#just left that tab open and had to go do other stuff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

punkshort · 7 months ago

Text

Unveiled

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: Dave confronts you in the office and things quickly turn heated.

Warnings: language, threats of violence, sexual tension, smut (18+) MDNI, protected piv sex, edging, fingering

WC: 4.7K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

Collection Masterlist

How was he so calm?

How was he just standing there chatting in the breakroom with some guy, one hand holding a coffee, the other shoved into his pocket with an easy smile on his face while your heart was racing so fast you felt faint?

When he had first stood up from his desk, he pinned you with a dark stare and you were absolutely sure he was going to say something to you. You braced yourself for it, your trembling fingers hovering over your keyboard, but he just breezed right past without a second look. And now he stood in the breakroom talking about football or cars or the goddamn weather, you had no idea, but from where you were sitting he appeared completely at ease.

You heard your name and you blinked, forcing your eyes from Dave and onto the man standing behind you.

"Yes, hi," you said, trying to collect yourself. You stood to shake his hand and he introduced himself as Michael, your trainer for the week. Just to get you familiar with the software and stuff like that, he had said. He pulled up a chair and began instructing you to click on certain things on your screen, explaining what each tab's purpose was, where you could find important information on clients, reports and data, so you quickly began jotting down notes, forcing yourself to focus. You needed this job now that you were on your own, you couldn't let Dave distract you.

You were successful, for the most part. You had been listening intently to Michael explain how to run statements and alter them if need be that you didn't even notice Dave walk past your cube, his step faltering ever so slightly when he saw Michael leaning over your shoulder, then enter his office and shut the door.

It wasn't until lunchtime, after Michael left with the promise to return in an hour, did you notice the closed door across from you. There was no window. Dave was completely hidden from view. For all you knew, he had a client lunch and had left.

The office was quiet as you made your way to the breakroom to get some water. It was a nice day now that the rain had stopped and it seemed like most people wanted to go outside for lunch. The area was still relatively new to you so you had planned on just staying at your desk. That is, until you felt a strong hand grip your elbow, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"Come with me."

His voice sent a shiver down your spine. Deep and commanding, firm yet smooth.

With a shaky hand, you put your cup on top of the water cooler and turned around only to find him halfway across the office already, heading for the stairwell. You smoothed down your dress and forced your legs to move, but it felt like you were walking through quicksand. When you saw him slip through the door, you moved faster while still trying to look casual to the few remaining people at their desks.

You pushed open the door, eyes flickering around, wondering if he went up or down when his arm shot out and yanked you to the side, pushing your back up against the concrete wall. You gasped and winced at the grip he had on your arm. It was not like his touch from last night. This time, he was angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" he seethed, towering over you with eyes so dark they almost looked black.

"What?" you squeaked, then he tightened his grip. You were about to cry out when he covered your mouth with his other hand.

"Who do you work for?" he tried again. Tears began to well up in your eyes. You had no idea what he was talking about.

Slowly, he lifted his hand from your mouth so you could answer, but his grip on your arm remained.

"I-I work here, I just started-"

He wrapped his hand around your throat, not enough to choke you but just enough to scare you.

"You think you're funny?"

"No," you gasped, fingers clawing at the back of his hand, "I swear, I don't - it's a coincidence, I-I don't know who you are!"

"Pretty strange coincidence, if you ask me," he replied, still holding onto your throat, his jaw tense. "You move into Alvarez's apartment and you got a job here? Who sent you?"

"W-what?" you sputtered, tears streaming down your face now. "Let me go!" You tried to kick him but it was no use. His hips pressed against your body, pinning you into the wall, effectively immobilizing you. "P-please," you begged, squeezing your eyes shut, "I don't know you! You're hurting me! Let me-"

His hand immediately dropped from your throat and you doubled over coughing.

He watched you for a moment as you tried to gather yourself, wiping furiously at your cheeks, then rubbing your throat. He could have killed you in an instant. If you were an agent, you were a really bad one.

"Alright, get up," he said, his tone flat. When you shifted, the shoulder of your dress slipped down and revealed the strap of your lingerie underneath. His breath caught in his throat as he stared, immediately recognizing it as the piece he found hidden in the back of your closet the night before.

You stood up and fixed your dress, eying him warily as he stared at your now covered shoulder.

"Are we gonna have a problem here?" he asked, dragging his gaze up to your face. "You gonna tell anyone what you know?" You shook your head.

"N-no. No problem. Please, Dave. I need this job. My whole life just got turned upside down. All I have is my shitty little apartment and this place," you could feel the tears building up again but you blinked them away, his stare cutting right through you. "I just need to get back on my feet. That's all I care about. I don't care about you or... whatever it is that you do."

His expression shifted and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"You don't care about me?" he repeated lowly. You gazed at him for a moment, your back still pressed up against the wall, panting slightly as your adrenaline wore off.

"No," you said quietly. He took a step forward and you stiffened.

"No?" he asked, voice softening as his fingers traced your shoulder. You swallowed and shook your head. He pinched the fabric of your dress between his thumb and pointer finger and gave it a little tug, revealing the lingerie strap again. "Then what's this?"

You bit back a gasp and instead tilted your chin up bravely. "It's nothing."

"Hm," he said, his eyebrow twitching playfully. "Because to me that looks awfully familiar. Tell me," he stepped forward again, eliminating any space between you to the point where you could feel the heat rolling off his body. "When you put this on, did you think about me?"

"Dave-" you began to protest, but he shushed you.

"Did it turn you on? Wearing this all day?" he whispered, lightly brushing your hair off your shoulder, making you shudder. He hooked his finger underneath your chin and leaned down, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Did I leave you wanting more, baby?"

Your knees weakened at the way he managed to tear you apart so quickly.

"Yes," you whined softly, brows furrowing as the blooming heat between your legs became unbearable.

"Yes to what?"

"All of it."

"Fuck," he mumbled, dragging in a ragged breath through his nose. You needed to touch him. You needed to feel the heat of his skin under your fingertips but all that was exposed was his neck. You cupped his face then gently fanned your fingers downwards, caressing his tanned skin underneath the collar of his dress shirt, thumbs grazing his chiseled jaw as your fingers danced around, trying to memorize every freckle. But when you sought out his lips, desperate to feel them pressed up against yours again, he stepped back.

"Not here," he said, holding your wrists in his hands.

"Then where?"

You were fully aware how pathetic you sounded, but you didn't care. Something about him was so magnetic, you couldn't help it.

He opened his mouth to respond when the door opened on the floor below you. He dropped your wrists as a group of people's laughter echoed up the concrete stairwell, pulling your attention towards the noise.

When you turned your head back in his direction, he was slipping silently through the door, back to his office.

Grease seeped through the paper bag you clutched in your fist as you trudged home from work. Your feet ached and your head throbbed and all you wanted to do was put on some sweatpants, eat junk food and watch TV the whole the night.

Dave avoided you the rest of the day. He kept his office door shut the entire afternoon and when you got up to use the restroom, he must have snuck out to go home because his office was dark and empty when you got back to your cube.

After the emotional rollercoaster he put you through, you were throughly exhausted and feeling pretty shitty, so you stopped at a liquor store and picked up a bottle of red wine on a whim.

And although the lingerie was a bit uncomfortable, you kept it on, sliding your sweatpants and an oversized shirt over the red lace. Because even though you were confused and a little hurt, you still wanted something that reminded you of him.

You tried not to read too much into it.

Instead, you devoured your burger as you watched some crappy reality television show, something to turn your brain off for a while as the red wine coursed through your veins.

By the time you were ready for bed, you cleaned up and checked the lock on your door. The flimsy chain was pinched between your fingers as you hovered over the lock, considering for a moment whether or not to use it.

You ultimately let it drop, the metal grazing against the wood, swinging back and forth as you turned on your heel and headed down the short hallway.

Something pulled you out of a deep sleep at 1:56am. You noted the time because your eyes immediately locked onto the clock next to your bed, bright red numbers glaring at you from two feet away. You strained your ears, trying to figure out what caused you to wake, but you didn't hear a thing. Rolling over onto your back, you slid your bare legs out from under your comforter, your feet about to touch the floor when you saw him.

Your heart jumped into your throat and you forgot how to breathe as you stared at the shadowy figure silently sitting at the end of your bed, and if it weren't for Dave's distinctive side profile, you wouldn't have recognized him as quickly as you did.

"What are you doing here?" you whispered, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. He tipped his head back and sighed.

"I don't know."

He was wearing a similar outfit as before: dark, long-sleeved shirt and pants, but no gloves and no hat this time.

You waited a minute, your breath quickening as a familiar warmth settled low in your belly. You knew why he was there.

"You should use the chain," he said, still not looking at you. He stared at your closet from across the room, instead. "It's not safe."

"Do you mean you're not safe?" you asked, and you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.

"No, I'm not," he said lowly, finally turning his head. His eyes raked up and down your body, noting appreciatively that your sleepwear was rather sparse. Then his eyes met yours. "Does that frighten you?"

You didn't trust yourself to speak. Instead, you just shook your head, lips parted, heart racing in your chest as you waited.

"I can't-" he cut himself off and dropped his gaze to your bed. "I can't offer you anything good. Like you deserve."

You would come to realize later he was negotiating terms of the relationship he was willing to have with you. But in that moment, you only wanted one thing.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

And when his eyes met yours once again, you saw an undeniable heat behind them. He hesitated for a moment, wishing the small part of him that had some morality left would come forward and stop him, but maybe that part died long ago and he was too busy to notice.

He didn't even remember doing it, it was so fast. He was on top of you, pinning you into the mattress while his tongue licked feverishly inside your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, your greedy fingers seeking out his skin. And just like before in the stairwell, you found it difficult with the clothes he was wearing. But he didn't have that problem because all you were wearing was an oversized shirt, your sweatpants abandoned earlier next to your bed. His hand slid up your smooth leg and stopped at your hips, just underneath the hem of your shirt, plucking at your lacy underwear.

And then it hit him.

You didn't change your clothes.

He pulled away from your mouth, causing you to groan irritably.

"Off," he demanded, urgently tugging at your shirt. You frowned until you realized what had gotten him all worked up, then you grinned.

Sitting up, you chose to make a little show of it. You gripped the hem of your shirt with both hands, and maintaining eye contact, you slowly lifted it over your head and tossed it to the side, shaking out your hair when you were finished. His gaze darkened and he adjusted himself through his pants as he leisurely committed every single detail of your body in that lingerie to memory.

"Did you wear this hoping I would come here tonight?" he rasped, eyes still glued to your body.

"Yes."

That was when you saw the first crack in his mask. His eyes softened and his lip quivered before he was on you once again, his mouth moving hungrily against yours, his hands gripping and squeezing every soft piece of you he could find.

He knew it was wrong. He knew he was possibly putting you in danger simply by being there. Anybody could be tailing him. Anybody could be waiting for their chance to take him out. It's why he never tried to be close with anybody before. He couldn't take the risk of putting someone innocent in harm's way, to be used as collateral in a world they knew nothing about. But something about you made him forget all his rules. He couldn't stop himself from seeing you that night. And had he stayed another minute, he would have taken you right in the middle of the stairwell at the office.

He needed to hear you say it. He needed to hear you say you wanted this. But before he could ask, you spoke.

"Take your pants off," you said, your hands tugging feebly at his waistband. "I need you, Dave, please."

Working his zipper down with one hand, he kept his mouth pressed against yours while your fingers raked through his hair, pulling and tugging impatiently. Leaving his pants partially undone, he groaned and pulled away so he could drag his mouth down your neck, in between the valley of your breasts and then down your soft stomach.

The sharp stubble from his chin against your sensitive skin made you jump underneath him and he chuckled darkly, throughly enjoying how responsive you were. He hooked his fingers underneath the band of your panties and pulled. You lifted your hips in earnest and he had to hide his smile against your skin.

He dropped your panties to the ground and sat up, pressing your knees into the mattress and spreading your legs wide so he could see every inch of you. You squirmed under his gaze, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping up your neck but he didn't notice. His eyes were pinned directly between your legs, unable to look away.

"Can I touch you?" he asked quietly, and something about the way his tone softened when he asked for permission, two things you didn't expect from him, made your heart flutter.

"Yes," you whispered, then your back arched off the bed when his middle finger dragged slowly through your folds. His thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing a few circles until his middle finger slid all the way up once again, pinching your bundle of nerves before pulling his hand away entirely. You gasped and writhed around before him, your hips canting upwards, searching for his touch. He smirked and fell forward, his left arm holding himself above you while his right hand cupped your mound, his middle finger finding your clit as he pet back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace so he could watch your face twist with frustration underneath him.

"Shh, relax," he murmured when you began to whine and pull at his shirt. You wanted him to go faster, he knew that, but he was going to build you up slowly and watch you fall apart.

"Dave," you whimpered, then tried gazing up at him imploringly, begging him with those big beautiful eyes. "I need more, I need-"

"Let me worry about what you need," he said, his finger still maintaining the same slow pace, tracing up and down your seam. Every time his fingertip flicked against your clit he felt a new wave of arousal coat his fingers. By now, his cock was throbbing painfully in his jeans, but he put it out of his mind. He waited all day for this and he wasn't going to rush.

You panted heavily, head rolling from side to side, your entire body ready to snap if only he would just go a tiny bit faster or apply just a little more pressure. It felt like you were right there but he kept holding you back. You bucked your hips up, trying to seek out what you needed on your own, but he just watched you and grinned. That was when it occurred to you he was enjoying watching you dissolve into a desperate, moaning mess. He knew what you wanted, knew what you needed, but he was purposely denying you.

"Dave, I can't," you whimpered, his finger scooping up another gush of arousal but still not entering you.

"Can't what?" he goaded, watching as two tears slid from the corners of your eyes.

"It hurts," you moaned, and his grin was replaced with a fake, sympathetic frown.

"What hurts, baby?"

"My pussy," you gasped, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, the ache between your legs unbearable as you kept clenching around nothing. "Pleasepleaseplease," you chanted, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Alright, tell me what you need and I'll give it to you," he relented, touch still feather light over your clit.

"Your fingers," you mumbled, blinking away the tears, "inside. Please, Dave, please - oh god!"

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he slid two fingers inside you with ease and finally that devastating pinch between your hips was quelled. He didn't hold back now. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them each time he reentered you, quickly drawing your orgasm to the surface while the heel of his hand slapped harshly against your clit.

"Oh fuck, yes!" you cried, back arching off the mattress, head tilting back and your eyes sliding shut but he tsked and nipped at your jaw, bringing your attention back to him.

"Eyes on me," he demanded, and you nodded, your mouth hanging open, holding his dark gaze until the coil snapped and you moaned his name. Your body immediately flooded with relief and your muscles went lax but you kept your eyes trained on him, just like he said.

"Fuck," he groaned, admiring the sticky mess between your legs when he removed his fingers. He pulled out a condom from his back pocket and quickly rolled it on while you laid there, all pliant and soft and submissive, desperately trying to catch your breath.

He didn't give you much time to recover. With your chest still heaving, he grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him. Your heavy lidded eyes watched as he knelt between your legs, but before going any further he reached one hand underneath and unclasped your bra. Flinging it towards the end of the bed, his mouth latched onto your nipple right as he began to feed you his cock with a deep groan.

You gasped at the stretch and allowed your fingers to get tangled in his hair, vaguely noting he still hadn't taken off any clothes. His pants were shoved down slightly, just enough to free his cock, but that was it, and you would have protested if he didn't already feel so fucking good.

"Dave," you whispered, his focus still on your chest, teeth grazing over the soft swell of your breasts as he eased himself inside you. He didn't respond when you said his name again so you tugged on his hair, forcing him to pin you with his heated gaze. "Eyes on me," you murmured, and you swore the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting back a smile.

With one snap of his hips he bottomed out, slanting his mouth over yours to muffle your cries.

"Is this what you wanted?" he breathed, both your jaws hung open, mouths hovering over the other as he began to steadily rock his hips.

"Yes," you hissed, far too fixated on how deep he was, how delicious the sting felt as he split you open to offer up much else.

Dave hummed his approval and grabbed your waist, rolling your hips in rhythm with his. "Bet you were just waiting for me, hoping I would come back and fuck you just like this, right?"

Pathetically, you nodded. His coarse hair rubbed against your clit with each thrust, quickly building you back up. Your fingers pulled weakly at his shirt, trying to find a sliver of skin. You dropped your arms, lifting up the hem of his shirt, your palms skirting over his warm, taut stomach.

He shuddered at your touch, so warm and gentle and unlike anything he was used to. You were moaning his name, telling him how good he felt and how badly you wanted him, wanted this, but it was hard for him to focus when you were squeezing him so tightly. You felt too fucking good, too fucking sweet that he couldn't hold himself back much longer. Quickly, he pulled out, causing you to whine in protest but when he hauled you upright to sit on his lap, angling your hips so you had to sit on his cock, you quieted right down. He watched in wonder as your face relaxed more and more the further you took him, and when he was fully seated inside of you once again, you closed your eyes and gave him a lazy smile.

"Good girl," he breathed in your ear as you began to bounce lightly in his lap, his own hips matching your speed. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and held you close, burying his face in your neck. The zipper on his pants rubbed at your overly sensitive skin but you didn't care. You were too far gone, too lost in the moment and what Dave was offering: reaching the furthest depths of you and making you come undone for him once again.

"I'm close," you whimpered as you clawed at his shoulders. "Don't stop. Dave, please, fuck..." you tipped your head back and groaned. It might have been too rough but he couldn't help himself. He slammed his hips into you, each time your skin slapped together he let out a quiet grunt, his eyes fixated on your face the entire time. You were so beautiful like this. Your skin, warm and soft. Your hair, messy and wild. And your lips, fuck, all swollen and wet. He could feel himself nearing his peak and he knew then and there this wouldn't be the last time. It couldn't. It wasn't even over and he was already craving you.

"C'mon, give it to me," he snarled, biting at your neck. He wanted to leave a mark. He wanted to walk by your desk the next day and see the evidence of that night. He needed it.

You whined and bounced faster on his lap, your head tossing back and forth before your lips sought out his. He figured out quickly it was to muffle your screams as you came apart, your body stiffening and then relaxing as he swallowed down each and every sweet moan that fell from your perfect mouth.

Eager to join you, his arms squeezed around your ribs, holding you down on his hips so he could fuck up into you recklessly. He groaned loudly into your mouth and he felt your lips twitch into a satisfied smile as he came, his body involuntarily thrusting up into you with each spurt of spend, only finally stopping when he felt a shiver go down his spine.

"Wow," was all you could muster, your eyes sliding shut as you pressed your forehead to his.

He could feel himself beginning to fall. The walls began to shake and crumble when he pressed a gentle kiss against your collarbone. You sighed and raked your fingers through his tousled hair and it suddenly all felt too intimate.

His eyes snapped open. He couldn't do this. This wasn't him. Don't go soft.

He lifted you off him with a grunt and laid you down on the bed. Your eyes were closed and you had a cute little smile etched across your face. He had to fight against every instinct screaming at him as he forced himself to stand up.

You watched as he strolled into your bathroom, then listened to the water from the sink behind the closed door. You couldn't move if you wanted to. Your body was too spent and used and it felt really fucking good.

When he emerged, your eyes locked onto his and you knew immediately he was not planning to stay. He had zipped up his pants and fixed his shirt while he was in the bathroom, looking like he had one foot out the door already. He helped clean you up between your legs, your release coating your thighs and avoiding your eyes the entire time. Then he dropped the washcloth back in your bathroom and turned towards you once more.

"I'm glad you stopped by," you said softly, after it became clear he had no idea what to say. He took a deep breath and looked at the floor.

"Use the chain," he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Why? So it'll keep you from breaking in?"

His eyes snapped up to yours.

"A chain won't stop me," was all he said, and you hummed in response.

You held his stare for a moment, each of you silently regarding the other before you spoke again.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He averted his gaze and moved a few steps closer to the door. He knew this would come. How could it not? So he nodded, but your question surprised him.

"Is Dave your real name?"

He raised his eyebrows and blinked rapidly a few times before answering.

"That's your question?"

You shrugged and gave him a lopsided grin. "Yeah."

He scoffed and shook his head before tearing his eyes away from you. How on earth was that your question? You had no idea who he was, what he did, what he was capable of, and your only question was about his name?

"Yes. It's my real name."

You took a deep breath and pulled the sheets over you.

"See you tomorrow, Dave."

He couldn't stop the smirk from pulling at his lips that time but you didn't see it. Your eyes were closed, face buried underneath your bedding, looking throughly fucked out and satisfied.

Something stirred low in his belly, something primal that told him to go to you and hold you close. He had to force his feet to move towards the door.

There was no doubt now. He would definitely be back.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#dave york #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #the equalizer 2 fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #one shot #dave york smut #dave york x you

235 notes · View notes

celaenaeiln · 1 year ago

Note

Okay but you can’t just say “I'm not going to get into their brother relationship because that involves how Alfred treats Dick as a son rather than a grandson and is opening a whole new mansion of stuff so I'm going to wrap this up here” and not follow up with another post because that’s just cruel 😔😞 (aka this is me saying I really like & enjoy reading your interpretations and I need more of them HEHE)

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Thank you!!!! <3333

I love thinking about how Alfred treats Dick more of a son than a grandson because their relationship is different from Alfred's relationship with the other kids. Furthermore, it also explains a bunch of his actions.

First of, I know when everyone saw that Alfred had left Dick his entire inheritance they went "What the fuck." There were a bunch of jokes and questioning about why Alfred would do that and a lot of people have wrote it off as Tom Taylor's writing. But here's the thing. Tom Taylor has done a lot of stupid stuff in terms of characterization but he's done quite a few things right and one of them was adequately explaining Dick and Alfred's relationship.

I don't know how many people can read cursive but it says, "I invested much of this wisely and ethically...In fact, I planned to come to you for advice. Like Bruce, your mind is astonishing. You are a problem-solver and the world is full of problems." (There's actually panel during one of Dick and Slade's fight I have saved so lemme know if you or anyone is interested in Dick's innovativeness and how it makes his a terrifying opponent.)

Let me pause right there. This is Alfred's life savings. It's every piece of penny he's saved and every minute of his life is in that money. On top of what he says about Dick's intellect-and I agree and can prove it-he must've loved and trusted Dick an extraordinary amount to do this.

Alfred goes on to say, "I couldn't think of better hands to leave this fortune in. I believe you will see this, not as a personal gain, but as an opportunity. Because I believe in Dick Grayson."

He continues praising him and- HERE IT IS- "I am so very proud to call you my son."

DICK IS ALFRED'S SON.

This is the cleanest, clearest panel where he explicitly says it.

Hold on-this is the cleanest panel that says it? Wait a minute, let me retract that:

"Master Bruce was my son for a while. And then there was you."

THIS MOMENT HAS BEEN BUILDING UP ON US FOR YEARS. Tom Taylor wasn't doing lip service, he was just writing the inevitable!

I swear there's a panel where Dick refers to Alfred as his dad...

*Record scratch* WHAT DID ALFRED CALL DICK? WHAT DID DICK CALL ALFRED?

THIS IS WHY I LOVE THEM!!! THEY ARE GLORIOUS, BRILLIANT, UNDERRATED, AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THE FULL EXTENT OF EITHER OF THEIR ABILITIES, LOVE, OR DEPTH OF EMOTIONS.

THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS ON A DIFFERENT LEVEL.

Take the Ric Grayson arc for another example.

Background context: Dick-Ric-was sleeping on the counter and all of a sudden he was startled out of a nightmare thus accidentally ending up bumping into the guy next to him who was drinking. Of course the guy doesn't mind only because it's Dick but anyways, here Alfred makes his entrance. Another thing I love about about this interaction is this is one of the few times Alfred has ever admitted to being in the military. The only other time I can think of him openly saying that is when he's slapping Bruce around.

The worry in the man's eyes for his wayward son...when Bea is snarking with Dick about his tab Alfred decides to pay for him instead.

LOOK AT HIS EYES AS HE SAYS GOOD NIGHT! THE AMOUNT OF EMOTION HE HAS IN THEM IS PURE PERFECTION. THE MAN JUST WANTS HIS SON TO COME BACK.

Not to mention, Alfred adores Dick in a way he didn't even with Bruce.

"For a long time I would dread coming down to this dark hellhole. But the advent of young Grayson has forced an alteration in my attitude. The masters have made much progress in these few short months. I was opposed initially to the recruitment of the lad in Master Bruce's self-appointed 'War on Crime.' But I am prepared to admit my error. Master Richard has mad a difference for the better to our lives."

This is HUGE. Coming from Alfred, this is massive because Alfred LOATHES Bruce's "War on Crime." How much?

So much that he slapped Bruce bloody for it.

The pseudo-father and son beat each other to pieces over it. So after years of Alfred hating Bruce for what he's done, for him to say he only accepts it because of Dick-because of Dick's personality-is enormous praise and accomplishment.

Alfred loves Dick in a way he doesn't love anyone else. And before I get flamed by people for suggesting Alfred loves Dick more than Bruce, I want to say he loves Dick as much as Bruce but in a different manner. He doesn't see Dick as a grandchild who needs to be coddled and softened, he sees Dick as a son he can spoil and cherish.

Him paying off the tab was not only an act of kindness, but it mimicks the way a rich father gives everything to his youngest son. Bruce was the first born he raised but Dick was the baby of their family. This also ties in with how Bruce doesn't see Dick as just him son like he does with the others. To Bruce, they are just as much brothers as anything else.

When Bruce fires Dick from Robin after two-face, Alfred couldn't take it lightly. Dick wasn't just the light of Bruce's life, he was the fucking sun to Alfred's.

I started crying when I read this because the emotions and the pain he's feeling is so visceral. A man who has been MI5 and SAS (Special Airforce Service), who has fought wars, who has fought his son, lost his best friends, is breaking down alone at the top of the stairs over not having Dick as Robin.

You might think that's not all that sad. Worse things have happened. You're overreacting.

Tears are literally streaming down my face as I'm writing this review. Rudolph nose and ugly bloodstained eyes complete with it.

Can you ever imagine loving someone so much?

Crying in silence with a steady voice to never let them know your sorrow?

But sure, sure, he's cried when others were killed like this so I'll go into other special things.

Some of his best moments are with Dick:

The pure adoration in his eyes as he watches his young son go 'flap' 'flap' 'flap' with his older brother's too big cloathes.

He's laughing! Do you know the only times he laughs or grins like that?

That's right-with Bruce! With his other son.

With Dick, he laughs, gets angry, and actually shows interest in things not related to people's health. Dick humanizes Alfred.

Who is the only other person Alfred has gotten mad at? Oh yeah. Bruce.

There's another panel where Alfred just sits by his bedside holding his hand.

It's the little things that matter is a lie. When it comes to Dick, Alfred does things in fighter jet air shows level of affection which he learned just for this during his SAS days.

Their shared interests & mutual understanding

People always think Dick and Alfred have nothing in common between them. Dick is excitable, bouncy, and some other adjective while Alfred is calming, stoic, and butler-y. They actually forget that Dick and Alfred canonically bond of plays. Dick, as I said before, is a massive theater nerd. He loves plays. He really wanted to see that shakespeare play and Alfred said he would take him because he knows people there and then went on to complain about how his brother didn't even drop by to see him. I love their interactions because Dick brings out a different side to Alfred.

Das Rheingold was a German musical drama that was performed as a single opera at the National Theatre Munich. This is the link if you're interested in reading a short synopsis of this complicated play by the Metropolitan Opera. It's like a mix of "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Rings of Power."

Also the fact that Alfred is tying his tie like a father would tie his son's.

I know they make a crack out of it by using Bugs Bunny (Bugs Bunny is a fantastic cartoon! I grew up on it!) but Alfred knows that Dick loves opera and theater and is only asking if this particular play will suit his interests. Okay, great, we know Dick likes theater. You've said that and posted about it before. But how do we know Alfred likes it too and not just because he's British and posh and whatnot?

He has preformed at the London Theater, and this is another way he connects to Dick emotionally. When Dick complains about being Batman, Alfred is the one that tells him:

This is something Alfred understands about Dick that absolutely no one in the family does.

The two of them are show people. They know how to play the role they were given, and they know how to play it well. No one suspects Alfred the Butler of ruthlessly using firearms and no one suspects Dick the Light of the Universe to ruthlessly to manipulate allies.

Dick knows this about Alfred too and never presses for any answers. When Alfred's pulling out a bullet from Dick and performing high level medical techniques he should know nothing about, Dick asks him, "Where did you learn all this, Alfred." To which Alfred responds, "You would be amazed at what you can pick up by watching the Discovery Channel." Dick just gives a pained laugh retorts about his wonderful bedside manners.

They know.

What Alfred sees in Dick is a pure goodness that can't be emulated. He loves his son for how absolutely good he is and is devastated when Dick can't be with him. Of everyone, Dick is the one Alfred is closest to. Other members have their moments with him but no one continually seeks out his presence just for the fact they like him aside from Dick. The rest treat him as an important side character, not a parent. And Alfred responds to that devotion with overwhelming love of his own.

Alfred and Bruce's optimism comes bundled up in the form of Dick. It's stunning how it's always Alfred of all people who admits this. Alfred who isn't supposed to show favoritism or bias is the one that consistently acknowledges how important Dick is to the family and him. This solidifies the fact that Dick is Alfred's favorite.

Other moments that differentiate Dick and Alfred's relationship:

We're pretty familiar with this and many of us have laughed it off when Alfred scolded Dick (also Dick looks hot af here). But can you imagine even anyone else playfully mocking Alfred? THIS. BOY. IS. SPECIAL. Alfred doesn't even blink twice at the address, indicating how typical it is for Dick to act that way with him. You only do that to people you're best friends with.

Casual comfort, the two of them.

Dick and Bruce were brothers and how that ties into Alfred:

Adding to my "Light of Bruce's life" Robin Dick canon, Alfred told Dick that Bruce "would have self-distructed if he hadn't met me and learned responsibility. I made him laugh, and he was like the greatest big brother you could ever imagine...it was our town."

Bruce and Dick are so damn codependent.

Bruce would not have survived without Dick. That's all there is to it.

Robin Dick was the light shining through rain clouds, the glitter in the air, the angel with golden wings, the giggling sweetheart to Alfred and Bruce. He was sunshine, love, and joy and the men both adored, thrived, and cherished him for it.

And if Dick and Bruce were brothers then Alfred was Dick's father and he was Alfred's son.

#dick grayson #nightwing #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #canon #cl anon asks #Thank you so much for the ask! I had a ball writing it <3 #cl asks #thanks for the ask!

684 notes · View notes

unsettlingcreature · 7 months ago

Text

sources:

Consume by Kazeii (DeviantArt)

Argonian Warrior by canius (DeviantArt)

Sanguine is from this post by @/ghostbri

#i've decided to say fuck it and start sourcing unsourced reposted artwork #the miraak one was really hard. google image reverse search brought nothing up but pinterest and other reposts #then tineye brought me to a comicvine profile which was a guy who just reposted art as well #and I felt as though I wasn't going to be able to do it. UNTIL.#I accidentally opened the image in a new tab and noticed that the file name had been left intact from where it was downloaded #and said consume by kazeii (plus a bunch of garbled stuff from when you download images)#so i searched for kazeii art. found their deviantart. searched consume. bam. found it.

119 notes · View notes

toomanythoughts2 · 4 months ago

Text

Dethklok Agere HCs: Toki Edition

🐰🐝🎸🎮🤡🐱🍭✈️🛼🎹🖍️🍼🍺💉🎁🤠🏎️🔫👯‍♂️🪽🌈🤮

I originally was going to do all of the members together in one post, but I realized after Toki that it was going to be obnoxiously too long for all five. So, I'm splitting them up into each member. Obviously, I had to start with my main man, Toki 🧸!

Everything is below the Keep Reading tab.

Toki

(My son, my pookie bear, my darling, my sunshine, my sweetheart, my Swiss cheese, my BABY!)

🧸 First, I think his age range is pretty narrow but the ages he falls into are drastically different headspace wise. Meaning, I think he can fall between a 2 to a 4, but how he acts as a 2 year old is a lot different than a 4 year old, so it's important to figure out what his headspace is before doing something.

🧸 Toki is a hitter!!! He canonically hits people in the show for attention and even hits Pickles in AOTD in the church. Having Toki show signs of realistic trauma-based regression is just so important to me, it makes me crazy! The boy is not well but he is working on it.

🧸 Speaking of which, Toki requires the most support regressing than any of his bandmates. He needs constant support from either the band (Pickles) or Charles (Listen, he never left in my eyes. THOSE ARE HIS BOYS, HE COULDN'T JUST LEAVE THEM!) Whether this means just babysitting when he's regressed and chilling or actively helping him complete physical or emotional tasks. He needs a lot of support in his regression.

🧸 Out of all the members, Toki's regression is the most recognized as age regression by the general, uneducated public. It's very obvious age regression. I say this because I think some of the other members regression is not recognized as regression at first glance, especially by outsiders. (Of course, within the band, they all know each other well enough to spot the signs.)

🧸 He wants to put everything in his mouth. The remotes all have screws in them now where the batteries are located and Pickles is constantly holding Toki's hands to keep them from grabbing stuff.

🧸 He utilizes supplies in his regression the most out of everyone in Dethklok. I honestly believe that Toki can go anywhere between baby bottles to an open cup (supervised), so his supplies are diverse and plentiful. I personally see him utilizing stuffies, specific clothes for regression, (canon) ear muffs, pacifiers, child friendly cutlery, child friendly arts and crafts, sensory supplies, and so many other odds and ends.

🧸 From what we see in AOTD with Pickles carrying a large duffle bag (alluding that it's for Toki), I do think that Toki uses diapers. HEAR ME OUT! I don't think it's all of the time, but I do think that if Toki regresses far enough, it would become a necessary part for him. (Homie is traumatized.) Pickles just knows what's up and is ready to care and defend his Norwegian baby brother.

🧸 He needs attention ALL OF THE TIME! Even if he doesn't necessarily want someone to be in his space, he still needs to know that they are available for him 100% of the time. (Playing by himself but won't let you leave the room without crying.)

🧸 Oh, he is the biggest crier in Dethklok (Skwisgaar is the second). He will cry if he hurts himself, he'll cry if he just finished his last piece of dinner he liked, he'll cry if he doesn't want someone to stop cuddling him. But he also cries over a lot of things he doesn't understand, like being triggered by sounds or phrases. The sound of a whip and an actual whip are not allowed on Mordhaus because of how scared Toki gets when he sees/hears one. (Aslaug, when I catch you, Aslaug.)

🧸 He will utilize his big blue eyes for treats. Do not be fooled, he's already gone to everyone in the band for the same treat and got one from them already. (Charles won't budge but he's gotten close.)

🧸 Loves to cuddle. Loves to be held. I mean, is this really a HC anymore, of course Toki loves to cuddle and be held. He's cuddling while playing, he's cuddling watching TV, he's cuddling while sleeping, he's cuddling while eating. He'll cuddle on the toilet if you let him. Nathan is the person Toki goes to the most for these cuddles because he's large, soft, and has a low bass rumble in his chest when he speaks that puts Toki to sleep instantly.

🧸 He can only play independently but wants to play with others. He just doesn't know how to do that yet. Pickles and Murderface have tried to join in on play time but it stresses Toki out too much. I HC this because Toki had no control over his environment as a child, so playing is a way for him to have that control. By having someone join in, it's inviting the inevitable that they might take over his environment. That alone makes him stressed because play time was the only time as a child that Toki had any control in, so it's going to be hard letting people in when he's regressed.

🧸 He is the bubble bath connoisseur. When he's big, he is spending time looking for new bubble baths, bath bombs, toys, all kinds of shit. He loves bath time, it's his favorite part of the day when he is small. It depends if Toki needs supervision/the level of supervision for bath time when he's small. He can go from needing help every step of the way to only needing help filling the tub and getting in and out. I do think he would love to have his hair played with and washed. To me, this is a Skwisgaar or Charles job. Pickles has tried but he's almost bald with dreads and has no idea how to wash hair anymore.

🧸 The lore he has with his stuffies is long, complex, and gory. He will NOT explain it though, it's too much of a hassle.

🧸 Speaking of, Toki does have very disturbing tendencies while regressed due to his trauma. I like to think he draws and colors a lot of his abuse and shows them to the band. I also think, while regressed, he falls into old fears about being punished, so if he does something that was "breaking the rules" when he was actually a child, he will completely spiral and hurt himself somehow. He also won't say anything if he is hurt because his injuries used to never be a big deal or were "deserved". Same thing with eating and drinking, he won't do them if he feels like he did something bad. I also think he "punishes" himself by stripping himself of his shirt and pants and laying somewhere cold (under a fan or on bathroom tiles), to mimic the feeling of the "Punishment Hole". The band is closely working with Dr. Twinkletits to keep tabs on all of this.

🧸 On a happier note, he loves to follow Skwisgaar around when he's regressed, and Skwisgaar doesn't mind too much. (He loves being Toki's favorite and gloats about it all the time to the other members.)

🧸 Stares. He loves to just look at people. It scares the band sometimes until they realize they can stare back and make Toki laugh.

🧸 He's a thumb sucker. I know it in my heart that he's sucking away on his grimy little thumb and Pickles is always yelling at him to get it out of his mouth. This only works half of the time because Toki just loves his thumb too much.

🧸 When he's too little to talk, he makes a lot of huffs and puffs to get his point across. Gets progressively less coherent the sleepier he gets.

🧸 He gets nightmares. Just like when Toki isn't small, he is plagued by nightmares. But, I do believe that if he goes to bed regressed, the daily activities ease him enough that he doesn't get them nearly as much or as bad as when he's not regressed.

🧸 He uses a nightlight. It's in the shape of a kitty head and casts a kitty shadow on the wall. His name is Elin.

🧸 Toki loves arts and crafts and usually has to have someone supervise him when he's in creating mode. (He will eat the uncooked macaroni and then get upset when there's none left to make his pictures.) He is no longer allowed unsupervised access to glue as he keeps trying to eat it. Scissors, he has no problem with.

🧸 Toki is known for some pretty explosive tantrums, which Pickles and Nathan have tried very hard to work Toki through so he doesn't end up hurting himself or others. He is known to hit, kick, bite, spit, and swear when he's upset. But a lot of it is superficial. Toki isn't aiming to hurt anyone or himself, he's just expressing his frustration in a physical manner that can harm people. He gets more upset after the tantrum when he realizes what he's done. The band can't be but too mad at him, he isn't in complete control. They've learned to help Toki work through his tantrums the best they can.

🧸 The band is not allowed to ignore Toki when he's regressed because that has been identified as a trigger for a tantrum. However, Toki has and can be put in 10-minute increment time outs to calm down from a fit or if the band needs to address someone else first. (Like, if Toki punched Skwisgaar in the nose, Toki knows he's not suppose to do that, so he gets put in time out while Skwisgaar gets his nose checked out.)

🧸 Murderface loves to teach Toki when he's regressed because he will sit and listen to him about everything. EVERYTHING! Even the most boring war battle facts, he will sit and listen. Pickles is a little worried about this because Toki is even more impressionable when he's regressed. He doesn't think Murderface would take advantage of Toki like this, but he isn't a fool. (Murderface would but only small things, like picking dinner plans.)

🧸 Murderface is also the only one that can play with Toki one-on-one the longest before it stresses Toki out. Murderface's improv during play time is funnier and more creative than the other members, but when it becomes too much improv, that's when it stresses him out and they have to stop. But before that, Toki is having the time of his life.

🧸 Toki refers to Pickles and Nathan as Mamma and Pappa. I believe that Toki had to refer to his parents in Norwegian as Mor/Far (Mother/Father) all of the time, but in English he just calls them Mom/Dad because it's easier to say. But Mamma and Pappa are informal terms and mean a lot more to Toki role-wise. They're like badges of honor. They earned those names by being the caregivers they are, before and after AOTD.

🧸 He wants all of the kisses! Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, head kisses, bed time kisses, good bye kisses, good morning kisses, hello kisses. He craves physical affection. And every time he gets a kiss, he stims happily. I also think he rubs that part of himself that got kissed because it "tingles" and he has to touch it.

🧸 After discussing whether Toki would use a crate or not, I think I like the idea of him having a permanent pillow fort in the corner of his room for when he wants some alone time the most. Or to decompress. Or if he's tired and wants to nap. Though, I am still down with the dog crate idea. Or the little kiddy tent! I love them all, honestly!

🧸 They have a playground installed on Mordhaus just for Toki. He loves the swing and will swing (or be pushed) for hours if you let him. He has gone through multiple swings in a short amount of time because of how much he swings. (This is projection. I have broken 4 swings due to swinging so much.)

🧸 Skwisgaar has inside jokes with Toki when he's small and only in Swedish. Toki giggles so hard when he gets a chance to whisper one of them to Skwisgaar that he almost cant get them out.

🧸 Toki has a bed time routine that he has to follow when he's small (with the help of his bandmates) because it helps him regulate his emotions and builds structure. The routine is simple: brush teeth, brush hair, wash face, go potty, get changed, pick out a bed time story, climb into bed. Nathan is the official bed time reader, but the band is usually with him when he's falling asleep. He needs his goodnight kisses otherwise he will be upset.

🧸 Toki loves having sleep overs in the other guys rooms. He loves Nathan's rooms the most because of the aquariums (low sensory, calming, general interest), then it's Murderface's because of the different devices in his room (low simulation and attention, general interest), then it's Skwisgaar's room because he has the window so he can see all the stars at night, then it's Pickles room. However, Pickles room is the coziest in Toki's opinion because Pickles is there, and he loves Pickles very much. He knows on one is going to get him in Pickles room.

🧸 Skwisgaar knows very little on how to cook, but the times he does cook, he utilizes Toki as a taste tester for his dishes. They have similar pallets, so Toki can accurately depict the dishes intended taste. Skwisgaar always sets him on the table and spoon feeds him whatever he is cooking (usually soup or stew) and asks for his opinion. Toki loves it and always asks for Skwisgaar to feed Deaddy Bear too.

🧸 Toki's age regression is public knowledge. He is unable to control when he regresses, so he has public appearances where he is regressed. This unfortunately meant that Toki had to address it to the press, despite Toki feeling uneasy about answering questions. They all know that the press love to ask intimate and personal questions, even if it makes him uncomfortable. The band and Charles were off to the side supporting him through out the whole press conference. After the initial interview, Charles would be the only one answering questions about Toki's regression, so that 1) Toki wouldn't have to do it and 2) Charles can't be bullied into giving out too much private information on the matter, he's a professional. This was greeted with mixed results at first but gradually turned positive as more information was readily understood by the public.

🧸 The Dethmoms have wavering opinions about Toki. Anja does not acknowledge it, or at least tries very hard not to acknowledge it. Toki does become scared around her when he's little and she knows that. Stella thinks most of it is made up and he's just looking for attention, but she does not outright ridicule Toki to his face. She'll play along for the sake of keeping him quiet. Servetta does not have an opinion either way, but she does like to dote on him from time to time (head pats, petnames) when she's able to get him to do something for her. Molly does not like it one bit and will not play along. She has gotten mad at Toki before and has "called him out" for it, but only to be met with 0 back up (Stella understands enough that Toki isn't her child, so it's not her place to call him out, only Anja's.) Rose is the only one in the group that absolutely adores Toki. She's read every book, every blog post, every piece of literature to try and make herself a safe space for Toki. Toki in return looks forward to seeing Rose and will ignore everyone in favor of her. Rose gives him all of the sugary sweet lovings that the boys can't quite give him, so they let him be coddled and coo-ed at from her. (Nathan isn't jealous of this at all.)

🧸 Toki has been known to hang out with Charles while he works. Sometimes he's as quiet as can be, completely oblivious to whatever Charles is doing. However, Toki has sat in Charles lap before just wanting to cuddle while Charles is on a phone call or web meetings. He has made multiple appearances during zoom meetings of just cuddling Charles or sleeping on his shoulder. The other members of the meeting have taken a regressed Toki in a meeting as a "Good Luck Charm" for whatever future endeavors they are about to talk/negotiate/revise about. They've even moved meetings forward/backwards with future partners when Charles has Toki in his lap because they have so much faith in his "Good Luck Charm" ability.

🧸 Charles has a board in his office just for drawings that the band has made while regressed. 95% of them are Toki's drawings though.

🧸 Abigail is still a big part of Toki's life, both regressed and not. I believe after the Metalocalypse, Abigail and Nathan did have a serious conversation about everything where Nathan apologizes for his behavior. Abigail accepts and the group + Abigail form a friendship. But a lot of it is between Toki and Abigail, where Abigail is able to take care or calm Toki down much easier and much faster than any one of them. Toki will wake up from nightmares demanding to call her to make sure she's ok, which she always answers. She understands Toki very well, and most of their time spent together is in quiet tranquility. He mainly just wants to cuddle with her and rest, sometimes babbling about stuff but most of the time is quiet. He finds comfort in her and she will lend him something that smells like her to calm him down if need be.

🧸 It's common to leave baby's outside to nap in Scandinavian countries like Norway and Sweden. When Toki wants to nap, he will ask to go outside and sleep on a blanket, which the band allows. However, when he wants to do it during the winter where there is snow, the band argues back with him, except Skwisgaar. He has to tell them that this is completely normal for Scandinavian children. He buys Toki the appropriate wear clothes and sleeping bag, and lets Toki take a nap outside in the snow. Skwisgaar will either join him or be near by to calm the rest of the bands nerves, especially Pickles.

🧸 Very very very few klokateers are allowed to care for Toki in the place of the band or Charles. Out of all of the klokateers, these people have to go through an extensive and grueling interviewing processes to get the position. Toki knows exactly who these klokateers are and understand that if Charles allows them to care for him, then they can be trusted. These klokateers also have the most amount of pressure on them. While their position won't kill them like other positions, if they betray the trust of Charles by hurting Toki, they are signing themselves up for a world of pain unlike they have ever known. Death would be too kind for those who hurt Toki when he is small.

🧸 Toki is also a biter. He likes to bite and nibble on people for attention. It doesn't hurt unless he uses his canines.

🐰🐝🎸🎮🤡🐱🍭✈️🛼🎹🖍️🍼🍺💉🎁🤠🏎️🔫👯‍♂️🪽🌈🤮

Ok, that's all for now! I hope you enjoyed these as much as I enjoyed putting them down. Obviously, my word isn't law so if you HC Toki differently than any of these, it's all good. In fact, I wanna read about them, lol! So yeah, thanks xxx

#toki wartooth #metalocalypse #dethklok agere #age regression toki #toki agere #dethklok #william murderface #skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #charles offdensen #metalocalypse headcanons #Age Regression Headcanons #Toki agere HCs

89 notes · View notes

awrkive · 2 months ago

Note

r we getting tlp3 anytime soon 😖😖😖

anon asked: Could you please give us a little tiny spoiler about tlp pt.3?🥹🫶🏻

hi first anon! no i dont think i can give u guys a date yet. im actually currently joining an architectural competition at uni so thats keeping me a bit busier than usual, but i am writing tlp 3 during my breaks so ... thats that. ANYWHO. i will make sure to update u guys when its ready to be out!

anyways, to second anon. a tiny spoiler under the cut proceed if u wanna.. 🤓

You’re pretty much drained the moment you arrive at your place.

Sighing heavily, you punch in the passcode and almost feel your knees buckling at the sight of the interior of your apartment when the door opens.

It feels like it’s been so long since you’ve been here, and coupled with the discussion that you had with Doyeon two days ago, everything suddenly feels overstimulating and there’s a certain burn at the sides of your eyes that urges you to cry.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you breathe in and out as you enter the threshold, noting the fact that anybody is not home. Or Jungkook isn’t present anywhere in the living room. You’re a bit grateful for that if you have to be honest to yourself – after all, the last time that you talked to him, it did not exactly go as well as you’d like.

He could be in his room, though. That’s what you assume as you go straight over to the kitchen in hopes to heat up the take-out that you bought at the driveway. But the to-go container from Chipotle at the island catches your attention, as well as the laptop that is left open beside it.

So Jungkook is home.

The question is, where could he possibly be, leaving out his stuff here in the kitchen? Might be in his bedroom to grab something real quick?

You don’t mean to do the next thing that comes to your mind, but your feet – your stupid feet – track back from the microwave to the island, and your eyes betray you as they go look and read the words on Jungkook’s macbook.

The tab that's left open shows an apartment listing website, and the following tabs beside it are some familiar real-estate names you’ve come to visit on the internet before when you were looking for a place yourself.

It makes you freeze in your spot, eyes glued to the daunting images of the apartment layout that Jungkook must’ve clicked on awhile ago, and you take note that he’s seemingly, specifically, looking for one-bedroom and studio apartments.

Your mind goes into a sudden haywire at the sight.

What does this mean?

“Oh, hey,”

The embodied voice makes your head snap to its direction, and you see Jungkook standing in front of you in his sweats and shirt – his usual home clothes – with a charger in his hand.

“Jungkook.” You say, or more like, breathe out. There's a heavy feeling that sits in your heart when you look at his face – but most of all, it beats a little above normal.

But Jungkook looks just as surprised as you.

“I… I didn’t know you’re coming ho– back.” He says, and you feel a sudden twinge inside that you ignore when you caught him pointedly avoiding the word home when pertaining to your place. Somehow, it felt intentional.

But you give him a smile. Probably a weak one. Probably doesn’t really look like a smile at all and more like a grimace.

If Jungkook notices, he doesn’t say anything. Just goes straight to the direction of the high chairs on the island and plug in his charger on his laptop.

Then, he turns to look at you. “Uh.. you just got off from your shift?”

“Uhm, yeah. You too?” You say, nibbling your bottom lip with your teeth. A nervous habit.

“Nah, got off a few hours ago.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Yeah.”

You nod your head. You stand there for a while, letting the silence that’s admittedly awkward hang in the air.

It’s weird, really. Jungkook and you usually have a lot to say to each other – but right now, there doesn’t seem to be a single thing that you can bring up.

There's a certain kind of melancholy in the case.

“Well, uhm. That’s Zillow.” You say, pointing to his laptop. The moment the words left your lips you swear you could have slapped yourself.

How stupid to ask him about it. How incredibly stupid for that thing to be your choice of topic after weeks of no proper communication with him.

Jungkook seems just as taken aback by this, though, turning his head immediately to look at his laptop. There’s a slight jerk in his movements when he glides his fingers across the trackpad that closes the entire window of the internet and shows his PC wallpaper instead.

“Oh. Yeah. That was… Zillow.”

Stupid, stupid you makes everything even more awkward when you say, “You’re looking for a place?”

Jungkook stares at you for awhile. There’s a pregnant pause, and then he nods his head. A bit hesitant. But his voice is full when he speaks.

“Yeah.”

So he’s moving out. That’s what you think as you avoid looking at his face, letting your gaze fall back on his laptop.

You give him a small smile.

“Ah. Good luck with the search, then.”

Your hope you hide the way your heart completely breaks when you say the words.

#im apologizing in advance 🤓🤓#also this is unedited #fic: tlp

52 notes · View notes

01zfan · 3 days ago

Text

part two: throwback | l. sh

music major!sohee x reader | 8.8k words

the party that takes place on the 14th of august at giselle's house in oud-zoid.

contains: making out, a little bit of hand stuff, other people are in the room sleeping. other idols mentioned for world building purposes

taglist: @http-yeonjun, @soheefleurs, @melobin, @naa-ri7, @antoncore, @jvngw0nlvr, @hcluvie, @seokiebin, @snowyseungs, @catawin, @soheecore, @byeonwooseokabs, @nakam00t, @area127, @bubbletaeq, @allyloops, @osakhee, @ikisswonbin, @sftsohee, @seungheartyou, @kingsoowolves, @gacktsa, @niinaspeaks, @katarinaablu, @kkumistars, @dearmyouth, @leeloostayhere, @huan9jun, @bingbonghyuck

Sohee was laying in his bed when Anton came in. The door slamming shut caused Sohee to pull the notification tab down on his phone. 9:56PM was incredibly too early for Anton to be home. Usually this time of day Anton would be pregaming at his friends house, or already be at some party. He heard Anton go into his room first, the sound of his door closing and the sound of him looking for something crossed through their shared walls. Things hit the ground with a dull thud and for a second Sohee was worried they were getting robbed. Sohee left the door unlocked after Anton forgot his keys one too many times, and knowing his luck their could be someone ransacking their home thinking no one was here.

Sohee paused the show on his phone and sat up in his bed slightly. Right before panic was about to settle in and Sohee was about to launch fully into fight or flight mode, Anton spoke.

“Sohee!” Anton called through the wall.

Anton drug out the last syllable of his name and said it too sweetly. Sohee knew that a favor was about to be the next thing to fall from his roommates lips. Maybe getting robbed would’ve been better than this. He was silent in his bed, not moving another inch. Maybe Anton would think he was at class, or not here. But as if Anton could see through their shared wall he spoke again.

“I know you hear meeeee.” He taunted.

“What Chanyoung?” Sohee spoke just loud enough for it to go through the wall.

“Come with me to this party.” Sohee could practically see Anton pressed against his wall, ear to the plaster listening for Sohee’s response like a child. “It’s in a really fancy flat in Oud-Zoid.” He said.

Sohee knew about that place. That’s where the wealthy families and transfer students that came from money stayed. Anton had a chance to stay in housing in that area if Sohee remembered correctly. But no fancy housing or a party could take Sohee away from his bed. He shook his head first and went back to his phone.

“Not going.” Sohee said simply.

Sohee then heard more crashing, Anton’s door opening, and his roommates loud steps to his closed door. Sohee looked from his spot on the bed to the shut door. Once again he imagined Anton on the other side, waiting for the invitation to come in.

“It’s unlocked.”

Instantly, his door was open. Anton took one look at Sohee on his phone and groaned loudly. Sohee groaned back, and then Anton groaned again. Sohee didn’t know what to do about Anton sometimes. Sohee was used to being the defiant younger brother his whole life, and Anton was the responsible younger brother. He didn’t know what to do now that the roles were reversed, that Anton was the one teasing him and doing everything in his power to piss him off. Sohee found it even harder to use his hyung privilege on Anton. Authority felt weird on him, so most of the times there would be a standoff of who can be more childish.

Anton always won.

“You just spend everyday locked in this room in one of the best cities in the world.” Anton came in and sat on the edge of Sohee’s bed. He let out an annoyed sound as his body leaned towards Anton’s. “I thought you said that you wanted to go out more.” Anton said matter-of-factly.

After about ten more minutes of convincing, Sohee and Anton were heading towards a function in Oud-Zoid. Sohee followed behind Anton as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam, the twisting turns that the half-circle of a city made. Sohee kept his hands in his pockets, trying to let his roommate know he did not want to be doing this. They passed by too many groups of people already having fun that Sohee felt like he was sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Giselle is a creative.” Anton said.

Sohee hummed in acknowledgment as Anton let his steps slow down. When the two were side by side he looked to Sohee.

“She’s really into themed parties or whatever. She went to Korea recently, and came back obsessed with Korean drinking games.” Anton emphasizes his point by spreading his hands out.

His black heeled boots click against the stone walkway, Sohee’s worn tennis shoes make almost no noise at all. Their drastic difference in fashion almost makes Sohee laugh. The long black leather trenchcoat Anton wears is completely different than the light cotton jacket Sohee has on. Anton wears an all black ensemble, the shirt tucked into the pants with a belt while Sohee just put on jeans instead of the pants he wore to bed.

Sohee lengthens his stride to keep up with Anton’s large steps. They make it in front of a large residential building. Anton looks around for the numbers on the door, Sohee assumes he’s looking for Giselle’s place.

“You’re only bringing me around to play drinking games?” Sohee asks annoyed.

“Of course.” Anton sounds distracted as he looks at his phone again before pivoting and walking in another direction. “Giselle likes the games, but she doesn’t really remember how to play them. Sungchan can’t explain things for shit. Wonbin will try to rig the games to win” He answers with a laugh.

Sohee’s head is spinning at all these names he doesn’t know. He settles deeper into his pockets, looking back the way they came. A thirty minute wander around the city would definitely lead him back home. Eventually.

“So I’m here to show a bunch of people how to play drinking games?” Sohee asks.

“Yes.” Anton walks partially around the building before heading walking up to the door. Sohee doesn’t see the number as he knocks and rings the doorbell. “And you’re gonna have fun.” Anton says.

The buzzer sounds off and Anton opens the door. He leaves it open enough for Sohee to come through. they take off their shoes at the bottom of the stairs, the same place where Sohee counts ten or eleven other pairs that line the walls. They all look like a different size, and the sound coming from upstairs sounds like it’s a party indeed.

He’s already exhausted.

“How long are we staying here?” Sohee asks.

He looks up from kicking his shoes off to add to the pile to find Anton already looking up the stairs. He follows Anton’s line of sight to see you standing at the top, beer bottle in your hand as you stare down at them.

“As long as you want.” You have to speak over the sound of people cheering and groaning. Sohee sees you look past Anton to settle on him. “Who’s your friend, Anton?” You ask.

Sohee ducks his head and already feels embarrassed. He didn’t know he could be heard, he didn’t know someone was already here. Less than a minute inside and he’s already made the situation awkward. He prays you aren’t the host and he prays that you aren’t the host.

“This is Sohee.”

Anton looks behind him, and Sohee looks at his smile turned tight lipped as he silently tells Sohee to introduce himself.

“Anton talks about you so much.” Anton starts walking up the stairs and Sohee follows. “I’m surprised you’re here.” You say.

Sohee is embarrassed again at the thought of Anton mentioning him like a proud Mom. He knew that he made regular appearances on Anton’s social media, he didn’t know that he was also talking about him in real life too. But you look at Sohee like you know him personally, and he still isn’t sure if you’re the host or Giselle or both. He can only nod and reach out his hand for you to shake when the two of them make it to the top of the stairs. Anton goes into the room first and more cheers erupt.

Before Sohee can follow behind his friend you pull at the sleeve of his hoodie. Instantly you take up all of Sohee’s sights, you’re so close he can smell you and the alcohol wafting from your breath.

“Be on my team, okay?” You say with a smile.

Sohee is still shocked at you coming into his space so quickly that he can only nod. Like a switch had been flipped you go back into party mode, following after Anton and leaving Sohee’s line of sight.

Maybe he could stay awhile. He hadn’t been surrounded by his peers outside the context of class and he had someone who wanted to be on his team. Who cares if it’s a Thursday and he has an early morning class tomorrow.

When Sohee made it to the living room, he realized there was even more people than he expected. Some pairs of shoes sat at the top of the stairs, and he almost completely lost you in the crowd of people. Mostly everyone mingled, drinks in their hands as they stood in various places talking to eachother. Sohee would’ve loved to take in the beautiful layout of the apartment and the sheer size of it, but he was overwhelmed by the people sitting in the living room staring at him. Anton had already found a seat, and Sohee felt like a sore thumb. A girl sat and people made a circle around her. When she made eye contact with Sohee her head cocked to the side, a look of confusion on her face.

“Giselle, this is my roommate, Sohee.” Anton said.

Instantly the girls face lit up.

“IPad kid!” She said playfully.

Anton threw his head back in laughter. Sohee remembered the tweet clearly, Sohee was working on a sound engineering assignment when Anton took a picture of him. He captioned the tweet somewhere along the lines of his roommate being an IPad kid and it blew up.

“My reputation precedes me.” Sohee put his hands up like he was guilty of a crime.

Giselle laughed again as she went back to her phone. One of the boys in the circle looked over her shoulder at her phone too. Their faces were focused as Giselle screen illuminated their faces. They mouthed the words they were reading, pulling the phone away before going right back to reading again.

“Okay so the rules for this game are a little complicated.” Giselle starts.

The man next to her nods his head. He gives up eventually, focusing on the old music videos that play on the large flatscreen television. Sohee still stands awkwardly in front of them. He takes a step forward, trying to recall the nostalgic memories of back home and the late nights he spent with his friends playing games.

“Which game is it?” Sohee asks.

Giselle looks up to Sohee, then back to her phone.

“I am Ground?” She says.

Sohee knows that one. He smiles to himself, and before he knows it Anton is telling everyone that he knows how to play all of the games.

Sohee only has to explain for a minute before everyone gets the gist. The people playing starts off as a small group, but then when the game actually starts, the crowd doubles. Sohee notices instantly when you come and sit next to him in the circle, drink for him in your hand. He takes it with a smile, but before he can say thank you Giselle is loudly starting the game. She starts the rhythm and points to Anton, and then Anton speeds up and points to Sohee. The game continues like that, and Sohee never has to take a single drink. He has too much of an advantage, he simply nurses his beer so he can feel somewhat of a buzz as the people surrounding him get plastered.

After that game, they play Baskin Robbins 31. Giselle takes it upon herself to explain that game, but when Sohee looks to the side and sees you with a look of confusion on your face as you lean in close trying to hear her, he faces you.

“You basically have to call out three numbers getting closer and closer to 31.” Sohee says it directly into your ear to not interrupt Giselle. He watched you grip the neck of your bottle a little tighter before nodding your head. “When it lands on thirty-one, that person has to drink.” He explains.

When you turn back to him, Sohee realizes he can’t handle his alcohol. He also realizes you lost the previous game twice, and the shots and beer you continued to drink made your eyes low. You were still alert as you nodded your head, you even asked him a question about if the numbers had to ascend or if they could go down as well.

When Sungchan started the game, he only said one. He looked from side to side anxiously, a smile on his lips like he was already expecting himself to mess up the game. He point to Wonbin next to him.

“2, 3.” Wonbin said quickly.

Minjeong was next to him, she scanned the large circle of people quickly before Giselle could chide her for cheating.

“4.” She said.

Then it was Sion who went up to seven. Then Ryujin went up to ten, and Chaeryeong went to thirteen. Haechan only went to twelve, and then it was Sohee’s turn.

“13.”

“14.” You said instantly.

Anton next to you counted again, and Giselle chided someone for the second time for cheating.

“Do it fast.” She yelled.

Anton continued to go up to seventeen, and then Mark next to him went to twenty. Karina did twenty-two, Yunjin went to twenty-five. Keeho went to twenty-eight, and it ended at Giselle. She looked to Sungchan next to her expectantly, the shot already in her hand.

“30.” She smiled, handing the shot to Sungchan.

He downed it and everyone cheered. After the first game, it somehow always ended up ending on Wonbin. He was three shots deep by the time the game switched.

“Have you guys heard of The Apartment Game?”

Looking back, choosing The Apartment Game could’ve just been a ploy to get closer to you. Sohee knew it wasn’t that big of a deal that your hands rested on top of his. But he could feel how soft your palm was on top of his hand, and how you let yours rest heavy on top of his despite everyone keeping the tiniest space between their hands. It had to be a sign, and the way you said a number that was far from his had to be a sign too. He tried not to let the way you got closer to him with each round not to get to him, but you were practically leaning on him by the time the next round started. Sohee leaned into you too, and he found too much joy in the sounds you were making throughout the game. Your tiny gasps, the sounds of happiness when it wasn’t you who had to take the shot.

The apartment game was the longest one everyone played. Each time it was a different number of people playing, sometimes there was so many not everyone could move their hands before the floor was called. The more people that joined the circle the more you were pushed into Sohee. He didn’t know what to do when you let your head rest on his shoulder in between another round starting. Even when everyone’s hands were stacked differently his always ended up under or on top of yours. When both of you noticed you two couldn’t stop yourselves from giggling. The alcohol and you two sticking together like magnets made Sohee blush, and the more time you spent playing it the worst the blush became. When he made eye contact with his roommate who had bleary eyes, he could see the last bit of his sobriety stop him from pointing out the obvious. The gap between you and Sohee was gone, the signs of growing affection were becoming more and more obvious. Sohee had to silently beg Anton to look away before he focused back on the game. Karma had Sohee’s back, because within three minutes Anton was taking his nth shot of the night.

“We make a good team.” You whispered to Sohee.

Sohee was able to look at the smile on your face. He shifted on his spot to settle into you more. As if on cue, Sion started the new round. You and Sohee stuck your hands into the pile at the same time, sandwiched together again.

“We really do.” Sohee agreed.

You laughed and pushed your body against his.

After everyone got too tipsy to continue the apartment game, they split back off into the party. Anton stayed in his spot on. the recliner. Giselle went off somewhere, and you stayed close to him.

You two took turns following eachother for the rest of the night. When you exercised your bestfriend privileges with Giselle to look in the fridge for a snack you grabbed him something too. When you didn’t have anyone to talk to, Sohee was there with good conversation and stories about back home. You shared your own stories, and he found out that you two shared more in common than he ever thought. You two talked about nothing but everything, switching to different parts of Giselle’s house. You talked about your shared tendency to never leave the house in the hallway, your favorite parts about the city on the terrace. You talked about your friendships in the kitchen and then the people you failed to meet on the couch. Giselle came by with her digital camera and snapped a pic of the two of you. You were leaned on the armrest of the couch, with one of your legs draped over Sohee’s. He didn’t even realize that was the position you two fell into. He just noticed that you were incredibly warm against him, and you seemed just as confused when Giselle was finished taking her pictures.

“I really do throw the best parties.” She said to herself, like she knew something you two didn’t.

By the time Giselle was done taking pictures of her party and started calling it a night, Sohee’s throat was almost sore from talking so much. He felt cold when you got up from the couch to help herd people outside and clean up a bulk of the mess.

Sohee watched the crowd of the party dwindle down in real time. The big spills were cleaned off the coffee table and the wooden floorboards, the cards from a random games were stacked and put back into their boxes. He watched people make their way out of Giselles’ flat, saying their goodbyes and kissing her cheeks on both sides before heading down the stairs. Each time Giselle told them about the digital photos she took, how they’d be up on her Instagram soon. She continued to clean up the mess in between people leaving, and you were helping her. Watching you sort the glass beer bottles from the metal ones made Sohee want to clean up to. He grabbed paper towels and spot cleaned what he could. He knew he probably should’ve left before the alcohol got the best of his friend.

By the time the party was cleared and the only thing that remained were bags of trash for the morning, Anton was already down for the count. Stretched out uncomfortably on Giselle’s recliner, legs fully spread and his head leaning to the side. The snoring was manageable at first, but when Sohee was getting ready to bid his farewells and wake up his friend, Anton’s snores were interrupting conversations and became a subject of concern.

“Is he alright?” Giselle asked.

She was in the middle of talking to you in a conversation Sohee was not a part of. She leaned in close to you next to the refrigerator. Sohee knew he wasn’t involved in the conversation, but you two kept looking in his general direction. Sometimes Giselle would laugh and hit your shoulder, sometimes you would laugh and hit hers. It had gotten to the point in the night when it was just Wonbin staggering to the guest room holding onto Sungchan for dear life. Sohee was left to be picked apart by the two of you, mostly sober and for some reason still not ready to say goodnight.

But he needed to leave. When Giselle asked about the state of Anton he nodded his head, making his way over to Anton’s mostly lifeless body to give his shoulder a shake.

“He’s alright.” Anton didn’t react to the shoulder shakes. His head just lulled to the other side, a pause in his snores just for them to continue just as loud. “Once he’s up and moving he’ll be fine.” Sohee said.

Giselle wordlessly pointed past Sohee and Anton to her guest bedroom. Sohee followed her finger to Sungchan reemerging from the room, closing the door gently with a click.

“Wonbin is already in the guest bedroom.” Giselle tied off the plastic bag filled with aluminum cans and set it on her marble countertop. “There’s enough room on the bed for Anton.” She said.

Sohee looked to you first. You were leaned against the door of the fridge, messing with the handle like you were trying to contemplate what to do next. Sohee was just as lost, politely shaking his head before continuing to push and pull at Anton’s shoulder.

“Ah no, it’s okay.” Sohee said quickly.

He needed Anton to wake up and be on his feet immediately. But Anton only furrowed his eyebrows and settled deeper into the recliner.

“Sohee right?” Giselle looked back to you for confirmation on his name. When you nodded your head Giselle looked back to him, smile on her face as she leaned against her kitchen island. “I insist. I wouldn’t feel safe with you two stumbling through Zuid.”

Sohee shook his head again. He could spare the money for an Uber. He just wouldn’t eat for the week. That was completely alright. But Giselle was persistent, and Anton weighed a ton when he was drunk and not able to move. So Sohee and Sungchan both guided their mutual friend into the guest bedroom for him to fall on the mattress right next to Wonbin. Giselle followed with blankets, pillows, and garbage cans.

“You can take the couch. It’s more comfortable than it looks. I nap there all the time.” Giselle said.

Sohee took the blankets from her hand and thanked her sincerely. She was out of the room quickly, closing the door gently behind her after making sure Wonbin and Anton were rolled on their sides.

Sohee tried his best to get comfortable on the couch. He had more room to work with than his loveseat, he could fully stretch his body across the cushions instead of having them on top of the armrests. The cushions were softer too, and the blanket that rested over his body was softer and warmer than any comforter he’s ever had. Wonbin and Anton were as okay as two drunk people could be, breathing normally and turned to their sides for extra safety. Even if everything was as right as it could’ve been in this situation, Sohee still felt uncomfortable. He wanted Anton to be sober, he didn’t want to keep seeing the moon outside of Giselle guest bedroom window. He wanted it to be the next day already, he wanted to be at home in his bed.

He was getting ready to get up and shake Anton awake again when he heard the door slowly open.

Sohee fully stiffened on the couch. He brought the covers up to his chin and acted like he was asleep. He could hear whoever it was hesitate in the door. It creaked on its hinges as it shut slightly as you pulled it back, but then you pushed it forward again.

“Sohee.” Your voice was so light, a whisper that almost fell underneath the light snores of Wonbin and Anton. “Are you awake?” You asked.

Knowing it was you, Sohee opened his eyes and sat up a little too fast. He turned to see your head that was peaked out only slightly past the door, and your nervous hand that gripped the doorknob. Sohee could see in the light casted by the pale moon that your were apologetic, your hand reached forward like you were trying to stop him from getting up any further.

“Did I wake you?” You asked quickly.

Sohee shook his head from his position on the bed.

“I can’t sleep.” You said truthfully.

“Me neither.” He said back.

Sohee sat up fully on the couch, pushing the blankets off his body and moving the pillow out of the way. You sat down, leaving the biggest space between your bodies for the first time of the night. Sohee couldn’t help but see how nervous you were. Hands that would playfully touch him throughout the night were tucked underneath your thighs, and your eyes that looked at him unashamed were casted forward, looking at the bed.

“Your drinking games really put them to sleep.” You said.

As if on cue, Wonbin grumbled and rolled over, closer to the center of the bed. Anton did the same, and within seconds Anton had his arm slung over Wonbin’s body. Instead of waking up or moving away, Wonbin only scooted closer. Both of you laughed quietly at the sight. Sohee would’ve taken a picture to tease Anton with if you weren’t sitting so closely next to him. He didn’t want to move from the spot. He was grateful for his sleeping friend to break the tension in the air, but now it was even harder to focus. Sohee didn’t know how to transition from his friend and a friend of a friend laying on the bed together to how warm you were sitting next to him. He didn’t know how to look at you directly without a random drinking game to fake focus on. Catching your subtle looks throughout the night was easier when there was an audience, it was easier to let something unspoken brew between the two of you. But when it was just you two—and two sleeping guys cuddling on the queen guest bed—something had to be said.

Sohee didn’t know how to say it and neither did you. Both of you were looking around the room, too nervous to even have your head facing the same direction. When you’d look at Anton and Wonbin, Sohee would look out the window. When you would look out the window, Sohee would turn his head to look more in depth at the decorations of the room. Sohee spent too much time looking at the boxes of Giselle’s old projects and her desk that housed a chunky monitor.

“Your drinking games were alot of fun.” You said.

Sohee dragged his hands down his thighs. The sound of his hands against the denim was louder than your voice. He smiled gratefully, still avoiding your eyes.

“Thanks.” Sohee looked forward at the coffee table in front of you two, the glass showed him your reflection. He tried not to let his face heat up when he noticed that you were looking at him. He could feel your eyes drag across his cheek and he felt the urge to hide behind his hand. “Learned them back home.” He said.

Sohee knew he already told you that he was taught all the drinking games through various social situations in South Korea. He thought he told you about the nights of him and his friends huddled in a living room playing games with water because they didn’t have a taste for drinking. You still pushed the conversation forward, putting a hand behind his body as you leaned slightly into him.

“Where’s home again?” You asked quietly.

Your whisper fanned the side of his face. Sohee wasn’t sure if your were trying to make him too nervous to answer his question, but his mind couldn’t come up with anything. He foolishly thought of The Hidden Leaf Village, then the fact that he had never been on a couch so close to someone who he wanted to get even closer to. His mind was caught in an endless loop, and then he felt your other hand cross your thigh to rest on top of his.

“Home is.” Sohee looked at your face. He made the mistake of seeing your washed skin in the moonlight and the worried look in your blown out eyes. Nothing could’ve prepared him for how pretty you were up close, how looking at you somehow made you invade his senses even more. Your body wash replaced any coherent thought in his mind as he went back to looking at the glass coffee table. “Home is home.” He repeated.

You nodded and smiled at his comment. Sohee felt the air in the room change as you got closer. Sohee could hear you turn your head one more time to make sure Anton and Wonbin were really asleep before you leaned in again.

“Do you have any other games?” You asked.

Sohee didn’t have any other games, he laid them all out on Giselle’s living room earlier. Even if he had one, trying to explain anything would’ve been helpless. He was too busy constantly rubbing off new layers of sweat on his jeans and avoiding eye contact with you to calm his heart. He almost twitched away when he felt your fingers run down his arm before resting on his thigh.

“Well. I have one we can play.” You put more weight behind your hand and let it rest heavy on Sohee’s thigh. His habit of twitching and reacting to every one of your moves gives you confidence. Still, the brashness causes words to jumble in your head. You lick your lips as you try to remember what you want to say, the infliction that you want to say it in. “With just the two of us.” You say.

Watching Sohee try to figure out where to put his hands makes you want to guide him. But your fear of this not being what he actually wants makes you sit still. You hope that this can bridge the gap, that this can help you tell Sohee how badly you need him in the most quiet and welcoming way possible.

“What’s the game?” He asks.

“You—”

Sohee’s gaze is still locked onto the glass surface of the coffee table. You can barely make out his reflection, you can’t tell if he’s disgusted or interested. The thought of it being the former makes your heart thud. You’re sure it’s about to beat out of your chest when you bring your hand to lightly touch his jaw.

“You have to look at me first.”

That was probably the last thing Sohee wanted to hear. The game he wanted to play was contingent on him looking at you? Surely he’d lose, or die from the overwhelming feeling he got in his chest just by looking at you. Your shorts were riding higher and higher up on your bare thigh that was touching his, wasn’t that enough? He wasn’t sure he could take any more of it. But then your hand applied the lightest bit of force, and Sohee could feel your soft fingers dimple the skin on his chin. He couldn’t resist turning his head by your guiding hand, until he was looking directly into your eyes.

You took up eachother’s entire view. The moonlight illuminated the side of your face, it partially lit up the front of Sohees’. You could see his eyes were blown out, his pupils shaking like he was trying to find out where exactly to focus. The guy that was so confident, saying sly remarks during the third round of the apartment game looked like he was going to explode into clouds and smoke just looking at you. You would’ve said something snarky back to him if you didn’t feel like you were about to do the same. Why a night of getting closer and closer lead you both to avoiding eye contact in private was beyond you. What you did know was that time was running out. It would only be a matter of time that Sungchan and Giselle were done doing whatever the fuck they were doing and Sungchan would be dragging you back home. You had a game to propose, and hopefully one to play.

“If it’s too much.” You brought your other hand to the side of Sohee’s face to keep him in place. You thought you were going to burst into flames when you felt his slender fingers ghost over your waist. “Say red light.”

You watched him quickly lick his lips then swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat while he left his lips slightly parted. They looked so soft and inviting, even when they mouthed out the beginning of words Sohee was trying to find out how to say.

He only nodded.

You selfishly needed him to give you something more. Second guesses made your hands break away from his face, slinking down to his shoulders. Something about gripping the ball of Sohee’s shoulders neutral, as if you weren’t halfway into his lap already. You also needed a position that would help you play off what you were about to do, as if anything could be mistaken with how intently you were staring at his lips.

“If you don’t like it.” Your hands went down his arms, squeezing periodically all the way down. The moon felt like it was shining brighter now, and now it was you finding a reason to look away from him. “Just say red light or something, okay?” You specified.

Sohee’s eyes were big when he blinked and nodded his head quickly again. His hand rested a little heavier on your waist now, and you felt a grip come from him that you forced yourself to read as anticipation. When you scooted impossibly closer to him on the couch Sohee came forward too. Your shared weight caused the cushion to sink into the framing of the couch. You sat up and brought a hand back up to his shoulder, squeezing gently and smiling.

He smiled back, and hurriedly pushed his bangs away from his head before his hand went back to resting on your thigh. He looked down at your lips, you looked down at his. The moon was about to blow up in the night sky as you looked back to Sohee’s eyes. When you felt the lightest pull—one that even he seemed shocked by—you slowly started leaning in. Your hand left his shoulder to go back behind his body and your hand went to his thigh for stability as you turned your head to the side.

Something in you told Sohee not to close his eyes. He knew he should’ve to match yours, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t want to miss watching you part your lips, the exhale that fanned his wet lips as you got closer. He would’ve missed the sight of your hand clasping over his thigh, and the way your lips slightly puckered as they got closer. Sohee had to remind himself to close his eyes right before your lips made contact. As consolation he held your waist even tighter, until his fingers slipped underneath your shirt and wrinkled the fabric.

Your lips were too soft. They were plush against his, even if it was a simple chaste kiss Sohee was already engulfed in you. The two of you kept your lips pressed together without moving. Sohee wondered for a second if he should move, but the thought of breaking away from you made his heart ache in his chest. He would gladly just be face to face with you like this, not separating, not moving, just touching. exhales from your noses fanning eachothers sweaty faces, your hands experimentally grabbing at the other.

You only told him what to do if he didn’t like it. What was he supposed to do if he didn’t want to stop, if he wanted to go further?

“Green.” He mumbled it against your lips, the sound caught in your mouth and muddied amongst the million other stimulants in eachother’s mind.

You pulled away first, the smallest sound of your lips detaching before Sohee noticed you were already fulled leaned into him.

“What?” You asked.

Sohee looked down at your chest to see the deep breaths you were pulling in. He noticed then that he was having trouble breathing himself.

“Green.” He repeated.

When Sohee saw the word register in your mind and you nodded your head quickly he knew he was winning the game. This time your hand went to his neck to guide him in at the right angle, and you slowly moved your legs to drape over his. Sohee tried his best to fall into the place you were opening up for him. His hand wrapped around your lower back and he splayed his fingers over the side of your stomach, pulling you in closer to him. His other was on top of your mid thigh, the area that was hidden seconds ago due to your shorts. Sohee closed the distance faster now, and he turned his head the other way to compliment your head turns. He felt pride swell in his chest when he realized he was doing the right thing, and that him saying green meant you were going to move your lips against his now.

He felt your chapstick spread across his lips and cross over the perimeter. Sohee moved his lips against yours in tandem, parting them when you’d close yours and vice versa. He knew something about how he was kissing you was off, but he didn’t know how to correct it. He wanted to feel you breath hot air into his mouth, he wanted to feel your tongue and taste the remnants of alcohol and toothpaste on your tongue. Just like when you were playing games earlier in the night, Sohee got the hang of it eventually. When your hands carded through his hair and pulled slightly, parting him from your lips for you to utter quick instructions, Sohee understood. When you slowly parted your lips Sohee did the same thing this time, and turned his head to get deeper than he did before. His hands pulled at your thighs and waist to bring you closer, and you scooted into his lap without hesitation.

Your ass was sat carefully on his thigh and the couch. Sohee didn’t have time to comprehend the change in the situation. You were sat on his lap, your hands moved from guiding his movements to locking behind his head. You were entrusting him with way too much. Less than five hours ago Sohee was getting ready to waste another night away watching a show on his phone. Now here he was, making out with you on a couch in your friends guest bedroom with two people less than ten feet away. You were entrusting him too much, you were entirely too much. He had to say red light for your sake. He didn’t know if he could handle the idea of having your tongue swap spit with his, if he deserved it. He gripped you tighter despite everything in him telling him not to. When you sunk into him further Sohee knew he didn’t have the choice.

You two played entirely too well together, he knew it when you two won every game of the night. The same way you hesitated saying the final number in Baskin Robbins 31 you hesitated with your lips pressing against Sohee’s. The same way he leaped to help you then he did the same now. He closed the gap between your separate vigors, leaning his mouth forward to press against yours. He gripped you tighter and your hands when back to touching his neck and face. He felt something building up between your synced breaths. Anticipation, anxiety, something was coming.

Then you moaned. It was the lightest sound, one that was caught between your lips detaching and reattaching and Wonbin moving around on the soft bed. As soon as the sound broke, you and Sohee stilled your movements. Sohee’s eyes shot open to see yours already open, wide and in panic.

“Sorry.” You croaked.

He had to push your legs slightly forward so they were resting directly over his crotch. He knew the ache entirely too well, something that set his skin crimson red because it’s never felt quite like this before.

The way you faced him entirely didn’t let the moon hit your face, but your proximity to him made Sohee see everything. He could see your already swollen lips, the thin layer of drool that coated them. Sohee saw the flush and the sheen sweat that covered the apples of your cheeks and your forehead, and the heat radiating off of you that was sticking to his sweaty skin. You moaned for him. You moaned for him and you looked like a mess because of him.

“Don’t say sorry.” His voice was halfway gone, the end of his words made no sound at all. “No reason to apologize.” He said.

You nodded and your fingers started messing with the ends of Sohee’s hair. He felt himself holding onto the desperate sounds threatening to slip out when he felt your nails scratch at his scalp. He prayed that the shadows in this room hid the embarrassment aching in his lap and the red creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears.

When you tried resting your leg back over his lap Sohee had to subtly redirect you again. When you tried doing it a third time you cocked your head to the side slightly. Sohee tried to remain nonchalant, his hand wedged between your thighs to feel your warmth there. Your enclosed his hand perfectly, your soft skin only made that feeling even worse. Sohee watched you tip your head back at his greedy hand, and he got the insane urge to reach forward and suck at the skin at the base of your neck. He was pulled away from the sight when your neck was hidden again, your low eyes almost looked sleepy as they bored into his.

“Can we kiss some more?” You whispered.

Sohee was starstruck. You boldness fully lapped his despite you seeming more pent up than he was. Sohee barely had the chance to press his lips to yours before you poked your tongue out, running it sloppily over the chapstick you smeared there before.

Any exclamation he had, any quick green light was swallowed by you. Your mouth opened just a little wider than before, and you were letting quiet whines slip into his mouth. Everything was green at that point—the moon, the couch, him—and he was doing everything in his power to let you know that.

He should’ve been worried about the other people in the room. But the way you were kissing him, and the overall darkness and how the moonlight only seemed to shine on you two made it easy to forget anyone else was in there. When Sohee could taste the toothpaste on your tongue and the plum soju on his it was only about you two swapping whatever you could. When Sohee experimentally stuck his tongue in your mouth and you gripped him so tight your nails dug into his skin, it was all about you. And when his guard was down, and you took your chance to let your leg graze over the bulge in his pants he groaned into your mouth.

Sohee lost the game. He made the loudest sound between the two of your put together, something between a relieved sigh and a croak of a moan from everything that was pent up over the course of the night. He knew he was too far gone when he couldn’t be bothered. He was becoming greedy, when you broke away to press your hand against his dick he rutted against your palm, causing both of your bodies to move.

“Green?” You asked.

Sohee’s hand reached higher than ever, grabbing the side of your face and cradling your jaw in his palm.

“Green.” He said quickly.

You nodded as Sohee brought your face forward again to quickly bring your lips to his again. This time, it was Sohee to push his tongue into your mouth first. His hand gripped your thigh and he moved closer and closer to the heat that had you squirming on his leg. You started feeling for his dick in his pants, your hand clasped over the imprint his shaft was making. Just like true teammates, when Sohee became to distracted by your hand you picked up where he left off. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, turning your head and whimpering to let him know you were saying green a million times over in your mind. He didn’t have to say anything when he felt your hands mess with the button at the top of his jeans. You two worked together to try and push the metal button through the slit in his jeans, not wanting to break apart to get what you wanted.

Sohee blames himself for being so caught up in your teamwork to remember that you two weren’t alone. One moment it was only you in the room, then the next it was Anton shooting up in bed and letting out a sound so loud that you chomped down on Sohee’s bottom lip in surprise.

He knew that his roommate had the tendency to wake up abruptly in the night. Anton’s dad said it had something to do with the snoring, Sohee believed it had something to do with his tendency to set terrible alarms and never wake up to them. However, he would’ve never thought it’d be that bad. Anton made you spring off of Sohee’s lap and detach from him entirely, practically leaping to the other side of the couch as Anton stumbled out of bed. He was so loud that Wonbin woke up just to smush the pillow over his eyes, and it made Sungchan bound across the living room quickly with Giselle following closely behind. Everything was so quiet, with just the two of you and then suddenly everyone in the house was in the room. Sungchan poked his head through, then once he saw Anton’s shadowy figure fully standing he came in entirely.

Giselle came in behind him, closing her night gown and tying it off before reaching and turning on the light. Behind the door, the last amount of privacy, you two spent the final seconds preparing yourself to be seen by people. Sohee tried to fix his hair he could tell was sticking up in all directions, you pulled down your shirt and your shorts that had rode up. The back of your hand went across your mouth the same time Giselle peaked past the door, eyes narrowed from sleep and confusion.

“What was that sound?” She asked.

For a second, Sohee thought Giselle was talking about the moan he let slip out. Sohee looked to you in a panic and you looked to him before turning towards Sungchan and Giselle.

“He just like, made that sound.” You shrugged your shoulders, and cleared your throat when your voice was weak. “He woke us up.” You said quickly.

When you looked to Sohee for confirmation he knew it was his turn. He nodded his head and yawned, gesturing towards Anton so Sungchan and Giselle would face him instead.

“He did it out of nowhere.” Sohee continued.

Sungchan walked over to Anton, while Giselle kept her narrowed eyes on Sohee a second longer. She was too tired to do anything more about the situation. Instead she leaned against the doorframe of the wall, letting out a loud yawn and rubbed the sides of her head.

“I think this is expediting my hangover.” She grumbled.

“Anton.” Sungchan put his hands on Anton’s shoulders. He swayed from side to side slightly, but focused on Sungchan’s eyes clearly. “You alright?” Sungchan asked.

Anton nodded. Sohee watched you grab the throw pillow to put it back in the center of the couch. Without saying anything Sohee knew. He grabbed it and placed it on his lap, adjusting his pants underneath the privacy of the pillow.

“I have that assignment due in a couple hours. I have to go home.” Anton whined.

“It’s super late. Can’t you do it in the morning?” Sungchan asked.

“No.” Anton’s whiny voice caused Wonbin to sit up in the bed. He looked objectively the most out of it than everyone else in the room. His hair was sticking up in all directions, his eyes weren’t focused and barely open. He ran a hand haphazardly through his hair before looking directly forward. Sohee avoided Wonbin’s eyes as he leaned forward, looking at Anton fight another wave of intoxication.

“I already had it extended twice.” Anton reached for his wallet and keys to his flat that rested on the bedside table. “Have to get back.” He said.

Then, Anton locked eyes with Sohee. Then his eyes traveled to you on the other end of the couch. He watched the cogs turn in his roommates mind, him connecting the voices and sounds he was probably hearing in his subconscious to the two people sitting awkwardly. Before Anton could point an accusatory hand and let the tipsy words slip out, Sohee got up from the couch. He took a quick glance down before collecting all of his bearings.

“I guess it’s time to go back then.” Sohee said.

“It’s late.” Giselle emphasized.

Sohee shrugged. Anton whined again.

“I have a class in a couple hours anyways. Attendance is mandatory. It’ll be nice to get home and shower and everything. I think we can manage.” He says.

Sohee motions towards Anton and he nods, already stuffing his things into his pockets. Sungchan lets Anton go and he’s stable on his feet, if anything it’s the tiredness that causes a drag and stumble in his gait. Regardless, Anton helps Sohee find the rest of his things after only having to ask once what he is supposed to be doing, and he’s the only pulling up the walking directions back to their flat on his phone.

“Only a twenty-six minute walk.” Anton says cheerfully.

Sohee lets out a pensive sigh. His friend unknowingly cockblocked him to Hell and back, now he has to walk for twenty-six minutes, making sure they don’t get lost or robbed on the way home.

Sohee bids a farewell with everyone at the door. He realizes quickly he doesn’t really know Sungchan or Giselle. He can only tell them thank you for letting him stay and have fun at their place, and that he will make sure Anton gets home safe. He sees you last, and he realizes quickly he doesn’t know how to interact with you when there’s people around. He doesn’t know how to ask for your number, or to thank you for kissing him and showing him the best game he has ever played. He can only reach out his hand awkwardly so you can grab it even worse, something between a handshake and a fist bump. The sight causes Giselle and Sungchan to look between you two, confused before they start talking to eachother.

Sohee watches you open the door for them, and Anton already makes his way towards the parking lot. Sohee looks between his roommate and you, his priorities skewed because the only thing he wants is to take you back into the room and kiss you again. Just to prove it was real. Just to prove that you two were playing the same game.

Before Sohee can run off to follow after Anton you put your hand in the pocket of his light jacket, patting the space empty once you pull your hand out.

“Just incase you forgot something.” You say casually.

Sohee nods, and pats his pocket for safe keeping.

“Thanks.” He says.

Before you two can forget there’s other people in the world again, Sohee is called by Anton. His voice is entirely too loud for this area at this time of night, he can see it in the way Giselles’ teeth clench and Sungchans’ body freezing. Sohee has barely anytime to apologize for Anton before heading down the stairs, sparing you one last look as you smile and wave before closing the door gently.

masterlist | previous part | next part

#01zfan: sohee #01zfan: smauz #seriez: apt #riize smau #sohee smau #sohee smut #riize smut

39 notes · View notes

brokenpieces-72 · 6 months ago

Text

In and Out

Navigation

Just want to say thank you so much for your guys love and support on this series. I genuinely appreciate it. My request box is open and empty and I love getting requests, whether it’s AUs or something else. If you want to be tagged let me know.

Milena knocks on your old apartment door. No answer. She knocks again and still no answer. This was ridiculous, what was the point of this? You’re just some tagger running with some men doing who knows what. Honestly she wants to be going over more of the land deals and getting home and health inspectors into that neighbourhood as soon as possible. More evictions more chances to rebuild.

Milena turns to walk away when she sees you, stopping her in her tracks. You have your bag over your shoulder, wearing a hoodie with a leather jacket overtop. You’re wearing a cap you “borrowed” from Kyle, old jeans and gloves. Of course you also had your scarf on.

If you didn’t know who Milena really was you would be wondering why she’s here, but you have some guesses. Before approaching her you noticed her approaching your building. You’d caught a photo and asked for instructions from your friends. You have a small group chat with them but Price and Ghost were busy doing other stuff. So Kyle and Johnny were left to take charge. Kyle suggested hiding and waiting until she left. Johnny said to see what she wants.

Y/N: what do I say if she sees me?

K: Be nice.

J: mess with her!

The texts came at the same time. Then Johnny sent another.

J: Record it too!

Your phone is recording audio, as you simply stand there waiting for the socialite to start talking.

“Sorry do you know who lives here?” She asks you.

“Yep.” You say. There’s a pause as you just stare at her.

“Um, is the landlord here today? I need to talk to him about this apartment. I was told it’s going up for sale.”

“No it‘s not and no you weren’t.” You say with a slight smirk.

“I’m sorry?” She asks sounding irritated.

“Do you want to take a look around? Seriously it ain’t impressive.” You say walking up to her casually and unlocking the door. She steps back as if you were dog rushing up to bark at her. You step inside and hold the door open for her.

“Still occupied, sorry. But it’s the same as every other apartment if you’re interested in moving in. Come in I don’t mind.” You leave the view of the door frame and go to the kitchen, setting your bag down in the corner. Milena can do plenty, but this is your own personal turf.

“Want a drink?” You ask, opening the fridge, and your garbage. Good thing you stopped by to grab stuff, the last thing you want is a mushroom farm in your fridge.

“Coffee or something stronger.” she says, absently surveying your unit.

“Uh… sorry don’t really have… cider okay?” You ask tossing another expired container into the bin.

“It’ll do.” She says, sitting in one of the chairs in the living room as if it were her own office. You shrug it off and get her a can of cider. Oh shit you forgot you had those. Definitely need to take those back with you for a personal pleasure. Hopefully none of them liked popping boba.

“So uh…” you start as you close the fridge. “You trying to evict me? Like the homes down in the south east neighbourhood?”

Milena looks up at you with wild eyes as you hand her the drink as if you found her diary.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She says taking the drink, eyeing the tab.

“New manicure? Here.” You take the drink from her and open it. “So what’s up.”

“I came to give you an invitation to a party.” She says offering you an envelope. You take it and look it over before looking at her.

“How old are you?” You ask.

“Excuse me?” She says offended. Damn she was easy.

“Milena Romanova, realtor and socialite. You make a lot of money in real estate and land deals. Land deals that don’t land the same money you do. Must be good.” Milena looks ticked.

“Now you’re funding the police, making friendly donations and spending time with the chief commissioner.”

“What are y-“

“Just making small talk. A couple guys I know from the precinct told me you guys are dating.” You say reclining on your old sofa, as if it were a throne. Milena doesn’t know what to make of you. You are certainly…different.

“My love life is my own.” Milena states. You shrug. “The invitation is for an event, inviting a few large names from the city. I understand you’re an aspiring artist.”

“Something like that.” You admit. Hopefully she hadn’t seen your most recent work. It may or may not have involved her posing on houses with… unmentionables spilling out the windows.

“I believe this could be a great opportunity for you. I know plenty of large names and often have art showcased at open houses.”

“Not sure I have the money to afford a nice outfit.” You say.

“If you’d like I could buy a couple of your pieces to cover costs. Of course it’s your choice.” She offers. She stands without you giving an answer, and leaving the open untouched can of cider on the coffee table along with the invitation.

“I have places to be. I hope to see you there.” She says going to the door. Milena steps out but turns to address you.

“I should mention, the chief commissioner has been looking for you. I think he’d like to get to know you more. If you don’t mind I’ll let him know where he can find you.” And without another word, she shuts the door. The room is silent. All you hear is the sound of the carbonation from Milena’s open cider. You take the cider and take a swig before getting to work.

Then you hear a noise from one of the rooms. You keep your phone recording, and go to your bag taking out your gun. You keep it pointed to the ground as you get closer to the closed door. You put a hand on the knob before shoving it open aiming the gun at the intruder.

“You mother fucker!” You shout.

“I can explain.” Graves says.

“Like hell you can.” You say. “Also my bedroom, seriously? This is a whole new level of creepy.”

“Thank you I try.” Graves puts sarcastically. “I came to leave you a note, I assumed you’d return. I wanted to warn you about Makarov but… you just had tea time with Milena.”

“Hardly tea time, she didn’t drink anything.” You say. “She follow you?”

“I hope not. Just in case don’t leave for a few hours.” Graves says. You nod understanding. “Stupid question but why are you here?”

“Came to pick up extra stuff.” You say going around him and getting the duffle bag from your closet. You start packing, and your hoodie sleeve slides up again. Graves notices.

“Who grabbed you… or are you and the boys of the 141 getting clo-“ Graves stops the question after you glare at him. “Teasing.”

“…Nolan grabbed me. I don’t know his last name.” You admit. You haven’t told anyone else.

“Does Price know?” He asks. You shrug and focus on packing extra clothes, before going to the bathroom to grab some extra supplies. Graves is quiet.

“You gonna go to the party?” He asks.

“Haven’t decided.” You say.

“Let me know if you want a ride.” He offers. “Take it Milena hasn’t seen your recent work. Hoo boy that’s some slander.”

You look at him, incredulous. “You saw nothing.”

“I saw works of art, and have no clue where they came from.” Graves says raising his hands. You smile a little but he doesn’t get to see it.

“How are you doing?” Graves asks. “You eating okay? Sleeping well?”

“The guys take good care of me.” You say coming back to the bag with a couple of items. You look around the room to see if you’re missing anything else.

“He’s getting close.” Graves says. “Makarov keeps asking me about you, and I’m giving him what I can without putting either of us at risk.”

“I need a favour.” You admit. Graves raises an eyebrow. “There’s a raid planned. The… a gang went to the docks a while ago trying to take down a drug shipment, but the drugs were protected. I know when the next raid will happen, and if you’re there you can look further into it.”

Graves stands there, admittedly surprised. You were giving him a lead, one to Makarov sure, but one that could get the others in shit.

“Send a tip to the station, make sure it comes to me and only me ya got that.” He instructs. You nod.

“Thank you.” You say. Graves gives a nod, and it’s an awkward silence. Graves looks at your wrist again.

“He grab you anywhere else?” He asks calmly. You rub your arm, and Graves sighs. Without warning he holds your shoulders, before pulling you into a hug. It’s oddly nice. A comfort. You can’t talk to Graves much but right now, you feel like you could spill your guts and he would listen.

“You stay safe kiddo.” He says quietly, not expecting you to hear it. You do. And you just squeeze a little tighter. He lets you go, looking down at you. Graves is about to say something but stops himself.

“Chill here, call a ride, go home.” He says. You nod and after a final good bye he walks out into the night.

Milena came over to Makarov’s home, greeting him with a kind smile.

“They’re all sent out?” He asks.

“Of course.” She says.

“Now we wait.” Makarov says. “The pieces will fall where they need to.”

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @tai-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @smitten-haematite-quartz @dcnocap207

#kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #cod au #task force 141 x reader #gangster au #cod gangster au #milena romanova #vladimir makarov #phillip graves #gangster #gn reader #gender neutral reader #task force 141 #task force x reader #simon ghost riley #captain john price #call of duty au

56 notes · View notes

mariaofdoranelle · 2 months ago

Text

Lollapal-oops-a: part 1

Written for Rowaelin Month day 6 - Misunderstanding leading to disaster; @rowaelinscourt

Fic masterlist

Rowaelin Month 2024 masterlist

Hey guys!! I have three parts planned for this, all of them due this month <3

Warnings: none other than the prompt itself hehe

Words: 965

Aelin’s internship at Damaris Publishers had been a learning experience in many ways, but one she didn’t see coming is that, sometimes, you meet a scary-looking, highly muscled and tattooed IT guy, and the only bonding experience you’ll have with him is over the favorite drag queen you two have in common.

Or at least that was what got her rooted to the floor as she stared at the computer screen Rowan Whitethorn forgot to lock on his way to the break room. Five tabs open—two of some nerdy stuff she wouldn’t bother with, and three of Edna Thornie: her Vogue Get Ready With Me on YouTube, her special appearance at the Kinky Boots musical for the Doranelle tour, and another about her upcoming Lollapalooza show this weekend.

“Did he forget it again?” Fenrys asked on his way to her, palms rubbing with giddiness to prank his friend once again.

Aelin snorted. “Yep. Are we Ctrl+Alt+Arrowing him again?”

He made a show of stopping, both hands on his hips to think. “I dunno. Too basic, too predictable by now. Lemme think.”

She gave one last look at his screen—a giant picture of Edna Thornie in all her fake-titted glory, breastplate so big it could be a Z cup and unbelievably cunty go-go boots. Aelin really did love the drag queen’s artistry, but not on her office crush’s screen.

Not a crush, she had to correct herself for the first time, a few months after deciding he was too hot for his own good. Aelin had to get over it, and quick. One minute of silence to mourn the dick she’d never bounce on—because no straight man would watch Edna Thornie do her makeup routine on his own volition—then back to work.

She asked Fenrys, “Rowan, he’s a big fan of Edna Thornie, ain’t he?”

“Yep,” Fen said with a small smile. “If you look past that grumpy shell of his, you’ll find that he really loves her.”

That grumpy shell was what got her. One oat milk latte, and she wouldn’t be so confused to see a drag queen on his screen.

“And you don’t find it a little odd?” Aelin inquired while removing the batteries from his mouse. She was going to put a post-it with a winky face underneath it, a little mercy so he wouldn’t spend too long to find out why it isn’t working.

“Why would it be odd?”

“He doesn’t look the type, that’s all.” Aelin shrugged. “I never would’ve guessed.” She tried to conceal the disappointment in her face as much as possible, but it was hard to when she was one conversation away from asking him out.

Her friend unplugged one of the cables. Frowned at it. Took a moment to study Aelin’s expression, and it was a while before he said, “I think Edna’s come a long way as an artist, specially being part of a marginalized group, and I think it’s a good thing that Rowan is that supportive and proud of her.” He said with a finality that was odd for the lively man, Fenrys left no room for discussion. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes!” Aelin blurted, only now realized how shitty it was of her to comment on that. Just because she misplaced Rowan as straight, it didn’t give her the right to talk about him like that. It was no one’s business, and so out of line of her. “Yes, of course. I’m a fan too, I’m going to her show at Lollapalooza, it’s just… um. Nevermind.”

“Okay, then…” he trailed. “Now, how long do you think it’ll take for him to find out if I cover the end of this cable with tape.”

Aelin’s eyes widened, and she easily entertained him, happy to have the weird conversation over. “You evil genius!”

Fenrys grinned, and today’s prank was settled. She wondered if they would get more ruthless with Rowan now that she knew nothing romantic would happen, but Fenrys was pure evil either way, so things would hardly change.

Once the shenanigans were done, Aelin decided to refill her water bottle, only to find Rowan hunched over his half-eaten snack.

“Fancy some coffee?” he asked, then pointed at one of the two coffee cups in front of him.

She grinned. “That’s so sweet, thanks.”

No, not just grinned. Aelin had kind of melted on the spot. Chocolate hazelnut cappuccino from the overpriced cafeteria, no special occasion at all. Family aside, she wasn’t used to get this treatment from guys who didn’t want to get in her pants. Every time he was sweet and thoughtful to her, it was just about him being a good person and nothing about getting Aelin naked. What an unusual realization.

“How’s that…” Aelin squinted her eyes at his prepped lunchbox because Mala forbid Rowan eats a non-muscle-building meal like the common folk. “Kiwi?”

“Very… sweet?” He frowned at it. “Consumable? Functional. Very Thursday snack.”

Aelin tilted her head, endlessly amused by this man’s inability to eat exclusively for pleasure. “You eat fruit every Thursday? As in, a calendar?”

His eyes crinkled with a good kind of intrigue, or so it seemed. “You do know that meal planning is quite common, right? And doctors say it’s best to eat fruit everyday—not just on Thursdays.”

“That’s so very fruity of you to say!” The joke was out before her mind could filter it out.

He laughed. “Well, I do like to eat fruit.”

Aelin shook her head with a small grin. “I bet you do.”

She wanted to ask if he’d be at Edna Thornie’s show this weekend as well, since Aelin was going alone, but it’d would give away that she had just snooped into his computer—why ruin the prank this soon?

A/N: I’m actually discontinuing this fic so Edna Thornie is Enda and they’ll hook up after the concert k bye love y’all xx

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or joining my (sometimes glitchy) one general tag list!!

TAG LIST

@aelinchocolatelover

@anarchiii

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@emily-gsh

@empress-ofbloodshed

@fangirlprincess09

@fauna-flora11

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@lululululululuop

@mis-lil-red

@nayaniasworld

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@s-uppertime

@sarahjswift

@staghorn-mountains

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@throneofus7

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic

30 notes · View notes

bongo-clash · 2 years ago

Text

Peacock Au Part 4

DP/DC week prompt: Eldritch Entities

'Joker has broken out of Arkham for the thousandth time, and is roaming the streets unhindered. Unfortunately for him, something finds him before the Bat does.'

(body horror tw || fic under cut!!) (Part 1 Here)

See, the situation is as follows: the Joker is out on the streets post-Arkham breakout, and he knows there’ll be an announcement issuing everyone to stay inside before it’s even been made. He’d be a lot more pleased about all that if the getaway car he’d arranged to be outside had actually shown up, but unfortunately the goon he’d left it to had bailed- whether it counted as chickening out or growing a spine was yet to be determined, though regardless he was fairly sure their brains would be outside their skull by the end of the night. As it is, he’s sticking around the shadier streets to avoid attention before he has access to more of his stuff. Right now all he has is an officer’s gun and the willingness to use it. Not much, but it’ll do.

It’ll do for dealing with this kid in the middle of the road, at least. Just because he isn’t fully-loaded right now doesn’t mean he can’t have any fun, does it?

“Well, say,” Joker whistles, sauntering up into the dim-light of the open road for the first time that night. The boy before him is relatively plain looking; pallid, with big blue eyes and black hair half-blending into the shadows behind him, wearing clothes not quite suited to the sudden chill of the Gotham streets, just a t-shirt and jeans. Perhaps a little peculiar, especially alone, but nothing special. Just another face he’d probably wipe the life out of if it didn’t end up more interesting to keep him alive. “What’s a little boy doing here alone with all the big, bad wolves out tonight? Looking for some trouble?”

The boy’s gaze lifts from the ground he’d been staring at so intently and- wow, those blues are weird to look at! Although… are they blue? They look more green now that they’re catching the light, the way he’s heard the eyes of the little bird he did in do when he’s angry.

Doesn’t matter, either way. The resemblance’ll just make scaring him more fun, something of a trip down memory lane. Even if the kid doesn’t look quite so frightened yet (shock, he’s sure. That’s happens). “I was just checking on something from a little while ago. Keeping tabs, y��know?”

“Oh, I know all about that. Gotham’s my playground- I know it like the back of my hand.”

“That’s great!” The kid exclaims, suddenly perking up, as if he’s only really started paying attention to the conversation now that something relevant’s come up. “In that case: can you tell me if anything’s been up in the last few weeks? No more shadows than usual? Nothing overly strange happening?”

It’s not often the Joker finds himself confused, but the lack offright or any other kind of negative reaction to his presence is starting to get on his nerves. Either this kid is out of it, or on something- but Joker knows how to spot a user, and he isn’t on something.

He turns the gun over in his hand, pretending to admire it but really just trying to remind the boy of the current threat he’s being posed. “Well, I was a bit locked up the last few weeks, but I’ve got ears everywhere and I can’t say I heard a thing. Say, do you like clowns, boy?”

Something in that question changes the boy’s demeanour. His shoulders go back just a tad, like he’s leaning on a wall the Joker can’t see, and his stare shifts. It wasn’t on him before, he only realises it was focused just over his shoulder until they’re actually making eye-contact, and the Joker hasn’t been afraid for a long time and refuses to break that streak, but it is a lot colder than it was before.

The boy’s grin is sharp. Joker can’t remember how many teeth people are supposed to have. “No,” He muses, casual in a way that implies confidence that implies danger. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever met a clown I got along with. Why, is that what you’re supposed to be?”

Okay, enough’s enough’s enough. He’s the Joker. He will not be made the joke, least of all by some nothing-no-one brat with a little too much confidence for someone walking alone on a break-out night. Incensed, he twists his grip until his finger’s on the pistol trigger, aiming it right between the teenager’s eyes.

“Funny boy, aren’t you? Y’know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, so you must be new. You don’t know the rules around here. You don’t know who’s at the top of the food chain. Allow me to fill you in.” He seethes. “When faced by the Joker, there is one thing you need to be aware of: no matter the circumstance, you are the prey.”

A thing happens between the pause at the end of his own sentence and the beginning of the child’s. “Hm.” The boy says, but it’s not confusion, and nor is it dread. His grin is lean and far too casual for someone with the business end of a bullet aiming right at their brain, but as the sound drags on sing-song it stretches, stretches, stretches-

Like shedding skin, the monster unfolds from the boy. Cold in a firestorm, the transformation is the inverse of a supernova, everything tumbling out as if desperate to spit its soul before caving back in to something witnessable. Almost the figure of a person, the opposite of a shadow, and the horrible cousin of a world-eater. Something flares out at the back, flowing like waves or feathers or a thing with eyes in all its centres.

Eyes, then mouths. The aftertone sends shockwaves. Its voice is ice-needles and fingernails and pierce-static and laughing at him.

“You think you’re bigger than you are.” It says, looming over him like the end of days or whatever he used to think death was before he’d forgotten to keep believing in it. He certainly remembers it now. “You think you’re bigger than you are, and you don’t know when to cow, and you are very, very mortal, and that is a horrible combination of things to be.”

“I know who you are. I know what you’ve done, and I know why you did it, and I know what will happen to you in consequence- and I have made choices not to interfere with someone else’s course, but I will tell you this now and once and never again. You are someone else’s problem, but if you try to become mine, I will unmake you.”

For the first time in perhaps his whole existence as the Joker, there is not a word he can say in response. He doesn’t agree, doesn’t refute, he doesn’t do much of anything as the form before him unwinds into rivulets, curling in on itself to reveal, once again, the boy. Blue eyes, black hair, pallid just like before and just like nothing’s wrong. But beneath it, that pretence of flesh and bones, he cannot unsee what he’s seen. He cannot stop seeing what he knows is hiding in there.

The child gives him a very boyish grin that feels like it’s going to snap into a blackhole if he looks away. “You’re obsessed with Batman, right? That’s your whole thing, being his foil or something.” He crows. “You want to keep doing that ’til you kill each other? Leave me out of it, and he’ll still remember you existed.”

The sudden green of his eyes spreads out like a flashbang, and when the Joker squints, he is slumped over in his Arkham cell. When he comes to, the guards will gleefully recount how Batman got the drop on him before he could even get to one of his warehouses, knocking him out without a single other casualty- his shortest reign between imprisonment to date.

It’s an embarrassment.

He’s going to be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

#dp/dc week 2022 #body horror tw #I talked with stealingyourbones about this kind of scene a while ago and it was Too Good not to write something for #I actually wrote this in October but this seemed like a good time to post it so!!#I want to do a part with Danny interacting with the JL at some point too so hopefully that'll happen!!!#dpxdc #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp au #Bongo's Aus!!!#Bongo's Writing!!!#peacock au

922 notes · View notes

tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year ago

Text

The Forgotten Nest (Part 4) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 4.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Father Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles; Crying; Arguing; Verbal Altercation; Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: Rooster seeks to make amends with Cora. Chaos ensues when Nickie doesn’t listen to his mom.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Master List

The sun was starting to set in the distance as Rooster and the other members of the newly formed Dagger Squad made their way off of the sandy beach and back to the Hard Deck as it opened for the night. They had an early morning the following day and lots of training to make up, but for tonight, they were going to enjoy the moment.

Penny had already left with Maverick, so Rooster didn’t have an opportunity to talk to her about Cora. He could have asked Maverick about Cora, but Rooster was always cautious, even before the whole Academy papers incident, about bringing up his relationship with Cora to Maverick. There was a reason why they hid it from him when they were teenagers.

But who the hell wanted to talk about their ex with their ex’s dad? Definitely not Rooster.

While he looked around the Hard Deck and briefly dwelled on the photo of him and Cora on the piano in the old bar in town, Rooster found himself focusing on Cora yet again. He still hadn’t completely shaken off the last interaction that he had with her outside of the diner.

He wasn’t expecting her to be that angry with him. Not even a fraction of that angry. Disappointed, sure. Unhappy to see him, definitely a possibility. Looking like she was holding back the urge to knock his lights out? He wasn’t expecting that.

And part of him felt like something was off. He hadn’t contacted her since he left, meaning that whatever anger she had for him was approaching on seventeen years now. And Cora wasn’t the type to just hold onto every little thing. She was pissed at him. For some big reason that Rooster had no inkling towards. And his brain was screaming at him to figure out what she was mad at him about.

After all, he was getting along better with Maverick than he had since before the Academy papers incident. Maybe that was a good sign. Or a source of false confidence. Either way, Rooster was determined to settle whatever his relationship with Cora entailed before they shipped out for the uranium facility mission.

“You want another one?” Phoenix asked Rooster, who shook his head in response after a moment.

“No, I think I need to figure some stuff out,” Rooster stated, getting up from his seat.

Bidding goodnight to the remaining Daggers, Rooster paid his tab, and headed out of the bar. Pulling out his keys, he slid into the Bronco. Bradley typed Cora’s address that she sent him years ago into his navigation and started for Cora’s house with a focused expression on his face.

He was going to get to the bottom of this. Whatever this was.

~~~~~

“Nickie, dinner’s done!” Cora called up the stairs before turning back for the kitchen.

Nickie got up from his desk, leaving his math homework for now, and left his room. Gently trotting down the stairs, Nickie paused at the base of the staircase and noted that there were only two plates set out on the dinner table.

“Gramps isn’t eating with us?”

“He said that he’d probably be home later,” Cora replied, moving to fill up a glass with water. “I’m pretty sure him and Penny are—”

“—Mom!” Nickie interjected, practically going green.

“I was going to say catching up!” Cora defended herself, smacking her son lightly on the arm.

“I feel like I should warn Amelia,” Nickie sighed, pulling out his phone and clicking on Amelia’s name. “No one should have to walk in on their mom in that situation.”

Shaking her head, Cora went about cleaning and setting up the table. Nickie was about to grab his plate when he noticed a car pull off the road in front of the house. And that instantly caused a warning siren to go off in the back of his mind.

The street that the Mitchell family lived on was quiet. There was barely any through traffic besides residents in the area, so Nickie was automatically suspicious. Walking over to the windows with the shades drawn, Nickie stared out the window as Rooster stepped out of the car.

Was that . . . was that the guy from the Hard Deck? What the hell was he doing here?

“Mom,” Nickie called, causing Cora to immediately turn to him.

“What, Nickie?”

“There’s a guy outside,” Nickie stated, causing Cora’s face to immediately draw.

Concerned, she immediately rushed over to Nickie’s side to peek out the window at the invader. But unlike Nickie, she recognized Rooster in an instant. Breathing out sharply, Cora subconsciously reached out and grabbed the back of Nickie’s shirt as if to steady herself. Nickie turned to his mom with greater concern than before.

“Who is he? Do you know him?”

“Nickie,” Cora whispered, her voice shaking a bit. “Just . . .” Glancing between Rooster and Nickie frantically, Cora struggled to find her words. “Just stay here.”

“Who is he, Mom?” Nickie asked, a bit more demanding as Cora stared to walk towards the door.

“He’s . . .” Cora trailed off cautiously.

Slowly and skittishly, Cora turned and looked up at her son. Her son that looked so painfully similar to the man right outside her front door that it killed her just a little every time that she noticed. It killed her when he opened his eyes for the first time and she saw Bradley’s staring back at her. And it killed her now when those same eyes were staring at her with confusion and deep concern.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. She was supposed to have time to prepare. She was supposed to break the news gently, when Nickie was ready to hear it. When Bradley was ready to hear it. Did she tell Nickie now? Did she tell Bradley now? Did she hide it for just a few more hours or for the rest of her life? Should she call her dad? Ice? Penny? Someone, anyone who could mediate?

Caught up in a momentary panic, Cora flinched when the doorbell echoed around the house. She looked over at the door before slowly returning her gaze to her son. To her baby. The first person that she would do anything to protect.

“Just stay there. I’ll handle it,” Cora promised, trying to put up a brave face for her son.

Turning for the door, however, that brave face quickly fell off and shattered on the floor. Nickie peered curiously after his mom and made sure to move so that he was out of view of the front door. Just because his mom said she had it handled didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to standby and let her face it all on her own.

Cora reached for the door knob and paused for a moment to compose herself, before unlocking and pulling the door open. Bradley looked up from the porch as the door swung open, revealing Cora dressed casually with a clear skittish look in her eye.

“What are you doing here, Bradley?” she asked softly, blocking Rooster’s view into the house. Of Nickie.

“I just . . . I felt bad about our conversation the other day,” Rooster stated, shoving his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight around on his feet. “You were right, I . . . I was just trying to bring myself closure. And I realize that probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to you since I was the one who left in the first place, but . . . I’m sorry, Cora.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cora replied, shaking her head, already moving to close the door. “It’s fine.”

“Is . . . are you okay?” Bradley questioned, noticing just how distraught Cora looked.

The fire that had been behind her eyes when he ran into her outside of the diner was gone, replaced by a rabbity barely-contained fear. Was . . . was she scared of him? He knew that he didn’t leave on the best of terms, but he never thought that he made her that uncomfortable. That much unlike her usual confident and poised nature.

“Did I . . . I probably should have called first but I didn’t know if your number changed—”

“—No, it hasn’t,” Cora interjected, pursing her lips together. “It’s the same as it’s always been.”

Nickie took a step closer to the door, more than intrigued about the situation now, and more and more concerned about his mom. He swore that he could see her shaking and even though the man at the door—Bradley was his name, apparently—didn’t seem to be an outward threat to her, Nickie was still on edge by his presence.

“About that, I . . . I feel like you’re still mad at me about something and I was trying to think through everything and—”

“—Don’t worry about me, Bradley. I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine,” Cora stated, gripping the doorknob tightly. "And I don’t need a therapy session with you tonight.”

“Can you at least tell me why you’re mad at me?” Rooster asked, causing Cora to grip the door knob just a bit tighter. “I mean, I know that we didn’t leave things anywhere near a good note, but I didn’t realize that I hurt you that much. That deeply.”

“No, you didn’t,” Cora replied quietly, glancing back into her house briefly. “But I can’t—I don’t want to talk about it right now, Bradley. Maybe later.”

“Cora—”

“—Bye, Bradley.”

“Cora, please, wait,” Rooster practically begged her, placing his hand on the door.

And that one little action set off an immediate chain of events that Cora knew were out of her control.

“She told you to leave,” Nickie snapped from behind the door, causing Bradley and Cora to freeze.

Should he have realized that Cora was probably not home alone? Definitely. There were two cars parked in the driveway, after all. But if Rooster was expecting anyone else to emerge from Cora’s house, it would have been an adult. Or maybe a little kid.

That voice sounded like a teenager to Bradley’s ear.

“No,” Cora whispered to herself, turning back to her son, and trying to keep him hidden from Bradley. “Nickie, I’m fine. Just go back to the kitchen.”

“Nickie?” Rooster repeated, frowning slightly with confusion.

“Mom, who the hell is he?” Nickie demanded, finally stepping into Bradley’s view.

Bradley immediately recognized Nickie as one of the kids at the Hard Deck when he went to try and find Penny. But it wasn’t the kid’s familiarity in that sense that startled him nearly out of his skin. It was what this Nickie kid, who just so happened to apparently share a name with Rooster’s deceased dad that Hangman just brought up yesterday, called Cora, ‘Mom.’

“Mom?” Bradley repeated again, turning to Cora with sheer incredulousness in his eyes.

Glancing between Cora and Nickie quickly, Rooster swore his brain short-circuited. Was it a possibility in his head that Cora had kids of her own? Absolutely. Had part of him expected her to already have kids? Absolutely. But Rooster was expecting them to be babies or young kids.

Not a teenager. Rooster was horrible at guessing kids ages, but this Nickie kid—Cora’s kid—had to be somewhere around . . . sixteen years old.

And the more that Rooster stared at Nickie, the more familiar he got. The brown eyes, the nose, the shape of his chin, the way that his hair curled at the ends. Nickie got the slope of his cheeks from his mom and the darker shade to his hair too, but other than that, Rooster swore that he was staring out of a window into the past.

His past.

“You have a son?” Bradley asked Cora quietly, who seemed to have stopped breathing in that moment.

“You need to go,” Cora told Bradley a second later, trying to salvage some control in the situation.

She moved to shut the door again, but Bradley held firm, feeling like he was on the edge of a mental breakdown. Running through the numbers in his head, Bradley tried to cling to his sanity. He fled the Mitchell house about seventeen years ago, if you rounded up. If Cora was pregnant when he left, the kid would have been sixteen or on the cusp of sixteen now.

And one look at Nickie felt like it was equivalent to a paternity test at this rate.

“How old is he, Cora?” Bradley demanded from Cora, feeling like he was in some fever dream.

“Bradley,” Cora pleaded with him, “please, just go.”

“How old is he, Cora?” Rooster demanded louder than before.

“I’m sixteen, fuckwad, what’s it to you?” Nickie snapped back, causing Bradley to turn to him.

“Nickie!”

“What, Mom?” Nickie scoffed, walking over to the door. Tilting his chin up to try and match Rooster’s height, since Rooster still had a few inches on him, Nickie glared up at the aviator. “And she told you to leave. So, I suggest you start moving.”

“Nickie, honey, please just—”

“—Is he mine?” Bradley interjected, turning to Cora, who had a deer in headlights look about her. Taking a step out in front of Nickie, Cora gripped the door so hard that her hands were shaking from the sheer force of it. “Is he my son, Cora?”

“Bradley, please—”

“—Who the fuck do you think you are?” Nickie snapped, causing Bradley to turn to him with a softer expression than the one that he reserved for Cora. Nickie scoffed when he noticed Bradley’s expression, shaking his head in disgust. “What? You think you get to just show up after sixteen years and start demanding shit? That’s not how this works!”

“Nickie—”

“—You know that I’m your dad?” Bradley asked Nickie, straightening up again.

“Bradley—”

“—I don’t give a shit who you are,” Nickie growled back at Bradley, causing Bradley to reel back a bit, as if he had been smacked across the face. “All I care about is the fact that you’re upsetting my mom, so get the fuck out of here.”

“Nickie—”

“—I didn’t—why didn’t you tell me, Cora?” Rooster demanded, turning to Cora once again.

However, that was perhaps Rooster’s biggest miscalculation of the night so far. And, really, he should have known better. He was a mama’s boy when he was Nickie’s age, after all.

“Don’t blame her!” Nickie snapped, causing Rooster to turn back to him. “You left! You left her alone with a baby! You didn’t answer her calls! You didn’t answer her letters! You didn’t give a shit about her! She raised me without you and you don’t get to just show up when I’m almost grown up and start demanding shit from her or me! And you’re definitely not going to blame her for your fuck ups!”

Stepping around his frantic mom and standing toe to toe with Rooster, Nickie bit back his own fear and his own resentment in that moment and tapped into the pool of anger that had been simmering in his stomach for what seemed like his entire life. And once the cork was popped, there was no way to put it back again.

“If you have a goddamn handful of respect or love left for her, you’ll turn around and you’ll never look back. You’re not my dad, you’re just some asshole who I share some DNA with. And you’re not going to ruin our lives any more than you already have!”

“You . . .” Bradley trailed off, trying to find his words.

“What part of ‘leave’ don’t you understand!? Go! You’re really good at that whole disappearing act anyways,” Nickie snapped, causing Bradley to noticeably shudder.

While Nickie was yelling at Rooster, Maverick rolled up to the scene. He was returning from Penny’s, assuming that he would arrive at a calm scene of Nickie doing his homework and Cora resting on the couch, watching TV or reading.

He was definitely not expecting to roll up to this shit show.

“Fuck,” Maverick cursed under his breath, sliding off his bike.

Sprinting up the walkway, Maverick grabbed Rooster by the arm and pulled him away from the door. Rooster didn’t fight him, seemingly still in shock about the information that was just thrown at him a thousand miles a minute. With Maverick on the scene, Cora seemed to snap out of her own trance. Yanking Nickie back into the house, Cora shut the door and locked it.

“Bradley, you need to go,” Maverick stated, leading him away from the door.

“No, I—” Rooster started to say, weak from the emotional whiplash of the evening.

“—You need to go,” Maverick interjected more firmly, causing Rooster to round on him.

Yanking his arm out of Maverick’s hold, Rooster turned to square off against the man who practically raised him as his own. Tears stung Rooster’s eyes as he shot absolute death daggers at Maverick, who seemed prepared to handle the situation. And, after all, he had about sixteen years to prepare for this exact confrontation. Rooster had about six milliseconds.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Bradley hissed at him.

“You need to go, Bradley,” Maverick repeated, not reacting to Bradley’s words.

“You knew and you didn’t tell me!?” Bradley demanded, his voice growing a bit louder and breaking off at the end. He turned for the door again, but Maverick jumped in front of him and grabbed him from knocking on the door again. “I need to talk to her, Mav, I can’t—”

“—You’re not the kid anymore!” Maverick snapped, holding Bradley firmly, shaking him a bit. As if to snap him out of whatever trance he had fallen into in the last few minutes. “You’re not the one that I need to protect here. And you need to go back to base. Now.”

Rooster smacked Maverick’s hands away from himself and took a step back from the stairs. Sniffling, Rooster shook his head and shot Maverick a look that Maverick could only describe as the look of death. And Maverick took it while standing firm on the front stairs, protecting his daughter and his grandson from another confrontation that night.

“Fuck you,” Bradley cursed at Maverick as a tear slipped down his cheek. “Fuck you to hell, Maverick.”

And despite the way that those words dug straight into his heart, Maverick did not change his stance. Rooster glanced back at the house, probably searching for any sign of Nickie or Cora, before turning and stumbling for his car.

Maverick watched Rooster drive away before he slowly closed his eyes and let the weight of the day finally hit him. Rubbing his face slowly, Maverick headed inside, unlocking the door with his keys. Closing the door behind him and locking it once more, Maverick followed the sound of sniffles and choked sobs into the living room where Cora and Nickie were sitting together.

Nickie was resting his head on his mom’s shoulder, his bravado gone and replaced with that childish fear and anxiety that was only natural given the situation. Cora looked like a shell of herself as she held her son close, trying to soothe him while also failing at finding any comfort of her own. Taking a breath to steady himself, Maverick walked over to the couch to comfort his family.

~~~~~

Phoenix, Payback, Bob, and Fanboy were laughing and sitting around the coffee table, playing a game to pass the time when Rooster came stumbling into their shared house. In an instant, Phoenix stood up and stared at Bradley with clear concern. He didn’t look drunk but he looked absolutely out of it.

“Bradshaw, what—”

Rooster didn’t listen to her and instead stumbled straight up to his room. Slamming the door shut, he locked it behind him. Leaning on the door, Bradley slowly slid down the door—or perhaps collapsed was a better term—until he was sitting on the floor. And then he held his head in his hands and sobbed like a little baby. Like he hadn’t since his mom died.

~~~~~

Maverick closed the door to Nickie’s room, since the teenager finally fell asleep, before heading downstairs to check up on Cora. She was still sitting on the couch with a blanket over her legs and her head in her hand, the glass of water that Maverick got her untouched on the coffee table. Silently, Maverick moved to sit next to his daughter.

“How are you holding up?” Maverick asked softly.

“Oh, you know. One of my biggest nightmares just came true and now I’m certain that I’ve fucked up my son for the rest of his life, so I’m doing fan-fucking-tastic, Dad, how about you?” Cora replied, her voice coming out as more of a whimper at the end.

“Cora, you didn’t fuck Nickie up.”

“I didn’t? Did you see him?” Cora stressed, pointing over at the stairs. Holding her head in her hands, Cora let out another pitiful sob. “I failed. I failed him, Dad.”

“No, you did not,” Maverick insisted, grabbing Cora’s shoulder so that she looked up at him. “You did not fail Nickie, Cora. You’re a great mother to him.”

“But what if I could have done something differently? Reacted differently when Bradley showed up? Hell, what if I drove around the US when I found out I was pregnant until I finally tracked Bradley down and told him to his face? Hell, what if I just shoved Nickie into his arms until he gave in?”

"Cora," Maverick began softly.

“I mean, what am I going to do now? Bradley knows and Nickie knows and they both hold such a fucking grudge that I swear it’s genetic and—”

“—Cora, sweetheart, you’re getting ahead of yourself,” Maverick stated, trying to calm his daughter down. “Just breathe. Breathe.”

“What am I going to do?” Cora sobbed, lowering her head again.

Maverick pulled his daughter into a tight hug, letting her latch onto him like she did when she was small and there was a thunderstorm outside. He rested his head on top of her own and just let her cry, trying to absorb her fear and concern with his comforting hug.

Because if there was anyone who failed in this situation, it was Maverick. At least, in his own opinion. He should have been a better father. He should have kept Cora and Bradley apart and actually had a talk with them about safety. He shouldn’t have pulled Bradley’s papers. He should have gone after Bradley when he left the first time.

If there was anyone to blame for this mess, it was Maverick.

“Don’t worry about Bradley. I’ll try and talk to him,” Maverick stated, causing Cora to pick her head up.

“He hates you,” she pointed out, sniffling a bit. “And with this, I mean . . .”

“That’s for me to worry about. Not you,” Maverick assured Cora, squeezing her shoulder. “And as for Nickie . . .” Maverick trailed off, glancing up the stairs for a moment. Turning back to his daughter, Maverick sighed. “Maybe it’s best that he takes tomorrow off from school. And then the two of you can talk. Or just rest.”

“Yeah,” Cora agreed, nodding along. “That’s a good idea.”

At the thought of her son’s crumbling expression the second that the door slammed shut, Cora let out another whimper and covered her face with her hands. She never wanted Nickie to find out like this. She never wanted Bradley to find out like this. And it all just went up in a big ball of flames in just a matter of seconds right before her eyes.

“It’s going to be okay, Cora. Everything will be alright,” Maverick told his daughter once more, though his confidence didn’t meet his eyes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Tags: @xoxabs88xox@eternallyvenus @mygyn @kmc1989 @thegoddessc @midnightmagpiemama @badasspizzalover @praline357 @oatmealisweird @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @abaker74 @avengersfan25

386 notes · View notes