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titanicfreija · 1 year ago

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Nightmares

Freija liked the food but she felt strange amongst these people, blue like her, so many redheads, varying stages of tattoo across foreheads.

"Are you okay?"

Freija looked up to see a familiar face that she couldn't name. It reminded her of herself, if herself gained some weight and grew her hair out.

"You would think people this rich would have better chairs," the other girl snickered, scrunching her nose mischievously.

Gunfire erupted and the wall exploded, sending a hailstorm of bullets and stone shards into the crowd sitting at the table. People screamed as blood sprayed across the food, across their family, several slumping across the table or collapsing next to it, clutching wounds or completely limp.

Freija watched herself drop to the ground and slide the table back, first to knock over everyone still up, then flip it over to create a barricade between them and the wall.

Easily half were already dead or dying. The scent of blood and gunpowder filled the air and screams continued. Several ducked or crawled behind Freija's makeshift wall.

Screaming down a hall and more gunfire told her they were surrounded.

Freija knew what she should do, but she watched herself follow the crowd to an exit, where several gathered and crushed each other, trying to get through the blocked door.

Freija grabbed someone and pushed them ahead of her, away from the dining room, into the kitchen. From there, she snuck successfully to the service corridor.

In the narrow, soap smelling hallway, a pale blue man with silver eyes stood next to the only window. Her father. Looking through, they had a drop, but they could be hidden by architecture and the garden and buy time.

The person ahead of her leapt through with no hesitation. Freija ran back toward the dining room. She found a some people close enough to direct to the window. Not many. Bodies littered the second corridor Freija could find, visibly fleeing a room where they had been playing a board game and getting picked off back to front.

A gunman spotted her as she peeked out of the kitchen.

Freija dashed down the hall, away from the kitchen and the escape route, dodging gunfire clumsily until she could get around another corner.

Two attackers stood with their backs turned to her, checking a datapad. Freija snatched the gun from one and ran down the hall, firing blind behind her until the clip ran empty.

A lounge or spare room or something stood open at the end of the hall, and big double door led to a deck outside. A voice rasped and gurgled from behind a chair. "Sarah!" Her sister, covered in blood from the bullet wound to her right side.

Freija dragged her by the shirt through the door, dropped her next to it, into the shadows, and kept running, but she was waking up now and aware of the soft bed beneath her but the moonlight and grass and pillow and why are my legs so...

The guardian opened her eyes and watched the dark for several long moments. The whir and blip of her ghost alerted her to Sunny's presence. "Do we have dreams about our previous lives?"

"I've never heard of it, but it seems strange that you wouldn't," Sunny replied from next to Freija's head. "I felt the nightmare. Are you okay?"

"I had a sister," Freija replied, sniffling. "I think she died. I couldn't save her. I could only run and hope they shot at me instead of finding her, but she was... Really hurt."

"At least eleven people survived," Sunny reminded her.

"I-- ha, she. She tried to lead enemy fire away." She sobbed twice before she could stop. "I couldn't remember faces. I think I projected most of them. My... Her... Father. His face. I recalled that. And voice. He called me Sarah and I remember almost waking up then but the dream smelled like gunpowder and blood, settled me. Felt familiar. He found a window, and he wanted me to go, but I -- she went to lead the few she could find back to him. I don't know how many. I don't think she knew, either, it got real faceless and blurry. Dream time skipped. But then they caught her, saw her peeking, and she got away and got..."

Freija choked again and she had to breathe through the tears. "Fuck, this is hard. I don't know why. She--my sister, her sister, looked like me. Her hair was longer, face was softer, had most of her tattoo like mine. I don't remember her name. She was... Really hurt. She wasn't going to make it. But I couldn't just leave her there, they were chasing me and they would run right past if I left her. So I dragged her outside and put her in the shadows in the brush and I ran. I watched the dream run and it was so--it's what woke me up. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to put to put up a barricade and stand ground so bad. Obviously that was me-me. She didn't have any guns, I don't know what she would have done, my lightless body could hardly drag a single person, but I got so mad at the dream I woke up."

Sunny took a while to eventually ask, "Are you okay?"

Freija nodded and sniffled again. "Yeah. That was. Really. Real. Clear, even now, it isn't fading like real nightmares. Or at least as clear as it was when I had it, it was still a dream." She heaved a long breath. "She was so scared."

Sunny dipped then rose slowly, lights bunching cutely in the dark. "She died that night. She was right to be scared. And she still played hero." Sunny tapped her head lovingly. "Did you want to hear more? About your previous family?"

"No," Freija creaked, but then she tried to hold back a sob and released a pained squeak. "Except-- what was my sister's name? Do you think we can find her monument? A grave?"

"I'll look for you. It's okay."

"They both died alone because I--she ran away!" Freija curled into the bed and covered her head, then flung off the blanket and stormed around her room. "Oh for fuck's sake I don't want anyone else's bullshit, I have my own! Get over it, Sarah, it was ten years ago, you were outgunned fifty to one, you did everything you could. I'm sorry I yelled at you. Standing ground wouldn't have been any different. And dying next to the person you can't save is not better."

Sunny giggled softly. "Resurgence of old regrets. Might want to contact Crow for that one."

"Probably make him feel bad," she chuckled. "I can just hear it. 'Hey, Crow! You know how you fucked up in your previous life? How did you cope with it? Other than the badly we all saw? Oh, my regrets? I ran away from the massacre that killed eighty percent of my bloodline, instead of standing my ground alone and unarmed, because I didn't want to draw fire towards my dying sibling.'"

"Sounds a lot better when you put it that way," Sunny teased.

"It does. How far was I from the manor thing again? Couple clicks?"

"Something like that."

"Led at least one fucker two clicks. Took them out of the fight. See?"

Sunny hung silent in the air to wait on her Guardian, who eventually flopped back to the bed. "I had two sisters," she recalled. "I didn't see the second one in the dream. Lots of faceless redheads. She died during the first hit, sitting across from me. Took a bunch in the back and she fell. I think Mother... her mother died right then, too. Everyone on that side of the table."

Sunny didn't respond, knowing more details than Freija likely wanted.

"I probably killed some of them, finished them off," she admitted. "Probably crushed some with a table I knocked over for cover."

"No one got crushed by a table," Sunny assured her. "Any crushing happened at doors."

Freija went silent but the silver lights flicked in her head as she studied emptiness, and the glow wobbled when her eyes watered. "I know her father died, helping people escape. I didn't see it, she didn't either, but we both know it." She tried to breathe through it. "I don't like this."

"You're handling it a lot better than you would have even a year ago."

"Why did it wait?" she whined. "Why not when you were digging up shit? Ugh. And I still don't want to know. Keep going back and forth, calling her me, because it was my eyes but it doesn't feel like me. Don't even feel like my memories, they feel like a really lifelike hologram. That hurt. "

"It hurt?"

"I mean. Kind of. It's... Strange, actually. Not wearing armor, Lighted, I forgot what it was like. When little pieces hit my chest and arms, it stung like the methane on Neptune. That was through a dream. She probably thought she was shot. It... Was actually pretty normal to me. She didn't panic as much as I think a city born would, she just wanted cover, so she made it. She even tried to cover any survivors from the first wave. I kept thinking she was screwing up but she was working lightless, unarmed and unarmored, and it's been so long since I've had to deal with it, I would never know if she made the right choices. She was trying to run and get as many other people out as she could. Her father, too-- he found a way to run and stayed by it to call people over. I'm half sure they had a thing like that, it felt like they knew what they were doing."

"I don't know how much you want to know," Sunny murmured. "Did you want me to tell you anything?"

Freija rolled on her bed and sat back up. "Did they have a thing like that?"

"They-- Sarah and her family-- did a lot of work with civilians making their ways to the Tower. So it's very likely that they did have plans laid out for things like raids."

Unlike her usual response, Freija gave a cheerful hum. "Oh. That's. Actually really... I like that. Dunno why."

"Feel better not dying helpless?"

"I'm getting a real weird feeling that it's Sarah," Freija responded, watching the dark blankly. "She's the one upset when we look back at her death, and she's proud now, looking back on what she did. Would be why I felt like freaking out about her sister."

"Orla and Camilla were the sisters' names," Sunny said. "You know from experience, the thing about dying next to someone you can't save.

"The one I... She wanted to help. That was. Camilla. Did they both die? Among recorded dead? Actually, don't tell me. If the answer isn't yes, I'm gonna be stupid and I don't want it."

"The answer is yes. Orla was killed in the initial wave, as was Fira, the mother. Camilla succumbed to her injuries after being rescued but before they could get help. Sobu, the father, did die right next to the window. At least one survivor credited him with their escape. They also credited him with others, but they either got taken down before they got to safety, or else went into hiding."

Freija didn't respond for several moments, then slowly said, "You've got full on diagrams of bodies on the building layout, huh. Complete with little profiles. Pictures, autopsy reports. All of it."

"... Not all of it, but you're closer than you'd like to be. I had no intention of sharing those with you, even before you told me you didn't want to know. I'm not going to share them now, even if you ask."

"Good. We don't want to know."

Sunny bobbed around and the guardian watched her for a few minutes.

"I had a really shitty nightmare," Freija acknowledged dryly. "This is not a thing I want to be doing. I--who even cares! I mean, thanks for going for puberty so I wouldn't have to, but shit! Fuck off! We're me! I am being haunted by my own ghost--" Freija interrupted herself to laugh wildly. "Oh that's just fucking funny-- but seriously, I don't need two people being emotional here, I really am bad enough on my own."

"She might be why? I wonder if neural pathways alone will invite reactions of transmitters... "

"What?"

"Well, the death thing not so much, but I'm pondering --if Sarah was happy about the same thing over and over, would that make you happy in the same way without you having the positive association that Sarah had. Basic conditioning."

"Thomas would roll in that hypothetical," Freija snorted. "Would it double up if I got happy about it for my own reasons? But I'm not playing this game. I want to go to sleep, but I'm busy remembering being on the receiving end of one of my sprees."

"I think the closest you've come was The Empty Tank on the Tangled Shore, and most of the ones there knew you were coming," Sunny argued.

"Fair enough. I announce my presence for sure. Fuck.* She sucked a breath. "Everything exploded. Just. Laughing, chatting. Camilla just made a joke about the shitty chairs. Kaboom. Side of my face got cut up, blood splattered fucking everywhere. Everyone on that side of the table either fell on it or fell under it. Not even a second. And... I'm in the crucible, now. I'm familiar with those tiny fractions of seconds and reacting in them. She couldn't hear anything for a while. So much stuff went blurry, she could hardly see."

Sunny bobbed down to "kiss" Freija's head. "Do you want me to take biometrics to find the most relaxing music?"

"Neat trick. Let's see it."

#destiny 2 #d2 #ocs #writing #freija #scribble #sunny #prose #past #pre-freija

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mydyspraxiablog · 11 months ago

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Having dyspraxia can be challenging reject not doing Queen Guide Award in girl guide but have hidding disabilities of Dyspraxia, half deaf and Coelic which mean can't eat anythings Wheat,Barley and gluten just make difficult for holiday Christmas and New year and Easter but Easter egg too far way at movent " It Christmas " so let talk about Christmas you see me and families always rowing over quiz but hate when people cheat in Quiz as lot family are cheating so ruin Christmas for me because like win at no cost it ruin my fun again rember day when host music Stop dance frozen again ,music chair,duck and hose game but those games isn't alway anymore in UK so taking fun out of game by Parants compliment it too danger and past and Parcle but have put sweet in ever paper in my days didn't have, when help Rainbow Guide Longton and Stafford play some great game Taffic light ,Monkeys field well really that brownie guide Pizza run ,duck and goose, and Dogs chase in park so Rainbow guide know what do missing those day but that past now.

My family all rowing got play to Win and cheet to Win at upset me but watch wildwood my family won't be quite when come to christmas quiz.

Now today went church sing Christmas carol really enjoy the serrive and secert the joke shh don't tell any one" I just wish all family going church like use in RC church but been mixed race and hidding disabilities going find another own kind said Father at not very good Father in my eyes but that past but things don't always see what see have Gluten free mice pie was nice but wait last Gluten free mice pie it was was gone so dispoint there but guest at where limted now my crouse in Lower dyton Farm in Penkridge going tell want been do I do secert mum birthday card if can find it and all things too make Christmas 🎄 and really enjoy Christmas crouse which can do again but asking " Why don't shops anymore " I better wonder have PIP and ESA and wonder why wasn't buy anything for Christmas but this Christmas decide going make things can't say like sugar mouse too much which I do pink sugar mouse my favourite. So had tell half tufth " I use money paid for little girl in Ethiopia going to school and family gift so can spead as what " Mum keep say chicken" " Might save money for university because didn't is free but which charity called Compassionuk which from church I going didn't say anything Jesus name because know people former Richard fellowship and Making space know recover from mental heath and also Know from Cannock college and Rickscote round house but as use say where Darkness is light but like mum didn't listern so have " Don't going shopping because people are rude and push in Christmas for e.g I look after my family kids saw there dad self checked till machine and this women really nasty won't let going self check out look after those " Que that way" what should done put gluten free bread on floor walk out without food because it was too long in Asda I won't be shopping in Asda in Christmas again there too rude making lost my confidence push trolley in me and I got blame for it throw asda shopping bag because she wasn't going fold push chair with raw meat for Old lady who was sleep and shopping got throw away too that before covid and lock door so could Not Get Tesco shopping bags from Asda community centre and Asda shopping bags but mum still don't believe and she hate me order from Amazon Prime after Morrison change £12 for Gluten free weetbix which only £3.50 in Tesco and Asda mum get jeasuly of Amazon but I thinking cannel Netflix soon even base pack but mum said No not cannel Netflix need for after hospital for my eye my sister Georgina be better of that. I got put cats ashes in the garden haven't done yet because frence got broken in.

So feel let Sydnee and Annabel my pets cats down now google what more money for space and mum said no I got deleted all my family photos,all cats picture and dogs picture too all babies photo pictures too. It all because haven't got Natwest card for e,g want give sponder child birthday Gift of £10 so could spend as she want but because didn't have Natwest card anymore paid dricet payment and I hope she received it but Christmas gift was bit confusing keep ask for card payment and didn't have any Natwest card it this was Compassionuk, Active aids , and CAP so let those charity so did sort out but phone called from Compassionuk and email them tell have promble with Christmas gift and family gift with dricet payment for my sponder child as about Christmas " Too late received now" " was upset been do Christmas Appley from October and know My sponder child won't have Christmas gift because idot Natwest bank making feel bad sponder and really upset.

#dyspraxia #coelic #sunflowers hidding disabilities #compassionuk #holiday #gluten free #dancing #god

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mjolnir-steve · 3 years ago

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Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair.

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too.

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot.

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you.

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings.

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night.

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work.

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.”

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder.

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d.

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?”

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides.

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #maggie's writing #frank adler #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler smut

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wordsfromthesol · 3 years ago

Text

The Set-Up

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @anousiemay @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: You are Dinah's younger sister. Word Count: 2,410 A/N: I know it’s been awhile so if anyone wants on/off a taglist just let me know!

"Alright, Roy, you got me here. What's so important?" You called out as you stumbled into what the Outlaws deemed a safehouse. Their standards were pretty low.

"We needed a fourth, okay! Go get Jason and I'll brief everyone." Roy hurried you out of the room that he and Kory were already set up in. You sauntered up to the closed door and knocked.

"Jason, you decent?" You shouted as your fist rapped against the wood.

"Well I'm not morally decent, but I'm wearing pants if that's what you're asking. Though I can be without pants if that's what you prefer --" Jason's voice trailed off as he swung open the door and was met with your face. Clearly, he figured the person on the other side would be Roy or Kory. His face slightly reddened as he reached back and grabbed a shirt.

"I mean…maybe not right now. Roy needs to go over the mission with us." You winked at his obvious embarrassment before trotting off in the direction you came from. Jason quickly caught up with you.

"I…uh…I didn't know Roy asked you for help."

"Yeah he didn't really tell me much. Just that you guys needed a fourth. Not sure why he thinks I'll make that much of a difference.

"Guess we should go find out." Jason raced past you, hoping to avoid further embarrassment, but stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the living room. Roy and Kory were both staring at him, trying to hold back fits of laughter. "What is this all-important mission Y/N was recruited on?" He asked in an attempt to redirect their attention. You walked in behind Jason just in time to get the answer.

"Not really all-important…" Roy's voice reeked of mischief, "just better to have four than three. Then we can do two teams."

"You do know that I have my own agenda. I'm not just sitting around waiting for your call."

"Oh Y/N/N! Don't think of it like that, I practically begged him to ask you. I seriously need some more girl time." Kory piped in to release some of the building tension.

"Uh-huh, sure. Roy, what are we doing?"

"Right. Human trafficking, finally got a hit on this group. Think it's their main smuggling port. There are two docks to check, so two teams. See, I do have a plan. Kinda…"

"Hm mm" you mumbled, still not fully believing him, but you let him continue anyways. You didn't fly out here for nothing.

Hours had passed and the four of you sat near the docks, waiting for the cover of nightfall. The smugglers, however, did not. You grabbed Jason's arm and began running towards the dock as soon as you saw a boat pulling into the harbor.

"What are you doing?" Jason mumbled as he ran to keep up with you.

"Are you blind? There's a container ship pulling into the docks. The dock that Roy told us to watch."

"The sun is still setting. There's no way they'd be that stupid." He tried to reason with you, but your pace didn't slow.

"Maybe they just paid the right people. Or killed them." You retorted though the timing was eerily suspicious. Both of you came to a halt when you only saw four guys. Sure, they had guns…but it definitely wasn't enough to warrant extra help. You glanced over at Jason in utter disbelief. "You want me to sit this one out or…"

"Let's just get it over with." Jason was clearly just as agitated as you were. The "battle" lasted only a few seconds and your trip back to the rendezvous spot was completed in utter silence.

"So…Roy. Why the fuck was I needed here?" Holding nothing back, you cried out as soon as you saw his red costume appear in the distance.

"Woah, hold up there. Must've gotten some bad intel. It happens. Better safe than sorry."

"Yeah well next time be sure. I do have my own cases and crime rings to dismantle." You walked off in a huff, determined to find your own way back. You didn't know what exactly Roy was up to, but you knew you wouldn't like it.

Months passed since the pointless mission with the Outlaws. You had gotten back to Miami, your home for the time being as you investigated a new drug trade route coming up from South America. Finally, you had made some progress, only said progress led to you being pinned down behind some wooden barrels.

"These aren't going to last long," you mumbled as you dialed Kory on your phone. No answer. "Fuck." Roy was next.

"Y/N, can this wait --" You hear the wind get pushed out of him just as the sentence finished.

"Hm not really. Kinda been pissing off the wrong people and now I'm pinned down."

"Fuck." Roy mumbled as he threw a punch towards the jaw of the unsuspecting thug.

"I tried Kory, but -- shit…" You watched as the barrels splintered around you.

"Off-world. I'm patching in Jas --" Roy stopped a syllable short, you assumed dodging his own bullets. You didn't wait for him to finish.

"Yeah look. I'm in Miami." You heard Jason mumble your name but continued on. You didn't know how much longer you would have. "Pretty sure they'll take me alive. Heard through the grapevine the boss wants the honors himself." You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt a bullet pierce through your shoulder. You took a few steadying breaths before continuing. "I have a tracer in my mask. I'll try to keep it on as long as I can. If you can't track it for some reason, call my sister." You didn't hang up the call before slowly raising your hands above the splintered barrels. "Take me to your leader," you exclaimed in your best alien impression, all while trying not to laugh.

"Do you think this is a game?!" One of the thugs screamed at you as they inched closer. You just shrugged, waiting to either be killed or taken. "Well grab her, idiots!" Two men hesitantly walked towards you, guns still drawn.

"Should I tie myself up? Would that be easier?" At this point, your sarcasm was the only thing keeping you sane. Finally, they got within striking distance and everything went black.

"Y/N? What's happening?!" Jason frantically began calling out your name as he was met with silence. Roy eventually spoke up.

"Jason. I hope you're on your way. I'll meet up with you as soon as I can, but I need to get ahold of Dinah first." Roy had no idea what he was going to say to her.

"Even in the jet, it's going to take 2 hours to get there…" The reality of the situation set it. "But I'm taking off now." Jason tried to push the horrific thoughts from his mind.

You woke up tied to a wooden chair. Not surprising.

"So, where's the boss?" You forced the words out, willing yourself into consciousness.

"Don't worry girlie, he's on his way…though I suppose there's nothing wrong with having a little fun first." The goon smirked as he flipped a knife in his hands.

"Well, you wouldn't want to damage the merchandise." You could tell he wasn't sold, so you continued. "I mean I'm dead either way, right? Wouldn't want you to risk your life as well…" He just stared blankly at you while the gears turned in his mind. Finally, he let out an exasperated huff and turned his back to you. At least you were able to buy yourself a little more time. Though you had a feeling it still wouldn't be enough. As your head began spinning, you looked down at your shoulder. The blood was still pouring out of the wound. "Of course…" you mumbled as the dizziness intensified. You were going to have to think of something quickly.

"So, how'd you get stuck with this job? Or are you just some disposable errand boy who got lucky?" You began antagonizing him as you attempted to saw through the ropes with the small blade that discharged out of your gloves.

"Lucky?" He turned towards you with a villainous look plastered across his face. He sauntered towards you and placed his hands on either side of the chair. "I've been following you. I know your patterns. When you strike. That ambush was calculated and planned. Boss sent me 'cuz he knew I'd get the job done." Before he could push himself up from the chair, you launched forward, ramming your head into his. As he crashed to the floor, another burly man rushed into the room. You managed to free one of your legs just in time. As he stumbled backward you bent down in an attempt to free your other leg. The man lunged at you again. Pulling the other leg free, you circle around and hurled the chair at him. You let out a huge sigh of relief and slid to the floor as he landed atop the first assailant.

Jason watched as men patrolled around the building. Just as he was about to move Roy's voice came over the comm, "Have you found her? What's the situation? I'm still an hour out."

"I found her. They have four guards patrolling. Heavily armed. I found an opening."

"Four patrolling…you can't get any intel about who's inside? I think you should wait for me to get there." Roy already knew there was no hope of that.

"We may not have a chance if I wait. I'm going in."

Jason heard his best friend sigh, before eventually relenting. "Keep me updated. I'll be there when I can." Jason saw his opening coming up again. He moved quickly and quietly, sliding into the open door. He took in his surroundings, trying to not alert anyone of his presence unless absolutely necessary. He didn't want to give any of them a reason to shoot you…that is, if you were still alive. As he rounded the corner, he came face to face with a brutish man. Jason launched himself forward, knocking them both to the ground as he muffled the goon's mouth with his hand and encapsulated his neck. It only took a few seconds before the guard was out cold and Jason continued lurching down the hallway. He stopped short of a closed door. Jason took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever awaited him on the other side.

You were jolted awake a few moments later and looked around to find the two men still unconscious on the ground. Crawling over, you pulled at one of their jackets and cut off a long piece. It took the last bit of your energy to tie it around your still bleeding shoulder. As your eyes began to flutter closed once again, they shot open at the sound of the door opening. You forced your head upwards and let out a faint chuckle at the familiar Red Hood that looked down at you.

"Solis!" Jason's eyes went wide as he saw the amount of blood in the room. "Shit alright. I need you to stay awake, okay?" You nodded and forced your eyes open as Jason dove down beside you, properly retying the fabric around your shoulder. Jason stared at you for a few moments before pushing himself up and firing a single shot down the hallway. You watched intently as the goons came running in, Jason plowing through them in a matter of minutes. Jason scooped you up, not bothering to try and gather any further information from you.

You woke up in a bed in an unfamiliar room. Your brain began piecing together the events. Jason had come to get you, then put you in a car, brought you here, sewed up the wound…you wondered how long you'd been asleep. The door creaked open and you saw both Roy and Jason standing in its frame.

"You're awake! Thank fuck, D would've killed me!" Roy rushed over and embraced you.

"Yeah probably…" You were speaking to Roy, but you couldn't take your eyes off Jason. There was something there, unspoken, that you couldn't remember. What had happened? How long had you been asleep? As if reading your mind, Jason spoke up.

"It's only been 12 hours," he watched your eyes go wide. "Before you freak out, you lost a lot of blood and were barely hanging on to consciousness. 12 hours is not that many. You'll still be weak." Jason began to step towards you but hesitated. Roy immediately noticed the awkwardness his presence brought.

"Imma just…I'll go get us some food…or something." Roy pointed towards the door and rushed out.

"I feel like I'm missing something."

"No…I just. I was worried." You leered at him, knowing that was not what you were missing. You carefully sat up and swung your legs over the bed, determined to get to the bottom of whatever feeling this was. Once you attempted to stand, Jason was at your side in a fraction of a second. "I just said you would be weak…" he mumbled out.

"Well I have to go to the bathroom and you aren't giving me answers anyways." You tried to push him away. It unsurprisingly did not work.

"How long have I known you? For once, just stop being so damn stubborn!" He grabbed your shoulders, in an effort to steady both of you.

"I dunno like 8 years…" you grumbled out, unsure if the question was meant to be answered.

"Yeah well for 7 and a half of those I've loved you. And it just hit me that you could die…hell I could I die, and you wouldn't know." His hands traced down your arms and collapsed at his side. "I guess that just broke me, okay? Are you happy now?!" The anger in his voice rose.

"So how about those pants now?" You smirked, trailing your eyes over his body. Jason's eyes lit up as he began to laugh, recalling the situation from months prior.

"Maybe not right now…let's wait until you can stand on your own."

"JUST KISS HER ALREADY GOD DAMMIT!" Roy screamed from the doorway. Neither of you knew how long he'd been there, but that didn't deter Jason. His lips smashed into yours while his arms enveloped you.

"FUCKING FINALLY!" Roy screamed as he threw his hands up in the air.

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beatsheetketch · 4 years ago

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more from the PTA extended universe

One day, rival mom kathleen finally gets fed up with Dean and decides she's going to tail him for real. Unfortunately, she just happens to pick a day when he's doing extremely normal and regular errands.

Drops off Jack. Post office and stands in line for a while. He gets a sandwich. He goes to the gun store. He buys some groceries.

kathleen: [angrily watching through binoculars]

Only thing she does see is him talking to Cas at Jack’s soccer game. she does not realize they are together bc they meet like spies in a park and stand on opposite sides of the chain link fence to have their conversation.

She tells Helen all this and says she suspects they could be working together and Helen says kathleen please, you are being ridiculous.

I really like imagining the accidental intersection of the PTA world and the world of incredible violence that they normally live in. Like did i see you burning a body in the cemetery? No, surely that was not you.

“Is that a knife sheath on your ankle? At this high school theater production of Pippin?” (Jack is crew. Is he using a little psychic powers to move things when no one is looking or when it’s dark? Perhaps.) What? Oh, yeah. It’s uh. for hunting. “Oh of course, hunting. A normal activity that my husband also does!”

“but you still don’t really need to bring a knife to the musical?” Ha yeah. a knife. that’s all i have. one single knife.

Working theory among the moms is that Dean’s in witness protection from formerly being part of the mob. Kathleen is a strong proponent of this theory too, except that it makes her say “...so he’s dangerous!!” while the rest of them are like “ooh!” like how ppl used to find whitey bulger hot

Kathleen tries to do some research to back up this theory but unfortunately she is not very tech literate so after she finishes reading about midatlantic mobs of the ‘00s and ‘10s on FBI.gov, she hits a dead end. She asks her husband what he thinks and he just asks if she’s been rewatching The Sopranos again

Dean loves The Sopranos btw. That’s where he gets his ‘face-cradle other men in moments of concern’ thing

PTA nemesis Helen’s son Sawyer is: a jock, raised Christian but ambivalent about all that; he plays football in the fall (running back) but his true passion is a weird niche sport: Curling.

Jack is aware of him and avoids him bc he’s afraid of letting slip something about Cas. But then gym teacher pairs them up for the badminton tournament and they get to talking.

Helen's surprising humanizing moment is when sawyer tells jack that his mom is very supportive of the curling and drives him long hours to the tournaments during the season

Close call: somebody’s sister-in-law Mandy is in town for a visit, and Mandy has a true crime hobby. when she sees Dean she recognizes him, and is like. Is that fucking murderer and fugitive Dean Winchester? [THE dean?] “No, his name is Dean Campbell?” “What?” “What?”

Another close call: gay teacher Mr. Curtis flirts with Dean, and Cas does NOT like that. (burly bear guy, science teacher at the middle school, does he look like a certain vampire friend? Perhaps)

dean flirts back at him, and all the moms are like :o well. i guess he's a queer. but we can work with that

One mom: “Oh he must be bisexual, I know about this from Shadowhunters:) which I watch with my daughter. He’s like Magnus Bane!”

Anyway Mr. Curtis hunts, like normal hunting, bowhunting maybe, and is like “you hunt?” and dean’s like “actually yeah,” and the teacher is like we should go together sometime! And Cas does NOT like this, and almost blows their cover

[overhearing this muttered conversation with his angel hearing during the meeting (which he is running because it’s the performing arts subcommittee and he’s the committee chair)]: [[abruptly bangs gavel loudly]] THIS CONCLUDES THIS WEEK’S MEETING. GOOD NIGHT EVERYONE HAVE A VERY SAFE DRIVE HOME.

One day in town, Dean does some heroic physical violence in public, witnessed by one of the moms and her child. Guy in the grocery store goes berserk, Dean tackles him, saving mom and child. It’s very dreamy of him

What they don’t know is that the guy had a spell on him as a direct result of some case they’re working on, inadvertently inviting the forces of darkness into Lebanon

But it’s still very sexy of him and the mom and kid who witness this will be telling this story over and over for WEEKS.

Mom tells it w great relish at church coffee time.

Kid tells this story with great relish at school. Jack: oh, god...

This is the point where Jack’s "your dad is so cool" reputation tips from "yes" to "this is stressing me out"

If the PTA eu is doing its job then it should be parodying “we protect suburban/small-town white america,” and one way it should do so is that the people actually bringing the danger INTO town are of course, them. And there’s always the risk of being found out, and ejected. But they’ll manage to stay under the radar and keep living these two coexisting, ultimately incompatible lives.

#pta extended universe #spn #supernatural #my fic #in collab w autisticandroids :)

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ponyregrets · 2 years ago

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Chash, have you ever thought of writing bellamy as a Unite content maker? I was watching this one guy from the US who makes Unite content (spragels, he's very good) and I noticed an alolan ninetines stuffed toy he had in the background and immediately thought of your galar au bellamy. this will now live in my mind rent-free

okay this isn't Bellamy streaming unite, but Spragels has been my work background noise for the last couple weeks so I have been thinking about streaming a lot. Bellamy definitely has an Alolan Ninetails on his screen. AO3 link!

Bellamy becomes a streamer entirely by accident. Before he started, he knew, in theory, that people did stream as a whole thing, another incomprehensible online career that he didn't understand the appeal of. He wasn't going to stop anyone else from enjoying it, but he never expects to be involved himself.

But, as with so many things he never expected to be involved in, he starts doing it because of his sister. She finished college and moved across the country because she thought she should be independent, which means she can't admit that she's missing him and feeling homesick and struggling. But after twenty-two years of dealing with Octavia, he knows how to read between the lines.

"What are you playing right now?" she asks, couple weeks into July. "I feel so out of touch with your dumb games when I can't watch you."

"We could still do that, right?" he asks, idly spinning his chair. "That's a thing. I could get it on the computer or something."

"Could you?" she asks, dubious. "That sounds pretty advanced."

Bellamy pauses. "Well, Raven would probably do it for me."

"If you want, I guess," she says, which is Octavia for I'd like that.

"Might as well ask. It's not as fun playing video games alone, anyway."

It's true, as a bonus. Bellamy started playing games on a used Nintendo 64 he found at Goodwill, which he told himself he was getting for Octavia as much as himself. By the time he got it, the system was old enough that he could find games cheap, or borrow them from his friends, and as those same friends upgraded to the newest and shiniest consoles, they were happy to pass along their older ones to him on the cheap. He'd said he was collecting them for Octavia, but as it turned out, his sister wasn't actually as good at video games as he was. At first, it was an age thing--Bellamy's six years older than she is, so of course he was more coordinated than she was when she was little--but even as she got older, she never really enjoyed playing the way he did.

If she hadn't loved watching him, he probably would have given up on the whole thing as an unnecessary indulgence, the kind of thing hobby that didn't do any good. But Octavia would ask him to play and settle in against his side, watching and backseat driving, and so he kept doing it.

And now, at twenty-eight, living on his own for the first time ever, making a decent enough salary that he can buy himself a few nice things, he figures it can't be that hard to make sure his sister can still tune into him playing games whenever she wants.

It's just that, once Raven makes him a Twitch account and teaches him how to use it, people other than Octavia start watching him.

"Why would they do that?" he demands.

"I don't know," Raven says, unimpressed. "It's your shitty stream. You set it up like I told you to?"

"Yeah."

"Then it's public and it's got the name of the game you're playing in it, so I guess people are searching for whatever you're playing and found you. It's not like you're bad at it."

He slants a wary look at her. "Were you one of them?"

"Dude, come on. Of course I subscribed to you. And I watched a couple, yeah. We should set it up so the viewers can hear your sister. You replying to her is cute, but it would be cuter if we knew what she was saying."

"You know I'm not going to go pro, right?"

"Why not?"

It's one of those impossible questions, which are kind of Raven's specialty. To Bellamy, it's a question that answers itself, an obvious thing. People don't actually become streamers, and the ones who do put a lot of work in, and he has better things to put effort into than becoming a big-name video-game streamer.

"I don't even know how it works," he says. "I'm just fooling around. Don't you have to be good?"

"You're not bad at games. And you're fun when you talk about them. I'm not saying you should quit your job and dedicate your whole life to it, but I know you love picking up cash where you can. If you're doing it anyway, why not see if you can get some popularity and subscribers?"

"What's your angle here?" he asks, frowning. "Why do you care?"

"Honestly? I just think it would be funny. You're like the least technologically proficient guy I know, I would love it if you got internet famous."

"I guess when you put it like that." He finishes his beer. "So, how do I become a famous streamer?"

He agrees to everything Raven suggests except for a camera, which he refuses mostly because his living arrangement is great in almost all ways, but a good setup for filming himself wasn't something he prioritized. The rent is cheap and his housemates range from unobjectionable to actually pretty cool, but the trade-off is personal space. He has his room, which is on the small side, and while he doesn't mind playing games there, a camera would pick up a lot more of his living space than he'd really like. He and Raven try it a few ways, but everything they set up is either insanely unflattering or shows off some part of his private space he'd rather keep private. His room has all his favorite things in it because he has nowhere else to store them, and he doesn't want to share them with the internet.

"Fine," Raven says, huffy but resigned. "But if you start taking off, we're going to figure this out."

It's one of those things that's easy to agree to mostly because he doesn't think he'll ever take off, but then Ground Zero comes out.

Initially, the game isn't on his radar at all. It's one of those team fight games that are popular right now, and Bellamy's always found them to be a bad fit for him mostly because he doesn't think he's good on a team. Or, rather, he always thinks he's good, but his teammates always seem to be bad, and the frustration tends to get the better of him. But he's also never really given them much of a chance. By the time he hears about them, everyone else already seems to be better than he is, and he just avoids it because he doesn't like losing.

But Octavia, like Raven, is invested in him becoming some kind of big-name streamer, and not only does she believe that streaming Ground Zero will get him a lot of views, she thinks the game looks cool and wants to see it. So, of course, he gets it, and it turns out he's actually kind of good.

"Don't get me wrong, I hate the idea here," he tells his two hundred or so viewers during his first stream. "Like, the concept sucks. But the gameplay is really fun."

"What's wrong with the concept?" Octavia asks.

"Are you asking or is the chat asking?" he asks. Her job on stream is to make fun of him and also read the chat while he's playing so he doesn't have to look away from his games, and she's very good at both.

"Everyone wants to know."

"Look, the designs are cool and they've got some interesting lore, but the basic story conflict is colonialism. You've got the technologically advanced space people coming down to Earth and trying to take land from the native population."

"Yeah, but the space people are still from Earth," Octavia points out. "Like, their space station died, they have to go somewhere."

"In theory, it's a complicated moral issue," he grants. "But the game doesn't really seem interested in grappling with it. They're just presenting it as two sides with equal claim to this random part of Earth who have decided violence is the only option."

"The backstory says diplomacy failed."

"The backstory doesn't say if there are other places the spacers could go. Like, they just landed in this place and decided they have to live here, specifically. Did they even try to find another location? The maps are all nice and green, it seems like there are plenty of resources to go around."

"Okay, this is getting boring. Colonization sucks, agreed, but let's talk about the good stuff in the game."

"There's a pretty good range of characters and playstyles, even at launch. I like that you're assigned randomly to the space or ground side for each match. You can play similar characters for each, like, if you're into ranged healing, you have options on both teams, but they play differently, so it's hard to really get into a rut playing just one character. It has the problem I always have with MOBAs, where everyone wants to be the hero and not enough people want to pick up supporter roles, but there's a lot of versatility in the moves you can select and the items you can scavenge, so even if you're a healer, you can still kick ass."

"Which is what you like to do."

"I don't think I'm a bad carry," he admits. "And if the team will let me be one, I like doing it. But it's nice that pretty much all of the characters have some flexibility. You're not locked out of carrying just because combat isn't your specialty."

"Moonboy420 in the chat wants to know if you ever want to throw the game when you're on the space side. Just to stick it to the colonizers."

He snorts. "No, but I do feel a lot less bad when my team loses if we're the spacers. Like, yeah, it sucks to lose rank, but we deserved it. And then you get people like this," he says, glaring at the screen. "The game's been going for less than two minutes and our medic is just running around in circles and spamming the ground is beautiful in the chat. That usually happens with players who really favor one side or the other and they're mad they have to play the side they don't like. Which, again, it's random, so if you're really attached to being spacer or grounder, this game isn't a good fit for you. You're just making it suck for everyone else."

"AnitaDarling says that she's played fifteen games and gotten assigned to grounder every time, so she's getting more and more nervous about being bad at the space characters. She wants to know if you'll put together some tutorials on how to play all the characters."

"Huh." He frowns. "Is that something people want? Guides? I usually just stream myself playing, but I could probably give it a shot."

People do want it, and he starts getting more attention, both for his own streaming and for his videos about how to play well. It's kind of a trip, watching his numbers tick up, the weirdest kind of ego stroke, but once he hits one thousand subscribers, Raven says, "You have to start showing your face."

"Why?" he asks. She's not physically present, but she called him and he picked up assuming it was important. He wouldn't have said that his branding was a good enough reason to use the phone, but he should probably start thinking it is. "I'm doing fine."

"Have you ever watched another streamer?"

"A couple." It's weird because as he starts to become known, other people want to do things with him. They want to team up and do streams together and he'd been meaning to ask Raven how to decide which ones to do, because his only idea was to let Octavia decide and he doesn't actually trust her. Mostly, he's been visiting their channels and trying to figure out if they're more popular than he is and what they're doing better.

"All of them are on camera, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"It's weird that you're not. People are going to wonder why you're not. It's not exactly a good way to get attention, unless you want to make your whole identity a mystery. Which I don't really recommend, because that just encourages people to try to figure out who you are. It's not the reason you want to stand out, you know?"

"Okay, so, what, you think I should move? I can't stream from somewhere I don't live, not without it being a pain. And I don't want to rearrange my entire bedroom for streaming. I'd have to rent a storage locker or something."

"You could ask Clarke."

He frowns. "Ask her what?"

"She's got a pretty big art studio in her apartment, I don't think she's using all of it. She might let you set up there. Worth asking, anyway."

"Huh. You think?"

Clarke exists in a weird place in Bellamy's life. She's technically their landlord, but it doesn't really feel that way, mostly because Bellamy has very bad associations with landlords, but Clarke is cool. Her dad died her senior year of college and she decided the best thing to do with the money he left her was investing in a house. She rented out most of the rooms to her friends on the cheap, and as people found other living arrangements or jobs, she brought in new tenants as needed. Raven ended up living there after she and Clarke found out they were fucking the same dude and both dumped him, and then when Raven moved in with Gina and Bellamy was looking to downsize after Octavia left, she gave him her room.

He likes Clarke, liked her even before he started living here, but she's not really part of the house in the way that he gathers she once was. None of the people living in the house are her original roommates anymore, and now she lives on her own on the second floor while everyone else is on the first floor with Murphy living in the basement like some weird gremlin. If someone else was moving out, he could potentially ask about getting their room for some extra rent, but he'd basically given up on finding anywhere in the house.

He sort of forgets that Clarke has all that space up there and probably isn't using all of it.

"The worst she can do is say no," Raven points out. "But she probably wouldn't mind."

"You really think it's that important?"

"The world deserves to see your pretty face."

"I guess when you put it like that." He sighs, glances at the clock. It's almost six; if Clarke agreed, he could maybe get set up and stream tonight. "You think she's home?"

"Probably."

"Cool, I'll ask her."

He doesn't really see Clarke very much thse days, and it's always a little weird when he does. Before he moved in, they'd met a few times socially, at parties and other outings, and he'd been idly thinking about trying to flirt with her after he found out she and her girlfriend broke up, but that seemed like a bad idea once he was paying her rent. He hasn't been avoiding her since then, really, but he thinks she might have noticed he wasn't hanging out with her as much at their various events.

Part of him hopes she noticed.

He goes up the stairs to her floor and knocks, hears an immediate, "Who is it?" back, all wariness. Clarke really is kind of awesome.

"Bellamy."

"One sec."

The door opens and the sight of her in flannel pajama pants and a low-cut tanktop is almost enough to make him change his mind about the whole streaming question. He's always put his best foot forward with Clarke, and he's somehow only now realizing that she doesn't know about his whole video game thing, and he has to tell her.

"What's up?" she prompts. "Everything okay? Bathroom flooded?"

"Oh, no, nothing bad." He rubs the back of his neck. "I actually had a favor to ask."

"Yeah?"

"Raven thought you might have some space I could use to film myself."

It seems like the best way to phrase it before it comes out of his mouth and especially before he sees the way Clarke's eyebrows shoot up. "Film yourself doing what, exactly?"

"Playing video games."

Her mouth twitches. "So you can check your technique?"

"No, it's not--" He rubs his face. "Raven set me up streaming video games for my sister and the two of them think it would be funny if I get really popular. And I guess if I want to be really popular, I need to show my face when I stream, and there's nowhere good for me to do it in my room, so I thought you might have somewhere I could use."

The smile she's been fighting off wins the battle. "So, what, they need to know you're a hot guy playing video games or it won't work?"

"All the popular streamers record themselves," he says, because it's not like he can confirm or deny that he's hot, or ask her to elaborate on her position. "It's good for the parasocial relationship, I guess."

She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorjamb. "And you're into that."

"If I'm going to do it, I might as well do it right. And everyone keeps telling me to do it."

"And Raven said I might have some space you could use."

"I'll pay rent for it," he offers. "Or while I'm using it, I guess? Fuck, I don't know. This is new for me."

"Come inside, Bellamy," she says, stepping into the apartment. "Have a seat. Stop stressing. What are you looking for here?"

He sits down on a chair in her living room, trying not to feel self-conscious. It's only a little bit weird. "Depends, I guess? Like, right now I usually just stream whenever I'm playing video games so my sister can watch if she wants. But I probably don't have to be on camera every time."

"So, what, you're imagining a couple times a week you drag a TV and recording studio up here and play video games for an hour?"

"I hadn't really gotten that far."

"It sort of sounds like what you're actually looking for is a place where you can set up all your gaming stuff and use it whenever you want for however long you want."

He winces. "It doesn't have to be that."

"But that's your best-case scenario."

Her expression is open and without any apparent annoyance, but Bellamy still feels like he's on dangerous ground. "If I had my own place with a couple of rooms, yeah, I'd probably want that. But I don't need that here."

"But if we could do that, you'd want it?" she asks, sounding thoughtful. "Like, if I gave you a key so you could come up whenever and just play your games up here, that would be the easiest thing, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." He's trying not to gape but it's not going great for him. "Is that an option?" he finally asks.

"It might be. I expanded one of the bedrooms into the closet to make a studio last year and it's honestly bigger than I need it to be? I think you could have, like, a corner"

"You really don't have to do that," he says immediately.

"Yeah, you weren't exactly holding me at gun point. It might be fun. Can I watch?"

"My stream?"

"Or you filming or whatever. I can be behind the scenes."

"If you want. I can pay a little extra in rent--"

"Bellamy," she says, cutting him off with a smile. "You don't have to. It's fine. Honestly, it's kind of lonely up here."

It's the first time it occurred to him she might gain something from this. And Raven probably already knew it. "Yeah?"

Her smile is a little wistful. "I like having more room for my stuff. But I definitely feel more like a landlord than a housemate these days."

"You could just invite us up to hang out," he points out. "You don't have to let me set up shop in a corner of your studio."

"But if I invite everyone up, Murphy might hang out," she shoots back. "I'm just saying, if this would help you out, I don't mind. And if it sucks, I'll tell you."

"Are you sure I can't pay you some extra rent?" he asks. It really sounds too good to be true.

"If you start making money streaming, I'll let you give me some," she says, and he smiles.

"Deal." She offers her hand and they shake on it. It feels a little mercenary to immediately "So, uh, when can I start?" but it is pretty much his biggest question.

Clarke shrugs. "Are you busy now?"

They go to check out the room first, just to make sure that it'll work for him, but it's not like he has a lot of requirements. There's enough space and outlets, and he can probably put up some decorations for visual interest.

Downstairs, they find Jasper hanging out on the couch and draft him into helping. Bellamy had been sort of absently worried that some of his housemates might be jealous or upset about his getting some extra space, but Jasper just wants all the information he can get on Bellamy's Twitch career.

So everyone is going to know. It's fine.

Clarke helps him set up, mostly by critiquing his background for not being fun enough, and she ends up going into her room and grabbing some Pokémon stuff for him to display.

"I don't really do Pokémon streams," he points out.

"You need to have some visual interest. You can use them until you get some stuff from your games."

"Thanks," he says, and immediately regrets the sarcasm. "But really, thanks. I really appreciate it. I don't know if I'm actually going to stick with this streaming stuff, but it's nice to have the option."

"No problem. It's cool if you see me sometimes, right? Or do I need to avoid being on camera?"

"It's fine," he says. "No big deal."

He doesn't stream that night, but he records four instructional videos he'll be able to upload over the next few days, and it is kind of nice, seeing himself on screen. He's always expressive when he talks, and having those smiles, his eye rolls and exasperation captured on camera is kind of nice. He watches the first video to make sure everything came out okay before he posts it, but he's not worried. He knows they all came out great.

Even Clarke's Pokémon add something.

She's in the background of the third video, which he notices when he's prepping it to post two days later, but he doesn't really think much of it. All his audience is going to learn from that is that he lives with a blonde woman who wanders behind him sometimes with a paint brush.

"Everyone wants to know who the girl is," Octavia tells him within half an hour of the video going live. "I feel like you should probably tell them soon but all the speculation might be getting you hits."

"They care?"

"Maybe the parasocial relationship is better if they think you aren't an awkward nerd whose last girlfriend is now dating his tech support. Or at least think you're an awkward nerd who landed a hot blonde girlfriend."

"I could land a hot blonde girlfriend," he grumbles.

"Uh huh. Are you gonna stream tomorrow?"

"That's the plan."

"Maybe just open with an introduction for her. Landlord, right?"

"Housemate," he says. "I don't think the chat likes landlords."

"And you want them to like her?"

"I like her. I don't want the chat to spam fuck landlords or something whenever she shows up."

"Yeah, that would suck. You can put it off if you want to," she adds. "I don't care. But if the chat asks about it, I'll relay their questions."

"Cool," he says, and texts Clarke as soon as he hangs up.

In theory, he's allowed to just unlock the door and go upstairs to stream whenever he wants, but it doesn't feel like that yet. So he asks if he can come up, and Clarke says he doesn't have to ask, and he still knocks on the door before he opens it.

She's sitting on the couch with a sketchbook. "At what point do you stop being polite?"

He takes a chair across from her. "No idea, but it hasn't even been a week."

"True. I thought you weren't streaming tonight?"

"I'm not, but apparently my followers are already asking about you, so I thought I'd let you know."

"Mostly who you are and what you're doing in the background of your videos, I guess. My sister does most of the comment monitoring for me, she said you got a lot of attention."

It's true, but not the whole truth. Bellamy actually did go and check the Clarke comments and about 90% of them were omg bell has a girlfriend, which seemed like a pretty big assumption. He wishes he wasn't into her just to prove them wrong, but less than a week of interaction has reminded him that he's still pretty into her.

She perks up, of course. "Yeah?"

"I thought you might want to drop by a stream on purpose," he offers. "Just walk by and I can call you over for an introduction. Or I can just explain you. Your call."

"Explain me?"

"Housemate."

"Not much of an explanation."

"I figured you might not want to give your life story to my random Twitch followers."

"I'm not very good at video games," she says, which feels like a total non sequitur until she adds, "Could you teach me?"

"On stream?"

She shrugs. "Unless you think it would be bad content."

"That would probably be great," he admits. "I'm working on a series of how to play characters, but I thought I could probably go more basic for, like, total beginners. The basics of playing. We could do them together."

She looks so pleased it makes his chest ache. "Really?"

"I make a video, you test it out, and then we do a debrief. What helped, what didn't, stuff like that. I'm kind of new to the instructional videos, maybe I suck at it."

"We can cover the basics off camera," he says. "And if you hate it, we don't have to do it."

"Well, what are you doing now?""

He has things he should be doing, of course. Streaming isn't his whole life. He has a regular job, and even if he's done for the day, he has laundry and chores. He tries to limit his video-gaming to a few nights a week, just so it doesn't consume him, but this is video games with Clarke. And if he leaves now, he'll go downstairs and sit in his room trying to read and thinking about how he could be with her instead.

"Not even a little."

She has such a pretty smile. "I did watch a couple of your videos."

"Yeah?"

"The intro ones. But I don't have a gaming system, so I couldn't try it out."

"If I'm not using my stuff up here, you can always try it out. We'll just make you your own profile."

He gets her set up on his PS5 and she makes an account for Ground Zero and finishes the tutorial without any major issues. The controls are pretty standard to Bellamy, what he would expect after years of playing games, but Clarke takes a little while to identify some of the buttons and get herself doing things correctly. Still, she manages to pick up items, use them as weapons, and heal some people, so she has the basics down.

"We might as well start filming, right?" she asks.

"Why?"

"If it's good, you'd rather post it," she points out, not unreasonably. "And if it sucks, you just don't."

"When you put it like that," he says, and turns the camera on. Clarke brought her chair in from her desk, so they have to do a little repositioning, making sure both of them are in frame and visible, but once that's done, he thinks it's kind of nice. Not as lonely. "Hey, everyone," he says, with the wave he hasn't talked himself out of doing yet. "Bell here. And I've got my housemate, Clarke."

She waves too. "Hi."

"I had some people wondering about her in my last couple videos and it's actually thanks to her I'm doing these at all because I had nowhere good to film and she's letting me use her studio. So everyone in the comments say thank you, Clarke."

"You don't have to do that."

"You do," says Bellamy. "It's not optional. Anyway, Clarke's never really been much of a gamer, but she wanted to try it out. So we're going to find out how good I really am at helping total newbies figure out what to do and whether or not you should listen to me. This is the test."

"What if I'm a prodigy?" Clarke asks. "Then you get credit for my natural talent."

"I'm fine with that. She did the tutorial off camera because I don't think anyone thinks the tutorial is interesting. If she is a prodigy, I couldn't tell from that."

"Ouch."

"You didn't know which joystick you used to move."

"There are like five different things that look like they could control which direction I move on this controller," she shoots back. "I don't think that's on me."

"Yeah, there's a lot of stuff you get used to, playing games a lot," he grants. "It's easy to forget." Something occurs to him, and he frowns. "If you don't play video games, why do you have all these Pokémon? She made me add Pokémon," he tells the camera, although he thinks he might cut this. If nothing else, he doesn't really want Octavia knowing he let Clarke decorate his streaming space. "So you can also thank her for the visual interest."

"My best friend and I really liked the anime and the cards. My parents didn't approve of video games, but they were okay with those. So he and I would get each other Pokémon stuff, and then my relatives realized I liked Pokémon, and I still have a bunch of aunts and uncles who give me Pokémon stuff if we see each other for holidays because they don't know anything about me. And I like Pokémon Go," she adds, a little defiant.

"Well, at least you appreciate the relatives' presents. How are you feeling about doing a game?"

She worries her lip. "I assume it'll match me with other new players?"

"That's the idea. The matchmaking is kind of hit or miss once you get to higher levels, but when you're just starting, they'll either match you with other new players or bots."

"Bots?"

"AI players. They're really dumb, but you can usually beat them."

She shoots a dubious look in his direction. "Usually?"

"Sometimes they're so stupid they sabotage the game. I had one where we would have won if the bots just helped me seize an objective, but they were fighting the other team instead and we lost."

"You're really getting me excited to play this more."

"It was your idea. So, any idea about what kind of character you want to play?"

She shifts a little, shaking out her shoulders. "I watched a couple of your videos."

"Really?" Hopefully he's not visibly swelling with pride. "Why?"

"I was curious. I wanted to see what you were doing in my studio."

"So, what did you learn?"

"I don't think I'd be good at melee fighters. You said the important thing for them was mastering the combo attacks, and that doesn't sound like something I'd be great at. But hiding in the bushes sniping people and doing first aid sounds like a pretty good fit for me."

"Okay, cool. You can do that whichever team you're on, and it always helps your allies."

"I know. Like I said, I watched your videos."

"Okay, you're the expert," he says, holding up his hands. "I won't say anything."

"I didn't say that. You focused a lot on what items and skills to pick but not, like, basics. Where should I be, what should I be doing?"

"Okay," he says, smiling. "Basic of the basics. First, start the match. Then we'll know who you are and what you want to do."

The video with Clarke does well, and of course, Octavia can't shut up about it.

"The chat totally ships you two."

"I don't know what that means."

"Yeah, you do."

"Well, I wish I didn't."

"She's cute. You could do a lot worse."

"I pay her rent."

"So? That means she's rich and she could support you while you try to go pro streaming. I'm not seeing a downside here."

He rubs his face. "Thanks, O. That's really helping."

"She probably wouldn't want to be on your dumb stream if she didn't like you. Like, come on. That's pretty unambiguous."

"Maybe she wants to learn to play video games."

"Uh huh. When you get together, I'm going to say I told you so."

"I hope you will," he says, and goes to read the comments. He might be a little pathetic.

Clarke isn't always on his stream. She has her own life and hobbies, and between her art and her real job and having some kind of social life, she doesn't have that much time for video games. Whenever she plays, it's with him, and they usually film it and he'll cobble the best of and most interesting moments into a weekly feature that his followers seem to love. Every time she walks by when he's streaming, the chat explodes with non-stop CLARKE spam, which, to be fair, is also how he feels when he sees her.

"I can't just ask her out, right?" he asks Miller, a month later.

"Apparently not. I assume if you could, you would have. Is it like a medical condition?"

Bellamy scowls at him. "Dude."

"What? You ask her out. If she says no, it sucks and you get over it. If she says yes, you go out with her. Just get it over with."

"She might stop wanting to hang out with me."

"I'd be more worried about breaking up."

Bellamy groans and drops his head onto the coffee table. "Please don't give me more things to worry about."

"Yeah, I guess you don't need the help." He pauses. "What's your nightmare scenario here, exactly?"

Bellamy thinks it over. "Worst case is, I guess, she kicks me out, I have to find a new place to live, the rent is more expensive and my finances get a lot worse. Bankruptcy, homelessness, dying in a ditch somewhere."

"Okay," says Miller. "Odds on that?"

He smiles. "Obviously that's not going to happen."

"Cool, glad that's out of the way. What's the realistic bad case?"

"I feel weird around her and I don't want to hang out anymore. I stop streaming from her place and my weird Twitch followers ask me why. It's awkward for a while."

"Yeah," Miller agrees. "Sounds realistic."

Bellamy scowls at him. "That's it?"

"I think that's probably the worst thing that might actually happen. Do you actually care if you have to stop streaming? I still can't tell how invested you are in the whole thing."

It's a valid question. "You know I've got an ego," he points out. "I like being popular. And I like being good at a game. And if I'm going to be good at it, I might as well be good in public and help other people? Raven is doing stuff to work the algorithms and stuff, I'm getting more followers by the day. I still don't think it's going to be my job or anything, but yeah, I like it. I don't want to stop."

"So, would you?"

"Would I stop?"

"Yeah."

"I probably wouldn't, you know, stream from her place."

"If she said she didn't want to date you?"

Put like that, it does seem like kind of an overreaction. "If she wasn't comfortable with it. And I'd worry she wouldn't say if she was uncomfortable."

"If Jasper asked you out, would you stop talking to him?"

"No."

"Okay then."

Bellamy smiles faintly. "Trying to logic me out of it, huh?"

"Or into it. Look,the longer you wait, the harder it is to make a move. Right? If you'd just done this before you moved into her place, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"But I might be paying way more for rent." He sighs. "I could ask if she wants to get dinner, I guess. Low pressure, just checking."

"Worst-case scenario, she says no. And if you're normal about it, she'll be normal about it."

"The older I get, the more I think those do you like me y/n notes were a good idea. Indirect, no confrontation, and if it's no, we never mention it again."

"Or you could just talk to the girl you like, like an adult."

Bellamy has to smile. "Or that, yeah."

He's still planning to wait a couple days. It's partially cowardice, obviously, but his justification is that they're filming a joint videos the next day, and if he waits to talk to her until after that they'll have a couple days before they see each other again, which should be enough time to work through any awkwardness.

He's also chickenshit, but he's got a timeline. There's a plan.

And then, when he goes up to film, Clarke opens the door and asks, "Want to make out?"

"Um," he says, trying not to gape. "What?"

"I just thought I should check. I thought you probably did."

He recovers enough to say, "I do, yeah. I was going to ask you to get dinner."

She laughs. "You should see your face."

"Sorry. I just wasn't really expecting that."

"You were going to ask me to dinner, but you didn't think I wanted to make out?"

"Well, I wasn't sure you were going to say yes," he says, and leans down to kiss her before she can respond. Her hands tangle in his hair almost as once, like maybe she's been thinking about how much she wants them there, and Bellamy tugs her in by the hips, pulling her flush against him.

"I was going to say yes," she murmurs between kisses, making him smile.

"Cool, I still want to get dinner."

She pulls back to look at him. "I did think you were going to ask me out," she says, half-accusatory. "Like six months ago."

"I thought it might be weird once I moved in."

She groans. "I told Raven! She was like, he'll be living with you, you can hook up! And I said it would make things weird."

He's not laughing at her, but he can't help laughing. "Did Raven tell me to stream video games from your studio to try to set us up?"

"Yeah, absolutely. And I didn't think it would work, so she's going to be really smug."

"Me streaming isn't actually a turn-on, is it?" he asks, mostly out of curiosity.

"You didn't really need the help, but it's cute. And," she looks away, smiling as she bites her lip, "you should see your face when you look at me."

"When I look at you?"

"I wasn't sure you were interested, but Raven said I should watch when I show up on the streams. Your sister tells you I'm around and your whole face lights up."

Color rushes up his neck, but he's pretty sure he's lighting up right now. "Yeah," he says. "Of course I do."

She's smiling at him now. "That's why I thought you'd want to make out."

They don't end up recording anything that night, which Bellamy doesn't mind at all, and Octavia does tell him she told him so, which, as promised, he minds even less. He kind of owes her. The streaming thing is working out pretty great for him, after all.

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queenshelby · 3 years ago

Text

A NEW WORLD - PART ONE (UPDATED)

A Quiet Place 2 Fanfic

Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place 2) x Fem!Reader

Summary: This story will follow Emmett and the Reader before and after the invasion. Each Part will be about 1,000 to 2,000 words long and take place on a particular day (as listed on each part).

Warning: Mild Smut, Age Gap, Alcohol Abuse, Spoilers for AQP2

***

DAY: 41 DAYS BEFORE THE INVASION

It was a sunny Saturday evening and you were out watching the local baseball match. Your half brother Lucas was playing and, as usual, your mother was unable to take him to the game.

Ever since your step father had passed away two years ago, she became addicted to alcohol, drinking moonshine in the early hours of the morning.

Your younger sister quickly moved out when she turned 18 but you couldn’t leave your step brother behind. He was only 12 years old and too young to care for himself.

Most of your mother’s income support payments were spent on booze and you were fortunate enough that your stepfather’s life insurance payout covered the remainder of the mortgage on the house.

In order to buy food for yourself and your brother, you had to work hard. You’ve been attending an educational program in town to become a midwife and, at the age of 22, you almost completed your studies. Your goal was to move to Georgia with your brother and make a new life for yourself.

But little did you know that life had other plans in store for you, beginning on that particular day, at the baseball game.

***

‘Hey Y/N’ you heard from behind you and you quickly turned your head only to see your colleague’s husband Emmett sit there with his son Max, watching his other son Henry play alongside your brother Lucas.

‘Oh god Emmett, what happened?’ you asked as you saw his hand covered in bandages.

‘This? It’s nothing. Just a hunting accident’ Emmett explained and you recalled Nora telling you that he had been away for several days with two of his friends causing a major fight between Nora and him.

You haven’t seen Nora since and what she didn’t tell you that day was that, following the fight, she decided to take a break from their marriage.

Nora was your supervisor at the hospital where you were doing your work experience hours and she was rather difficult to deal with whenever she and her husband had a fight. She loved him and he loved her, but in recent months their marriage was going through some ups and downs and you could see that she was obviously needing some time to revaluate matters.

‘Did Nora take a look at it. The bandage needs to be changed. It doesn’t look right Emmett’ you said concerned as you took his hand into yours, evaluating his injury. You had done about three units of nursing before changing over to midwifery in your course.

‘Nora is out of town, visiting her sister’ he explained and you couldn’t help but give Emmett a sorry look. They were fighting again you thought and it had become a frequent occurrence.

‘Perhaps when she comes back, I should look after Henry and Max again for you guys and you can take her out on a date or something’ you suggested. You frequently babysat for Nora and Emmett to make some extra money.

‘The truth is that we are taking a break for now. But, if things change, I would gladly accept your offer’ Emmett smiled and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. In your opinion he was a nice and incredibly attractive man. He was also a fantastic father to Max and this was something you picked up on immediately when you first met him several years ago through Evelyn and Lee whose children you also frequently babysat.

You also knew that Nora and him had met over twenty years ago. They were high school sweethearts. Everyone saw them both as the perfect couple but their relationship was far from being perfect.

Just over a year ago you heard rumours that, about two years ago, Nora had a short-lived affair but Emmett forgave her. He was a family man and valued his marriage. His sons were everything to him and leaving them would never have been option for Emmett.

He was incredible and you found it difficult to admit to yourself that, over the past two years, you were developing a little a crush on him.

***

About an hour later, the game had finished and you suggested to Emmett that he comes to your house so that you could have a look at his hand.

Your house was a short five-minute walk from the baseball field and Emmett agreed reluctantly after you told him that your mother wasn’t home.

He knew what state your mother was in and he would not have exposed his sons to her constant swearing and antics when she was drunk.

When you arrived at your house, Emmett’s sons and your brother went to play outside in the garden with your brother’s new soccer ball which you had bought him for his birthday while you looked through the medicine cabinet to find some more bandages and some betadine.

‘Have you considered admitting her to rehab?’ Emmett asked as he sat down at the kitchen table, besides which was a large plastic box with several empty bottles of spirits.

‘That’s the plan. I want to take Lucas to Georgia as soon as she is in rehab’ you explained as you carefully removed Emmett’s bandage.

‘This will hurt’ you then went on to say before cleaning his wound and applying some betadine.

‘Fuck’ he complained as you were rinsing out the wound and, after you were finally done cleaning it, you placed a fresh bandage over his hand.

‘You need to keep this clean alright?’ you said with your hands still holding on to his hand while you looked at him with a warm smile.

This was the first time you noticed how blue his eyes were, a shade of deep shimmering blue just as the sea and just as the depth of the ocean, you could get lost in them.

‘Thanks’ he nodded, not bothering to pull his hand away from you as you were staring at him.

‘Nora is one lucky woman’ you sighed as you finally collected your thoughts and let go of his hand.

‘Why? Because she finally is getting rid of me?’ Emmett laughed but knowing exactly what you meant.

‘No that’s not what I meant Emmett. In fact, I think she is crazy thinking about leaving a man like you’ you said shyly and with flushed cheeks as you looked down at his hand once again.

‘Right’ Emmett chuckled and, just as he did, you moved one of your hands over his cheeks.

‘Don’t doubt yourself Emmett’ you said before, slowly and tentatively pressing your lips onto his.

He didn’t retract, nor did he pull away as, for a short moment, he allowed the kiss. Your lips were soft and sweet and he couldn’t recall the last time another woman had kissed him.

Eventually, you broke the kiss at your own accord and Emmett looked at you as if he had seen a ghost. He was surprised by your actions and his eyes were full of questions.

‘I am so sorry’ you then shuddered while Emmett was still speechless.

‘I should go now’ he quickly said, unable to even look at you after what had just happened.

‘Emmett?’ you said as he got up from the chair next to yours. ‘I am sorry, really…I shouldn’t have’ you said somewhat flustered.

‘Y/N, it’s fine. Let’s just forget about it, aright?’ he smiled as he ran his hand over your shoulder in the way a friend would.

You nodded just before he left but the truth was that you couldn’t forget about it. This kiss stayed with you for the rest of the day.

***

Just as the evening had arrived and you were sitting in your bed, reading yet another novel you had borrowed from the library, you imagined yourself with Emmett.

This wasn’t right, you thought. You should not be thinking about him the way you did. He was a man twice your age. But you couldn’t help it and your imagination was running wild.

His lips were on yours, his fingers roaming over your body and you simply couldn’t go to sleep that night until you satisfied your needs with the small vibrator you kept in your beside table.

‘God damn Y/N’ your inner voice tried to reason. But you wouldn’t listen to it until you found your release that night which is when, finally, you drifted off to sleep.

Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #Emmett #emmett x reader #emmett smut #a quiet place 2 #a quiet place imagine #a quiet place smut #a quiet place fanfic #a quiet place

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the-broken-truth · 3 years ago

Note

Lady dimitrescu s/o bonding with the daughters?🙍‍♂️

(Ex: giving cassandra fighting/hunting tips)

Broken Truth: A Little Father-Daughter Bonding Time? Let's get writing!

- Bela Dimitrescu -

"Here, Bela." A deep voice called out as a buff hand held out a white hard-cover book with the title 'Creatures of Greek Mythology. Bela looked up from the book she was reading, locking eyes with the only male of Castle Dimitrescu that wasn't turned into wine or dinner - [Y/N] [L/N], Husband of Alcina Dimitrescu & Step-Father of the Dimitrescu Sisters.

"What's this, Father?" Bela asked as she placed her bookmark in her place before closing the book in her lap and took the book from her step-father's hands and looked at it closely.

"I noticed that you are fond of books that regarded Ancient Civilizations & Unknown Creatures. This is a book I've had since I was a child living in Greece (The Reader is Greek in this case)." The man exhaled as he took a seat in the chair beside the blonde-haired girl.

"Your book?" Bela looked at the book again before looking at her step-father. "Then this must be important to you, Father. Why would you give me this?" Shee asked.

"My mother told me that I would have a family of my own someday and I would want to give them my most prized possession - that book was the last thing my father gave to me before I never saw him again. I have read it more than 1,000 times by now; I'm sure Athena would be annoyed with me if I read it again." He explained.

"Who's Athena?" Bela asked.

"She's the Greek Goddess of Reason, Wisdom, & War." He said.

"DID SOMEONE SAY WAR?!" Cassandra's voice echoed in the room.

"There is no war, Cass!" [Y/N] yelled back.

"But, I heard war!" Cass retorted.

"Then go read a book about war!" the man replied.

"Reading about war!" Cass confirmed.

"She likes war, now." [Y/N] said as he looked back at Bela.

"Wait - If Athena is the Goddess of Reason, why is she also the Goddess of War?" Bela questioned.

"Well, she's not the official Goddess of War - that title belongs to Ares, The God of War. He and Athena kinda have a bit of a... sibling rivalry going around about that since most of Athena Followers see her strategy about war more successful than Ares' - they call her the Goddess of War." [Y/N] explained.

"They're siblings?" Bela's eyebrow rose.

"Half-Siblings: They have the same father but different mothers." The man corrected.

"Who is their father then?" Bela asked.

"That would be the King of all the Gods - Zeus, God of Lightning & King of Olympus." He said.

"Olympus?" Bela questioned.

"The Realm of the Gods." The father said.

"THERE ARE OTHER GODS?!" Bela questioned as the man chuckled to himself.

'This is going to be a long night.'

Sure enough, it was - Bela constantly asked questions with everything her father said, even at the dinner table - she wanted to know more. The man just chuckled as he chewed on his steak while his wife gave him a glare that said...

'What have you done?'

- Cassandra Dimitrescu -

"Whoa! Oph!" Cassandra landed face-first on the floor of her step-father's training room, once again parried against and sent face-first into the ground.

"I've told you once and I'll tell you again, Cass; you can't overthink when in a fight, it gives your opponent time to get you when you're distracted in your thoughts." [Y/N] said as he rolled his wrist, letting it pop before placing it on his hip.

"I don't get how you do it, Papa." Cassandra groaned as she picked herself off the ground and turned to face her father. "You move too fast for me to keep up."

"I move fast because I don't think - I let my body move for me." He said with folded arms.

"What do you mean? Bela told me that the brain controls all movement so how can you move if you don't think about it?" Cassandra asked.

"Have you ever heard of instinct, child?" He asked.

"You mean while those animals?" Cassandra asked.

"Not like that. Allow me to put it like this - has your body ever suddenly stopped, for now, reason just in time for something to almost hit you or you almost trip on something?" The father asked.

"Ummm. Once - Dani got mad a threw a knife but I stopped walking just in time for the knife to hit the wall in front of me." She remembered.

"That's what I am talking about - you were mindlessly walking and your body stopped just in time before the knife hit you. Your body sensed danger and stopped to keep itself from getting hurt." [Y/N] explained.

"So...if I don't think and I'm attacked - my body will react on its own and stop itself from getting hurt?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes. The body knows it needs to be protected and will not let anything hurt it but overthinking can cancel that instinct and you get hurt in the process." He explained.

"Oh...Can we try again?" Cass asked.

"Not tonight, little bug. We can try after breakfast in the morning. Deal?" He said as he rose to his feet.

"Deal, Papa." Cassandra smiled at her father figure - she was happy her mother chose him.

- Daniela Dimitrescu -

"Daddy? What's that in your hand?" Dani asked as she looked over at the small glowing box in her father's hand.

"This? It's my Smartphone." [Y/N] said as he looked up from his phone.

"Smartphone? So, it knows stuff?" The girl asked with a tilt of her head - she looked like a confused red-haired cat. "Well, it does if it's connected to the internet - that's why I got the Wi-Fi Box set up in the study." He said.

"Wi-Fi?"

"It's Wireless Internet."

"What's Internet?"

"The...World Wide Network - you can do almost anything on the internet. You can buy things, watch videos, play games, or whatever you want."

"Can I torture people on it?" Dani asked.

"Well...you could but I don't think you should." Her father said.

"How can I use the internet?" Dani asked.

"You need a piece of Smart Tech - Like a smartphone, a computer, or a smart TV."

"How do I get one?" She asked.

"I'll order some for you and your sisters, I have one for your mother already coming."

A Few Months Later - Dani became the mistress of the internet and then asked her father for a PS4 for her birthday. At night, you can still hear the wild cackling of the witch who devoured the souls of noobs in Call of Duty.

- The Dimitrescu Sisters + Alcina Has Had Enough! -

"Let him go! Father is going to tell me more about Greece!" Bela yelled as she pulled on her father's right arm.

"No! Papa and I are going to train so that I can master my Ultra Instinct!" Cassandra said as she pulled her father's left arm.

"As if! Daddy and I are going to play Call of Duty together! There's a team who wants to go against us and I need Daddy to help me crush their souls!" Dani yanked on her father's foot.

[Y/N]'s teeth locked in pain as he was being pulled apart by his daughters - he was happy they wanted to spend time with him but this was painful.

"That's enough!" He was suddenly yanked upward from them - they all looked up to see their mother with her husband's head buried into her chest.

"Give Father/Papa/Daddy back!" The sisters demanded.

"No! Listen here, you little gremlins, I haven't been able to spend time with my own husband because of you and your hobbies. You can do what you want alone because I have going to have my husband to myself if it's the last thing I do" Alcina said as she marched off with her husband slowly suffocating in her breasts.

#resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu x male reader #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years ago

Text

Your Place

Akaashi x sister!reader

Author’s Note : This was originally gonna just be a short drabble but like.. I’ve thought of this before. So I changed it into a full fledged fic; Fukurōdani has a girls’ volleyball club ; Love hotels in Japan are pretty popular, especially in Tokyo, and happen to have kiosks to keep up the anonymity, while also offering options of staying overnight or for a few hours (generally 2-4). The rooms offer lots of options, including room service (including food and toys), such as jacuzzi, showers, massage chairs, King-sized bed, as well as a box of free condoms ; okay I don’t know if a butt plug can actually plug up a vagina and if it is even safe (it should be) so don’t take my words as fact! Please!

Warnings : Incest, noncon/dubcon, gaslighting, naïve and innocent reader, manipulation, alcohol, underaged drinking [legal age in Japan is 20], love hotels, Keiji wants lil sis to be his housewife, mating press, pussyjob, orgasm denial, overstimulation, sex toys [butt/anal plug, egg vibrator, hitachi wand vibrator], lots of Nii-sans used, breeding kink, no actual pregnancy (yet), fingering (f. receiving)

The roars of the crowd enters your ears as the ball bounces against the floor of the large stadium, the opposing players diving to receive the ball only to fail. Your team screams and cheers, everyone running to envelope the ace of your team, Akari, as she hugs everyone back. Screaming hurts your ears, yet you’re still doing it. Adrenaline rushes through you as the announcer claims your team with the victory and the announcement that you’ll be moving onto the next round, the finals of Nationals.

Your team lines up, shaking hands with the opposing team as congrats is shared between members. Once that is done, you all face the seats on both sides, bowing and thanking them for cheering you all on. When your eyes look into the stadium seats, they immediately catch the lidded eyes of Keiji, his hands clasped together as he smiles. The simple motion has your chest puffing with pride, tears sliding down your cheeks as you know you made him proud. With your position on the team, he’s the one who trained you to be the best setter the Fukurōdani girls’ volleyball club has ever had these last three years.

Once the moment is over, everyone is back at the hotel room and either on their laptops, phones, television, or asleep. When you exit the bathroom, your hair has been brushed and styled with a nice dress, accompanying the leggings and boots Keiji gifted you to wear. Akari whistles, her arm over your shoulder as she talks to you.

“Who you lookin’ so good for?” She pries, eyes tracing the lip gloss you put on.

“My brother. He requested me to wear something nice. He’s taking me to dinner,” a bit of heat is in your voice as you say that. Keiji’s always pampering you, he loves seeing you dolled up. It’s been like that since you were playing dress-up when he was 10 and you were 5. Akari’s gaze takes on a confused look, pursed lips as she processes your words.

“He’s always taking you somewhere nice after a good game, it feels like. Why don’t you ever invite us?” She finally says. Your head snaps up, looking in the mirror at yourself compared to Akari who is also looking at your face and outfit. It wasn’t glamorous in your eyes, but it suddenly dawns on you that it’s more than a brother should expect. The twist in your gut is ignored, your head shaking as you clear your head.

“He doesn’t know any of you guys. Plus, he’s an alumni. He’s always at our games,” your response isn’t what she was expecting, you’re sure of it. But the truth is, you don’t know why Keiji takes you out to nice restaurants or just on nice walks after games. It’s the few times he has off, always requesting off to be with you, cheering you on, his full support as your brother. Occasionally, he even brings along Bokuto, his best friend, who always congratulates you and asks to have you visit his own team someday. It’s a request that you always turn down, Keiji’s eyes taking on a dark glint that sends shivers down your spine at just the mere memory of them.

Akari leaves you alone after that, your time to get ready slowly coming to an end as your phone rings. It’s Keiji, of course, asking if you’re ready yet. “Almost, nii-san! I just need to get my coat and then I’ll head down.”

He’s at the lobby of the hotel, lounging in a chair as he swipes on his phone. He’s dressed as nicely as you are, black slacks with a nice white dress shirt, all under a large coat to keep out the cold. You bounce up to him, excited for the dinner. “You look beautiful, [Y/N],”

“Thank you! You know me so well, so it’s really all your doing,” you giggle, linking your hand in his offered elbow. It felt so right, being beside as you had been these past few years. Walking towards the restaurant, you didn’t even feel the ache in your ankles and balls of your feet from the heels nor the unmistakeable tension between the two of you. It just felt familiar and right to be in this position, sitting across from Keiji as he lets you gush about all the stuff going through your head during the match or even when you happened to be getting ready for the dinner. A shadow seems to settle over his face as you refer to it as such, just a dinner. You almost referred to it as a date, but quickly corrected yourself.

Tension hangs between you two, you having to force it away by breaking the silence Keiji brings. He’s usually much more talkative, praising you as he talks about what you did right and correcting you on things you did wrong, but never criticizing you too hard. Dinner ends, with Keiji paying the full bill without ever letting you know, saying that he simply cannot let a woman pay, regardless of situation. The champagne and wine he let you have a taste of lingers in your mouth, a burn in your throat from the bitter taste of alcohol. It’s not enough to get you drunk, but you do find yourself clinging to Keiji tighter, feet unstable and legs unreliable as he brings you back to the hotel.

He stops and even in your bubbly and hazy state, you can tell the hotel isn’t the same. “Come on, you need to rest,” he says, lips next to you ear as he ushers you inside. Upon entering the room, the lobby, you know it’s not the same. You panic, the alcohol making you less restrained in your actions as you go to tug on Keiji’s arm.

“Nii—”

“Ah, ah, Keiji, dear. Until we get back to your room,”

His usage of ‘your room’ has your nerves calming down, even as he uses his card to pay the kiosk and tap on the screen, buying something. A metal jingle comes from the bottom of the electronic, Keiji picking up the key to a room. Urging you along, you follow him to the elevator. The lack of people seems to enter your mind, confusing you as you glance around the spotlessly clean black elevator. A small voice enters your mind, telling you that the hotel’s elevators are supposed to be silver, shimmering in the light that shines down.

Keiji has to practically drag you into a room, the door shutting and clicking behind you as it locks. The room is spacious, a large tub in the corner of the room as the king-sized bed offers comfort and relaxation. Yet, you falter— unmoving, your voice seems to barely get out as you question your brother. “Where... where are we?”

“My room for the night, dear. You’re drunk, you need to rest,” his comforting words have you slowly shuffling towards the bed. The chair beside the bed seems too fancy for something in a normal hotel room, more adrenaline entering your veins as you panic from unfamiliarity.

“Nii-san, I don’t like this. Take me back to my room. Akari and Hana and-”

“Shut up, you little slut,” the venom in his words has you squeaking, your much smaller frame easily being pinned to the bed by Keiji’s much broader frame. “I’ve been generous this entire evening and all you’ve blabbered about is your team and your friends. What about me, huh? You haven’t even asked how I was doing the entire date,”

“Nii-san, stop!”

“Do I not hold the most importance in your life anymore? You used to be all over me, my sweet little sister that absolutely enjoyed being around me. Now you’re prancing around as if you have not a care in the world. That boy from the boys’ volleyball club seemed awfully close for comfort, don’t you think?”

“He-,” you once more falter, the brief images from after the game when the captain of the boys’ team congratulated all of you on the win. He wasn’t close to you, you were sure of it, but why would Keiji have been there? “He’s barely a friend, nii-san,”

“Not only that, but you always have that giggle and tendency to twirl your hair as you talk to Bokuto-san, your body moving closer to him as he would walk beside you. You barely acknowledge my existence anymore. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” the tears spill down your cheeks, a hiccup as he continues to say mean things. “I’m sorry,”

“You’ll be graduating soon and then you’re going to live with me. You’re going to live with me and be my little housewife. I’m going to make you completely mine, inside and out,” his breath is hot as it fans over your face, his grip strong as he continues to squeeze and hold your face. You’re unable to do anything, the fear from his words and actions has you frozen beneath him. As his words settle in, ice crawls through your veins as you realize your gut feeling, the tension between you two, everything you ignored for the past hour and a half had a reason for being there. His entire plan was to bring you here, but you’re unable to do much of anything against him — he’s always been stronger than you. When you were young, it was comforting, his arms holding you after a nightmare or even when your first friend moved to America, but now it just served to bring more tears to you eyes, your body forced to let him do what he wants to you.

Keiji’s quick to undress you, your coat being shed as he pushes your fancy dress up, the leggings, shoes, and panties being pulled off and left to fall on the floor. Tears continue to fall, chest heaving as you’re powerless to do anything. Even if you could find the energy to move and attempt get him off of you, it wouldn’t bring anything to fruition. “You’re so dry, are you not enjoying this?”

“No, nii-san. I’m not,” you’re honest with him, yet he doesn’t stop. Sitting back on his heels, he lets his eyes trail over your form. Before a thought can enter your mind to move, he’s pushing his weight on top of you as he grabs something the table beside him, a long metal rod emerging from the miniature dresser. He keeps you pinned, moving the rubber head down to your clit, pressing a button as it begins to vibrate. “Ah! Nii-san,” your muddled voice comes out, the sensation sending an unfamiliar tingling up your spine.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m going to make you feel even better. All you gotta do is relax, pretty girl,”

“I’m- I’m still- y-your—” your words die on your tongue, your gut twisting into a knot as the sensation turns pleasurable. You’ve never touched yourself, always being told by Keiji that only bad girls touched themselves, that whores and sluts did. Keiji-nii doesn’t like those kinds of girls, so you never dared to go against his wishes.

“Of course you are, baby. You’ll always be my pretty girl, even if I have to remind you exactly where you belong. I’ll remind you of your place,” his words stop there, but in your head his words continue. Silently, the words of ‘if you’ll let me’ enter, an unspoken question that asks for your consent. Yet, you don’t give him anything else. Your moans and mewls are all he gets, a hand grasping at the unbuttoned dress shirt still on him. A small smile paints along his lips, your vision going black as you roll your eyes. Before the knot can release, the vibrations are removed from your clit and you whine, aftershocks coursing through you.

Keiji’s voice is barely a whisper, under his breath, “I’ll give you something much better, don’t worry.” The vibrator is forgotten and discarded, his hands fumbling with his slacks as he pulls them down, along with the dark grey underwear. His cock springs free, hard and thick and long, you unconsciously scoot away as he strokes himself. “Don’t move away,”

“But it’s scary, nii-san,” you whimper, arms close to your chest as your head bumps against the headboard. He doesn’t say anything, using his hand to rub his cock’s tip against your folds. Contrary to earlier, you’re dripping wet as the wet smacks of his appendage against your skin has you clenching around nothing, more juices dripping out. Moving his hips back and forth, he adds another sensation on your clit as he thrusts in between your folds. His tip catches onto the hood of your folds, brushing against the overly sensitive nerves as you whine and mewl at each move he makes.

“You’re so nice and slick for me, it won’t hurt. It just seems scary, look,” he forces you to do just that, hand gripping your hair as he forces you to look at his cock. The underside of it is glistening with your slick, absolutely dripping with you as it slides down to his base and over his balls. “It’s just in your mind, it won’t hurt. Don’t you trust me?”

“But nii-san, I don’t want this,” it’s not what he wants to hear, you’re sure of it. Yet he says nothing. A sigh finally breaks the silent tension as he rubs his finger against your cunt, two fingers slipping in until they can’t anymore. You’re tight, you know you are, clenching around only two of his fingers.

“If you didn’t want this, you would still be dry. You wouldn’t be squeezing my fingers so snugly. This is your body saying it wants this, don’t you remember what I said?”

Of course you don’t, he says a lot to you, so you shake your head. Another sigh.

“You need to listen to your body. It knows you better than you know yourself. I know you better than you do, you know,” his words ring true, his fingers continuing to pump themselves into you as he talks. Eventually, the feeling is no longer unfamiliar, the sensation pleasing as you moan. He smiles at that, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead as his fingers retract themselves. Using the slick on them, he rubs them against his cock to use as lube.

Pushing his tip into you is scary, but it’s not painful. As he sinks further into you, it becomes much more painful. The room must be soundproof, since Keiji keeps pushing in without trying to make you stop your screaming. He does, however, lean down to press his lips to your tear-stained cheeks as you squeeze him. He groans, his hips rutting against you. “You’re fine, stop screaming. Stop being so pathetic,”

His harsh words have your screams silencing, tears and sniffles as your walls flutter around him. It still hurts, it burns, it stings, it’s more painful than anything you’ve ever dealt with before. Before you can manage to get adjusted, Keiji is pushing your legs up to your chest, somehow making himself feel deeper than he actually is. The feeling of being crushed is back once more, his hips rearing back only to come back down against your skin. The scream from your throat is more of a moan, nails digging into the back of Keiji’s neck and teasing the small hairs as he pistons his cock into your cunt.

It’s a tight fit, the way you’re sucking him in and squeezing him with every thrust. Keiji’s balls slap against your slick ass, cunt squelching with each pump of his cock into you as more juices are forced out. His own moans and grunts of pleasure are drowning in the wave of mewls, squeals, and moans spilling from your lips. The feeling from before is back, the knot in your tummy as he rubs his cock against the inside of your walls and instead of being denied once more, the knot finally snaps as you cream all around his cock, accompanying a squeal of his name.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock, let me know how good you feel,” he chuckles, picking up his pace as you continue to suck him in. A garbled call of ‘nii-san!’ leaves your lips, the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against you and his thick cock against your fluttering walls has you creaming around him once more. A sound akin to a growl comes from his throat, leaning even further forwards as he gets himself as deep as he can go, the hair at the base of his cock rutting against your sensitive clit. “I’m going to fill you with my seed and you’re going to have my babies, okay?”

“No, nii-san, I don’t want that!” You cries are ignored, your body continuing to clamp around his cock as he shoots his load into you. The feeling of being full and so warm inside has your eyes rolling, drool spilling from your open mouth as you gush around him, clear liquid splashing against his abdomen.

Once the high has passed, he removes his cock from you, keeping you in that position. You don’t dare speak, unsure you’ll be able to as your throat burns from all the screaming and cries. A metal object briefly enters your vision, the object being inserted into your pussy that drips with your brother’s seed, milky white and thick.

“If you keep it all inside, I’ll give you another treat, okay? You wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, but he does take out another object. “You need to keep having an orgasm, I’ll make sure you feel real good, okay?” A medium-sized egg-shaped object enters your ass, another stinging pain from the insertion. Another round of vibrations start, your legs shaking as you mewl, head thrown back as you feel another orgasm quickly coming on. “You’ll be a good little housewife for me, won’t you? Swollen with my child and your pussy will be all for me, you know this, don’t you?”

Of course you do, regardless whether your mind agrees with you or not. He’s your nii-san and he knows best.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #akaashi x reader #Mr. Keiji #BB.Kinky #BB.Dark #BB.Requests #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.alcohol #tw.manipulation #tw.incest #tw.gaslighting #tw.degradation #tw.breeding #tw.pregnancy #cw.pregnancy #cw.alcohol #cw.overstimulation

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mav-tomcat-f14 · 2 years ago

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Ch 6 - Playing With The Boys - Top Gun Mav and Rose (OC) story.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- A/N WC - 3102 Sorry for any Spelling or Grammar mistakes Please leave feedback good or Bad I do not mind. Playing with the boys part list and summary ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next couple of weeks went by fast, Flying then some lessons, debriefing, more flying, then study time, and nights at the Bar. Then doing it all over again, it was easy to get into the rhythm of it.

Things with BullDog have not been going well. I always seem to be doing something wrong every time I get in the cockpit. I expect him to grill me. Stress is gone, right? But I was wrong. After we first got Jester, I went to high-five him when we landed. He went over to Hollywood, WolfMan, and Slider to celebrate.

Mav and Goose dragged me to the bar that night to celebrate, drinking and playing a game of darts, which I was terrible at, but it was still fun. Iceman even came over offering to buy me a drink as a well done. Mav being Mav, asked him what he was up to, thinking Iceman was trying something when he was not,

Iceman has kept his word about what we talked about on the tarmac, and I’ve kept mine.

Today was just like any other we were flying in the morning, and everyone got their ass kicked by Viper. The man is a beast when it comes to flying. It turned into the last man standing more than anyone trying to get him, not that we did not try, I had Mav as my wingman, and we tried everything we could think of to outsmart him, but nothing worked, but in the end, instead of being upset about it we just laughed.

Our debriefing after that went on for some time, going over what we could have done better, learning that sometimes it’s best to bug out than to stay in the fight when you know you won’t win, best to go home and fight another day.

Lunch was fun. Myself, Mav, and Goose headed to a place close to the beach. We all got burgers and chips, not the healthiest thing. Still, they tasted so good, sitting in a small both Goose by himself and Mav next to me with his arm over the back of the back, stealing some of my chips since he ate all his. As we ate, Goose could not stop talking about how Carole and Bradley were coming to visit. He looked like a kid the night before x-mas, his face all bright. It made me happy to see him like that, but I was also excited. I love seeing them two. Carole is a fantastic sister-in-law, even if she does tease me about Mav, and Bradly is just the cutest nephew anyone could ask for.

Now in a quiet classroom part from the sound of an arm of fans cooling the room down in the San Diego heat, sitting at a table close to one of the open windows with Mav as Goose was off doing other stuff, I sat sideways on a chair next to him, leaning my back on his side which he did not mind, with my feed up on another chair bending my legs to use them to place my textbook on to read, as my notebook sat on the table net to me so I can write in, my left hand playing with my pen and my right hand fanning myself with a pace of paper I accordion folded into a make makeshift fan.

We talked now and then, I would ask him questions about something I read and what would be the best way to go about it, and he helped me, turning his head to read my textbook over my shoulder before talking things over with me, I find Mav to be a good teacher, he's not one to give you the answer right away. Still, he gives you hints to help you work it out yourself.

Charlie was in the room as well sometimes, she’ll be at the desk reading or writing stuff down, or she is walking up and down the classroom checking in on people.

Slader was sitting at a table in fount of us, playing with one of the demonstration jet models as he had headphones on, listening to his portable cassette player. He looked around at us now and then, sending me a wink if I ever happened to look up to see him looking, Or he commented how I should come and sit next to him, that he makes a better back nest than Mav to which I just give him the finger, before going back to reading. Mav tells him to Shh and turns around.

I could hear Charlie's high heel tapping on the floor as she walked around, coming close to our table for what felt like the tenth time.

“A rolling Reversal would work well in that situation.”

I heard her say as she stopped. I slightly move my head to look over my shoulder to see her standing there looking down at Mav’s books. I felt Mav move the arm I was sort of lean on as he talked back to her,

“But if I reversed on a head cross, I could immediately go to guns on them,”

He replied, to which I nodded in agreement even if am not part of the conversation,

“Yeah, but at that speed, it’s too fast. It’s a little bit too aggressive.”

Charlie commented. As she did, I could see her love Mav up and down, making me roll my eyes. I am starting to think she now into him when she said at the Bar she was not, and also, This is Mav we are talking about. This man does not know how to do anything slowly. I learned that the hard way, when he took me on his back for the first time speeding down the roads, the speed limit to him is just a goal he thinks he needs to go over.

“Too Aggressive, Yeah, I guess when I see something, I go right after it,”

I wanted to throw up at Mav's replies, but because I wanted to keep my food down, I went with nudging him in his ribs with my elbow and pretending it was by mistake as I tried to readjust myself on my set. Was it a childish jealous move? Yes, do I care no,

Mav just turned to look at me, telling me it was ok with his bright smile. I just smiled back before looking up at Charlie, who was writing something but looked up now and then,

“Maybe that would not happen if you were not sitting like that”

She said without looking at us. Mav just laughed, turning his head to look at me as I still had my head turned around,

“No, she fine, just where she is.”

To say my face did not start to heat up at his words would be a lie. I needed to look away in the hops no one saw, but as I did, I caught eyes with Slider, who was smiling like a made man at me. I mouthed “Fuck off” to him, which only made him smile bigger,

Charlie did not say anything after that as she pleased down the paper she was writing on; hearing her walk away, I looked around again to see Mav holding a piece of paper with red writing.

“Dinner tonight 5;30 sharp, 100 laurel blach……. Leave the Shadow”

I could not stop the small laugh from my mouth when I read it. I’m guessing I am the Shadow, but it also made me laugh remembering Iceman's words to me on the tarmac calling Mav my shadow.

“I thought she was not interested.”

I tell Mav as I look at my watch to see that the day is almost over. I moved off him as I closed up my books,

“I guess she changed her mind after seeing how well I can fly.”

I shocked my head at his comments before hitting his shoulder,

“Your so full of yourself, Also Shadow? I’m a shadow now. How lovely”

I said out, not really asking him but just pointing it out. Mav smiled as he folded up Charlie's little love note placing it inside his book before stacking all his tuff up, reaching for his garrison cap and tucking it under his belt before picking his stuff up,

“You a lovely shadow Rose,”

I just rolled my eyes at him,

“Don’t try and sweet talk me. It won’t work. It’s not aggressive enough.”

I comment as I walk past him, hearing him hurry up behind. I then felt something pull on my belt, making me stop as a hard chest walks into my back,

“You love it.”

Mav’s voice said dangerously close to my ear. That hot feeling was coming back again,

“Hey, Mav, you ready to crash and burn in our volleyball game later.”

Slider shouted, making Mav leave me, walking over to slider, lending on his table, taking one sniff of the air before telling Slider that he stank, making the person sitting in front of him laugh, as Mav walked back to me with a big smirk on his face I could see Slider sniffing his armpit behind him,

“You coming?”

Mav asked me once we were out of the room,

“Coming to what?”

“The volleyball game”

“Are you inviting me to watch you shirtless and sweaty running around in the sand, hitting a ball over a net with other shirtless sweary men?”

I teased him as I was already going. Mav nodded his head,

“You know how to show a girl a good time, don’t you.”

“That not the only good time I can show a girl.”

His comment caught me off guard, making me chock on air. I breathed in wrong as my face started to heat up for the third time that day. Patting my back, Mav just laughed.

“I don’t need to know about that, Mav, but Charlie mite.”

I speak out once I get my breath, at the Mav just surged his shoulder, making a funny face before doing his usual putting his arm over my shoulder as we walked down the hall,

Mav gave me a lift home on his bike, splitting way as I went to get a shower, and he wanted to change before heading to the beach, saying there was no point having a shower now when he was just going to get all sweaty again, I told him to go on a head that I’ll be there soon,

I took my time to have a cold shower, one to cool myself down from Mav's comments and being so close to me, and also hot today.

Putting on a pair of denim shorts with a white t-shite and trainers, putting my sunglasses on, I head off to the beach. I could see IceMan, Slider, WolfMan, and Hollywood grouped together talking by Iceman car as Mav and Goose were sitting at the bottom of one of the bleachers. I walked over, coming up behind Goose, sporting shorts and a t-shirt. I tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump,

“God dame id Rosie don’t do that.”

He called out, placing a hand over his heart. I laugh, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek,

“Sorry, Goosie, but I could not help myself.”

I tell him as I sit down on a set up from them. Mav looks me up and down as he sits with his favorite blue jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Where mine?”

I looked at him for a moment, thinking if I should do it. I wanted to but should I when he would be having dinner with Charlie in a couple of hours? Against my best judgment, I did it anyway, leaning forward and kissing his cheek a little too close to his lips.

“Happy?”

I ask, to which he nods his head. I could see Goose looking between us, smiling a little. I wondered if Mav had told him about his dinner date. Before I could ask, Iceman shouted over to Mav, asking if he and Goose were ready,

“Good luck”

I tell them as they get up, Mav pulling off his t-shirt right in found of me, asking me to keep an eye on it. How can I do that when all I want to do is look at him shirtless? God, I feel like a silly school girl that saw a man shirtless for the first time,

I was so into watching the boys play that I had not seen or heard Hollywood coming up behind me until I felt the cold feeling of water being poured all over me, making me jump up and spin around to see him running off laughing at Wolfman, what a fucking prick, I looked down to see that the water has got on to the front of my t-shirt and of course White and water are not the best mixes I could see my sports brat cleary throw it,

Feeling self-conscious, I say back down, wrapping my arms around myself and bringing my knees up to my chest, trying to hide the front of my body as much as possible. I’ve never been one for showing off too much skin. Shorts are acceptable, but up top, no thanks,

After winning a game, Mav and Goose returned to sit and drink. Goose flopped down, taking a bottle of water and almost doing it in one go as Mav looked at me, clearly seeing the socking wet top. It's not like Mav has not seen me naked before. Me, he, and Goose, when skinny dipping once or twice back in flight school, we were crazy, still are.

“What happened to you?”

His asking Made Goose look around at me as well,

“Hollywood poured water over me. Now my shirt is see-through.”

I felt silly saying it, I could see Mav looking around the place as if looking for Hollywood, but when he could not, he looked back at me again, picking up his shirt and Bommern jacket, taking hold of my hand and pulling me with him,

Letting go of my hand once we were behind a small beach shed, Mav handed me his shirt and Held up his bomber jacket like he wanted to put it on me,

“What?”

“Put the shirt on. I’ll hold this up to give you some cover.”

Did my heart almost want just out of my chest as how sweet he was being? Yes, it did. I looked at his shirt and then at him to see that he had his head turned away,

“Not like you not seen it before, may.”

I comment as I pull off my wet shirt, using what was still dry to wipe my chest down, before pulling moves over my head, and the moment I did, my nose was filled with his scent, making me dizzy.

“I know I have but am still a gentleman, but if you want me to look, just say the word sweetheart.”

His words were not helping me right now. Why am I like this? How come I have spent years doing so good at suppressing my feeling for him, but now going to top gun that all gone away? Could it be because of Charlie and seeing Mav with her at the Bar and now her asking him to dinner,

“I’m done.”

I tell him in a small voice, embarrassed at how my body was reacting and how oversized his shirt was on me.

“You always look good in my stuff.”

God, please stop,

“Mav, where are you? We got another game to play.”

Goose shouted, saving me from having to say anything back to Mav. Walking around, Mav threw his bomber jacket back on his set as I sat down, taking a bottle of water out of the cooler and, boing the same as Goose and down the whole bottle in one,

As the game went on, I could see Mav checking his watch now and then. I knew what he was counting down to, and I hated myself for feeling jealous. I should be happy Mav got a date, but I can’t, and I hate myself for wanting to hate Charlie. I should not be feeling that she has done nothing wrong, apart from asking the man I’ve had a crush on for years out, but I guess that what I get for doing nothing about my feeling, this is the universe's way of saying you had your chance now watch someone else talk it,

They were halfway in a game when Mav came running over, followed by Goose, picking up his jacket as if he was going to put it on, but he stopped. I could see his eyes on me through his sunglasses. He just looked at me as I looked back at him, trying to keep my eyes on his, but my eyes betrayed, moving down to look at his hot, sweaty, covered in sand chest that looked so sexy,

“Hey man, where you are going? We still got a game to play”

Goose asked him. Mav then places his jacket back down, opening the color box that was under it,

“I was just getting a drink. I could not wait till the end of the game.”

Mav replied, pulling a bottle out, opening and taking a mouth full of water before closing it back up and placing it back in the cooler. As he was about to run off, he kissed my cheek,

“A Good luck kiss, Ice and Slier are burning us.”

He said before running off. I just laughed at him before shouting,

“I thought a good luck kiss was the other way around.”

“I’m trying something new.”

That was all he said before getting right back into the game. I looked down at my watch to see the time. My eyes widened when I saw that it was 5;40 knowing Mav was late for his Date. Looking up, I saw Mav looking at me, so I tapped my Watch. He then looked at his watch and just shrugged his shoulder and winked at me,

Is this man about to keep playing a game and not go on a date. Should I be mad? He is blowing off a date to play around in the sand, but all I can do is laugh. Part of me did feel sorry for Charlie, but if she is going to get mad, Mav is the one getting it. He can’t say I did not tell him the time.

#top gun #pete maverick mitchell #top gun 1986 #pete mitchell #Maverick #Pete Mitchell x OC #Maverick x OC

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xjoonchildx · 4 years ago

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guilty | knj x reader | final chapter: is something burning?

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, SMUT WARNINGS APPLY in this chapter sorry i’m yelling stressed!joon, sweaty!joon, sober!joon all make an appearance

rating: 18+

word count: 7.9K

notes: okay, so i stressed a bit about this chapter. i got really in my head over it, but i hope it ends in a way that’s satisfying to all of you guys. i’ve heard from some of the most amazing readers about this story -- i appreciate you all so much and i’d love to hear from you about how you feel about the ending.

special love to the best beta hands down periodt amen @hobi-gif, the lady who inspired it all with her adorable brand of namjoon thirst @sahmfanficbts, and three people who mean the world to me point blank period @ladyartemesia @ppersonna @taetaewonderland

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

*************************

There’s this thing that happens when you’re getting over a cold.

Slowly -- as your breathing returns to normal -- you can taste again. Your head clears and your senses come back to life and you savor everything you eat like it’s the best thing you’ve ever had. Your appetite returns.

And all at once, you are starving.

That’s what it’s like after Namjoon touches you.

All he had to do was cup your face in one large, warm hand and it feels like your entire body has been jump-started. Like parts of you that have been dormant for years are now awake, nerve endings exposed and aching. Like all the tiny pieces of you that have been scattered and lost for so long are now found and fitting back together.

For the first time in a long time you remember what it feels like to want.

It’s not like you didn’t know you cared for Namjoon. You knew it deep down in the way you took pride in providing for his needs. You knew it in the way it made you feel to see appreciation reflected back in his dark eyes.

But you didn’t understand how much you wanted him until that night in his office.

In those few charged moments, Namjoon made you feel more desired with his gaze than other men have with their hands. You let down your guard and allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to touch him, to be touched by him. You let yourself embrace the fantasy of being his in every way.

And then it was over.

Whatever spell he was under was broken and whatever existed in the air between you evaporated. The hunger in his eyes turned into remorse and you’d left his office on trembling legs, reeling from the whiplash of it all.

Today, you stare out at the window across from your desk, unable to suppress the hurt that grips your chest. You can barely concentrate on the numbers on the sheet in front of you, mind replaying the events in that office.

Namjoon should never have touched you.

He should never have roused the parts of you that had been long forgotten between doctors visits and pharmacy runs. He should never have made you feel things no other man ever has or probably ever will.

And he should have never let you believe, even for one second, that he could care for you the way you do for him.

He should have just left you alone.

*********************

No one ever tells you that when you devote your life to caring for someone else’s needs, yours end up falling by the wayside. That who you are ends up diminished somehow, buried underneath the weight of responsibility and worry.

Jinjoo finds you sitting in the chair next to your mother’s bed, staring at one lock of hair threaded through your fingers. You’re frowning at the split ends you’ve not had a chance to tend to, the ones you hide by keeping your hair pulled back.

She sweeps into the room, carrying a bowl of kimchi.

“It’s Saturday. The sun is shining and you should go out. Maybe to the salon, hmm?”

You glance up just as she’s placing the food on a tray at the foot of your mother’s bed. She smiles to soften the blow of her observation and you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at her well-meaning meddling. It’s nice to be fussed over for a change.

“I can’t even remember the last time I went to the salon,” you admit, eyes locking on an unsightly chip in your nail polish. “I usually end up cutting it myself.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Jinjoo scolds, hands on hips. “Today I want you to go out and do something just for you. Go and get the works. You’re far too young to be stuck in this house all the time.”

You consider her offer for a moment. Here in the quiet of your mother’s room it’s far too easy to let your mind wander back to the encounter with Namjoon. Far too easy to dwell on the ache that surfaces every time you remember.

“Go on, Ttal.”

You turn in the direction of your mother’s voice and find her stirring from her nap. She places one soft hand over yours and squeezes. “She’s right. Go take some time away. I’ll be fine here with Jinjoo.”

“See?” Jinjoo waves a hand to shoo you out of the chair. You stand and she immediately takes your place in the seat. “Your mother agrees. Now go. And buy something pretty to wear while you’re at it.”

You look from her to your mother and see both women wearing matching expressions of encouragement.

You decide they’re right.

So you spend the rest of your day pampering yourself and shopping and definitely not thinking about Kim Namjoon.

You don’t think about him when you read the book he recommended to you once at the salon, you don’t think about him when you stop for a bite at his favorite Tteokbokki stand and you definitely don’t think about him when you buy a new sweater that makes you feel beautiful.

You definitely don’t think about him at all.

*****************************

NAMJOON

Kim Namjoon’s father was a pig.

A glutton of the worst kind, he hoarded money and guns and drugs and because no one ever tried to stop him. He used and abused everything and everyone just because he could.

Namjoon hated to watch the sadistic games his father played with people. He hated that the man seemed to direct the worst of his cruelty at the women in his life.

Namjoon’s own sister left everything behind to escape his violence and abuse and somehow his father was even more vicious with the women he bedded and discarded at random. He dangled things like money and security and love in front of them like bait, only to yank it all away on a whim.

That’s why Namjoon has worked so hard his entire life to prove to others -- to prove to himself -- that he’s better than the piece of shit who raised him.

That’s why the look on your face in his office that night cut so deep.

That look pierced straight through the lust and the scotch clouding his judgement and forced him to step back and see the situation for what it was. It made him feel sick to think he might have made you feel like his help came with conditions. That he’d done what he had expecting you to give yourself to him in return.

He couldn’t allow you to think he’d use his money to try and buy you. That’s something his father would have done.

And Kim Namjoon is not his fucking father.

So this morning he finds himself walking towards your desk, determined to make it right. You don’t register his approach as you work quietly and Namjoon has a quick moment to take you in.

There’s something different about you.

Namjoon can’t put his finger on it, but when he gets close enough for you to notice his presence and you glance up at him from under those long lashes, you look changed somehow.

Rested. Radiant.

The second you register that it’s him though, the look on your face changes. You stand up from your chair, expression shuttered, tone formal.

“Mister Kim,” you murmur. “How can I help you this morning?”

“Please sit,” Namjoon starts quietly. “I, uh --” He digs his nails into his palm, annoyed with the hesitation in his delivery. Spit it out, you moron.

“-- I owe you an apology.”

Your lips part in surprise before you close your mouth, sinking slowly back into your chair.

Namjoon rubs one hand across the back of his neck, stealing a sideways glance at Seokjin’s office door. It remains closed and he’s glad for it. The last thing he’d want is an audience for this embarrassing exchange.

“The other night I was --” he clears his throat awkwardly. Loaded. Horny. Stupid.

He eventually lands on a less damning adjective. “-- not entirely appropriate with you.”

You blink back but keep quiet so Namjoon keeps talking.

“I shouldn’t have acted that way,” he acknowledges weakly. “That’s not normally how I treat my employees. And I’m sorry.”

Spots of color appear in your cheeks.

“Well as your employee, I admit it wasn’t appropriate for me to just turn up in your office without notice, either,” you reply quietly. “I think I was just shocked by your generosity. It’s a lot of money, and I --”

“-- Don’t think anything of it,” Namjoon interjects quickly. “You’ve saved me that amount and more with your audits. It only made sense to repay you for your efforts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Namjoon knows it immediately. It’s not the truth -- not by a mile -- and judging by the look that passes over your face, it’s definitely not what you wanted to hear.

“Mister Kim.”

“Yes?” Namjoon replies, only to realize that you are now looking past him and that he’s not the only one answering.

He turns slowly to find Seokjin standing behind him, wearing an expression halfway between curiosity and scrutiny. Namjoon’s nails dig back into his palms, leaving tiny indents in the skin.

“Good morning,” you continue, turning your attention fully to Seokjin. Seokjin looks between you and Namjoon before answering.

“Good morning to you, too,” he says slowly.

“If you’re ready to go over the new audits, I have more information to cover with you,” you say, pointing at the papers riddled with notes on your desk. Namjoon stands there like an idiot, watching the two of you interact like he’s not even there.

“Sure,” Seokjin agrees, eyes darting back to Namjoon. “Let’s go ahead and get into the numbers.”

“Great,” you say with a smile, standing to organize your papers into a folder.

You look back at Namjoon like he’s an afterthought and the realization stings. “If that was all you needed, I’ve got some work to handle now.”

The nails in his palm are this close to drawing blood.

He cuts his eyes at Seokjin who immediately looks away.

“Certainly,” he says under his breath. “Let me not keep you.”

You turn your back on him to head into Seokjin’s office.

***********************

Namjoon stares out at the setting sun from his office window.

He’s spent the last few days hiding out in here, avoiding everything and everyone. Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin -- his phone keeps lighting up with calls he won’t answer. His already black mood darkens every time his mind replays the seemingly endless string of disastrous exchanges with you.

He still can’t figure out how he’s managed to fuck things up so royally.

He still can’t figure out why he didn’t just tell you the truth about the money and about Jinjoo. He should have just admitted outright that for once he wanted to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. He should have just admitted that you mean something to him.

That’s the real reason why things are so screwed up right now.

It would be so simple if this was just about sex. It would be so simple if Namjoon could just get you into bed and get you out of his system. But you’re not Mina or Yejin or any of the others.

You’re not like any woman he’s ever known.

Namjoon leans back into his chair just as his cell phone lights again and he grabs it just long enough to reject the call before tossing it back onto his desk. He rubs his fingers across his mouth and watches the sun fall behind the nearby skyscrapers.

You deserve so much more than he is capable of giving you.

You deserve happiness and security and certainty. What you don’t deserve is to be toyed with by a man who doesn’t know what his future looks like. A man who’s still so damaged by his own upbringing that he worries he’ll never be capable of being a decent husband and father.

Truthfully, Namjoon doesn’t know which scenario scares him more.

The one where he tries -- and fails -- to give you the things you need, or the one where he drifts through the rest of his life anchored to no one and nothing.

The sound of an incoming text interrupts his maudlin thoughts.

Namjoon reaches for his phone and sighs as he reads the waiting message.

reservations at doore yoo, 8 PM [ 6:32 PM ]

join me [ 6:32 PM ]

it’s been too long [ 6:33 PM ]

***********************

“Mister Kim.”

The Maitre’d at Doore Yoo bows in Namjoon’s direction, flashing a wide smile. “A pleasure to have you back.”

“Thank you Sungho,” Namjoon murmurs, scanning the crowded dining room. “Is she waiting for me?”

“She is,” Sungho confirms.

Namjoon follows him past the tables packed with patrons to the exclusive dining area hidden away in the back. This is his regular table, inside his regular private room -- but when Sungho slides the door open, Namjoon stops short and nearly tells the man he’s made a mistake.

The young woman waiting for him inside is unrecognizable.

From the back, Namjoon can see that her dark hair has been swept into a careful updo, shoulders and skin bared in a delicate spaghetti-strap top. But that can’t be right.

Because she would never --

“Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon’s sister lifts her chin and smiles as he steps around the table.

He catches himself staring, momentarily thrown by the sight in front of him. It’s the first time in his life he can recall seeing his sister wearing something that doesn’t cover the jagged scar that crosses her collarbone. The scar that she’s spent a lifetime hiding, ashamed of the way it made her look and feel. At once, the realization hits him -- the hundreds of different ways she’s changed, big and small since falling in love with Hoseok.

Every last one of them for the better.

“Amsaja, you look -- ” Namjoon pauses to brush a kiss across her cheek, “ -- wonderful.”

She flushes.

“Thank you. Now sit,” she orders kindly, reaching for her wine glass. “For a minute there I thought you might not show.”

Namjoon exhales, sinking into his seat.

“For a minute there, I almost didn’t,” he admits. “It’s been a shitty week.”

His sister says nothing, smiling like a sphinx as a server appears to offer Namjoon his own drink.

“Club soda on ice,” Namjoon orders quietly. “Thanks.”

Her poker face slips then, one eyebrow lifting in surprise at seeing him forgo his usual scotch. She sips her wine thoughtfully before speaking.

“Talk to me, Namjoon.”

“There’s little to talk about,” he deflects irritably, staring past her to the art on the walls.

“Hoseok says you’ve barely left your office. Won’t take his calls.”

Namjoon grits his teeth, hackles raising immediately.

“Tell Hoseok he should work on his pillow talk,” he says sharply, and the second the words leave his mouth he regrets them. Namjoon sees the change in his sister’s demeanor, watches her eyes sharpen from across the table.

“Forgive me,” he apologizes quickly. “That was uncalled for. I’m fucking things up left and right these days, it seems.”

His sister stares back at him. Namjoon knows that face, knows she’s now opted to abandon her charm offensive for a more direct approach. He knows it’s exactly what he deserves for being an asshole.

“That’s my understanding, yes,” she says tightly. “As smart as you are, you seem to be doing some very stupid shit lately.”

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, cheeks warming at her rebuke.

“You’re right,” he admits. “But I’m going to need you to be more specific about which stupid shit you want to talk about tonight.”

“Don’t be dense,” his sister scolds. “Clearly, you’re tied up in knots over your assistant. Oh, I’m sorry -- I mean former assistant.”

Namjoon’s defeated sigh hangs in the air for a moment.

“Is that what Hoseok says?”

“That’s what everyone says,” his sister fires back. “You think you’re such a mystery but I assure you, you’re actually quite transparent. Sending her away to work for Seokjin? Hiring a private nurse? Good grief, Namjoon. Real subtle.”

Shit, he wishes he had a scotch right now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to explain to me why you’re playing this stupid game of push and pull with this woman. If you care about her, do something about it instead of lashing out at everyone around you because you’re angry with yourself.”

“She’s not --” Namjoon falters as he searches for a proper explanation, “-- she has a complicated life right now. I’m just trying to help her the only way I know how.”

His sister leans back in her chair, wine glass tipped in his direction.

“You know what I think? I think you like her too much and I think that’s freaking you out. And I think you’re going to miss out on a good thing because you won’t get your head out of your ass.”

Namjoon stares back at his sister.

“I think you might be right,” he concedes, after a heavy silence.

“Namjoon, I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” his sister says quietly. “Whatever you’re feeling, she’s feeling it too.”

He knows that’s true. It’s been damned near impossible not to feel the charged air between you, impossible not to share passing looks and fleeting touches while working in such close quarters. When he looks at you he knows instinctively that you feel the same pull. It’s only made his precarious position that much harder.

“I just --” he shakes his head as he tries to justify his inaction, “-- I have no idea what I’m offering her. I don’t know what I’m capable of giving her. Beyond money, of course.”

His sister laughs.

Namjoon waits for her to collect herself, ears warm with embarrassment. He resists the childish impulse to kick her under the table.

“Is that funny to you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” she teases. “You have no idea what you have to offer her? You’re one of the most powerful men in this city, Namjoon. There’s nothing you couldn’t offer her.”

The server arrives with dumplings and sets them in the middle of the table, and his sister reaches for one.

“If she’s this important to you, I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her,” she continues. “Stop overthinking this. You’re a good man. Everything else is icing on the cake.”

“I haven’t acted like a good man lately,” he confesses, shaking his head. “She came to my office a few nights ago and I acted like a drunk, groping asshole. Like father, like son.”

His sister sets her wine glass down, hard.

“You’re nothing like our father, Namjoon,” she says, eyes flashing with anger. “Quit telling yourself you don’t deserve happiness out of some misguided, misplaced guilt. And whatever happened in that office can be fixed. If you want to fix it.”

Namjoon watches the bubbles in his club soda surface and break. He does want to fix it. He wants to figure out a way to stop fucking everything up where you’re concerned.

“I do,” he admits.

“Have you apologized?”

“Awkwardly. Not sure that it helped my case.”

“Then I think you need to offer her the one thing that’s more valuable than your money, Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow at his sister.

“What’s that?”

She plucks a dumpling off the plate with her chopsticks and points it at him.

“Give her your time.”

****************************

YOU

It’s freezing tonight.

You wrap your arms around yourself and brace against the biting wind as you approach your family home. You’re dead on your feet, worn after a long day at the office -- and for the thousandth time since her arrival you silently give thanks for Jinjoo.

Knowing your mother is taken care of while you’re gone and coming back to a clean home and warm meals has eased your burdens immeasurably.

Of course, it’s all really thanks to Kim Namjoon -- but that’s something you’re not allowing your mind to dwell on right now. You’ve worked hard over the past few days to push any thought of that man back to the furthest recesses of your mind.

You’re peeling out of your scarf and coat in the foyer when a laugh echoes down the long hallway. It’s the sound of your mother’s laugh -- clear in a way you haven’t heard in a very long time -- and it’s definitely not coming from her room.

“Eomma?” you call out as you walk towards the sound. A peal of Jinjoo’s laughter rings out next and you smile, following it.

You round the corner to the living room and your mouth drops open when you spot your mother, fully dressed for the first time in ages, sitting on the formal couch. Jinjoo is seated next to her, both women smiling and laughing at --

Oh God.

Namjoon stands from his seat on the opposite couch when your eyes meet his. His cheeks are pinked from the cold, hair tousled from the wind, and he looks so handsome that for a moment you forget how to think.

“Welcome home,” he says, dimples emerging from his slow, careful smile.

You stare back at him, rooted to the spot. Your face warms when you realize that every single eye in the room is trained on you, awaiting your next move.

“Do you -- ” Namjoon clears his throat, “ -- do you think I could have a minute of your time?”

“What are you doing here?” you say, blowing right past his question.

Jinjoo makes a disapproving sound under her breath.

“Ttal,” your mother interjects with a tone that borders very close to warning, “Mister Kim came by to talk to you. He kept the two of us company until you came home.”

You turn to look at her and -- is she wearing lipstick?

“Yes,” Namjoon adds quickly, turning the warmth of his smile back to your mother and Jinjoo. “And they’ve been wonderful company. Thank you, ladies.”

The two of them titter like schoolgirls enjoying the attention of the most popular boy in school while you just stare.

And stare.

“Ttal?”

Your mother’s voice breaks through your mental fog. You look back at her and Jinjoo and both women appear to be holding their breath, awaiting your response. Jinjoo’s eyes are pleading when they meet yours, silently begging you to play nice.

You turn back to Namjoon slowly.

“One minute.”

“Great,” he breathes, shoving a hand through his hair.

“Not here.”

The words come out more sharply than you’d intended and your mother’s eyes go wide. Jinjoo sighs.

“What I mean to say,” you start again, delivery clumsy, “Is that we should probably step outside.”

“Of course,” Namjoon agrees.

You will your leaden legs and feet to cooperate as you turn to leave, grabbing your coat from the foyer closet on the way. You slip it on and lead Namjoon out to the front porch, immediately wincing at the bitter cold that greets you.

The door clicks shut and you burrow deep into your coat, turning to face him. You force yourself to ignore the warmth that blossoms in your chest when his mouth curves into a soft smile.

“Your mother seems to be doing well tonight,” Namjoon notes. “I’m glad to see it.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he can just show up here on a whim -- looking like that, talking like that.

Charming everyone in his path.

“Namjoon, I’m going to ask again. What are you doing here?”

The smile on his face falls and he looks skyward, exhaling a puff of steam into the cold night air.

”I’m here to come clean,” he confesses quietly. “Thought I might do this new thing where I try not to act like an idiot around you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, stomach fluttering wildly in response.

A lock of his hair falls over his eye when he looks back down and you smother the urge to brush it back, hands balling into fists in your pockets.

“Thought I might do this new thing where I just tell you the truth.”

You’ve tried so hard these past few days to be angry with him, to use your hurt feelings like a wall around your heart. But you can’t anymore. He looks down at you with those huge, dark eyes and your grudge falls apart.

“I care about you,” he admits. “I’ve been stumbling over my own feet for weeks because I didn’t know how to approach you about it. And then that night in the office,” he trails off, looking pained. “That is not how I intended to treat you.”

A gust of wind blows through and you curl into yourself, teeth chattering. Namjoon pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Please don’t,” you protest weakly. “You’ll freeze.”

“I won’t,” he promises, stepping closer.

You wrap the wool tight around your body, enjoying the way his lingering heat and scent wrap around you at the same time. Your heart is beating so wildly you can hear your pulse in your ears.

“Namjoon,” you whisper. “You must know I feel the same way.”

He reaches one hand up to stroke his fingers across your cheek.

“I was really hoping you’d say that.”

He’s so close now that all it would take is the slightest tip of your chin, the most incremental change in angle to press your mouth to his. But he doesn’t close the small distance between you. His gaze shifts to the street and you follow it, only now realizing a black sedan has been idling outside your house this entire time.

Your cheeks flame hot at the thought of his driver witnessing this exchange.

“I want a chance to do this the right way,” he murmurs. “Can I have it?”

You nod, waiting for your mouth to catch up to your brain. “Of course.”

He smiles wide then, the kind of smile you haven’t seen on him in a long time and once again you’re struck by how handsome he is. He narrows his eyes playfully when he realizes you are staring.

“Let’s get you inside before you get sick.”

You nod, pulling off his coat and watching as he shrugs back into it. He grabs for your hand, fingers brushing against yours just as you reach for the door.

“Good night, Namjoon,” you say softly.

He squeezes your cold fingers with his.

“Good night.”

***************************

Namjoon sends his driver for you.

You shift uncomfortably in the backseat of the sleek car, avoiding Chun’s gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. Up until now, you knew him only as the voice on the other end of the line when you’d arranged for Namjoon’s rides.

Now you’re matching a face with a voice -- and so is he.

You try not to dwell on how this must look after the scene outside your home just a few nights ago. Especially now that he’s been tasked with taking you to Namjoon’s penthouse.

It’s embarrassing, certainly -- but even this pales in comparison to what you’d had to endure before leaving the house.

When your mother had asked you to come see her and casually inquired about the last time you’d shaved your legs. When Jinjoo had made a point of letting you know that she was planning on staying all night long just as you were walking out the door.

That was definitely the most embarrassing part.

That’s why you feel a knot in your stomach as the security guard in Namjoon’s building escorts you personally up to the very top floor -- the one accessible only by keycard. That’s why you find yourself holding your breath right until the very moment Namjoon opens the door.

Then you let go of that breath.

“Thank you, Jaejin,” he greets, bowing in the man’s direction. He turns his attention to you and the knot in your stomach explodes into butterflies.

“Thanks for coming,” he says with a careful smile.

As if you had any choice in the matter. You kick your brain into gear and remind yourself to stop staring and smile back as the door shuts behind you.

He takes your coat and you take him in.

It’s the most casual you’ve ever seen him look, barefoot in jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows. He looks fresh from a shower, skin glistening and golden. The scent of him --- clean and male and intoxicating -- wafts over you.

Followed by a far less enticing one.

“Namjoon,” your nose wrinkles at the acrid smell, “Is something burning?”

“Something was burning,” he admits sheepishly. “But it’s not anymore. And you -- “ he pauses to let his gaze rake over you, “ -- you look incredible.”

Heat creeps up your neck and into your face, making you feel just a touch too warm in your brand new sweater.

“Thank you,” you reply, accepting his compliment with a shy smile. “So do you.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and you clear your throat, feeling uncomfortable with the admiration in his eyes.

“Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe the words through a nervous laugh. “That sounds great, actually.” You hope it’s not obvious that you’re jumping at the chance to take the edge off of your jitters.

Namjoon leaves you standing in his grand living room as he heads to the kitchen to pour the wine. You’ve always known he was a wealthy man -- but knowing that in the abstract and seeing it firsthand are two different things entirely. You take in the massive wall-to-wall windows and gleaming marble floors and custom-made art pieces with silent awe.

Namjoon interrupts your gawking when he returns with your wine.

“So about dinner,” he starts with a chuckle. “It’s on the way. I attempted to cook something, but as you already know that didn’t quite work out. Not surprising, seeing as I’ve never cooked in this kitchen before.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise. “Never?”

“Never,” he says with a smile. “I’ve never brought anyone to this apartment, either.”

His smile vanishes then, a more serious look taking its place. You swallow thickly as you let the implication of that statement wash over you.

“No one?”

“No one,” he confirms quietly.

Your lips part with surprise and Namjoon looks away, like he’s admitted too much -- and you stand there spinning your wheels, searching for something to say.

The sound of the door chime is a well-timed and welcome interruption.

Namjoon heads to the door to accept the food and you realize the same security guard who escorted you up here is making the delivery. It makes sense, of course, that only a trusted few could get this close to Namjoon’s private space.

“Are you expecting more people?” you tease with a smile when the guard wheels in a cart weighted down with enough food to feed an army.

Relief washes over you when Namjoon smiles back. The strange moment that passed between you before is forgotten.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got one of everything.”

Pleasant smells emanating from the carefully-packed containers fill the apartment, pushing away the burnt one still lingering from the food that’s been relegated to the trash.

“Just so you know,” you laugh, “I like all of it.”

****************************

The centerpiece of Namjoon’s outrageously opulent great room is the fireplace.

Your fingers wrap tight around the stem of your wine glass as you stare into the flames and contemplate how this night will end.

You know how you want it to end.

You know the dozens of debauched fantasies you’ve entertained about Namjoon -- the myriad ways he’s had you in your mind. But there’s no way for you to know what his intentions are, how he expects this night to end.

That’s why you’re strung tight as a bow as you hear him clearing plates and cleaning up in the kitchen. The sounds eventually slow and then stop. And you wait.

You don’t hear him approach.

You come out of your thoughts and look away from the flames and he’s just there, standing in front of the couch wearing an expression you can’t read. The wine starts to wobble inside your glass, set in motion by your unsteady hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, reaching for it. “Let me.”

He takes the glass and places it on the coffee table, sinking into the space next to you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

He leans in and reaches out to thread his hands into your hair.

“Namjoon,” you whisper weakly, pulse leaping in response.

His eyes seem to darken at the sound of his name. His fingers slip out of your hair and under your jaw, tipping your chin up and compelling you to meet his gaze.

“I told you I was going to do this the right way,” he murmurs, “And I meant it. After that night in my office, I promised myself I was never going to put you in that position again.”

Your tongue slips out to wet your lips involuntarily, as if the action could take the place of the words you want so badly to say.

But Namjoon makes no move, fingers firm under your jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes gently. “If you want this -- if you want me, tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

The words come out in a rush, laced with such desperation they sound like a plea, not an order. A smile tugs the corner of Namjoon’s mouth and he nods.

Carefully, deliberately, he sinks his mouth onto yours.

You sigh against the press of his lips as the pads of his fingers stroke the side of your face. For a moment you can’t think; can’t process a thing beyond the spice on his tongue from the Buldak or how impossibly soft his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you until you can’t breathe -- and just a moment beyond that -- until you are forced to pull away, chest heaving.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admits, panting.

“I’ve been wanting you to do that since we were kids,” you confess, emboldened.

He leans close again, eyes half-lidded, lips grazing yours.

“Well, we’re not kids anymore.”

*********************

NAMJOON

Namjoon has to force himself not to totally fucking devour you.

You are finally in his hands and the urge to unleash months of wait and want on you is so strong he has to take a physical step back.

You look up at him from where you sit on his bed -- hair mussed from his fingers, lips swollen from his kisses -- and he hesitates, unsure of his next move.

“If you’re thinking you don’t want to -- “ you start.

Namjoon cuts you off with a strangled laugh.

“Trust me, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he vows, shoving a hand through his hair. “It’s like I’ve wanted you so bad for so long I don’t even know where to start.”

Your eyes soften as you gaze at him.

Namjoon holds his breath as he watches you slip out of your sweater and then out of your jeans. You lie back against his sheets, eyes holding steady contact with his.

“Start anywhere,” you breathe quietly. “Start everywhere. Just start. Please.”

Fuck, you are going to be his undoing.

It takes him an irritatingly long time to work the buttons of his shirt open on account of his thick, clumsy fingers. He finally manages to get out of it and his jeans follow right behind.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” you murmur as he slides into the bed next to you. His fingers rake over the soft skin of your stomach and you jerk under his fingertips, body reacting immediately to his touch. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

Namjoon smiles when you use his own words against him.

He dips his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply -- savoring the soft, sweet smell of your skin. He mouths at your pulse point, feeling it race in response when his fingers trail lower to tease the delicate band of your panties.

“I figured out where I want to start,” he murmurs, sucking gently at the hollow of your collarbone.

He feels your deep intake of breath when he slips one hand into the satin, grazing against your mound. He shifts lower, allowing one finger to dip into your center, groaning at the wetness he finds waiting for him there.

“So responsive, Jagiya,” he praises softly. “So beautiful.”

You make a needy sound, hips lifting off the bed as you chase the pressure of his fingers. He turns to capture your lips again with his own, simultaneously working two fingers into the tight space between your thighs.

“Namjoon,” you sigh brokenly, “F-feels so good.”

“I can do better,” he promises. “Turn over for me.”

He waits for you to comply, body shifting in the bed. Once you are face down, he climbs over you, dipping his mouth to the shell of your ear, biting gently on the soft skin. You shiver underneath him, moaning softly.

Slowly, he kisses a line down the back of your neck, hands stopping just long enough to undo the clasp to your bra. He slips it off of you, reaching under you to tease at your nipples with his fingertips. He chuckles low with satisfaction when you twitch under his fingertips.

He continues his descent, dropping kisses along the soft line of your back. His hands reach your panties and he pulls them off, mouth sucking gently at the base of your spine.

“Namjoon,” you gasp, the sound of your plea is muffled as you press your face into the sheets. “Touch me.”

He sinks one long finger into you then, savoring the tight pull of your heat as his tongue flicks out to taste you. Your hips jerk off the bed and he uses both strong hands to urge your legs further apart.

“Relax for me,” he soothes, mouth closing over your wet center.

He pushes a second finger into you and you shudder at the fullness, back arching. The movement angles your cunt even closer and Namjoon seizes the opportunity, tongue firm as he swipes it against you.

He can tell how badly you want this. He can feel it in the way your thighs tremble while he’s working you with his fingers and tongue. He can hear it in the way you whimper when he nips gently at you with his teeth.

“Namjoon,” the tilt to your voice makes it sound like you are on the verge of tears. “Please -- I c-can’t -- ” Your thought evaporates into thin air when he groans directly into your center, curling his fingers deep against the spot inside of you that draws a sharp gasp.

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs his encouragement as you buck against his grip. “Come for me, Jagiya.”

He looks up just long enough to see your fingers twisted into the sheets, face buried deep into the pillow as you fall apart in his hands. You make the prettiest sounds as you succumb. Somewhere in the midst of your frantic whispering he hears his name and the sound goes straight to his cock, making the ache there almost impossible to ignore.

He ignores it anyway -- pushing the feeling aside to ride out the tremors with you, relishing the taste of your release on his tongue. He praises you, savors you, keeps you anchored to his mouth until your hips drop flush to the bed with exhaustion.

Then he kisses his way back up the line of your spine, dropping down at your side. You look so deliciously sated and flushed when you turn over that Namjoon can’t help the slow smile that comes over him.

You kiss it right off.

You fit your body against his -- slick skin against slick skin -- and kiss Namjoon so hard it takes him by surprise. Your hands dive into his hair, mouth desperate against his.

Namjoon chuckles under his breath at your newfound boldness, fingers reaching to tease at one pebbled nipple. Your body jolts in response and you answer with a move of your own, one hand sliding across the hard plane of his stomach and into his boxers.

Up until this very moment, he’s been able to ignore the insistent throbbing between his own legs. But the moment your fingers wrap around him -- the moment you start to pump your hand gently over him -- it becomes his only thought.

“Shit,” he groans, breaking the kiss to inhale deeply, “God, that feels good.”

You pull away to maneuver your body over his.

Namjoon watches through hooded eyes as you pull his boxers down his legs and then turn your attention to his straining cock. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth to contain the noise he makes when your mouth descends onto him.

The moments that follow are a test of the last shreds of Namjoon’s self-control.

The wet warmth of your mouth surrounds him, tongue teasing at the sensitive places that make his hips jerk and his mouth drop open in surrender. Your grip around his cock stays firm, mouth soft in contrast -- both sensations almost too much to bear at once.

He slips a hand in your hair to push back the strands that have fallen into your face and you release him with a pop, lips wet and swollen, eyes glassy and wide.

He nearly comes right then and there.

“No more,” he croaks, voice hoarse with arousal. “That’s all I can take.”

The smile you return is nothing short of victorious. Namjoon rolls you onto your back in one fluid motion, more than ready to retake his position of control. Your eyes are sparkling with laughter and he grins back.

“You like seeing me at your mercy, huh?” he teases, dropping kisses into the crook of your neck.

“I do,” you admit, shuddering when he slips one hand back down to the apex of your thighs. “It’s nice to be the one in charge for a change.”

Namjoon kisses you slowly then, taking himself in hand to slide the head of his stiff cock against the wetness spilling from your entrance. He pulls up on his arms and looks down at you just to appreciate the way you look right now, hair splayed across his pillow and skin luminous against his sheets.

“You’ve always been in charge, Jagiya,” he breathes, enjoying the way your cheeks pink in response. “Just like you’re in charge right now. So tell me what you want.”

The humor disappears from your eyes then, replaced by something heady and dark.

Namjoon sucks in a breath when your hand wraps back around his cock, guiding him back to your entrance. He throbs with need under your fingertips, muscles locked tight with anticipation.

“This -- ” you murmur, tilting your hips up to take him in, “ -- is what I want.”

Namjoon sinks down carefully then, slowly -- choking back a moan at the unbearably tight grip of your walls. You gasp, nails digging into his back as he strokes to the hilt.

“This is what you want?” he goads, feeling powerful now, drunk on the sight of you writhing beneath him. He pulls back and surges forward again, drawing a desperate moan from you. “Like this?”

You wrap your legs around him, hands sliding down the slick skin of his back until your fingers are gripping his ass, urging him to move faster.

“Yes,” you manage on a shaky breath. “Like that. Over and over and over.”

Namjoon buries his smile against your breasts, tonguing at your nipples as his hips piston against you. He nips at one with his teeth and you whine, back arching off the bed.

“You’re made for me,” he groans, panting his praise in between deep strokes, “So tight and wet I can’t think.”

You hum your contentment into his mouth when you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close for a kiss. He slips one hand under your ass, dragging you deeper into his heavy strokes and you cry out.

He’s always hated the echo in this place. But hearing the sound of your voice calling his name echoing off the walls is an entirely different story. It lights a fire inside of him -- making him move faster, harder -- desperate to hear it again.

“Namjoon -- “ your hands claw at his back as you cling to him. “ -- I think, I think I’m going -- “

“You will,” he rasps, when you lose all hope of finishing that thought.

He sinks his thumb into his mouth before dragging it down to rub slow circles across your aching clit and you clamp down around him in response. He chokes on his own moan, summoning just enough control to keep himself from exploding inside of you.

But then you start to unravel.

In those final moments, you feel hotter and wetter -- begging brokenly in his ear for some kind of relief. Namjoon holds off until the tight grip of your cunt starts to pulse around him and then he gives in. He comes so hard his vision darkens before it comes back.

Then he collapses on top of you, panting and wrecked.

You press a kiss into his neck and rake your nails gently up and down his back.

**********************

Namjoon wakes up alone.

He should be used to the feeling by now, but after last night -- after you -- he can’t help but feel disappointed.

He shoves a hand through his hair, slips into a pair of lounge pants and heads to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Then he stops in his tracks.

You are standing in front of the massive window in his living room, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. You sip it thoughtfully and look out over the city, seemingly unaware of his presence.

So Namjoon just stands there for a while, admiring your long legs and soft skin and the dark hair that spills down your back. Admiring the way you make this place bearable just by existing in it.

“Thought you left me,” he says quietly, and you startle out of your reverie at the sound of his voice.

“I did leave you,” you feign a serious expression, nodding at your mug. “For this. Thought you’d understand.”

“That I do,” he laughs, padding across the room to join you at the window.

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and you smile up at him.

“What are you thinking about this morning?” Namjoon presses quietly. “What’s on your mind?”

You sip your coffee and look back out the window before answering.

“I was just thinking about the day I came to ask for you a job,” you confess. “How afraid and alone I felt back then.”

Namjoon can still remember how he felt seeing you walk into his office after all those years. It certainly wasn’t afraid or alone and his chest squeezes at your admission.

“And now?”

“Now I feel …” you trail off as you turn back to look up at him. “... like everything’s going to be okay.”

He stares back at you, suddenly overwhelmed by how good this feels.

By how good it feels to be needed by you.

By how you in his shirt, in his apartment, in his life, makes total sense.

By how it feels like you belong here.

With him.

“You’re right, Jagiya. Everything is going to be okay,” Namjoon vows, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair. “Because I’m going to make sure of it.”

**************************

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

Amsaja: Lioness

Jaegyueo: Jaguar

TAG LIST:

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#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #bts mafia #namjoon mafia #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #btswriterscollective

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spasmsofthought · 3 years ago

Text

flashes. (dick grayson x reader)

I’m not really well-versed in DC, at all, but I wanted to give this a shot. let me know what you think! It’s a bit of a mess, so please take this with a grain of salt and some grace. sorry if he feels ooc; I tried my best but I am by no means an expert or even an amateur. please be kind. idk if i’ll write anymore for him, but i wanted to try. it might be trash but it’s out there now xo

It’s not like Gotham is known for being a walk in the park. The city is all alleys in the middle of the night, dark vapors rising from sewers, and secrets in the shadows. At least, in your experience.

There were no gated communities or fences to keep the darkness out in the apartment complex you lived in with your family. Only survival and common sense keeps you returning to your bed and food on the table.

So, when your younger (genius) brother is offered a scholarship to Gotham Academy on what feels like a whim, the world shifts.

When your mother still works, though, it means you are the de-facto adult during the day. Your job keeps your busy in the mornings, hers during the afternoon and night. You’re just getting into learning what it’s like to handle a job and bills of your own, even though you’re still living with your family (part of it is to save money, part of it is because you just don’t want to leave). Your family is the only real home you have ever known. Why leave to only find inadequate housing where you have to worry about your safety and theirs separately?

So, like every month, you swap out of your work clothes, put on your newest (at least 2 years old) pair of jeans on, the only blouse you own that hasn’t faded or stretched or shrunk from countless wash cycles, and grab the bag you’ve stored in its own special place in the cabinet by your family’s loud, old, run-down fridge.

You chance a ride on the bus, hopeful for no public catastrophes today. You listen to your small, but loved, playlist through the one earbud that works during the ride and you almost want to leap with joy when you step back down on concrete like this is what it is like everyday.

The architecture is a thing to behold. There is no wonder why this is acclaimed as the most prestigious private school in Gotham. Light is everywhere, and it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist. Every month you step on this campus it’s like you’ve never seen it before.

The grounds are meticulously groomed, everything in lines and straight edges. Concrete and nineteenth century buildings both cast heavy, sharp shadows in the late afternoon sun. There are some students lingering about, all grouped up and chattering in their similar uniforms. Compared to public art, haphazard graffiti, and buildings of all shapes and sizes, this place feels foreign. Different. It makes you feel strange and unwelcome; like entering a different world altogether.

When you enter the pristine, elegant office, the entrance door propped open, there’s two figures you immediately spot: the secretary and the man standing in front of her. Your brother is yet to be found. He’s running late again.

“Hi, hun, take a seat,” Grace’s sweet voice soothes from her position behind the desk. “He should be here any minute.” The man standing in front and a little to the right of her glances behind for second, casually swiping a look at you, before he turns forward again.

“Thanks, Grace,” You exhale as you sit down.

The chairs are nice, soft fabric and cushioned, but small. You so desire to bring up a leg to draw close to you, but it’s impossible without making yourself a human pretzel. And you don’t want to dirty it with your less than perfect shoes so, instead, you chose to bring the bag onto your lap and you pick at your cuticles, resisting to bring your nail to your mouth and chew on it anxiously.

There’s never been anyone else in here when you’ve come before. Grace can make polite chatter, but then she leaves you in relative silence. It makes you feel anonymous. The man uttering sweet words to the secretary and then glancing at you again before sitting down next to you does not. You stop fidgeting with your hands and intertwine them together instead.

A flash of the ceiling’s fluorescent lighting on glass against your eyes is what you first get a taste of, then all polish and silver, or something like it, cradling a wrist. The watch looks heavy, expensive. It looks like it could buy your family a newer, safer, apartment in a suburbia far away from here.

“Hey,” Smooth as honey it drips out, and you are drawn to blue eyes and ebony hair. There’s a softness to his face and his eyes are warm. It would only take an hour, you think before you stop the thought from going any further. An hour to do what? You’re not sure, but the list expands the longer you take him in.

The first thing you ever learned on the streets when you walked by yourself to work was how to be aware, vigilant; on guard. Men were unpredictable creatures who were driven by greed or lust or power, and any of the good ones were swooped up and carried away to better things or dead before any second glances could take place. Or carrying on just fine behind their high fences and impenetrable walls. Just because this one introduces himself first does not mean he has proven otherwise.

“Hi,” is all you can offer, a quirk of lips to his gesture of kindness.

You glance towards to door before your eyes make their way back to him. The gesture doesn’t offend him. There’s a familiarity to his face, but you decide to not spend time right now trying to figure it out. It already only tells you one thing: this guy is way out of your league.

Grace gets up from her seat, rounds her desk, and makes her way out of the office, leaving you two alone. You watch her the entire time.

“You waiting for someone?”

“Yeah,” You nod even as the word comes out, “My brother.”

He leans back like he’s got all the time in the world, and there’s a perusal that makes you taste butterflies and gulp down caution at the same time. You wonder if he saw the scuff marks and stains on your worn-out sneakers, or if he notices that you still haven’t had the chance to wash your three-day old hair and that’s why it’s up and back, and that your blouse is definitely from the clearance rack at Goodwill.

“Your favorite one?”

Out of self-preservation, you try to hide the reaction to the humor you feel, “My only one.”

“I think that’s the same thing.” You almost want to roll your eyes. But there’s a genuineness in his conversation, like he means the words he’s saying to you. Like this isn’t a game.

“Sure,” You shrug, “You’re allowed to be wrong.”

“My name’s Richard.” It’s old-fashioned. It’s something you don’t really hear rolled off of tongues in your neck of the woods, that’s for sure. A hand comes out and rests halfway between you and him, and it’s one of the most graceful things you’ve ever witnessed in your entire life.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smile. Your hands stay clasped in your lap.

“You gotta earn a handshake from my sister,” A voice pops up from the open door way. You swing your head around and watch for a moment as your brother makes his way towards you.

“Hi, J,” Your stand, open your arms wide, bag moved from your lap into one of your hands. His solid presence allows a brief hug before he steps back again. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude--”

The man sitting next to you has chosen to rise as well and you’re closer than you thought you would be when you turn back to him. You notice now that your height means your eyes literally meet his lips straight on. There’s a curve of a smirk there for a flash of a second before it straightens back out into the smile you saw at first. The rest of your sentence is forgotten. He takes one, two, three steps back.

“You got them all?” The question saves you. Your brother pulls you back to him as you hand him the brown plastic bag. In it? His favorite snacks from the liquor store on the corner (the nearly sold-out, hard-to-come-by ones).

“Every last one,” Your hands come to his cheeks, turning his face to each side.

You have to reach up now and it strikes you just how much he’s grown even in the past month. You both spend much of your time on the phone with one another. These monthly meetings set-up frequently enough for deliveries and some quick face-to-face time and seldom enough to avoid embarrassment (that’s what he says anyway).

He brings the chip bag out and holds it up, “You even got these.”

“Geraldo got them special order just for you.”

“Tell the old man I said thanks,” He smiles like he’s seven again, spoiled and self-indulgent. “Richard” is still standing behind you and to the side, silent. You can feel his eyes flipping back and forth between the two of you.

“Of course,” Your hands smooth over his shoulders and brush away imaginary dust. “Mom sends her love and says she’ll try and call you on her lunch in a few hours.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll make sure I answer.”

“Thank you.” You exhale an affectionate sigh.

Avoidant loner that your brother can be, there’s a reason you both want him here. He’ll be able to do the things you only dreamed of when you were his age. And one day, hopefully, you’ll all be out of this hellhole, onto better things.

“I gotta go, but thanks for these. Even though you should be saving every penny,” He chides, holding up a finger like his words are somehow a threat.

“Okay,” You chortle like you wouldn’t give everything up for your brother in a heartbeat. There’s another quick hug before he’s looking back at the man behind you, who is still standing there like some sort of stealth ninja.

“Like I said man,” He nods and there’s something in his face that changes as he looks at “Richard”, “You gotta earn it.”

It’s with those parting words that he begins to walk out. You stay stock still for a second before you leap after him, “I wanna hear all about what happened last week with Cara tomorrow on the phone!”

Your brother, a mile away already on longs legs, shouts something indistinguishable back at you from down the hallway, his figure turning a corner.

“Who’s Cara?” The voice brings your back to reality.

You sweep your palms against your jeans and turn back to face the man with a three-piece suit and a watch that probably costs more than 20 years of your salary. Oh God.

“This girl my brother asked out the other week. I bribed him with some of his favorites so he would tell me what went down.” You shrug your shoulders, not worried about spilling the tea about your brother’s romantic life.

“Does he know that?” His arms seem to relax a little more and you think you could stare at him all day.

“Eh,” You say, creeping back towards the open door. Your small crossbody bag is already on you and there’s no reason to sit back down. Richard follows you as you, apparently, both start to make your exit from the office. Nothing about it feels unnatural. “Sometimes you got to persuade instead of demand.”

“Ha,” There seems to be something you are missing based on the way his mouth curves and his eyes spark, “That’s the truest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“You’re welcome. That’s the only one that comes for free!” Your arms swing back and forth. “Anything else is gonna cost you.”

The hallways usually feel like a labyrinth here, but you don’t feel lost this time.

“What forms of payment do you accept?” You pretend to be thinking, but really you’re just glancing between the different features of his face. You’re not sure you’ve ever met someone like him. You’re not sure you ever will again.

“The bank’s closed right now, actually,” The wariness is back. This guy walks like he’s used to treading on perfectly paved gold streets in his shoes. All you’ve ever known is cracked cement and rusted pipes that burst underground. “But I think it’ll be back up and running soon.”

He doesn’t falter and there’s no anger or hurt in his expression at the metaphorical rejection. Instead, it looks something like silent patience. Maybe even acceptance. This guy could totally not be interested and you could just be being (too) ambitious. The door to the open courtyard, and your way home, is already before you both.

“It was nice meeting you Richard,” You say as you begin to take steps forward. Your hands nervously hold the strap across your torso. You take a few more steps before his words turn your head back to him.

“You can call me Dick,” He says with ease. The tone makes you feel like he’s speaking a language you don’t really understand. His blue eyes seem like they’re on fire; a contradiction, you know. There’s something about him that almost makes you catch your breath. You’ve never been been winded by just looking before.

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” You offer, hands squeezing your bag strap.

“I look forward to earning that handshake next time!” He calls out when you’re several feet away.

I think you’ll earn a lot more than that, you almost say, but refrain.

Instead, you wave back to him once before making your way out of the courtyard, caught between staring at your shoes and looking ahead to make sure you’re going to right way. You smile and daydream the entire bus ride home. Blue becomes your favorite color.

#help ive never written for dc before #i dont know what im doing #be nice please #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x female!reader #richard grayson #richard grayson x reader #dick grayson oneshot #dick grayson preference #richard grayson oneshot #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader

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