybe that’s not for you to question. You’re fine with your relationship. You’re fine, so you shouldn’t get too greedy, and to want more than you are allowed.

“Ruan Mei,” you say again.

“Yes?”

“Am I helpful to you?” you ask plaintively.

She doesn’t answer right away. Ruan Mei looks at you, really looks at you, her gaze luminous and all encompassing, like a lighthouse in a storm. Her gaze flays you open, excavating every last inch of you for her appraisal. Without her attention, you would revert back to who you were before, a lost person trapped in a glacial manor, all alone.

She walks over to where you still stay sitting. She reaches out one gloved hand and places it alongside the length of your cheek. There’s an emotion struggling to break out through the calm waters of her eyes. You can see it, floating right beneath, under her tranquil exterior.

You can’t breathe. You wait for the sizzle of acid, of melting flesh. You wait for her to recoil. You wait for the words you’ve always heard, the knowledge you’ve always known: your body is a curse. It’s dangerous. You aren’t meant for human connection, much less someone else’s touch.

But none of that happens. Ruan Mei’s touch is gentle, ghosting against your skin. You can almost feel her warmth through her glove, and can almost imagine how soft her hand must be, how lovely it would be for her to touch you, to really touch you.

You still remember the sight of her hand, the first time you met her. Flesh and bone and blood and nerves, all the delicate components that come together in a miraculous fusion of life.

“You are helpful,” she says curtly, pulling away. “I need you.”

“Okay,” you say smiling. “I’m glad.��

Raw, naked need. It’s more reliable than Ruan Mei saying she likes you, or cares about you. Need is hard and visceral, like plum seeds packed in fertile ground.

The bot clears away the food, and your table is as clean as if you’ve never had a meal there in your life. You sit in your chair with your hands folded in your lap like a doll.

Ruan Mei is by the door when she pauses. “By the way. I have something for you. It followed me home, and since I have no need for it, I believe you may find better purpose out of it than I could.” As she speaks, a strange, furry creature darts between her ankles and into your room, a flash of gray fur and wide eyes.

It’s only when it comes to a stop that you see it’s some sort of… cat? A cat that looks like a cake, with its tail curled close to its body as it looks up at you, its head peeking out of its cake-like body.

Wide-eyed. Scared. Needing.

You hug your arms around yourself. “What if I–”

“It can survive your touch,” she interrupts. “I made sure of that.”

“Ruan Mei,” you say breathlessly, holding out your arms. You say her name like you would say the name of a god. The creature scampers into your hold, but she’s stepped out, and the door is sliding closed, and still you add, “thank you.”

There’s no response. You hold the creature to your chest, and it is so, so warm. It’s alive and trembling and soft. This is the touch of another living being. This is what being alive means: to feel the touch of others. To hold them. To know you are real.

“What’s your name?” you coo, stroking the creature’s fur. It feels like velvet.

“Don’t have one,” it replies. You almost drop it; you haven’t expected it to actually reply. But Ruan Mei is a genius; of course her experiment has some measure of intelligence.

“I’ll give you a name,” you say. “What about Plum?”

“Plum? It sounds nice,” the creature says, nuzzling into your grasp, finally relaxing in your grip.

“It’s because…” You remember that book about plum trees you read as a child. You remember the smell of Ruan Mei’s favorite plum cakes, clinging to her skin. You remember Ruan Mei, pulling you out of your dull existence. “It’s because plum blossoms are the most beautiful flowers in the universe.”

You hug Plum closer to you. Whether Ruan Mei is an angel who saves you, or a devil who pulls you into hell, or a cruel god who will destroy you, it doesn’t make any difference. As long as she is the one reaching out her hand to you, you will take it, no matter where she leads you.

#liya writes #honkai star rail #ruan mei #ruan mei x reader #x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr ruan mei

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nctsworld · 8 months

Text

at your earliest convenience

✩‌ haechan x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | in which haechan is always your one (and annoying) late-night customer at the 24/7 convenience store you work at and one evening, he forgets his wallet. in lieu of payment, he asks if he can take you out on a date instead. // part of the connection series

WARNINGS | slightly insecure reader, none really!

RATING | teen+

AUTHOR'S NOTE | please check out (and maybe send in some prompt requests) @nctpromptmeme!

You ring him up, like clockwork.

The scanner picks up a bag of the Korean brand onion rings, two Red Bulls, and an instant noodle cup.

He’s the only consistent man in your life, ignoring the fact that the sole reason why he’s in your life is because he always comes into the 24/7 convenience store you work at during late, sometimes ungodly, hours. Tonight, it’s not that bad: 1:53am.

Rarely, no one else strolls in during your shift (and you’re grateful it’s a safe neighbourhood).

However, this young man lives to make your shift a painful one.

Usually with ruffled hair, transparent-framed glasses, and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he saunters in as if he owns the store, often swinging his keys or obnoxiously whistling along to the song playing in the background. From the moment he steps into the store, his existence alone irks you.

Unsurprisingly, he then takes a solid ten minutes on average (yes, you’ve timed it) to buy his items. Whistling evolves into screeches or emphatic oohs and aahs. Sometimes, he even narrates the entire process, as if he's the main character in a show. And yet, despite it all, he ends up buying the same rotation of his favourite items.

If not the onion rings, the shrimp crackers. If not the Red Bulls, the bottles of Monster instead. He may be grabbing one cup of noodles tonight, but other times it’s three. Potentially even a completely different brand, if he’s feeling adventurous.

On that note, predictability is in his nature. You plead internally for him to live a little, to maybe even spice up his night with a little change, for crying out loud. Heck, maybe even change the grey or black t-shirt he always wears to a shade that’s not a neutral tone or to put on a jacket for once.

And the cherry on top is the constant annoying smirk he flashes when you tell him his total.

You want to punch it off his face, smear it across the shiny floors with the dirty mop water you use at the beginning and end of shift.

“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks. Sometimes gorgeous is replaced with beautiful or cutie. It only adds to his annoyance of regularity and you have an itch he does this all the time with others, making you not take his typical endearing terms seriously.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not gorgeous, but, as always, thank you for the compliment.”

His smirk melts, and you catch yourself feeling a tinge of something as his features soften.

“You are, though,” your regular says. You quickly glance up, wondering if that pout and look in his eyes are genuine. “You know that I call you gorgeous because I mean it, right?”

You’re unsure how to react, so you give a small nod and repeat the total, softly this time.

There’s a beat when the man gets lost in thought, but the moment quickly fades. He reaches into his sweatpants. However, he stops abruptly, before he reaches in again and pats the outside of his other pockets.

“Fuck,” he hisses. You realize two things: one, you’ve never heard him curse; and two, he doesn’t have his wallet.

Well, that surely is different than usual.

Instinctively, you pull the snacks toward you.

“Don’t you dare think I’m letting you walk away with everything for free,” you say, half-jokingly. Even though you’re 80% certain you can trust him, you still don’t know what he’s like.

He smiles sweetly, quite differently than his smirks, forcing you to admit he’s handsome (just a little). “How could you expect me to stoop that low?” he whine-asks, clutching his chest in pain.

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling in thought with his tongue running against his lower teeth, a Cheshire grin spreads over his face and he raises an eyebrow.

You don’t like it one bit and regret the moment earlier, mentally punching yourself for finding him a tiny bit attractive.

“How about…”—he pauses as he rhythmically taps his fingers onto the counter—“...you let me take you out on a date in exchange for these items?”

A scoff releases into the air. “Are you really telling me I’m only worth $11.87?”

“What—no! Of course not,” he flicks a wrist upward in annoyance, then gestures to himself. “A date with me is worth way more in value, so you’ll be getting a better bargain.”

You could not believe this guy. “Is a date with you really going to be worth it?”

“Look,” he leans in over the counter and you catch a whiff of a light, woody scent. You fight off the desire to deeply inhale it. “No matter where we go or what happens, I’ll make sure you’ll be happy by the end of it. Isn’t that worth taking the risk of losing $11.87?”

Squinting your eyes at him, while still clutching the goods he wants, you start to warm-up to the idea since you don’t have anything to lose (but maybe that’s due to the influence of his slightly intoxicating aura).

“Will you choose the date location?” you ask, guarded.

He shakes his head. “Everything will be up to you and I’ll try to accommodate my schedule as best as I can.”

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “And what if I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Then we’ll go to the most expensive restaurant in town.”

“If I wanted to order the $130 steak?”

“$130 steak it is.”

“If I—”

The cute (you can’t deny it at this point) stranger cuts you off with a raise of his hand. God, you hate how cocky he is.

Suddenly, he holds out a hand, sticking his pinky finger up. He waggles it, and you realize he’s waiting for you to do the same. You curl a pinky around his.

“There. I promise you—cross my heart and swear on my mother’s life—that I’ll uphold and adhere to whatever date conditions you ask of me.” He straightens, stepping away from the counter. “Now, can I please have my snacks and drinks?”

The events of tonight took quite a turn. Never in a million years would you think Mr. Predictability would ask you out on a date, let alone be pretty sweet about it.

Perhaps there’s more to him than you thought.

You hand him your phone, and he does the same.

When he gives it back, you shake your head at the text he sent and the name he gave himself.

“Hyuck?” you ask, unfamiliar with the name.

“Short for Donghyuck, but yes, beautiful?”

You turn your phone towards him in disbelief. “What’s with the heart next to your name?”

He shrugs, flashing you another smug smile. “What about it?”

Glancing down at his phone, he beams. You wonder if it’s because you wrote the following in brackets after your name: You Owe Me a Date Worth More than $11.87.

“And your name is just as beautiful as you are.”

Again, another eye roll. You wonder if the date will be filled with more of it. You shove the stuff towards him.

“I have to know: do those lines really work?”

“Well, I have a date lined up with you, so you tell me.”

Before you have a chance to retort, he grabs something out from his pocket.

A wallet.

His motherfucking wallet, and he has the audacity to toss a $20 bill onto the counter with the same grin that you still want to wipe the floor with. Your jaw hangs.

“Keep the change,” he says, along with your name and grants you a wink as he grabs his items.

“I’ll be seeing you on our date soon, gorgeous.”

AUTHOR'S ENDING NOTE

thank you for reading! i've been getting so much love for this - y'all are amazing. if you would like to read an informal continuation, see here!