#santa hat sizzle
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Perilous Pink
NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.4K, 1/1
Nishikino Maki learned new things about being in love with Yazawa Nico every day. Even after three years of dating and nearly one year of marriage, Maki could still be surprised.
The sprawling concrete and glass modern house she’d bought Nico as a birthday present never really felt empty. Nico had managed to fill most of the rooms with colorful art pillows and even a few quirky pieces more suited to Maki’s taste. Right now the main room and kitchen was hung around with Christmas lights, all the windows bright with blinking colors, wreaths on every interior door, a Christmas tree that filled the atrium standing two stories tall. Maki should have felt jolly. Yes, COVID-19 was raging, the third wave surging, Tokyo residents masking and social distancing. Masking wasn’t a new habit, nor was concern for the community. But they’d been forced to cancel their upcoming concert series, although both had agreed with the decision of their safety team. And today Maki was learning that a house empty because Nico was on the road felt completely different than a house where Nico was home and gloomy.
She was wearing nothing but pink. Every day. Pastel pink. Layers and layers wrapped around, like cotton candy. Not such a surprise for Nico. but right now, today, or any December day, she should be dancing through the house in an oversized Santa and snowflake sweater, elf hat at a jaunty angle, pulling Maki in to waltz and sing a duet version of “Snow Halation.” Instead, she was in the studio in the basement, pink blanket pulled around her, the weighted air of someone buried in difficulties as she stared blankly at her monitor’s screen saver. Nico smiled when Maki brought her tea or coffee or a doughnut but it was a fond half smile, too familiar, not a glad smile, Nico’s bright eyes sizzling with plans and pranks. Nico’s eyes were dull.
Maki had made Christmas cookies, sloppily but, she thought, endearingly decorated. Maybe they could coax a reaction out of Nico.
The studio door was half open. Maki knocked on the doorframe.
“I made cookies.”
Nico grunted. At least there was digital sheet music on the monitor.
“Nico-chan?”
Nico half turned.
“Are you mad at Santa-san? Or …” Maki’s voice broke a little, “me?”
Nico waved an impatient hand. “No, Maki-chan. Nico and Santa-san are fine. Nico and Maki are fine.”
“Why aren’t you wearing any of your Christmas sweaters? And we haven’t hung any mistletoe.” Maki looked around the room, pink blanket, pink pillows, pink plushies.
“Nico’s fine.” Nico snapped. “Nico’s busy.” And Nico shoved the mouse to the right, beginning a frantic series of clicks.
###
Maki retreated upstairs, to the couch, overhead lights off, Christmas lights blinking out what she hoped was a distress signal Santa could solve. Emergency bff text session with Hoshizora Rin.
M: Nico’s overdosing on pink.
R: Nico is PINK
M: o_0 But it’s Christmas
R: So you’re sulking T口T
M: NO RIN I’M WORRIED
R: Is Nico not being kissy kissy enough ♡(ŐωŐ人)
M: (ﾉ｀□´)ﾉ⌒┻━┻
Hanayo: Nico was looking forward to those concerts.
M: I know
M: I can’t replace 100000 screaming fans
R: ヽ(＾Д＾)ﾉ ＼(★^∀^★)／ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ♪♬(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(◕‿◕)♡
M: ┻━┻ ︵ヽ(`Д´)ﾉ︵ ┻━┻
H: Just be you
R: Yeah Maki-chan you got this Nico needs her Maki
M: What am I supposed to do?
R: Maki things ᕙ(⇀‸↼‵‵)ᕗ
Maki things? But Nico didn’t seem interested in any kind of … Maki wasn’t going to dye anything pink or wrap herself in a pink robe or order only pink food. It was Santa season. It had its own color code.
Pink … pastels … were a spring thing … Hope and soft and flowers …
Maki froze, remembering something. A very old, very pink memory. Something she’d never told Nico. Something only she could have done.
###
Winter. Cloudy. Every day was cloudy. Nico woke up with a groan, stretching. Even the vivid red of Maki’s hair seemed dull, washed out against the gloomy winter sky. Maki was so vivid, breathtaking, that Nico knew something was wrong to see her extraordinary wife and lover against the backdrop of an ordinary winter sky and feel sad that winter had drained the spark, the fire out of the universe. Maki’s eyes were a fading lilac, Nico could see her own sadness reflected in them, leaking in.
Quick facial care, dry brush, coffee, Christmas cookies with very triangular trees. Nico smiled at that, slightly, as deft as Maki was with her fingers on the piano, art often frustrated her. But there was a cuteness and a simplicity that made Nico’s mood less gray. Taking a mug of coffee, no sweetener, Nico wanted to be more awake, less fuzzy and the cookies were more than sweet. Maki must not have leveled off the sugar before mixing it in. Today, maybe today, Nico could make progress on the song. She had the rhythm in her head. If she could cut a single by Christmas for the fans, she’d feel less useless. And asking Maki to help seemed like cheating. Nico imagined Maki’s daily life was a bustle of present buying, carols on the piano and photo safaris of Christmas lights and decorations. Nico did not want to burst that peppermint striped bubble.
Straight to the monitor, turn on all the blinking lights, listen to the whir of fans starting up, put down the tray with coffee mug and cookies, sit, slide into the comfy gamer chair, hands linked behind head, push back and look up. Nico froze. Something new. There on the wall, nearly as tall as Nico, was the brightest pink she’d seen indoors. Cherry trees. Full bloom, pastel pink burst up into vivid, spring life. Framed so you could imagine the blooms continuing off the canvas filling the room, a light floral promise filling the air with the hope of Spring. Was that Otonokizaka? Was that someone in an Otonokizaka uniform? Nico was on her feet, pushing up looking closely, at her own profile, eyes closed, delicate eyelashes dark enough to be seen on the porcelain clarity of her skin, lips pursed to kiss a cherry blossom nuzzling for an embrace. How? Where?
“It was before I knew who you were.” Maki said in her gravelly, half yawn, sleepy voice. “I forgot I took it. It was a grumpy day for me. I didn’t particularly want to go to Otonokizaka but Papa insisted because it was such an elite school so close to the hospital.”
A pause. Nico spun her chair. Maki leaned in the doorway, hair completely in disarray, a sweet smile as she stared at the scene.
“I was wandering taking blossom pics and there you were, perfectly sharp, perfectly poised against all the soft pink embracing you, the soft blue sky, the sharp blue blazer, your cardigan, how lost you seemed in the moment, your eyes closed, your lips … I knew there would never be such a perfect spring moment. So I snapped maybe 50 different shots and there was this.”
“And then you forget Nico?” Nico could feel her throat tightening and tears starting. “How could you forget Nico?” There were going to be tears. Lots of tears.
“I didn’t. But that moment,” Maki came into the room, pointing to the Nico in the picture, “you were a dryad, a sprite, the perfect sakura spring fantasy, not Yazawa Nico, aspiring idol and aggravating third year. So pushy.” Maki winked.
“You’re so gay.” Nico sniffled, “Weird gay. But so gay.”
Maki laughed. “And then I met you, you were like no one ever, and I had to marry you.”
“You got to marry Nico.”
Maki’s eyes were so serious as she looked directly at Nico, no embarrassment, just raw, caring honesty that so few got to see.
“I did. I love you, Nico-chan. Spring will come again.” In that breathy gorgeous voice that Nico had fallen in love with at the first word of “Start Dash,” when Nico had hacked in to listen to the upstart Idol group Honoka had started. Nico could feel the tears surge, shuddering as she threw herself into Maki’s arms, holding her lover so close, letting the brightness burn away winter’s gloomy gray, Maki as solid and vivid as Nico’s best memories.
Rare for December, Maki found herself eager for spring, and the pastel perfection of Nico’s sakura smile.
A/N:
Doing some different things this August, but if there's an AU of mine or a continuing fic you want me to bump up my to do list, drop a comment, please and thank you.
Idol Fanfic Heaven is having an early August event, one of the challenges is write something in a real location. This house does actually exist in Tokyo. The pastel prompt (thank you!) is from the Femslash Friday Prompts Tumblr (link in comment.)
Take care!
#NicoMaki#Femslash Friday#Nishikino Maki#Yazawa Nico#Santa season#Sakura#pink#Femslash Friday prompts#wlw fic
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RISE OF THE SPACE CATS
An Eddsworld Fan-Script: Part 14
BOOM!
CHIEF JAKKA'S ESCAPE POD crash lands behind TORD. DUST CLOUDS rise. TORD turns slowly, horrified. The shadowy figure of CHIEF JAKKA looms over him, huge and furious.
TORD raises his hands in surrender, laughing nervously.
TORD
Uh. No. I take that back. I'm not a space cat and I don't want to be.
CHIEF JAKKA screeches.
TORD screams.
EDD and RINGO cower together as indescribable offscreen violence occurs. Blood splats on them. Lots of crunching, thudding and screeching. TORDS screams stop suddenly.
EDD
I guess that's... One problem sorted.
RINGO
But now we have another...
CHIEF JAKKA advances on them, bloodied mouth dripping.
CHIEF JAKKA
(SUBTITLES)
Finally. I'll have all of you filthy cat scumbags exactly where I want you.
EDD
Haha, aw he sounds so cute!
CHIEF JAKKA lets out a terrifying shriek, making him cower.
EDD spots the dropped LAZER GUN and grabs it. He raises it, pointing it at CHIEF JAKKA. The alien rabbit stops, ears dropping back.
EDD
It's wabbit season.
The LAZER GUN powers up.... Then dies. It makes a sad noise and a sizzle of smoke comes out the end.
CHIEF JAKKA laughs, grating and horrible, and advances on EDD and RINGO, claws stretching out to them, teeth bared.
SCREECH!
The MONSTER charges in and collides with CHIEF JAKKA. The two wrestle, moving across the RUINS, each as strong as the other, both enraged and vicious.
The MONSTER punches CHIEF JAKKA, sending the alien rabbit flying into the road. The MONSTER chases after, leaping in to attack. They roll across the road, wrestling.
CHIEF JAKKA kicks the MONSTER with giant bunny feet, sending it flying.
Interior - Apartment
Two CHILDREN are standing on their furniture, giggling.
The MONSTER smashes through the window and out the other side.
CHIEF JAKKA jumps in after.
CHILDREN
The floor is lava!
CHIEF JAKKA winces, jumps up onto the furniture, and awkwardly bounces across the room out the hole in the opposite wall.
OUTSIDE - STREET
CHIEF JAKKA shoves the MONSTER against a shop front -WHAMAGEDDON- smashing the windows. The MONSTER is draped over the DISPLAY. CHRISTMAS TREE ORNAMENTS fall onto its head, one by one - bonk! bonk! bonk! bonk! bonk! A SANTA HAT lands on its head and a CANDY CANE in its mouth. It blinks, dazed, then shakes its head- snaps out of it.
The MONSTER grabs CHIEF JAKKA by the shoulders, smashing the alien rabbit through a wall. They fall through-
INTERIOR - ILLEGAL PARTY
FANCY POLITICIANS all in expensive clothes with champagne and a large buffet pause mid-dance. A SIGN reading "WORK MEETING - WINK WINK" slowly falls down.
CHIEF JAKKA and the MONSTER stare at them, then glance at each other.
Elegant, upbeat music plays as they waltz across the room as the FANCY POLITICIANS continue their party.
OUTSIDE - STREET
The fight continues! They exchange blows, travelling across the STREETS. They clash together once more, strained.
They break down a FENCE in their struggle-
SCREAMING.
The fight has brought them outside EDUARDO'S HOUSE. MARK is in his suit, holding hedge clippers. He's midway through gardening, and screaming.
CHIEF JAKKA scowls and slaps MARK.
EDUARDO
(off-screen)
Hey!
EDDUARDO appears in the doorway.
EDUARDO
No one hits my housemate...
(beat)
Ever!
Another green flash of power. EDUARDO grabs the MONSTER'S tail, spins it around and slams it into CHIEF JAKKA. The pair go flying-
-all the way over the city-
-back at the RUINS.
OUTSIDE - THE RUINS
EDD runs over to TOM'S crumpled body.
EDD
Tom!
TOM groans and twitches.
TOM
I think my everything is broken.
EDD
Well... Your hair is in one piece.
TOM'S hair spikes fold over.
EDD
Nevermind.
RINGO slowly pads over to CHIEF JAKKA'S unconsious form. It pokes the alien rabbit's body a few times.
RINGO
Hah. Take dat!
The alien kittens pop up, mewling with triumph. They slap their tiny paws against the giant alien rabbit's body.
TOM sits up slowly.
TOM
Where's... Matt?
EDD
I... Don't think he made it.
TOM
Oh...
They're both quiet for a moment.
EDD
At least you defeated that big ugly rabbit.
Crumbling. The kittens all pause, then flee. CHIEF JAKKA slowly rises from the rubble. Battered, bleeding, heaving shaky breaths.
CHIEF JAKKA
(SUBTITLES)
Think again...
TOM
Oh, come on!
MATT
(OFF-SCREEN)
Not so fast!
MATT, a one-armed ZOMBIE, steps onto the scene . He is followed by a ZOMBIE ARMY, all clad in DUCT TAPE ARMOR.
EDD
Matt? But how?
MATT
I've finally found my true calling: King of the Scourge and the Buried Men, Protector of the Rotting Kingdoms, the Father of Dead-ones, the Leader of the Great Cemetary, the Undead, the Breaker of Tape...
EDD yawns as MATT lists off his titles.
MATT
Now, attack, my zombie soldiers!
MATT cackles and leads ZOMBIE ARMY forwards. Each ZOMBIE lurches, groaning and snarling. CHIEF JAKKA tries to run, but the ZOMBIES have surrounded the area, all closing in.
EDD, TOM and RINGO all cower, ready to be eaten, but the ZOMBIES lurch past, totally focused on the alien rabbit.
CHIEF JAKKA screams and wails as it's piled on by ZOMBIES. It tries to fight, but it can't break the TAPE. It screams, a clawed hand sticking out of the writhing green mass until it slowly disappears from sight.
RINGO
Hah! Da bioweapons worked!
EDD
None of this would have happened if you hadn't started this in the first place!
RINGO
Untwue. Da monstew had nothing to do with us.
EDD
Yeah, what is that about?
TOM
Remember that time we went to Hell?
EDD
Yeah?
TOM
Yeah.
EDD
Huh.
MATT approaches them, covered in blood.
EDD
Aah! Don't eat us!
MATT
Please. I only eat organic, free-range meats.
EDD
What's that supposed to mean?
MATT
Well you're, you know, a little battery-farmed.
EDD
That's not fair! We've been in a pandemic.
TOM
You guys are idiots.
MATT
But I saved the day! With my zombie army! Hey, maybe I should take over the world now...
RINGO
Not quite.
They all look up. The CAT SPACESHIPS have arrived, all hovering overhead.
#eddsworld#eddsworld au#ew monster#ew tom#rotsc#ew rotsc#rise of the space cats#update#updates come whenever im not swamped now lmfao
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Christmas Gift Ideas For Family Member
Christmas is just around the corner and what better way to celebrate Christmas than with a gift. Gift ideas for family member can be made up of a number of different things. Family member are important to keep in mind when thinking about what to give them for Christmas. If you have been contemplating over which Christmas gift ideas for family member are good, then hopefully this article will help out.
Christmas is a great time to get family members gifts, but it can be hard to find the perfect gift. Your family members will surely be very happy to receive a Christmas gift from you. You will have a hard time choosing Christmas gifts for kid, for brothers, for sister, for parents, grandparents because their ages are different.
There are so many things to consider and it can seem like an impossible task. However, you don't need to worry if you're stuck for ideas because of my list of Christmas gift ideas for family member which will help you find something they'll love!
Personalized Christmas Ornament for Family
If your kids fight over who can put the star on top of the Christmas tree, this customizable ornament will make everyone feel like a winner. You can choose how many family members and fill in the names on the brim of Santa's hat!
Popcorn Set
No tickets needed or long lines at the food counter when movie night is at home. This popcorn set takes care of the snacks so all they have to do is choose the flick or the TV show to watch. There’s a flavor to suit every family member, too. Pop some classic kernels, then smother them with white cheddar, sweet and salty kettlecorn, chili lime, buttery caramel or sizzling sriracha seasoning. A giant popcorn machine is another great gift idea!
Family Definition Print
This simple typography print will remind everyone in the family how much they mean to each other every time they see it, and the best part? It's an instant download, so you can print it out right away and frame it no need to pay shipping.
Karaoke Set
They won’t miss a beat with this karaoke set. It can provide the soundtrack to many rockin’ family nights at home. Can’t carry a tune? Don’t worry, there are voice and sound effects, plus party-pumping light functions to distract any performance.
This simple typography print will remind everyone in the family how much they mean to each other every time they see it, and the best part? It's an instant download, so you can print it out right away and frame it no need to pay shipping.
Personalized Family Mugs
Make sure that every member of the family knows exactly which mug is theirs with this set—each one has their name and a personalized illustration.
The Taco Kit
Set the stage for Taco Tuesday (or any day of the week) with this functional storage set to enjoy your tacos. The holders will help the messiest eater in your family!
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Don t wanna be a player big pun
Entering the studio, he crafted his own signature style by breaking down genre barriers, yet flaunting a sizzling and scorching sound of his own, as evidenced by the 2019 single “ Giddy Up” and more to come. With ACE Family an undeniable phenomenon, he once again decided to do “ something different” in 2019. So, the graduate turned his attention to social media, launching the ACE Family channel in 2016. NBA scouts circled, but no offers materialized. At the latter, he emerged in the Top 10 at the school for scoring and Top 10 in the United States for three pointers during senior year. His college career spanned stints at Central Michigan University, SLU: Saint Louis University, and Eastern Washington University. However, he initially made his mark as an athlete. The YouTube superstar, entrepreneur, philanthropist and singer, Austin McBroom recalls religiously listening to R&B and gravitating to music as a child in Palmdale, CA. Right now, Austin is hard at work on his full-length independent debut-set for release soon. It’s always going to be her from here on out.” “It’s a song letting my wife know she is the only one. After he and his wife Catherine pull up to the Santa Monica pier, he dons a dapper bowler hat and bowtie and delivers a show-stopping performance under the glow of the carnival and Ferris wheel lights. To accompany the track, he shared the cinematic music video. “ Only One” highlights his high-powered hypnotic vocals as it shifts from an R&B groove into an undeniable and unshakable pop refrain. The song samples Big Pun‘s “ I Don’t Wanna Be a Player.”
Patriarch of The Ace Family, singer, songwriter, social media superstar, entrepreneur and philanthropist Austin McBroom unveils a new single entitled “ Only One” today.
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Roller Derby Punchline Madlibs 1: Santa Hat Sizzle. In case you wondered what kind of train wreck you'd get from writing phrases and madlib-ing a Verb and a Noun, and using them as a roller derby cartoon punchline, here's an example. It would be this kind of train wreck.
Suggest some more Nouns and Verbs!
#roller derby#rollerderby#roller derby cartoon#roller derby comic#roller derby art#madlibs#madlib#rollerderbycartoon#comic#cartoon#drawing#doodle#santa hat sizzle#roller derby punchline madlibs#sparks
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just saw a Christmas card at the shops that said: “I want to be the reason Santa puts you on the naughty list” and am I wrong in imagining demon!Harry giving that card to angel!y/n?
“I got you something.”
The sound of a grocery bag thudding hollowly against the marble countertop of the kitchen pulls Y/N’s attention away from the kettle heating up milk on the stove.
She’s in the middle of making hot chocolate for the second time today; she’d acquired quite the taste for it as the holidays draw closer. Her new craving is actually one of the reasons Harry had gone to the store today— she had run out of marshmallows to top her favorite seasonal drink.
He didn’t mind going, especially when Y/N had come to him while he was watching a supernatural documentary on the couch, approaching him in such a timid, guilty manner while holding the empty plastic bag to her chest and giving him a small sheepish smile. “We ran out of marshmallows.”
Harry had glanced down at the sullen, deflated bag and then back up at Y/N, lips twitching with endeared entertainment. “I think you mean you ran out of marshmallows ‘cause I’ve barely touched the stash.”
She had given him a pointed scowl, though she knew he was right. The amount of hot chocolate she’d been indulging lately was getting to be borderline embarrassing. “Will you just pick up more, please?”
Harry had beckoned her forward with his forefinger, patting the armrest of the sofa as a symbol for her to sit. As soon as she’d settled into the spot, he’d wrapped his arms around her tummy and yanked her down into his lap in a flurry of clear plastic and wild hair. She laid with her back against his thighs and her legs hooked over the side of the sofa, laughing breathlessly due to the random whirlwind. He’d placed a gentle kiss between her eyebrows, breathing in the sweet scent of her chamomile and mandarin shampoo. “Why don’t you just put it on your Christmas list to Santa?”
“I think my drink will be cold by then.” She had quipped back, tilting her head with a deadpan tone, giving him an amused scoff.
He jutted out his bottom lip into an exaggerated pout. “Tough luck then, huh?”
Leave it to Harry to be a little shit over the slightest things.
“Pleaseeeeee?”
Harry had pursed his lips, head falling backwards against the backrest, humming thoughtfully in the back of his throat as if mulling over the request.
Y/N had reached up and grabbed him by his t-shirt collar, pulling his head forward once again and down to her level, kissing the faint curve of one of his dimples. In return, it had pinched deeper into his cheek, his mouth jolting into a soft smirk.
“Pretty please?”
“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”
He had to restock some toiletries anyways.
Harry had treaded through the superstore leisurely, wandering through the aisles aimlessly and taking his time in choosing what shaving cream to get and searching for a new deodorant scent.
He’d swung by the market section, picking up two packs of mini marshmallows instead of one, knowing Y/N would be extra grateful. He’d thrown in a bag of Texas style sliced bread for his famous French toast, along with a twelve pack of ginger ale and some white cheddar puffs to snack on later while watching Chopped.
He never thought he’d ever be doing something as domestic and mundane as going to the store solely for the purpose of buying his girlfriend marshmallows— he never thought he’d have another girlfriend in general. It just hadn’t seemed in the cards for him at the time and the way Y/N just crashed into his life and completely stripped him of the brooding, deflective, unattached shell he’d built over himself for centuries was astonishing. And if he’s being honest, it was almost disgusting how soft he’d gotten since, considering his romantic side hadn’t flared up in decades.
Harry had grown fond of it, though. The wholesomeness of simple tasks like this sat at the pit of his stomach in the form of a warm glow, putting an extra jump in his heels and a goofy, lovesick grin across the edges of his lips, exactly like the ones in those stupid romance movies he used to take the piss out of.
The old lady hobbling down the bread aisle probably thought he was fucking mad— no sane person just smiles at the smudged concrete ground in the middle of a supermarket for no apparent reason.
As he’d made his way towards the self check-out kiosks, the most obnoxiously sappy idea yet struck him like a punch to the gut, slamming the breaks on his steps.
The greeting card corridor.
He found the perfect one barely five feet into the aisle. It had a pastel green background that was strewn with laminated glitter. Off to the left of the card was the art: a set of bright red lace lingerie, crumpled as if it were sitting on the floor with a Santa hat strewn carelessly next to it, insinuating that whoever had donned the attire had gotten it off in a hastily manner. The doodle of the clothing had actual lace fabric overlaid on top of the drawing and the hat even had a miniature fuzzy poof ball at the end. The words were shifted more towards the right of the cover, scrawled right beside the image in big, loopy white cursive: I want to be the reason Santa puts you on the naughty list.
The font for naughty list was different— instead of the pretty, festive letters, it looks as if it were written on the surface with red lipstick that had been smeared down the bottom of the card, a small kiss print decorating the space beside the phrase, acting as punctuation.
It was golden and it gave Harry a palpable reason to wear that stupid grin on his face.
He’d jetted home, excitement sizzling his fingertips and causing them to tighten against the leather of his steering wheel.
The steps up to the condo were taken two at a time, the elevator much too slow for his taste and he’d learned not to just flash in and out of public spaces anymore because it could result in a ruckus amongst the humans, which is publicity Lucifer really didn’t want to deal with.
That brings him to where he is now, plopping the bags off his wrists onto the marble kitchen counter, startling a robe-clad Y/N from her spot before the stovetop.
“I got you something.”
His girlfriend drifts over to the kitchen island, leaning forward on her tiptoes to bend over the edge of the surface, taking a curious peek into the grocery bags. Her voice comes out soft and childishly hopeful. “Marshmallows?”
Harry can’t resist the bubbly chuckle that her adorably excited aura draws. “Yeah, I got the marshmallows, don’t worry. But I also got you something else…and you should be grateful for it considering you’re a thief.”
He reaches forward and gently takes the collar of her lavender Sherpa robe between his index and middle finger— which is actually his lavender Sherpa robe that he treasures very fucking much— and gives it a signifying tug.
Y/N tilts her chin down to get a glimpse of what he’s going on about and then bashful recognition washes down her face in the form of pursed lips and a blithe glint in her eyes. “Sorry, mine’s in the wash.”
Harry begins rummaging through the groceries, moving his sensitive skin shaving cream and Old Spice deodorant out of the way with the back of his hands, retrieving the two bags of marshmallows and sliding them across the counter.
He suddenly kinks a single eyebrow up, her comment plucking a memory string in the back of his mind. “Was it the one you were wearing two nights ago?”
He can see her bite into the inside of her cheek, a soft blue glow just barely illuminating the ring around her irises as she nods her head wordlessly, gaze darting down to the treats to keep them from going into full headlights mode.
Harry leans forward onto the marble stretch, balancing on his elbows, chin propped on the palm of his left hand as the other slowly fishes the greeting card out, toying the pad of his thumb at one of the corners. He’s too amused to interrupt her fidgeting by giving it to her so he’ll hold out for a bit.
His voice comes out low and teasing through a cocky simper, eyes hooded arrogantly. “Was it the one you were wearing when you jerked me off on the couch?”
It’s like he can flip her on like a switch, a milky white light casting across the high points of her cheeks, originating from her irises. She blinks rapidly, willing it to simmer down, glaring up at him from under her lashes with sharp annoyance.
Harry taps at his upper lip with the pads of his digits, Cupid’s Bow curling as his grin widens, the back of his throat resonating with a hummed chortle. The pearl necklace he’d recently bought sits atop his collarbones delicately, gleaming mockingly under the bright lights of the kitchen, rising and falling with his deep, easy breaths. He worries the right corner of his mouth with his top teeth, jaw clenching to keep in a full-bellied laugh. His lashes slowly dust the crests of his cheekbones with a seductive energy, a faint moan running along the undercurrent of his words, giving his voice a sultry twang.
“Was it the one you were wearing when you undid the tie of my flannel pants, pushed them down my hips just enough to get my cock out, and then proceeded to tug me off while kissing up my throat, whispering on about how much you love it when I moan your name?”
Y/N swallows thickly and she’d failed to notice that she was gripping the bag of marshmallows to her stomach, thankful that she was opposite to him over the counter or else he’d get a view of her slightly buckling knees.
She abruptly tries to defuse the atmosphere of the room by clearing her throat loudly and switching topics. “Thanks for going to get these for—”
Harry isn’t having it, interrupting halfway through her attempt.
“Was it the one you were wearing when you were swallowing down the little whimpers escaping my mouth and begging me to cum for you? The one I got jizz all over when you tucked my hair behind my ear, pressed your warm lips to it and mumbled, ‘Want it so bad, Harry, please. I love how pretty you look when I make you feel good.’”
A loud popping sound punctures the tension toiling in the air, a shocked yelp accompanying the sound on behalf of Y/N.
Their intense stare-down breaks to zero in on where the noise had stemmed— the bag pressed against Y/N’s navel. She had gripped it so tight it had burst open, spewing a few marshmallows across the coffee- and caramel-colored marbled counter.
The blank look of remorsed surprise on Y/N’s features is what finally forces Harry to release the rib-splitting laugh he had been pushing down.
Her head snaps up at him, eyes narrowing because this was his fault, after all.
He covers the lower half of his face with his hand to try and stifle the giggles, but to no avail. They continue to wriggle free between the cracks of his fingers.
Y/N sets down the bag carefully, making sure it’s positioned accordingly so nothing else rolls out. She mutters a colorful array of words under her breath as she collects the rouge marshmallows and Harry’s positive her choice of language would put her on parole in Heaven.
He lifts his chin from his palm and reaches forward, plucking one between his thumb and forefinger and popping it into his mouth, chewing dramatically to flex his jaw because he can see her taking quick peeks up at him as she cleans. “That was the robe you were talking about, though, right?”
She doesn’t look up, simply focusing on the task at hand, but her response carries the daggers her eyes would otherwise deliver. “Fuck off.”
Harry decides that this moment is as good as any to give her the card, mostly because he knows it’ll either push her buttons in deeper or make her drop the grump act.
He slides it across the smooth plain of the island into her line of sight. “Picked this up ‘cause it reminded me of you.”
Y/N squints at the card, taking in the message along with the risqué art. Her lips press into a thin line, her actions pausing as she hovers a marshmallow in her grasp above the little pile she’s made in her other hand. She blinks at the paper once, then again, and then her top lip twitches. He can immediately tell she’s trying to keep from smiling.
He feels his dimples whittle into place, a giddy burst of energy expanding in his chest now that he knows she liked it. He figured she would, but seeing it confirmed is much more fulfilling than he imagined.
“It’s no knife to the chest like Romeo and Juliet but I’d say it’s a lovely sentiment. Plus, I’m not really looking to die again. Not a fan.”
His comment is the last piece of the puzzle that sends her into a wave of fond laughter. “God, you’re an idiot.”
Harry returns her giggling with some of his boyish own, watching with pride as she places the stash of marshmallows back in the bag and then drags her fingers over the lace material glued onto the lingerie drawing, admiring it.
“It’s called modern romance, darling. Get with the times, it’s not three thousand BC anymore.”
The easy banter in his attitude causes her smile to grow a bit bigger; it’s easy to match.
“Such a nice message. We should frame it, honestly. Show off how much of a hopeless loverboy you are.”
Harry nods his head vigorously, rounding the corner of the counter until he’s standing in front of her, his fingers walking across the stone surface and she snorts at his silliness. His digits hike over the top of her’s, dropping flat to sift between them, feeling the light scratch of the perforated fabric as well as the sleekness of the laminated paper beneath it.
His eyes flit up from where their hands conjoin, brows shrugging temptingly. “I think we should listen to the card first, though. We can put it up after we go through with its suggestion.”
“Mm, I dunno…” Y/N squeezes his fingers sarcastically. “My hot chocolate’s about to be done and it’s been waiting much longer than you have.”
Harry’s jaw drops in an open-mouthed smirk, a sound of airy delight tickling his tongue at the crudeness of her vague joke. “Did…Did you just willingly make a blowie joke?”
Y/N scrunches her brows with fake confusion, cocking her head to the side slightly as if she doesn’t have a single clue at what he’s talking about. “I don’t know, did I?”
Harry snakes his free arm around her hips, flushing their bellies together as he fully coils his fingers around the hand he’d been playing with. “Oh, I think you did.”
He ducks down for a kiss, lips puckered and itching to caress her skin with his, only to be met with his girlfriend’s temple. She had turned away, biting along the inside of her bottom lip to maintain a cap on the little noises of glee threatening to overflow.
Harry sighs grandly, maneuvering his head to chase after her mouth, aiming for the jerking corner closest to him. She leans back a bit and swiftly jars her head to face the other side, condemning his target to be her left cheekbone instead.
He groans in mild frustration, shifting their bodies until she ends up pushed against the edge of the counter, the dip of spine bending back over the table. Her hands find their way to his shoulders, coasting up to rest her palms at both of the curves of his neck. She thumbs over the hollow at the center of his throat, eyes flirting with his in a taunting manner. “Doesn’t taste so good when it’s your own medicine, does it?”
“You’ve taken up being the pest in the relationship then, have you?” The hand tangled with her’s goes slack, finding itself cradling her jaw, thumb tapping at the center of her bottom lip ominously.
Y/N’s painfully aware of the way his forearm is flexing against the lower half of her back and she recognizes it’s in anticipation to lift her off her feet. Her toes curl in her pink socks and she goes a tad cross-eyed as his face draws closer. “No, that’s your job. I just thought I’d get on your nerves.”
“Why?”
“Just because.”
“That’s a bit bratty, don’t y’think?” The tip of his cold nose feathers along the bridge of her’s.
She draws her chin back, trying to keep their lips from meeting. “Maybe.”
Harry thrums thoughtfully deep in his chest and she can feel the vibrations transfer across her body, prickling along her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. “Well, you know what I do to brats, don’t you?”
Y/N is suddenly hoisted up off her footing and though she knew it was coming, she still reacts to it out of habit, arms fumbling messily around Harry’s shoulders to keep her from teetering.
It had been the result he was hoping for because now she’s so close their Cupid’s Bows are knocking and he keeps her suspended for a second— a measly task courtesy of his inhuman strength. Her thighs clench around his hips, feet dangling behind him as she works to keep from slipping down, well aware that her socks would likely betray her to the smooth flooring and deposit her on her bum.
The warm air of Harry’s low mumble makes the entire lower half of her face sting.
“Brats get it fucked out of them.”
Just then, at this energy-packed stand-still moment, the kettle goes off.
Y/N has never been more thankful.
She squirms in Harry’s arms and he doesn’t have a choice but to let her down, eyeing her with a condescendingly entertained gaze as she scrambles towards the stove to remove the shrieking kettle from its place.
He can’t help himself.
He extends his arm forward, swatting at her ass before she’s gotten far enough that he can’t reach her.
Y/N’s shriek is the same pitch as the kettle’s.
She gives him the stink eye over her shoulder as he retakes his previous position on the counter with his elbows, chin in hand, the edges of a shit-eating grin peeking through as he bites into the side of his index finger. “I want some, too.”
She rubs her backside slowly as she shifts the kettle from the heated stovetop to a cool one, opening up the cupboard and bringing out two black mugs. She carefully pours the warm milk into each one, mixing in a few tablespoons of powdered cocoa along with some sugar.
Y/N carries both over to the kitchen island, decorating the top of the mugs with a handful of marshmallows that begin to melt immediately. She pushes Harry’s towards him as she takes a sip of her own, still somewhat seething at him over the rim of her cup.
Harry’s focuses in on the beverage, a mischievous glint flashing his eyes pitch black as he mumbles a spell underneath his breath. “Incendo.”
The powdery white candy suddenly catches alight, the royal blue fire lapping along the circumference of the mug and charring the contents inside.
Y/N chokes on her cocoa, spluttering into a round of panicked coughing; she hadn’t expected to see their kitchenware burst into flames anytime soon.
Harry’s eyes flit back to their usual juniper green, another enchantment tinging the air. “Exstinguo.”
The fire goes out as quickly as it had ignited, leaving a very disheveled Y/N blinking dissociatively in its wake. Her sights then pin onto her boyfriend, irritation pinching her eyebrows together. “Was that really necessary?”
Harry shrugs nonchalantly, completely unbothered. “I like the smokey taste it leaves. Reminds me of s’mores.”
He brings the drink up to his mouth, blowing gently before tipping it back, feeling a soothing warmth wash down his neck and chest as it travels down his throat, the sweet, rich taste tingling his taste buds. An airy, appreciative purr rings from his chest. “S’good. Could use some bourbon, though.”
Y/N sets down her mug on the counter, still somewhat miffed, mostly because she knows he only did it to mess with her (probably as revenge for earlier). Both of her hands tighten around the ceramic surface, leeching its warmth into her body to help stifle the cold shot of adrenaline that had shot through her veins. She licks the marshmallow residue off her upper lip, tone passive. “Maybe a little warning next time? Would like a heads up before you try and melt one of our bowls.”
“That takes all the fun away! It was supposed to be spontaneous.” Harry pauses, catching onto his unintended pun and grinning like an idiot. “Literally.”
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No One Left Behind
This was my super late gift fic to WhatIsMagic over on the Boku no Ship Academia discord server for their Secret Santa 2019. Admittedly, lots of RL issues popped up to make the process more difficult than it already was. But procrastination is a bitch too... ^^” I’m happy with the end result though! It was my first time writing from Kirishima’s POV and the sunshine OT3, which turned out to be more fun than I expected~ Hope you enjoy!! ^w^
Genre: Fantasy/Adventure/Romance
Pairing: Kirikacchako
Rating: T
Word Count: 5,235
Summary: Kirishima's life was simple. Along with Bakugou, his partner-in-crime, they roamed the land in search of a place to call home. They even had a solid plan in his opinion. But life doesn't get any easier because you're a fire-breathing dragon. Especially not after meeting a charming yet tougher-than-she-looks witch that's asking for a fight.
Fight us? She’s so tiny! Kirishima had thought upon landing his gaze on Uraraka for the first time.
From barely reaching the knee of his dragon foot to the deteriorating state of her clothes, the Mage hadn’t appeared to be a threat. Not until she managed to knock down Kirishima with a single attack.
This infuriated his partner-in-crime and the land’s most dangerous bandit, Bakugou Katsuki. No amount of foes had been able to do that before, neither this fast. So he attacked Uraraka without holding back while Kirishima tried to stand again, pain traveling on his long skull like ripples on a lake.
Their fight seemed endless. Through his dragon vision, Kirishima could follow it easily despite the dust cloud they raised while dueling. It had been forever since he had last seen Bakugou being equally matched by anyone. Yet, this girl made him struggle with her wind magic, forcing him at some point to use his explosive fire magic. It resulted in leveling the first line of trees surrounding the glade Uraraka had found them.
As the aftershocks of that clash resided, Kirishima decided this had run long enough. Someone from the nearby village would come to chase them out; bringing more trouble than this dispute was worth. He could admit the Mage had guts though. Holding her ground against Bakugou with ferocity akin to a mother bear was an admirable feat. But they had to stop. Kirishima sprained his mind, trying to figure out how to resolve this fight without hurting their pride. All he came up with was sitting in between them during a pause for breath. This effectively blocked their path of attack, redirecting their general frustration at him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bakugou shouted, striking his blades against the dragon’s scales.
Kirishima couldn’t feel anything so he left him to rage and addressed the Mage. ”We aren’t going to hurt anyone. We’re simply passing by on our way to the Elderworm Forest.”
She stared at him with wide eyes as if it was her first time seeing a dragon talk. The attention felt different though. Sure, she stared but it wasn’t the unsettling glare most peasants gave Kirishima like they pondered whether he would eat them or not. Her smell was flowery sweet like awe and wonder, instead of the sharp tang of fear. Flames danced in his stomach like fleeting butterflies.
“I see,” said the Mage. “If that’s the case, uh… Mr. Dragon.”
“Kirishima,” he said with a snicker. “Just call me Kirishima.”
“Alright…You seem kind, Kirishima, so I believe you.” She grabbed her staff tighter and tried to glance over at Bakugou. “But he—”
“I’m what, Round Face?” Bakugou sneered. “Not worth your time?”
“I’d say rude and tactless but you know that already,” she mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.
“You got some nerve! Third-class Mages like you should know their place.”
“Oh? I wonder what your bandit brothers will say when they find I swiped the floor with you!”
Kirishima placed a paw on Bakugou’s head to prevent him from attacking her again. “How about we all calm down and eat something? It’s getting late and dinner tastes better with a company, don’t you think?”
Both adversaries huffed in annoyance. Their growling stomachs betrayed them though and they reluctantly agreed to the idea with blushing faces. Leaving them at opposite sides of the clearing, Kirishima set up camp. He had plenty of fallen tree trunks at his disposal to create a small pure in the middle. After lighting it up with his dragon breath, he forced Bakugou to quit his sulking and unpack their things from Kirishima’s back. They were running low on vegetables and other spices the bandit used in their meals but had enough meat to last them until the next big town. So Kirishima wasn’t too worried. After all, Bakugou could make everything taste good even with the bare minimum of materials. It was one of the reasons the dragon enjoyed traveling together. Things used to taste very bland before.
Soon, the smell of a freshly cooked meal spread in the clearing. Kirishima’s mouth watered, saliva dripping on the ground and sizzling whenever it hit the burning embers of the fire.
“Watch it,” Bakugou scolded him. “You’d get drool all over the food!”
He whined in return and dropped his head between his front legs, wagging his tail like a puppy dog. Of course, this motion raised quite the racket coming from an overgrown lizard. Annoyed from this distraction, his friend eventually threw him a half-cooked rib. Kirishima gobbled it whole in one go.
As he was licking his snout in delight, his gaze fell on the Mage. She was sitting on a log at the furthest point the fire could reach. They had introduced each other properly while setting camp earlier. Her name was Uraraka Ochako, a wandering Mage currently in her thesis quest. She had to complete the quest to graduate from her Master Wizard school. It sounded like a lot of trouble for a seal of approval to Kirishima, but humans always had to make things more complicated than they should.
Picking another freshly cooked piece of meat from Bakugou’s makeshift pan, Kirishima approached Uraraka and placed it on a smooth rock in front of her.
“Is that for me?” Uraraka asked, surprised.
“Yup!” He took a seat next to her. “And it’s not poisoned if that’s worrying you.”
She cooed and picked it up bare-handed. “That’s so sweet of you. I’ve been starving actually!” Ignoring the look of hatred Bakugou directed at her from the other side of the fire, she inhaled the food in a matter of moments.
No lie. She must have been really hungry, Kirishima thought.
He hadn’t seen a human woman eat so carelessly and messy before. It was different in a good way; like everything about her seemed to be.
They spent the better of the night talking about this and that until both Mages fell asleep. Kirishima stayed awake a little longer, self-conscious of Uraraka’s back leaning against his side. Her body heat was nothing compared to the raging inferno in his gut. But it made his thoughts travel far and wide.
Maybe those exact thoughts were the reason when—come morning—he asked Uraraka to join along in their journey to the Elderworm Woods—much to Bakugou’s loud and very vocal objections.
“No.”
“We’re all headed in the same direction.”
“I refuse!”
Kirishima dropped his shoulders with a sigh. “Technically, I’m the one carrying the bags so it’s my shot to make.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Bakugou said. “I’m the one in charge.”
“Please don’t make me say things I’ll regret, man.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”
“That you just don’t want me along because I kicked your butt,” Uraraka said. She had perched on a tree branch, observing the scene at a safe distance from Bakugou’s fire-like powers.
He turned around, pointing his finger at her. “You stay out of it! This is between me and my partner.”
Seeing this was going to turn into another fight, Kirishima donned his human form and stood in between them again. “She’s coming or we’re walking there and that’s final.” He said to Bakugou.
He appeared firm and serious, but his insides were coiling with anxiety. It was rare for the dragon to directly challenge Bakugou’s ‘authority’ like this. More often than not, Kirishima let Bakugou take the initiative because their goals aligned, not out of fear. Kirishima could withstand most magic attacks with ease after all. Except when it came to Uraraka’s magic. He couldn’t understand what had come over him regarding the Mage. It worried him not that she beat him. There was a first time for everything and Kirishima wasn’t the strongest dragon in the land at the end of the day. He told himself that her coming along wasn’t just to keep a close watch on her. He wanted Uraraka to come, simple as that.
Bakugou crossed his arms, still scowling. “Fine. But she’s cooking her meals.”
Kirishima grinned. “Aye, sir!” He turned around but his words were cut short.
Once she got a glimpse of his face, Uraraka fell from the branch into the bushes underneath the tree.
“Gods!” Kirishima rushed to her and parted the vegetation. “Are you alright?”
Uraraka straightened her hooded hat. “Yes! I...lost my balance is all!” she said with a cheerful high-pitched squeak, taking his offered hand. After standing up, Uraraka continued holding onto it. Her fingers trailed the larger scales along his forearm before stopping on the underside of his human arm. She seemed mesmerized from the smaller pebble-like scales he had there instead of smooth skin.
Bakugou’s curt cough snapped her out of whatever trance she had entered.
“Ah! I’m so sorry, Kirishima!” Uraraka said, blushing and waving her hands in front of her. “That was rude of me. I should have asked you if it was okay. I’m very sorry!”
The dragon returned his gaze on his arm. Warmth, unlike any he’d felt before, spread from the spots she had touched him. “You don’t have to apologize,” Kirishima stammered, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t remember the last time anyone grabbed my hand so carelessly.”
“I see.” Her rosy cheeks turned, if possible, redder. “If that’s settled then...I should get my things ready! Bye!” She bolted in the direction of the camp.
Her reaction puzzled Kirishima but he didn’t press the matter any further. They had an entire trip ahead to figure out things if they had to.
Bakugou remained uncharacteristically silent for the rest of that day.
***
Uraraka turned out to be a pleasant company indeed. With a spring in her step, she filled the following weeks with joy and excitement. Everything amazed her. From flowers growing on top of ancient columns, to the way Kirishima’s scales glistened when the sun hit them just right. It was contagious.
Even Bakugou started warming up to her. Especially after discovering how terrible were her actual cooking skills.
“No one can burn boiling water,” he said while throwing away the remains of Uraraka’s shoddy kettle, “or turn perfectly solid meat into slime. How you made it this far is beyond me!”
The Mage joined her hands together with an awkward smile. “People’s generosity?”
Bakugou shot his meanest stinky eye and begrudgingly accepted to involve her in their meal plans. He didn’t change his overall attitude towards Uraraka though; always keeping his distance as if uncertain of what to think of her. In Kirishima’s eyes, it was a tentative first step forward at least.
They eventually fell into a peaceful routine in their traveling. Guards stopped chasing Kirishima and Bakugou the moment they spotted them in town, allowing them a couple of hours to browse for supplies before sounding the alarm. As the group traveled mostly through the air, they had already covered a great distance by the time kingdom forces were alerted.
Kirishima had been worried Uraraka might come to the wrong conclusions. The duo weren’t criminals. Bakugou had simply ridiculed the current ruler once, and the King hadn’t taken it lightly. But Uraraka laughed her heart out when the dragon tried to explain the situation, calling it silly and dropping the subject. Relief washed over Kirishima. He let her ride on his head for the rest of that flight, smiling all the way. His partner, surprisingly, didn’t complain about the sitting arrangement for once.
This serenity was a fragile and fleeting state to remain for long though.
***
Things started going downhill when they reached the Great Mountains. Those massive blocks of earth, rising white and blue from the mist, were the last barrier before the Elderworm Woods. Plenty had attempted to cross them in the past; most giving up from the harsh cold and lack of proper passages. However, Kirishima had been confident about making it across when he had first suggested it to Bakugou. He could keep the Barbarian warm even if his winter garments and furs failed him. But the dragon hadn’t planned for a third person in their group, more so how it would distract him from his duties. The Gods had their way to jog his memory though.
On the third day of their crossing, while they were scaling a steep slope, Bakugou slipped. Kirishima could only stare in shock as his partner fell, his cape billowing behind him. Something passed next to Kirishima in a blur. It was Uraraka free-falling. The action startled him enough to snap out of his trance. Kirishima jumped after them, his wings unfolding from behind his back as he regained his dragon form. Passing through the clouds that had settled around the cliff, he found them suspended in midair. A pink aura was covering both their bodies like a shimmering cloak, but it flickered around Uraraka. She continued chanting; hands shaking around her magic staff. Her levitation spell wouldn’t last long.
With Bakugou too dumbfounded to reason, Kirishima just hovered below him and called for Uraraka to drop him. She did with a relieved sigh. Feeling Bakugou’s weight settle on his saddle, Kirishima flew upwards and picked the Mage midair. They reached the top and landed smoothly on the plateau there.
As Uraraka stroke Kirishima’s snout, Bakugou approached them with heavy steps and turned her around to face him.
“What did you do?” He yelled.
Uraraka stared back, the sharp scent of fear emanating from her body. “I saved… you.”
“Get one thing straight, Round Face. I didn’t need your help! Not now, not ever.”
“But you’d have died!” She released her arm from his grip. “I couldn’t just stand there and let you perish!”
“Spare me this shit,” he snapped back. “I have a motherfucking dragon on my side. Kirishima would have caught me before I hit the ground.”
“I wouldn’t.”
Both turned their questionable gaze at him.
Kirishima stared at his feet, his two hearts beating erratically. “I froze for a moment back there. Yeah, I might have had reached you but I can’t say that for sure. If Uraraka hadn’t intervened…”
Bakugou huffed and withdrew to the furthest corner of the plateau.
The Mage and the dragon set camp by themselves, occupying their thoughts with small talk and jokes.
Later on, when night had spread her silky midnight veil over the horizon and Uraraka had fallen asleep against Kirishima’s side, he heard the shuffling of clothes and steps approaching. The faint aroma of caramel Bakugou gave off was the only reason Kirishima wasn’t alarmed and continued to pretend to be asleep. The steps seized when they reached the dragon’s right side.
“You didn’t have to side with her,” Bakugou said.
Kirishima finally opened one eye to look at him. “I was being honest.”
“Bullshit.”
“It was the truth and you know it. You’d have been injured or worse, dead.”
“I’m not afraid of death,” Bakugou said. “It comes for everyone in the end.” Stepping on Kirishima’s snout, he scaled the dragon’s head to sit between his horns. “Your tongue has been getting ahead of itself lately.”
“Is that a problem?” Kirishima didn’t need to study his partner’s face to understand this was troubling him.
“It’s a bother, that’s what it is.” Bakugou flopped backward. “Where is this audacity coming from?”
“I’m not saying anything different than I did before.” Kirishima snorted. “You react to it more now.”
“I do not!”
“If you say so, man.”
Bakugou huffed. “She was being reckless,” he said, returning to their previous argument. “The idiot could have killed us both with that risky plan.”
“I thought it was brave,” Kirishima said wistfully. “And Uraraka did save your life, dude. You gotta thank her!”
“Whatever.” His cape slipped over the dragon’s right ear as Bakugou laid on his side. “Just go to sleep.”
Typical, Kirishima thought with a fond eye-roll.
His partner would prefer to set himself on fire before he acknowledged anyone’s help, even if that assistance had saved him from plummeting to his certain death. But if there was one thing bothering Kirishima was his own reaction back then. He prided himself in his quick reflexes. And yet, Uraraka’s smile had distracted him.
Could this be dangerous? he wondered while drifting asleep.
***
After the fiasco with the cliff, Bakugou decided he had his fill with scaling the mountains. If they could fly to reach them, they could fly across them too. No one objected to this plan at first, but it quickly turned into an extremely awkward ride. Bakugou hadn’t exchanged a single word with Uraraka since the incident and neither did she. Having to sit close, due to the harsh cold, didn’t prompt them to mend their differences either.
This negativity tired Kirishima. He was doing all the hard work. Couldn’t these two clear the tension between them? If only until they reached their destination at least.
The Gods granted his wish in the form of a snowstorm. Strong winds were bending his wings in the wrong directions. His second eyelid protected his eyes from the snow, but Kirishima couldn’t see clearly from the fogginess it accumulated.
“Hold on!” He shouted as dark shapes sprouted in front of him. The last thing he heard before colliding with something solid where his party’s screams.
When Kirishima opened his eyes again, everything was white. Ice and snow slid from his belly as he turned around to stand on all fours. His ears were ringing and his front was sore from his fall. Still, he craned his neck to find his saddle empty.
Panic flared in his chest as Kirishima scanned the horizon.
Oh, no… How long has it been?
There was nothing but plan hills made of snow as far as his eyes could reach.
No. I didn’t ask for this.
He dashed ahead, the ground parting beneath him in waves.
No! That’s not what I wanted.
Sure, things would be better if they got along. Bakugou was his friend, his partner, the closest thing he had to family anymore. The world could be against him and his personality had seen better days, but Kirishima had sworn to be there for him, in thick and thin. Compared to that, his relationship with Uraraka was still fresh; an uncharted, delicate bond Kirishima was only starting to make sense off. But if anything happened to her, none of his hearts wouldn’t take it.
Something shimmered on his left. The air was different around that terrain as if there was a boiling pot buried underneath. Kirishima bolted in that direction, not paying any attention at how the snow got deep enough to reach his shoulder. It was getting warmer.
After a long final jump, he landed on something soft and squishy. Releasing his fire, Kirishima melted the ice around it to reveal a pink force-field. Two forms were huddled together in its center, under Bakugou’s fur-lined cape.
“Guys!” Kirishima shouted.
Uraraka’s eyes fluttered open and she offered him a weak smile. The field started dissipating, allowing him to enter. Kirishima didn’t waste time and curled around them, offering his body’s heat. Relief washed over him, filling his eyes with water. Just as Kirishima settled his head on his tail, his gaze crossed with Bakugou’s red.
“Why are you crying, idiot?” The Barbarian murmured, exhausted.
He sniffed. “I almost lost you again.”
Bakugou scoffed and rapped his knuckles against the dragon’s scales. “You’re here now and that’s what fucking matters.”
***
When they resumed their traveling, the tension was gone. Uraraka even settled in Bakugou’s lap and he had to hug her to hold the reins. At first, Kirishima didn't pay much attention to it. They had been in mortal peril before, almost freezing to death. Of course, they would cuddle for warmth. Kirishima went as far as to congratulate Uraraka for convincing his stubborn partner to go with the original plan. Her flustered reaction tipped him off that something was amiss though. Ignoring the sour taste it left in his mouth, Kirishima focused on getting them away from these cursed mountains instead.
The rest of the trip was uneventful and after a particular steep peak, the Elderworm Woods unfolded before their eyes; a vast green sea, full of creatures with every size and color under the sun. Giant trees—taller than the High Castle itself—spread over the terrain. Magic rode on the wind like sparkly ribbons made of stars. Kirishima could sense it, filtering through his wings and bouncing on his scales.
It felt like home.
His excitement carried over to the others. Uraraka was tracing her fingers through the air with glee. A small smile spread across Bakugou’s face as he tried to see everything at once.
They were happy and it should have been enough. Kirishima didn’t want to think about the consequences of reaching their destination. But as they settled for the night, he was unable to sleep. Scenario upon scenario bounced around his head like excited fox-squirrels. What all of them had in common was Uraraka or Bakugou or, Gods forbid, both leaving him behind. He could stay in this forest forever but could they?.
The blooming romance between the two only increased Kirishima’s worry. Bakugou wasn’t the type of guy to sit in a field of flowers with anyone before; more so with someone, he had been on the fence for a while. Whenever Kirishima asked him about it, the Barbarian claimed he was helping Uraraka with her thesis. The sooner she finished, the better for everyone. Uraraka would return to her Academy, he and Kirishima would return on their adventuring. Yet, by observing them, it seemed more like Bakugou stalled on purpose. Chasing Uraraka around while she was gathering herbs. Climbing with her on trees to stargaze or exploring the forest together.
Kirishima couldn’t ignore the truth anymore. He didn’t want to get in the way of their happiness either.
So one day, while Uraraka went on her regular herb-hunting, Kirishima grabbed Bakugou and flew to the nearest hill. Despite his protests, the Barbarian remained quiet after their landing. Transforming into his human form, Kirishima took a seat on a boulder. He had gone over his words several times. Still, he didn’t know where to begin.
“If you have something to say, just get this over with.” Bakugou crossed his arms. “She’s gonna get worried and whine about it.”
Kirishima took the crumb, like a drowning man looking for a lifeline. “That’s what I wanna talk about.”
“Uraraka’s whining?”
“No! Uraraka in general.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And she’s kind-hearted enough to worry about us. You should give her more credit about that.”
“Fine. What about her?”
“I’ve noticed she acts differently around you lately. I mean you still have your arguments and rivalry going on, but it’s more mellow than before. Almost like teasing,” Kirishima said, pulling at some weeds. “I don’t think you notice it but you have this look on your face whenever Uraraka is around like spring has come early.” Saying his observations aloud wasn’t supposed to hurt. But Kirishima’s insides were twisting; as if the fire in his lungs had escaped to the rest of his body. “All I’m trying to say is that it’s pretty obvious that you like her and she does too. So I—“
“Huh?!” Birds flew away from the foliage nearby, Bakugou’s yell scaring them off. His eyes were so wide, they might as well had popped up from their sockets at any moment. “You serious?” He said, calmer but still in a tone of disbelief. “Are you blind? She likes you!”
“What?” It was Kirishima’s turn to stare as if madness had contaminated his partner.
Bakugou started passing. His cape swiped the ground, raising dust behind him. “She never shuts up about you. Always has a nice word and a smile for you. Haven’t you learned anything about human courtship all these years?” He turned around to point dramatically at him. “You obviously like her back too. Giving her the best part of the meat. Offering rides. Looking at her as if you worship the ground she walks on. So don’t joke around!”
“I’m not! I’m not human, man. I may look like the part from time to time. Deep down though, I’m too different to completely understand her,” he said. Clenching his scale-covered fists, Kirishima stood up to reason with his partner. “I’m a monster. That’s why she’s better off with you anyway.”
“Bullshit!” Bakugou bonked him on the head. “You’re soft-hearted to a fault! People see someone big that breathes fire and they think he’s dangerous. We both know that you’d be better off at some secluded cave in the mountains than go around burning villages,” he said with a wave. “So what if I am human? They are scared of me! Who, in their right mind, would want to be around someone who half the kingdom is asking for his head?”
“You’re not that scary, man,” Kirishima said. “I’ve stayed by your side for so long, didn’t I?”
“You don’t classify as ‘someone in his right mind’ for exactly that reason.” Bakugou took a deep breath. “Never. Not once, I got that reaction from you. As if you aren’t fazed by anything and everything in the world is your friend. So don’t give me this crap of being a monster. If there is one, that’s me. And Uraraka is better off with someone that can treat her right.”
“But she’s so head-over-heels for you, dude!” Kirishima shook him by the shoulders. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
Bakugou grabbed him by the horns and pressed their foreheads together. “You are the one in denial and projecting your feelings on me.”
“Just admit it!”
“You admit it!”
“Don’t I have a say in all this?” Uraraka’s voice, albeit sweet with a tinge of a hidden laugh in her tone, dropped like lighting right then and there.
The boys untangled themselves and stared back at her. Uraraka held her wand on one hand and a patch of herbs under the other. Her hair and clothes were a mess. She probably flew to this hill too since their camp was at least a mile away. Her body language wasn’t showing any angry signs. But Kirishima could smell the anxiety oozing from her in waves.
“I thought something happened,” Uraraka said with a sigh. “And here you are, arguing over something so stupid!”
It stunk. Was there a possibility she wasn’t romantically interested in either of them and they had made a fool of themselves, treating her as an object and not a person with her own will?
“What do you mean?” Bakugou demanded to know.
“I have two hands!” Uraraka exclaimed frustrated.
Kirishima didn’t understand the statement and by Bakugou’s blank expression, neither did he.
“Of course you have two hands,” the dragon offered. “You’re a human. That’s normal.”
Uraraka huffed. Leaving her staff and the herbs on the ground, she approached them with a confident stance. Both boys took an involuntary step back, not sure what to expect of her. When Uraraka finally stood in front of them, she took ahold of one hand from each.
“See?” she asked with a blinding smile. “We can all stay together this way.”
Bakugou figured it out first. His whole face turned the same shade of red as Kirishima’s scales. Heat emanated from his body, small wisps of smoke trailing from his free fist.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Barbarian muttered, not looking any of them in the eye.
Kirishima scratched his cheek, still staring at their joint hands as if it was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. “I don’t get it,” he said.
"It means I like you both, silly!" Uraraka said as if it was the simplest concept in the world.
"Oh."
"Oh?" Bakugou grabbed Kirishima by his jacket. "That's all you have to say?"
The dragon allowed his body to be rocked sideways. "Why are you angry, man? This great! I haven't heard of a three people's mating but it could work, right?"
Bakugou's face turned, if possible, redder than before. "Like hell it is!" He turned to Uraraka. "And you. I don't know what possessed you, Round Face. This idiot here isn't some pet you keep in your backyard and throw away when it's too big to fit there. He is someone with feelings you can hurt with statements like that. Last week, he cried because he thought he destroyed a badgers nest!"
"I know! That's why I like him!" Uraraka said. "For his heart is his biggest strength and his smile is...” She blushed. “Adorable.”
“Really?” Kirishima pointed at his razor-sharp teeth. “Don’t you think it’s scary?”
“Says who?” Bakugou scoffed. “It’s badass, that’s all.”
Uraraka cooed—to the Barbarian’s embarrassment—before her grin turned into a frown. “I still can’t believe both of you like me. I thought I was getting between you two.”
“What?!” The boys cried.
“Hear me out!” she said. “You called each other ‘partner’ all the time.”
“Yeah,” Bakugou said. “Because we are comrades-in-arms.”
“I was watching you two from the day I met you. It always looked like something more.”
At that moment, a particularly challenging battle flashed before Kirishima’s eyes. Bakugou and he had been separated. Soldiers were surrounding the dragon to stop him. Kirishima did feel a bit sorry for them when he resumed his human form and broke through their blockade. It hadn’t lasted for long though, as the mindset of battle overcame him. With half a mind, he continued searching for his partner. Deep down, Kirishima knew it was unnecessary. Bakugou was a powerful wizard and a merciless warrior; he didn’t need assistance. But he was also human and not having him in his sight, made Kirishima worry.
During a lull in the battle, he finally spotted ash-blond spiky hair in the distance. The Barbarian had lost his cape, fighting bare-chested with his trusty curved blades on both hands. Bloodstains littered his body but they weren’t from his wounds. Kirishima dropped the soldier he had just defeated, watching mesmerized while Bakugou fought simultaneously against three enemies with a wicked grin on his face. It was a memory the dragon held dear in his two hearts because it was what real freedom looked like to him.
“I guess that’s true,” Kirishima said with a shy smile.
Pulling his hand away, Bakugou turned around with arms crossed. His scent was resembling more of burnt caramel and smoke escaped his clenched fists in bulk.
“Said something wrong?” Uraraka asked.
Although his expression wasn’t visible, Kirishima knew they didn’t have to worry. If anything, the Barbarian’s ears still had a touch of red to them.
“No,” Bakugou grumbled. “You’re just disgustingly corny.”
The dragon and the Mage exchanged a knowing look before both tackled him from behind.
“Get off me!”
“We love you, too!” Uraraka chimed.
Kirishima’s hearts were hammering so loud in his chest. Joy, unlike any he felt before, filled him to the brim like a magic boost. Without Kirishima realizing, his wings unfolded and he shot to the sky above them with an excited roar. He didn’t have to choose between them nor would he be left behind. They could stay together for as long as they lived.
“Put us down, you idiot!” Bakugou shouted over the wind. “You can be happy on the ground too!”
#kirikacchako#kirishima eijirou#bakugou katsuki#uraraka ochako#dragon!kirishima#barbarian!bakugou#witch!uraraka#bnha fantasy au#fantasy rpg au#fantasy au#boku no hero academia#bnha#bnha fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#secret santa#bnsa secret santa 2019#wolfswriting
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Firefighter-in-Training
Eddie walked through the door to the sound of music softly coming from the living room. He placed his keys into the bowl and shed his jacket, putting it on the coat rack. He padded quietly through the hall and entered a room that was shadowed in the light of the television and the lights off their tree. His heart nearly exploded at the sight of his husband of three years, and his twelve-year-old son curled up on the couch, fast asleep.
Eddie smiled as he walked over, pressing a kiss to the crowns of each of their heads. He moved to sit next to the two people who made up his entire world. He sighed as he leaned back into the soft cushions of the chair, feeling his vision sway from the exhaustion that he racked up from his shift. He opened his eyes when he felt fingers sliding through his hair and turned to see Buck looking at him lovingly.
"Didn't hear you come in."
Eddie reached up for those fingers, pulling them to his lips, pressing a warm kiss. "I just got in a few moments go," he whispered, not wanting to wake Chris up as well.
"How was your day?"
Eddie closed his eyes again. "It started off slow, but once that bell rang, it was one call after another. It was crazy today. We had one call where this lady ran a red light, trying to chase down this man in a Santa Hat. When she ran through the intersection, she plowed into a bus and caused it to jackknife into the opposite lanes where it hit three cars."
"Holy shit…" Buck sighed before scowling. "Of course, that would have to happen on my day off. I wish that I could have been there."
"There were car parts and glass everywhere. It took hours to clean up."
"Damn holiday drivers…sounds like it was a crazy scene."
"You want to know the most insane part?"
"What?"
Eddie snorted as he recalled the details from the scene. "There were only minor injuries."
Buck blinked as surprise filled his eyes. "Wow… that is amazing. What was the woman thinking?"
"But that is not the craziest part. The part where the man in the hat was nowhere to be found."
Buck snickered. "It sounds like someone was hitting the holiday punch a little too soon. Unless that man was the real Santa…" he said, trailing off as his eyes filled with wonder. "What if-"
"No," Eddie piped up, wanting to stop his man before he started spouting off some crazy Santa fact. He knew that his husband had an insane knack for looking up random topics when he was bored. Eddie's eyes dropped to the little boy between the two men. "He's sacked out. What did you guys do today?"
Buck peered down at Chris, who starting to stir at the sound of the voices. "We had a very busy day. We went to the store. Then we came home and baked some cookies. We even made a homemade gingerbread house. After that, we ate some pizza and watched movies until we fell asleep. He wanted to wait up to see you, but he passed out about an hour into Christmas with the Kranks."
"Sounds like you had a lot of fun…" Eddie said as Chris stretched out his arms, and his eyes lit up as they fell on to Eddie.
"Daddy!" Chris smiled brightly with a voice filled with glee and reached for Eddie. "I missed you!"
Eddie chuckled as he gathered Chris up in his arms, placing him on his lap. "I missed you too," he said, kissing Chris on the temple, taking a moment to breathe in Chris's sweet scent that was mixed with Buck's. It was his favorite since it was the scent of home.
"What about me? Did you miss me?"
Eddie narrowed his brown irises at his husband. "I don't know… It was kind of peaceful without you today. It was kind of nice," he said with a teasing note.
"Well…" Buck huffed, turning away from him, crossing his arms with a cute pout of his face. "I see where I rank in this family. You don't miss me all day. Then you come home and snatch away the boy that was keeping me warm."
Eddie snickered. He knew that Buck was playing along with him. "Oh baby, you have no idea how much I miss you every day," he said, taking Buck's hand into his, but Buck pulled away, which made Eddie look at him. Buck was glaring at the television, and Eddie would have laughed too, but he also knew that sometimes his husband didn't know when someone was teasing him or joking around.
"You actually think I wouldn't miss you?" Eddie chuckled slowly at Buck's still pouting face. "I miss you the moment you are not in my vision. I miss you the moment you leave our bed. I miss you the moment you are not beside me. I will always miss you until I take my last breath."
Buck pulled his attention away from the television to look to Eddie. Eddie could feel the room start to sizzle with energy. Or maybe that was his body igniting from the smokey gaze across from him.
Buck broke the trance by clearing his throat and looking down at their kid. "Hey Buddy, do you remember what I said about the bag?" he asked.
Chris perked up, sitting up straight with an excited smile. "We can give him the bag now?" he asked, clapping his hands.
"Mmmhm," Buck nodded. "Can you go grab it for me?"
Chris wiggled off of Eddie's lap until his feet touched the floor. Eddie's brows furrowed as he watched his son slowly make his way out of the room.
"What bag?"
Buck smiled. "You'll see. So you really did miss me?" he asked him, shyly.
Eddie shook his head as he moved until he was sitting next to Buck. "You bet I did, and if Chris was in bed," Eddie reached up to cup Buck's face pressing a hungry kiss to lips. Buck sighed into the kiss before Eddie pulled back. "I would show you just how much I missed you."
Buck moaned quietly. "Don't start something you can't finish, Ed."
Eddie pressed another kiss to the corner of Buck's lips. "Who says I'm not going to finish? Because I plan to later." He smirks as he could hear Chris's shuffled footsteps filling the room. "Later?"
"Later."
Chris walked over to Buck with a small red bag in his hands. Buck smiled brightly at him. "Great job!" Buck said, pulling Chris on to his lap. "Now we give it to Daddy," Buck said, and Chris smiled back as he passed the bag over to Eddie.
"This is for you," Chris giggled as Eddie takes it into his hands.
"What is it?" Eddie asked, looking at the bag.
"It's your Christmas present," Chris told him.
Eddie frowned. "Christmas isn't until next week," he pointed out. "If it's my Christmas present, I should wait until next week when you open yours."
"Buck said that this present couldn't wait."
Eddie glanced up at Buck, who was nodding at him.
"It's true. Open it," Buck urged softly with a smile that had Eddie pulling the bag open. Buck could feel his heart begin to pound as Eddie worked through the sea of tissue paper until he reached the bottom. He had to close his eyes as a note of confusion washed over Eddie's handsome face. He opened them to see Eddie pulling his hand out of the bag holding the blue rolled-up fabric that he had placed in that bag a few hours before.
Eddie pulled at the piece of tape holding it all together and unrolled it to reveal that it was a onesie. On the front, it had the LAFD logo in the corner, and on the back, it had the Los Angeles Fire Department in large white letters with Firefighter in training below it in red. "It's a onesie," he said, turning to look at the two of them.
Buck nodded. "It is," he smiled as Eddie turned it around to look at the other side.
"Who's having a baby?" Eddie asked, looking to his husband. "Is it someone we know?"
"It sure is."
"Who?"
"We are."
Eddie stared at him quietly for a few moments, and Buck watched as Eddie connected the dots in his mind. Those beautiful brown eyes filled up with so much light, Buck felt like he was staring into the sun. "We are?" Eddie swallowed, trying to keep the bubble of hope bursting. They had been working so hard, fighting long hours with fights and broken hearts, for this moment.
Buck nodded, blinking rapidly. "Yep. We are. I received a call early this afternoon before I went to pick up Christopher from school. It was Mrs. Weiss calling to tell me that our baby is on its way as we speak. The mother has already signed away her rights, and we will be given a call once the baby is born."
Eddie felt a wind hit his body as the news sank in. But it was not an awful feeling. No. This feeling was great as this wind knocked down every door around them, freeing them from their current struggles of facing the possibility that this moment would never happen. But it did...and it is happening. For them! "Why didn't you call me?"
Buck shrugged. "Because you were at work, and I didn't want to tell you over the phone. I wanted to see the look in your eye when I told you the news and didn't really feel like sharing this moment with the house just yet."
Eddie swallowed painfully. "This is really happening," he said in awe. "We're getting a baby." Eddie reached over, taking Buck's hand into his. "We're getting a baby," he said again as joy filled his soul.
Eddie was so filled with excitement that he jumped to his feet and pulled Chris off of Buck's lap. "Chris... we're getting a baby," he smiled at his son, twirling him in his arm. "You are gonna be a brother." The room was filled with Chris's squeals as Buck rose to his feet, watching the duo that filled his world with so much love.
"Daddy! Let me down!" Chris laughed as Eddie tickled him. As he laid him back on the couch and Eddie turned to his partner.
"We did it," Eddie said, placing his hands on Buck's hips, pulling him closer. "We really did it! I love you so much, Evan."
Buck said nothing as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie's lips. "I love you too," he whispered against his lips.
Eddie pulled back. "Wait… Do we know if it's a boy or a girl?"
Buck shook his head. "Weiss didn't say. I don't care. I hope we get a girl to be honest, but I am good with a son too. I mean, we already have the perfect son. Now we just need a perfect girl."
Eddie frowned at Buck. "But the onesie says firefighter in training…" he reminded.
Buck snorted as he wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist. "Don't let Hen hear you say that," he snickered. "She would probably smack you for it."
"When are we gonna tell the family?" Eddie asked.
Buck lifted his shoulders. "Hmm… That is a good question. Maddie will be pissed that I didn't tell her. Hell, everyone would be pissed if we didn't tell them. But I want to savor this moment, so how about a few days after we bring our baby home."
Eddie nodded. "Our baby… I like the sound of that."
Buck pressed a kiss to the tip of Eddie's nose. "Me too. Except I love the sound of it."
"Always trying to outdo me."
Buck snickered. "Didn't hear you complaining the other day with the Nutella. I fact you were loving."
"YOU ATE MY NUTELLA??!"
Eddie and Buck froze and turned to see their son staring at them with wide eyes wearing a broken expression. "Ooops…" Buck trailed off as Eddie shook his head and turned back to Chris.
Buck took in a deep breath as he nibbled his lip as Eddie tried to explain to Chris what happen, but couldn't help but to fall in deep laughs. There was nothing that could kill his mood because they were getting a baby. He remembered someone telling him that December was the month of miracles, and he finally could see that they were right.
#evan buckley#Buddie#buck and eddie#eddie and buck#Eddie Diaz#9-1-1#911#911 on fox#oliver stark#ryan guzman#buddie fic#team buddie#daily buddie#gif is not mine#just the one shot#these two boys#are my soul#christopher diaz#my dads
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Day One: Candlelight
Welcome to the Twelve Days of Fictmas! Every day until Christmas Eve we’ll have a new story in a different fandom, just to celebrate being together at the end of a very long year.
Fandom: Detroit: Become Human
Summary: It had started as Connor’s first Christmas, but things still aren’t perfect back at the precinct and someone has set out to ruin the experience for him. Ben steps in to the rescue...after all, it’s also Connor’s first Hanukkah.
(This is in the same universe as my other story “Critical Components”, and connects to a long story I’ve been working on for the new year)
(First attempt at writing something for Hanukkah. I grew up with just Christmas so I don’t know much about other traditions, but I would love to learn, so please feel free to comment on or correct anything I could have done better.)
* * *
The ambiance of Jimmy's Bar settled around Hank like an old, familiar coat. He'd been avoiding this place since the Revolution, seeking out android-friendly establishments instead. Not that Connor or the other androids ever came out drinking with him, but he wanted to show his support any way he could. But then he'd found out Jimmy had peeled that damn “No Androids” sign off his door three days ago (probably missing the regular business from the precinct) so Hank decided to check the place out.
It was pretty much the same as always, but Hank caught sight of a blue LED at one of the booths, as well as a few non-human drinks on the menu. It wasn't much but, hell, after the last month and a half of shit it was something.
He nursed his single beer (still had to drive home...and Connor would be right up his ass if he got behind the wheel intoxicated) and idly watched Jimmy's movements around the bar. He knew Jimmy had been pressured by the property owner to put that damn sticker on the door, so maybe it wasn't so surprising he'd torn it off the first chance he got. Android equality wasn't quite a law just yet but it seemed like only a matter of time, and there were plenty of businesses ready and willing to let old prejudices go.
Hank's phone chirruped with an incoming text and he let out a groan before tugging his phone out of his pocket. The precinct Christmas party was tonight, and Hank just wasn't feeling it. Not the non-alcoholic eggnog, not the “dirty Santa” gift exchange, not spending hours of his free time with the same assholes he got paid to be around. Now he'd forgotten to silence his phone and one of those jackasses was texting to ask where he was. Connor should have explained it.
He had his reply all planned out, but pulled up short when he saw the actual picture. He poked and prodded at his phone, pinching at the screen to zoom in, trying to decipher what he was seeing.
It was Connor's desk, and it was covered in...crap. Baby crap, specifically. There was some kind of garland that spelled out “Baby's First Christmas” draped over his monitor, and there were bibs and onesies and shit with the same kind of crap on them. Half his desk was taken up with little jars of baby food and a couple of bottles, his phone had been replaced with a cheap toy phone, and perched on the lamp was a tiny Santa hat with Connor's name embroidered on the band. A baby-sized Santa hat.
Connor didn't want to tell you but I thought you should know. Ben's taking him home.
Hank's eyes flicked up to see that Chris had sent him the messages. Well, shit, that was even worse. Chris had given Connor a gift earlier today—said Connor needed something special for his first Christmas. It wasn't tacky or childish like all this crap, just a candid photo of Connor his first day back at the DPD that Chris had put in a little brass frame. The frame just had the year engraved on it, nothing more, but apparently that was enough to set off some dipshit.
He okay? Hank typed back.
He went all Stepford and said practical jokes are an important part of team integration.
Hank swore. Practical jokes were when Tina kept changing the height of Connor's chair to see if he noticed, or when someone kept putting badly-written android erotica novels in the drawers of his desk. Not shit like this. Not lacing the station's supply of thirium with antifreeze, or destroying the clothes in his locker (the kid only owned like three things, come on), or “testing” a taser on Connor at a fucking crime scene.
But of course Connor just kept making excuses. He put on that fake smile, the one Chris and Tina started calling the Stepford after that old movie, and try to bullshit up some positive reaction. Hank was almost certain none of his people were doing the really malicious stuff—not even Gavin. He was a prick, sure, but he wouldn't screw around at an active crime scene. And Connor wasn't the only android at the station, so screwing around with the thirium supply affected a good portion of the workforce.
Hank threw back the last of his beer and tossed a couple bills on the counter before weaving his way through the rest of the crowd of customers out into the cold night. Damn. They'd been hoping things were getting better now that the android was a more familiar face around the precinct. Connor wasn't technically back on the force yet, though Hank was sure it was just a matter of time. He'd been hired on as an independent consultant, which still meant no badge and no gun but at least he was there.
He just wished the kid wasn’t facing an uphill battle just to be accepted.
Ben's car was still there when Hank pulled up. Hank felt something inside him loosen up at that—at least Connor hadn't been home alone stewing over that stupid-ass prank. He tugged his coat closed and trudged his way through the slushy snow to the door, fully expecting to find the two of them on the couch with an old movie playing on the TV.
Instead, he was met with the sound of sizzling oil and the smell of fried potatoes as soon as he opened the door.
“Okay, just flip it...just like I showed you,” Ben's voice echoed out from the kitchen.
There was a faint scraping sound, then the louder sizzle of something frying. “Good! That's perfect, Connor.”
Hank shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the peg behind the door. “Connor? Ben?”
The other man leaned his head out of the kitchen, the apron over his dark shirt splattered with flour. “Hey, Hank! Welcome home.”
“The hell's all this?” Hank asked, stopping to scratch Sumo behind the ears as he crossed the living room to get to the kitchen.
“Well, we thought it was high time to pass on a few old traditions,” Ben said, waving one hand toward Hank's table. There was a table runner laid out across the scarred wood, something deep blue with white and silver embroidery. And a nine-branched candlestick—a Menorah, Hank realized. The candle in the center was burning, as was the one on the far right side.
That's right. Ben was Jewish. So, what, they skipped the Christmas party so Ben could teach Connor about Hanukkah?
Hank settled into one of the kitchen chairs and just stared for a minute. Ben was wearing an obnoxiously colorful apron, one that was styled to look like those ugly Christmas sweaters you found everywhere. Hank knew that apron. That was what Connor had picked out to bring to the party for the gift exchange. As for Connor...he had on one of those over-sized striped hats with the big felt elf ears, plus matching slippers on his feet. The slippers had pointed toes. The pointed toes had bells.
“I'll repeat the question,” Hank said as he watched Connor stare at something in a frying pan. “What the hell is all this?”
“Ben's teaching me to make latkes,” Connor explained. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment and Hank stifled a laugh at the smear of flour on the android's chin.
“Christmas parties are overrated,” Ben announced, running a hand down the front of his apron. “I think these are ready, kiddo.”
As Connor hesitantly poked at the latkes in the frying pan while Ben held out a plate, Hank leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Hey, Ben, where's the dreidel?”
“Don't be stupid,” Ben called back. “We've got seven more nights, I'm not bringing out all my secrets on the first night...hang on, do you have a double boiler?”
“A what?” Hank accepted the ginger ale Connor handed him, and the plate with a single latke on it. “What the hell is that and why would I have one?” He bit into the latke, savoring the taste of crispy fried potato. Ben had invited him to a family Hanukkah dinner once, a long time ago, and his grandmother had been the one frying the latkes that night. Ben had obviously inherited her recipe.
“Well, we gotta make some gelt if you wanna play with the dreidel, Hank. It's tradition.”
Hank took a swig of ginger ale to wash down the last bite of his latke and watched Connor carefully placing more dough in the frying pan. “I thought you just spun the thing for laughs.”
Ben snorted. “That's 'cause you're an ignorant savage.”
“Damn straight!” Hank lifted his ginger ale in toast as Ben laughed. “So. What's gelt and why do I need that boiler thing?”
Connor's LED spun twice and he turned just enough to look at Ben .”Chocolate...money?”
“Okay, okay, I get the point,” Ben laughed. He patted Connor on the shoulder and dragged one of the kitchen chairs over next to him—close enough to be on hand if the android needed help cooking, but clearly settling down to tell a story. “You can buy it in stores, but my grandmother always insisted we make it at home....”
Hank rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand as Ben told Connor about his family and their traditions. Slowly, the peace of the room settled into him as the smell of potatoes, the sizzle of oil, and the warmth of candlelight washed away the frustration from the hazing Connor was getting at work.
They could deal with that tomorrow. Tonight they all deserved a little peace.
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Master List - Day Two
#detroit become human#ben collins#connor#hank anderson#angst#fluff#friendship#hanukkah#ben collins is jewish#ben is a good friend#connor is being bullied#twelve days of fictmas 2020
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Dick Grayson or Wally West. I'll let you decide!
I don’t really know Wally, but I’ve picked up tidbits here and there about his relationship with Dick, so I hope you don’t mind if I do one about the two of them instead of one or the other. And hopefully they don’t read too wildly OOC! (I know they’re headcanons, but I like the flavor to be consistent, you know?)
Headcanon A: realistic
Wally was—and sometimes still is—low-key terrified of Batman. He’s just really hard to read, and Wally’s people-pleasing anxiety is more than ready to fill in the silences with wild speculation. However, some of that terror eased when he really started paying attention to Batman.
All of the makings of the Big Bad Bat were still there—the cowl, the flinty glare, the disapproving grunt, the stoic silence—but now that Wally really looked he saw… well, Dick.
Not that they were in any way alike, but they had some of the same mannerisms and facial expressions. Once, Batman muttered a dismissive jab at Hal under his breath, which would have been a little weird (forgoing the stoic silence and all), but it was the same “whoop-di-dooo” and inflection that Dick used sometimes. Wally almost fell out of his chair. And sometimes when the Titans were being overly rowdy or ridiculous, Dick would turn and give them all this Look that was pure Bat.
So yeah, Wally still vibrated with nerves around Batman sometimes, but outside of combat situations, it was getting easier to think of the man less as Batman and more as Dick’s dad.
Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious
Dick’s favorite Wally story is the time that they stayed up all night playing video games on the floor, only for a red alert to come through right in the peak morning hours. Wally had jumped to his feet to run to the scene, but his leg had gone numb from sitting on the floor. He’d taken one step, then face-planted so hard that he’d run straight through the floor and crashed into the kitchen. (The red alert was later resolved, though the plaster across Flash’s nose had gotten some funny looks. Starfire had patched him up with a Wonder Woman band-aid.)
Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends
Sometimes, it’s hard for Wally to sit still. That’s not news. It’s a feature, not a bug. But sometimes, it’s worse than jittery legs and fumbling fingers. Sometimes it’s his heart rat-a-tat-tatting its way out of his ribcage. Sometimes it’s his brain speeding like it’s trying to turn back time. He can’t stop, can’t slow down, can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t focus, and it’s like there’s electricity arcing between his fingers and wires sizzling in his head.
Dick’s good for him, in those times. He’s a stubborn man, strong too, a deliberately dead weight hanging off Wally’s back, forcing him to slow. He lets Wally talk when he needs to, a bottomless well for Wally to shout into at let his thoughts echo back until they become overlapping waves, background noise. He’s a good friend, that Dick Grayson.
Wally wishes he could be a friend like that. Because sometimes Dick gets stuck. Sometimes he takes on the problems of his friends, of his family, of the world around him, and just… sinks. He slows down down down, until he’s waist-deep in sadness and apathy and exhaustion. And no one notices. Not even Wally. Because Wally is energy and Wally is speed, and sometimes he doesn’t even notice that Dick isn’t with him until he’s left him far behind.
Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.
Dick and Wally are currently co-parenting a bearded dragon. His name is Enrique. To no one’s surprise, Wally is the Fun Parent, while Dick is more of the disciplinarian. Wally is unsure how he feels about Batman being Enrique’s grandparent, but Bruce did send over the nicest tiny Flash-themed Santa hat for Enrique to wear this Christmas, so perhaps it won’t be so bad.
Drop me an ask with a character name and an indication that it’s for the headcanon meme, and I’ll give you four head canons following the above four prompts! Yes, you can give me a character I’ve already done if you want more about that person.
And you can follow all my answers at the tag “headcanon time”.
#wally west#the flash#dcu#jla#teen titans#batfic#my fic#dick grayson#robin#nightwing#bruce wayne#batman#headcanon#headcanon time
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Festive Treat
This is a Secret Santa gift for the wonderful Peony @sevenswifey I sincerely hope you enjoy it. - Aerion x
Warnings: a bit of festive fluffy sweetness from a certain caring warlord.
Masterlist
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Festive Treat
It was one of the biggest events of the season and you loved it. For just over a month the city was covered in lights and colours galore. It made it feel like you had stepped into a Hallmark Christmas movie and you found you couldn’t help but smile. One thing you didn’t get just from watching a movie was the feeling of the buzz in the air from all the excited visitors and shoppers around you, the smells from the food and drinks stalls that lined the streets as they held their annual festive food market. The happy cheerful voices as couples, families and groups of friends drifted from location to location taking in the products for sale and the attractions all around.
You checked your watch again. Guess he’s running late. Almost as soon as that thought crossed your mind you heard the sound of rushing feet.
“Sorry, Sorry. The train was delayed, I know it’s a terrible excuse I should never keep a lady waiting.”
Turning to the voice behind you, you can’t help but smile at the usually effortless composed man who now had a worried look on his face as he tried to regain his breath from running from the subway.
“It’s ok I wasn’t waiting long. You ready to go?” You smiled, happy to finally see your dates face. You had both planned to visit the festival on your next day off and it had been a surprisingly long couple of days waiting.
“Of course. As if I would pass up the opportunity to go around the festival with the prettiest girl in the world.” He reached out and held your hand in his. You could feel the warmth of it and suddenly remembered your own forgotten pair of gloves sitting at your home on the coffee table. “I thought you said you’d only been waiting for a short time; your hands are freezing.”
“Oh well… er…” You stammered a little embarrassed by your own forgetfulness. You had just been so happy to finally go on this date you forgot to do your usually double check of things before you ran out of the house.
“You really are a handful you know that?” He gave you a warm smile. He dropped your hand momentarily and removed his own gloves placing them on your much smaller hands. “There that should do the trick. I’ll make sure I find you the thickest softest pair of gloves later until then you can wear mine.”
“But that means your hands will get cold.” His kindness and generosity were always so touching and as happy as you were for his kind actions you still wished a little that he would think about himself a bit more.
“Then…” He tilted his head making his sandy brown hair sway as he took your hand again and shoved it in his jacket pocket along with his own, lacing his fingers with yours. “I guess we’ll just have to go around like this and you can be in charge of making sure I stay warm.” He gave you the brightest smile you could imagine and then gave your hand a light squeeze. “Come on let's go grab some food and then you can tell me what you want to do after.”
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The further you went into the lights the more you became aware of. There was the faint sounds of Christmas music playing out over the crowds. The smells of all the delicious food became much stronger and as you looked around your date guided you expertly to the perfect stall. The smell of the sweet batter as it sizzled in the cast iron flippers caught in the air and made your mouth water.
“One for the lady please.” He ordered the Belgium waffle then bent down so he could hear you as he asked “What do you want on it?”
Standing close like this to him holding hands was enough to have your heart race as it was but having him whisper in your ear and be even closer to you had your heart doing summersaults, you were secretly glad of the loud noises around you, at least you could be sure he couldn’t hear your erratic heart.
“Erm… Chocolate sauce is fine.”
“That all? You could have anything you like you know? My treat.” His desire to make you comfortable is one of the things you loved about him. He was always so considerate and that was a massive comfort to know that no matter what kind of day you had he would always listen to you and show you support and try to find a way to comfort you.
“Are you not getting one?” You take the offered waffle in the paper cone and take a bite. The rich warm chocolate sauce and sweet dough fill your mouth and you can’t avoid a small sigh at the pleasant flavours.
“Not really a fan of sweets.” He smiled at the sight of you enjoying your food. “Besides I already have the sweetest thing at the festival.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you to another stall and brought two cups of spiced cider.
It was such a great relaxed feeling and you both drifted from stall to stall picking up different foods as you went until you came to the edge of the food market and looked at the attractions.
“Where would you like to start Princess?”
“I have no idea.” You glance around everything looks magical with all the lights. Even the duck pond had tiny lanterns floating and bobbing around on the surface of it. Some fairground rides were playing music and crowds of people had gathered around them.
“In that case how about we try the maze?” He takes your hand and guides you to a less crowded area and you see a new grove of trees laid out before you.
Each tree is around seven-foot-tall and lit up from projector lights placed at the base of them. The fine lights cast over the fir trees made it look like millions of fireflies were dancing in the frost. It was stunning. You walked slowly together hand in hand around the maze until you came to the centre.
Your eyes widened when you saw the bench in the middle of the clearing. There was a thick blanket folded neatly on it complete with a thermos and a wrapped box. You looked from the surprising site to the man next to you only to find he seemed to only be looking at you and not the scene before you.
“Hideyoshi… did you?” You ask breath catching as you take everything in.
“Yeah. I had a couple friends help pull it off though.” Hideyoshi gives a small shrug, giving your hand a light squeeze.
You feel like you are walking through a dreamscape as you are told to take a seat and then the blanket is draped across you both. The stars in the sky are clearly visible above you and you both gave up at them smiling.
“I’m pleased it’s a clear night. It was about the only thing I couldn’t plan beforehand.” He looked up at that sky before turning back to you.
“I still can’t believe you did all this.”
“Of course, I would at least go this far for my precious girl. I had wished to do more.” He proclaimed.
“No, no. Honestly, this is more than enough. This place is so peaceful and beautiful and you’re here and…” Your words begin to tumble over themselves as you speak.
“Now that is totally unfair.” He dropped his head to his chest before turning his body towards you on the bench “Where did you learn to say something so cute?” He cupped his hand over your cheek brushing the skin with his thumb.
“Where did you learn to be so smooth?”
-Chuckle-
He opened up the thermos and produced two cups pouring out a serving each of hot chocolate.
“Be careful now it’s hot.” He said as he handed you yours.
It smelt wonderful and you gladly took it drinking it slowly as you continued to star gaze. The pair of you sit in companionable silence enjoying the warmth of your two bodies sat next to each other under the blanket and the hot drinks in your hands. When you had finished your cup, he takes it from your hands carefully and replaces it with the wrapped box.
“This is for you.”
“It’s not even Christmas yet. Can I open it?” You know you sound a little like an excited child but don’t really care.
“Of course, after all, I will get you more gifts before the 25th anyway.”
You pull on the festive green ribbon and lift the lid on the box. Inside is a new set of soft white Gloves, scarf and hat. It looked like the wool had been threaded with silver as it looked sparkly in the light, and there was a couple of faux fur bobbles on the hat that looked like ears. Your face lit up in a smile and Hideyoshi let out a sigh next too you.
“I’m so glad you like them I worried I had chosen the wrong thing.” He sighs.
“I would love anything you gave me. But I don’t get it, you said earlier you would get me a pair of gloves but you didn’t leave my side all evening so when did you get these?” You tilt your head in amazement. As if the evening wasn’t already magical before he pulled this conjuring trick.
“I picked them up on my lunch break yesterday. I saw them in a window and thought they were perfect for you. I know I shouldn’t be happy that you forgot your other gloves today as your hands became cold but I was secretly happy because I knew I could give you these.” He gave you a lopsided smile “It looks like someone up there likes me.”
“Someone here like you too you know?” You put your hand over his on your cheek bring it to your lips and kiss his palm.
“You really are cute.” He leans forward using his free hand to guide your head closer to him and kisses your lips softly. “I know I’ll say it again but Happy Christmas Princess.”
“Happy Christmas.”
---
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Sneak Peak of Patreon Exclusive: Prairie Wolf- A Wayhaught ABO Series
The car was stiflingly hot by the time they’d rolled past Santa Carla and into Purgatory’s outer limits, but the GPS said they were still fifty sun-baked miles to the town itself. The Volvo’s AC had shit the bed sometime around noon in the last day, and the early June sun beat down mercilessly hard on its blue-backed roof. Aunt Gus announced her intention, for the fifth time that day, of finding a ‘damn good mechanic’ in this ‘hellscape of a town’, but neither of her two nieces were listening. Wynonna had her headphones on and was dozing with her hat pulled over her face like a cowpoke taking a siesta, seemingly immune to the sun, but her younger sister wasn’t faring as well, per usual.
Waverly groaned and flounced back on her seat, trying unsuccessfully to unstick her thighs from the vinyl for the dozenth or so time. “Are we getting closer?” She asked, peevishly. She knew as well as Gus that the town was still a half hour or so away, but the ask still whined out from between her teeth. The heat was getting to her, she decided.
It was getting to all of them. “Hell, Waverly, you know it ain’t any closer,” Gus snapped back. “If it was, I’d expect it all to look much the same anyway.” She snorted out the window, looking at the dried, flat fields of dead prairie grass that stretched around them, like close-cropped, golden hair on a dog’s back. “Seems there ain’t a pretty view from here to Cornfuck, Nowhere, so just sit down and hold tight.”
Waverly made an upset noise in her throat but was ignored, and she was used to that. As the youngest wolf in their mixed-up-little ‘family’ and the only omega, she was often put in the backseat and left to ask where they were going, but that was normal. Prairie wolves wandered, as Gus always told her, and they were prairie wolves, sure as thunder.
Waverly could still recall the first morning she’d awoken with bare tuffets of muddy grass between her toes, heart pounding, belly cramping and blood in her panties. There’d been the remains of her favorite rabbit, Poppins, at the foot of the bed, and, soon after, the rest was vomited out onto her threadbare comforter. She’d wailed hysterically for Wynonna, but it had been Gus who’d calmly stroked her back and packed away the soiled linen. Gus had given her the no-nonsense talk of wolf life: how the change would come every month until she learned to control it, and even then, she should be mindful of her actions on a full moon night. Wynonna had come later, and taught her to whoop and howl, and how to run her paws ragged chasing deer…until she woke up covered in ticks one morning and decided enough was enough. Neither had been very good at explaining the heats, or the way alpha scent sizzled her skin when she grew close to one, but they were both rather gruff around the subject of sexuality with the omega wolf. Waverly suspected it was because neither trusted her not to go off and mate the first wild alpha she met, and she resented it, but what could she do? Pack was pack.
Gus had led them on somewhat of a nomadic life, ever since Waverly could remember, but now they were returning to the place they had once called home, meager as it was. There was a tremor of excitement thrumming along the tiny hairs on her arms and neck, singing in her bones. Home. Everyone wanted to go home again, that was something old as dirt and time itself. Home meant pack and family, and familiar territory you didn’t have to fight over, to stake out. Waverly was a young wolf, sure, but even she knew the value of a home, despite not remembering her own.
As if on cue, a ‘Welcome to Purgatory’ sign flashed by on the right, pockmarked with rust and bullet holes. A sheriff’s car sat behind it, dusty from the road. Waverly just happened to glance at the speedometer and registered it at a clear twenty miles above the limit when the cruiser lit up and pulled out behind them, backend fish-tailing in the dirt of the shoulder. Gus cursed, slowing, but it was too late and she knew it; her lead foot had cost them many a speeding ticket in parts beyond.
Just as she began to pull over, however, a thunderous bang shook the old steel frame of the Volvo and a hideous wheeze came from under the hood as Wynonna in the passenger seat awoke with a muffled cry of ‘What the fu-‘ and bumped her head on the roof, as the car shuddered and lurched up and down. The front right end dipped dramatically, and Gus swore, spinning the wheel in a haze of dust as she swirled them to a hasty stop on the side of the road. The cruiser pulled in behind them, and the various members of the Earp family stumbled from the Volvo, coughing and cursing as they waved dust from their burning eyes.
“Damn cheap rubber suckass!” Gus gave a frustrated cry, crouching to look at the torn-up wheel well and ruined strips of rubber that were all that remained from their former front right tire.
Wynonna shook dust from her hair with easy, leonine grace and snorted, stretching to her full height as she rolled her shoulders. As usual, Waverly had a pang of jealousy as she observed her older sister’s fluid movement as she stalked over to inspect the tire. Wynonna was the pride of the family; a sure shot with her pistol, a strong and fierce fighter in her wolf form, and, what was best, a natural-born leader. An alpha with fire in her blood. Waverly was often left wondering what use they had for an omega in the family, but despite her nature, Wynonna and Gus both refused to let her feel left out or lesser. It was only in the dark whispering corners of the young wolf’s mind that she felt the sadness, the misplaced longing to be something more, something stronger.
“I’d say you’d be well on your way to having all four blow out, if you’d gone much father.” A new voice observed, and the stranger stepped into the dissolving dust, removing a well-worn Stetson. Red hair, tinted with road dust, and sparked with flyaway bits of prairie grass, barely constrained by a ponytail. A tall, lean frame that spoke of wires and willow branches. Waverly sucked in a breath, and felt a different kind of heat wash over her. Holy shit, that’s a hot cop.
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#sneak peak#wayhaught#Wayhaught ABO#alpha nicole#omega waverly#Slow burn#Werewolf AU#Western AU#wynonna earp fanfic
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Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) Pt. 5
A Kwon Jiyong x Reader AU series featuring Kim Jiwon and Choi Seunghyun
Genre: Crime/Mafia/ANGST
Warnings: Swearing/Violence
Word count: 4,000+ (There’s A LOT going on here....)
Summary: You joined the police force years ago to help clean up the streets of Seoul and rid the city of organized crime. You’ve seen some shit. You’re surely prepared for anything…but how are you supposed to feel when the big bad crime boss you’ve been after turns out to be a familiar (to say the least) face?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
The police force prepares you to handle and respond to just about anything; to be a master of balancing action/reaction in any scenario under limitless amounts of pressure. When you wear that badge, you should be ready to tackle whatever is thrown at you no matter what. In the four years you’d held your position, you’ve proven your capabilities through and through.
But the look on Jiwon’s face rendered you almost catatonic.
It was the look a child gives to a parent upon catching them stuffing their face with cookies that the child had left out for Santa Claus. It placed a massive weight on your chest that you would have done anything and gone anywhere to remove. You just sat there staring back at him, knowing it was impossible to take back the last three minutes. Your silence was enough of an answer for him.
His face left yours for no more than a second to recall the mixed company. There was an undeniable shift in the room’s tension as he offered Chief Kim a polite nod. “I apologize. Don’t let me interrupt.” His expression had softened. But it was a smile of his that you knew all too well. You knew exactly what he was thinking when he heard that name, and it ridded your heart with a massive amount of guilt to see him smile through it.
“Jiwon…” You began.
“Here.” He offered the paper bag out to you. “I got you breakfast from the food court. Let me know if you don’t like it and I’ll get you something else.” You couldn’t bring yourself to play along and respond.
The forced smile remained on his face as he bowed to Chief Kim before exiting the room once again. You continued to stare at the door, speechless, until your superior cleared his throat, returning to his own unanswered question.
You squeezed your eyes shut before looking back to him. “I’m sorry about that.” You muttered. “I know that it wasn’t on record anywhere in the basement. That’s because I saw him face to face…he was there when I was hurt…he gave the man the orders.” Your gaze fell to your right leg as you said those words.
Chief Kim shifted in his seat. “This is the first I’m hearing about this.”
“I know.” You paused, still unable to maintain eye contact as your heart and brain continued to wage their war against one another. “But it’s true.”
“You…know him?” He stated it as a fact more so than an actual question.
He sighed at your lack of response. “Y/N. I know I don’t need to remind you of the protocol that comes into play here. Personal connections to a case like this…it shouldn’t be allowed.” Your eyes shot up to meet his before he continued. “I don’t want to remove you from your position in this. Your qualifications and passion exceed damn near everyone, and you are a fantastic detective.” His stern look bore into you. “But I will not hesitate to shut this whole thing down.”
You shook your head. “No. No, Chief, I assure you I can do this. I’m just still shook up from what happened… I will get over it. I promise you.”
The look on his face oozed skepticism. You took a deep breath. “Yes I knew him… Once. That was a long time ago…Clearly, he is a different person.”
He took a minute to silently mull over your words before nodding his head. “All right…I do want to see where you take this case. I know what you are capable of, Y/N.” He paused for emphasis. “But the second I see this becoming an issue, I am putting an end to it. That goes for Seunghyun too. Do you understand?”
You returned a firm nod with zero hesitation.
Speaking to your superior helped reignite your desire to succeed. You silently reminded yourself to shake every ounce of emotion off and maintain your professional demeanor. At least on the surface. Despite how desperately you may wish otherwise, you know that you can’t change the past. You had a job to do and there was no time to waste on your feelings.
After all, you now had someone else’s to worry about.
The amount of anxiety that stayed bundled in your chest when Jiwon reentered the room was ungodly. The room was absolutely silent aside from your IV pump’s beeping and the sound his shoes made as they scuffed against the linoleum flooring. Once he took his place in the metal folding chair beside your bed, he grabbed your left hand and held it without a word. He didn’t even look at you. You watched him intently, feeling sweat slowly begin to bead at your hairline. The weight on your chest felt heavier and heavier as the minutes passed by.
He might as well have been screaming at you. Anything but this…aren’t YOU the one that got shot? What the hell do you have to feel guilty about right now? You had all intentions of telling him. You were going to…eventually.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
He uttered the words monotonously as he stared down at your fingers. It wasn’t what you’d wanted to hear but it was something. You sighed and nudged the untouched paper bag full of food.
“Yeah. I’ll eat some in a minute.” You offered a small smile despite the fact that he still hadn’t looked at you. He nodded his head slightly before silence fell on the room once again, putting a fast end to his attempt at a normal conversation.
The truth was, Jiwon never actually met Jiyong. Ever. There was a lot about you and Jiyong that he never even knew. Whether it was due to pent up insecurities, or jealousy…he knew enough to start countless fights. Even though you never really believed you did anything wrong or gave him any real reason to be mad at you, you apologized again and again, until it was all brought to an end years ago. It was Jiwon’s decision that Jiyong’s name was never to be spoken between the two of you ever again. Today, of course, had broken all of that.
Beep…Beep…Beep…
He brought his left hand up to his lips, which he kissed before gently lowering it to your right knee. His thumb slowly moved back and forth. You felt yourself relax slightly at the affectionate gesture, holding onto the hope that that subject had actually been left in the past, for good. His eyes lingered on your right leg protectively.
“So…that’s what he’s been doing all these years.”
Your warm expression fell. You should have known better.
Your responding silence made him look up at you and hold your hand a little tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to get us into this again… We finished that conversation a long time ago.” He forced a small grin that you did your best to match. Three years ago actually, but who’s counting?
“I just can’t believe this.” He let out a sigh and shook his head, bringing his eyes back to your leg. “That son of a bitch…”
Discomfort began to fill your chest again as you readjusted your hand in his. You didn’t know how he expected you to reply to any of this. Your mind had been filled with so much confusion; you were proud of yourself for even remembering how to blink. He muttered something to himself, but the room’s dead silence made it impossible for you to not hear him.
“He’ll get his soon...”
Your eyes widened reflexively. Without taking another second to think up an actual response, your face contorted into a wince. “Aish.”
Jiwon removed his left hand from its position with raised eyebrows. “Are you o-?”
You cut him off. “Will you get the nurse? I…I think this pain medication has worn off.”
One week later
“And so, ya know, that’s why I wanted to meet with you in person today. I wanted to be sure you heard it from me first.” Dongjoo folded his hands together. The young man said the words with enthusiasm but his eyes never stopped shifting anxiously between the two men seated across from him.
Jiyong said nothing. He merely tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, as if trying to convince himself that this really was the same man he’s known for years. The same man who, in the beginning, had appeared on his hands and knees quivering before Jiyong and begged like a dog for “just one more day.” Who had gladly “organized” thousands and thousands of dollars into his little tobacco shop at the drop of a hat, because he feared the name, G Dragon. Who’d answered any and every cop or government worker that grew the least bit suspicious, reading all his lines without missing a cue. There’s no way this was the same man who had just so confidently informed Jiyong that he’s decided to move his business to America, and would no longer require his men to “look after” him and his store.
After entertaining the thought for a minute, Jiyong raised his eyebrows in amusement and returned his gaze to the grill. Dongjoo’s smile faltered slightly. His eyes darted back to Jiyong’s partner, silently begging him to say something. Taehee offered no assistance, only staring back at the man with the same mute expression he’d been sporting all night. A small smile found its way to Jiyong’s face as he grabbed a set of tongs to rotate the beef. The loud sizzle it made helped to disguise the audible gulp from his, now former, business associate.
Jiyong continued to stare at the meat with watchful eyes as he brought his elbow to rest on the table, allowing the hand holding the tongs to support his chin. Dongjoo watched him closely, feeling the nervous sweat begin to bead at his forehead. A chill ran down his spine as Jiyong blinked before locking eyes with him once again; that same smile painted across his face.
“Well, that’s too bad.” Jiyong finally said, casually. “I’ve got to say, I’m a little disappointed.” He pointed the tongs at Dongjoo in a playful manner. “America doesn’t deserve your good business.”
Dongjoo burst out in an exaggerated laugh, making it clear he’d been holding his breath. “Oh come on now.”
“No, no, honestly.” Jiyong raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. “You come on; no one runs a tobacco shop over there like you do. No question.”
Dongjoo shrugged his shoulders and laughed again, visibly relaxing. “You’re making me blush. Enough, enough.”
“I think that’s ready.” Taehee interrupted and nodded to the beef.
“Oh here let me cut it.” Dongjoo began to reach for the scissors beside the grill, before Jiyong beat him to it.
“Oh no, please, allow me.” He grabbed the tool with his free hand. “This calls for a celebration. The least I can do is serve you some quality barbecue.” He grabbed the beef with the tongs and carefully eyeballed where to slice it.
“America…now that’s exciting.” He said with his eyes on the grill, lining up the scissors into position. “How’s the Mrs. feel about that?” Slice.
Dongjoo flinched at the sound, while furrowing his eyebrows at the unexpected personal question. “Oh uh.” Slice. “She’s ready for the change I think.” Slice. He laughed lightly.
“You think?” Slice. “Oh, you better know. Don’t want any issues being caused in the marriage because of this. Moving to another country is no small step.” Slice. “What about your daughter?”
Dongjoo laughed nervously once again. Slice. “She’s, uh, she’s excited.” Slice. “She’s only five so, you know, she doesn’t really have much of an opinion.” Slice. He reached up to scratch the back of his head uncomfortably. They’d never discussed his family before.
Jiyong smiled wider. “Ah, kids.” Slice. “They just go with whatever you say.” He looked up at Dongjoo and served him a few strips of beef. “They trust you.”
Dongjoo did an awful job at disguising his discomfort. He hesitated in bowing his head to accept the serving, and quickly averted his eyes to his plate. But Jiyong wasn’t done.
“When do you leave?”
Dongjoo looked up with his chopsticks still in his mouth, having just taken his first bite. “Huh?”
Jiyong was placing a few strips of beef on Taehee’s plate; he looked up to make brief eye contact with his partner before turning back to the nervous gentleman across from him. “I said when do you leave? For America?”
“Oh, ha…ha, in about a month.”
Jiyong raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, well why don’t we just ride this thing out for another month then?” He asked before taking a bite of his own serving. His eyes didn’t leave Dongjoo, who began to shift in his seat as he stared back down at his plate.
“I don’t, uh…you know, with moving and everything that goes into it, I won’t be really doing much business and just-.”
Jiyong cut off his word vomit with a laugh, waving his hand with a full mouth. “I’m fucking with you. Do what you gotta do.”
“Oh.” Dongjoo chuckled out of relief once again. “Thank you. I-… I appreciate that.”
The rest of the dinner didn’t get any more comfortable than that. Jiyong continued to eyeball Dongjoo, who continuously blotted the sweat on his forehead, which he insisted was due to his angle from the grill. Taehee continued to stare blankly between the two of them, only mildly confused, until they all got up to leave. Jiyong held the door open, and as Taehee passed, he grabbed him by the shoulder and muttered something under his breath. Taehee looked at his boss for just a moment, before nodding and walking outside.
Dongjoo walked a little too eagerly in the direction of his car, parked on the opposite side of the building. As he began to walk through the narrow alleyway to get there, he turned to bid a quick goodbye to the two men. “Thank you for everything, gentlemen. I wish you nothing but the best.” He made a hasty bow, which Jiyong and Taehee returned, before turning on his heels.
Just as he’d taken a single step towards the safety of his vehicle, he heard Jiyong’s voice once again. But this time it was closer. He turned around to see the crime boss walking towards him at a leisurely pace. “Now, now. What kind of a goodbye is that? We’ve been through a lot together, you and me. You’ve got to give me more respect than that, right?” As he arrived before him, Jiyong reached his right hand out with an honorable grin.
Dongjoo’s face flashed with worry before quickly covering it back up. “Oh, I’m sorry, GD. I just don’t want the wife to worry, you know? Of course, of course. I surely didn’t mean any disrespect.” He reached a clammy hand out to make contact with Jiyong’s. “No hard feelings?” He asked with a hopeful smile.
Just as Jiyong let out a small chuckle, Dongjoo’s eyes flashed to Taehee. He was standing behind Jiyong, far back by the alleyway entrance, with his back turned to both of them. It took him less than a second for Dongjoo to understand what was about to happen.
As he locked eyes with Jiyong, who was holding his now quivering hand with a firm grip, he had no time to think before his skull swung forward to collide with his own.
Dongjoo released the hand he’d use to shake Jiyong’s as he flung his head back in pain. “Fuck!” His vision was blurred while he tried to look forward, seeing four Jiyong’s coming towards him, each with darkened expressions and their right fists reeled back.
His nose shattered the minute Jiyong made contact, sending Dongjoo’s body immediately to the alley ground. His hands flew to his face as if trying to manually preserve whatever features that remained intact. He coughed and spat out dark blood that had rushed in from his nostrils. Jiyong stalked towards him slowly, like a lion playing with its dinner. Dongjoo’s vision was even hazier now, but his fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in full force, giving him the strength to turn over onto his stomach.
Just as he attempted to bring his arms and legs in to hoist himself up, Jiyong lowered his boot to the man’s ear, putting in just enough pressure to push his head against the pavement. Dongjoo let out a piercing groan. Placing more of his weight into that leg, Jiyong leaned down to get a little closer to his face. As Dongjoo’s exasperated breathing and whimpering for mercy got louder, Jiyong shushed him.
“You know… I expected more from you.” His tone was menacing. “I considered you a friend, really.” Dongjoo cried out, too terrified to even attempt to move. “America? Yeah, buddy?” Jiyong chuckled. “You and I both know that’s fucking bullshit. I just gave you chance after chance and you just continued to lie right to my fucking face.” Jiyong leaned forward and spat on the ground right by the man’s broken nose. “You want to know something? You really think the Yang brothers are going to protect you better than we can? That’s a riot. What did they tell you about me, huh? Who do you think we’ve been protecting you from? Huh?” Dongjoo only sobbed more, his body shaking as the “please, please, please”’s and “I’m so sorry”’s continued to flow from his mouth just as quickly as the blood ran from his nose. Jiyong sighed in frustration. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. No, that wouldn’t be right to do to a family man. Just know that I will never forget about this.” He lifted his boot and allowed the man to hoist himself up to his knees. Dongjoo coughed violently, simultaneously gasping for the air he’d been hoarding in his lungs.
Jiyong dug into his pocket and threw a handkerchief on the ground in front of him, along with some cash. Dongjoo flinched, recoiling his arms across his face before looking down to see the stitched piece of cloth and the paper bills. Trembling, he looked up to lock eyes with Jiyong, whose dark expression hadn’t changed for a second.
“Wipe yourself off and get that nose looked at. Don’t you go home to your wife and kid and let them see this pathetic sight.” Dongjoo only cried in response, to which Jiyong let out a sigh. “What? What are you still doing here? Go.”
He didn’t have to tell him twice. Dongjoo picked up the money, the handkerchief, and himself up off the ground and stumbled his bodyweight in the direction of the far parking lot. Jiyong waited for the sound of his whimpers to fade and be replaced by the sound of an engine before turning back towards Taehee. He approached the man and placed his hand on his shoulder once again. “All right. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Jesus, he did all that just now?”
Taehee nodded at his partner before taking another swig of the beer in his hand.
“Damn, he’s really not playing around these days...” Wonhae replied, ensuring to keep his voice down, knowing that Jiyong wasn’t far down from them at the bar.
Five men: Gyechul, Taehee, Wonhae, Gwangbok, and Jiyong, all sat side by side. The place was a favorite spot of theirs, which they frequently visited after a long day. It was old, secluded in the outer edges of Seoul, and run by people they knew like family. No other bar could be safer for clientele such as themselves.
“Weeell, we all know fucking why.”
Taehee and Wonhae looked over at their partner on their end of the bar, Gyechul, who’d already had his fair share of alcohol for the night. He was staring up at the little box television set with his mouth agape, intently watching the news. “Look! Look look look, there she is now. Pfffft.” He mumbled and pointed up towards the screen. The local news was broadcasting a story about a cop who’d been shot in a “gang related incident” and had “barely made it out alive.”
Gyechul let out a chuckle, muffled through his teeth. “Hey, look everyone we’re in a gang.”
Taehee spoke up in a firm tone. “Gyechul. Enough…Be smart.”
The man turned from the TV to laugh in Taehee’s direction mockingly. “Be smart…pfffft. If I was smart that night I woulda jus killed that cop…but noooo I was following orders.” He waved his hands in the air as he lazily dragged out each word.
“You’re not fucking killing anyone.”
Taehee closed his eyes in a wince, knowing this was bound to happen. He turned to the right to see their boss staring across the bar right through the three of them to Gyechul. Everyone went quiet.
Gyechul chuckled again. “Pffff, whatever you say boss. You see this?!” He pointed to the TV which now showed an old mugshot of his, displaying him as a wanted criminal. “Now we have this to deal with…the fucking news is after me.” He slurred.
“There would have been even worse news if I let you have ‘cop killer’ thrown on your record. I did you a fucking favor.” Jiyong said coldly, silently refusing to look at the TV.
Gyechul stared his boss down. “Ya know what? Fuck you GD. Fuck you and your favors.” He mumbled with his finger pointed in Jiyong’s direction. He pushed himself up into a standing position, slightly swaying back and forth. Jiyong closed his eyes and took a deep, annoyed, breath.
“Gyechul, stop. All right? Let’s get you some water.” Taehee attempted to intervene again.
“Hey, hey, I’m fine all right? It’s him who’s got the fucking problem.” He pointed at Jiyong again before letting out a drunken laugh. He then dramatically gasped and stared out into space. “P-p-put the gun down! This-this is my final warning! … Bang! AH!!” He flailed his arms in the air, falling against the bar while gripping his leg, and bursting out laughing. Jiyong wasn’t the slightest bit amused. The second he stood up, so did the other three men.
“GD, it’s ok. He’s just drunk. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s saying. We’ll take him somewhere to chill out.” Taehee and Gwangbok attempted to alleviate the situation while Wonhae grabbed his out of line partner by the shoulders.
“What? Do you think I look fucking worried?” Jiyong spat.
“Touchyyyyy.” Gyechul mused, poking his head around Wonhae’s to continue talking at Jiyong. “Ya know, I’ve never seen you like this over someone. Especially a fucking cop. What’s up with that?! Huh?” He yelled belligerently. Jiyong said nothing. He just stared at the bar while the other men continued to try to calm things down. But Gyechul wouldn’t listen. “You know…it’s almost like she’s that girl.”
Jiyong looked right at him.
“Gyechul, shut the fuck up!” Taehee yelled while Wonhae attempted to smack the man to shut up. But he persisted.
“Noooo, come on, you guys know the girl I mean. The one we all fucking know about but no one ever says anything about because GD will freak the fuck out on them.” He narrowed his eyes at Jiyong, who looked ready for slaughter. “It’s her isn’t it?” He chuckled. “She’s the only one that’ll make you so fucking soft like that.” He pointed to the TV. “Oh but…..” He grinned. “She doesn’t make all of you fucking soft.” He sneered before groping himself mockingly.
Jiyong was on his side of the bar in seconds, with his hands gripping his collar. Jiyong has always been a very stoic person, but right in that moment there was a raging fire in his eyes. The other three men nearly tackled them both to stop whatever was about to happen.
Taehee grabbed Jiyong and pulled him back while the other two men pulled Hyechul away. Jiyong’s chest heaved as he took a deep breath to steady himself. He took a second to close his eyes while he waited for Hyechul’s drunken slurs to pipe down. When they finally did, and it looked like their night at the bar had finally ended, Jiyong got up to leave.
“Hyechul.” He announced.
“Yeaah?” The man turned his head, barely able to maintain eye contact.
“You watch yourself.”
After arriving back at his private home, having had enough bullshit for one night, Jiyong poured him and Taehee both a glass of whiskey. Amongst his four major partners, Taehee was by far his closest and most trusted. He knew better than to push any further, in regards to Jiyong’s feelings, than just one simple question.
“You ok?”
“Yeah.” Jiyong muttered, taking a pull from his glass.
Taehee nodded his head and paused for a minute to sip from his own. “Well… How about some music?”
Jiyong grinned and pointed at him before springing up and pacing towards his record collection. “Yes. What’re you feeling?”
“Anything.”
Jiyong was suddenly as giddy as a child. He stuck his hands in his pants pockets, sticking his tongue out slightly and narrowing his eyes as he looked closely at every title. As he began to feel overwhelmed by the amount of choices, Hyechul’s words from earlier made his mind wander back.
He gently began to flip through one of the older stacks of records he’d gotten from his parents’ house. He smiled sadly as he browsed through classic American tunes from Dion, to Chuck Berry, Frankie Valli, and even the Righteous Brothers. Every album had unique memories attached, but they all had one thing in common.
As he flipped past a Frank Sinatra vinyl, a small 45 popped out and nearly hit the floor. Upon saving it and flipping the cover over, a small gasp escaped his lips. It was a 7” Elvis Presley record with “Love Me Tender” and “Any Way You Want Me.” He wasted no time in putting it on and letting one of his most cherished memories return to him.
“Man, I love Elvis.” Taehee chimed in as the song began.
“Me too.” Jiyong smiled as he swayed in place, staring at the cover. A warmth filled his chest as he read the small words that had been handwritten on the front in white marker.
Love me tender, love me true. All my dreams, fulfilled
For my darling, I love you. And I always will
As he traced his fingers around the small heart that had been drawn by the last word, he was hit with an insane idea. In one second, he’d wiped the smile from his face and restored his stoic demeanor to look at Taehee.
“We’re not going over business right now, but I need you to do something for me.”
Taehee sat up straight and alert.
“Get me the address for Jungbu Police Station.”
#g dragon scenarios#kwon jiyong scenarios#bigbang scenarios#g dragon au#kwon jiyong au#bigbang au#g dragon fanfiction#kwon jiyong fanfiction#kwon jiyong angst#g dragon angst#kpop scenarios
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Movement
The Sunbeams, a Lutheran group similar to the Girl Scouts without selling cookies that operated within Apostles Lutheran Church and School--of the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod branch of Lutheranism--on Santa Teresa Boulevard, went around neighborhoods in December to sing Christmas carols to well-kept homes in the affluent subdivisions of Santa Clara County. One instance, in the December of my second grade year, has always remained with me. My mother, the current Sunbeam leader at the time, decided that this year would we would travel to senior neighborhoods as well. Little girls, bundled in eclectic blends of green and red sweaters and hats, set out for the night sometime around sunset with a couple volunteer parents and Pastor Kronenbusch in tow. As we sang “The First Noel,” our breaths floated and curled around us, they rose with our voices to the inhabitants’ windows and beyond. One woman sent out her nurse to ask us to stay awhile longer. We sang several carols at her doorway, but never saw her. We only saw the light that shone through her curtains. My throat tingled and my eyes stung with the cold, and I remember my mother clutched my hand in hers before she turned to face me, her eyes bright and damp and her mouth still moving to the words of “Away in a Manger.”
Later that night, our final destination included the street I lived on; a quiet neighborhood that lay within a mobile home park with the lofty name of Chateau La Salle in San Jose off of Monterey Road and Esfahan Drive. The asphalt of Chateau La Salle Drive glittered with the runoff from sprinklers, reflecting the radiance of the strands of fairy lights that lined the houses and street, setting the park aglow. We sang at a few houses before my mother and her assistant, a woman named Becky and the mother of my best friend at that time, Laura, said that we needed to get ready to finish. They revealed that a surprise lay waiting for us before the night ended, and they shuffled us down the road in the direction of the house my mother and I shared with my grandparents and her two brothers. Instead of my home, we stepped up to our next-door neighbors’, a house that belonged to an elderly couple I affectionately called Mr. Bob and Ms. Marilyn, who--along with my youngeset uncle, Randy--set up television trays that held a combination of store-bought and homemade cookies, and I spied a few that my mother made the day before and scolded me not to nick any of them. Ms. Marilyn gave me a hug and pushed a paper cup of apple cider into my mitten. The room buzzed and I wandered to find either my mother or my uncle after the excited group of little girls swallowed me up. The walls twinkled and thrummed, shadows chased by Santas and reindeer upon their surface. I took a sip and the cider burned my tongue, and instead of whimpering I swallowed the liquid along with my discomfort. My uncle stood at the edge of the crowd as he watched the other adults converse with each other-Mr. Bob asked my mother about my grandmother’s health and how my grandfather fared through the ordeal-and I wrapped myself around my uncle’s leg like ivy. My mother nodded and I watched Ms. Marilyn hold her hand, while Becky kept her eyes on the other girls, ever vigilant. I remember my uncle rested his hand on the top of my head and pulled my hat off, before smacking me with it.
I laughed, and leaned my head on his hip while I watched as the other girls giggled and drank and stuffed themselves with cookies, their faces luminous in the radiance of the Christmas tree.
About a week or so later, my mother and I moved out of my grandparents’ home.
I lived, during my elementary school years, in what has turned into one of the most expensive mobile home parks in the country, back when you could still buy a space and home there for a relatively modest sum and not the inflated $200,000 that you would spend now on a smaller home. With three bedrooms and two bathrooms, it housed my grandparents in the master suite, two of my uncles-Dale, the oldest, and Randy, the youngest--in one room, and my mother and I in the last bedroom. It was, originally, a seniors-only park, but, according to my mother, San Jose passed a law that forbade the discrimination of children, which I benefited from as my mother and I would have had nowhere else to go had we not been allowed to live with my grandparents when my mother left the studio we rented after the finalization of her divorce from my father. The added benefit, of course, was the built-in daycare in the form of my grandmother as my mother worked 50-60 hour weeks at Xicor in Milpitas. A 15-minute drive until you take into account Bay Area rush-hour traffic and the nightmare that is U.S. Highway 101. Our neighbors, Mr. Bob and Ms. Marilyn--who threw the Christmas party my Sunbeam troop attended--and Mr. Marty and Ms. Dorothy, kept an eye out for my grandmother while she was at home with my Uncle Randy alone during work and school hours.
My grandfather avoided homeownership for around 30 years, he and his family living in a 8x45 trailer during my mother’s childhood and adolescence, and moved around the west coast often for his job with the government. My mother would say that his reluctance to purchase a permanent home was due to my grandmother’s tendency to threaten divorce whenever they fought.
This, too, was often.
The house my grandmother chose, when she--at last--was afforded the opportunity, sat at the address 201 Chateau La Salle Drive, San Jose 95111. The mint siding and white awning glared under the midday sunlight in the summer, but appeared far more subdued in the darker half of the year. It came with a crimson porch whose steps we sat on to watch the fireworks from the fairground across the street every Fourth of July and where my Uncle Randy showed me how snails sizzle when introduced to salt. The inside had the dark faux-wood paneling popularized in the 80s and 90s and the earth-toned carpet my grandmother preferred because it was easier to keep clean. Tobacco and nicotine dyed the ceiling in nearly every room but mine and my mother’s and old clothes from second grade that I’ve managed to retain after all these years still hold that stale scent of smoke that settled into the fibers of the upholstery from my grandparents lighting up their Marlboro Lights, often as they watched television and drank coffee well into the evening.
As one of the first families to live in the park, and being my mother’s only offspring, other children were a rarity. I spent my time with adults on weekends and after school, and one of my mother’s favorite things to do with me when she managed to claim a slice of free time was visit the Oak Hill Cemetery situated next to the park and tour the gardens and funeral home.
Established in 1847, Oak Hill Cemetery is the oldest secular graveyard in operation within California. My mother would drive us along the roadway-on the occasional Sunday after church-up to the main parking lot where we would abandon her Volvo and walk along the manicured lawns and flower arrangements left by dutiful loved ones on the more recent additions to the landscape. Oleanders, white and pink, blocked the humming of traffic from invading the atmosphere, letting it, instead, waft over the hillside. I remember the thin leaves swaying in the breeze created by passing cars that zipped along the busy roadway while we looked at the engravings on the headstones, taking note of the dates and deducing how old the residents were when they expired. My mother pointed out the more historical graves, such as James F. Reed’s from the infamous Donner party whose body was interned there. The light caught on my mother’s hair, the strands gleaming when I would gaze up at her, and she kept my hand grasped in hers.
I enjoyed being out of the home. And I think that, when she could spare the time, she did too.
Sundays often became my mother’s and my special day to spend together; we attempted to cram a week’s worth of quality time in less than twenty-four hours. The day began at 9:00 am, bathed in a wash of the prismatic light that filtered in through the large stained glass windows behind the altar at Apostles during a sermon delivered by either Pastor Kronenbusch or Pastor Mahnke, followed by fellowship in the narthex where fresh-brewed coffee and hot chocolate and store-brand sandwich cookies awaited the parishioners; the fragrance, of which, emanated throughout the hall. Sunday school in what was normally my second grade classroom--for me--and bible study somewhere in the smaller onsite chapel--for my mother--and then choir practice when I became old enough comprised the rest of the morning for my mother and I. On the way home, we stopped by Winchell’s Doughnuts just off of Santa Teresa and would pick out a baker’s dozen to bring home to the rest of the family who, besides my oldest uncle who went to Peace Lutheran, were not the church-going type. I insisted on three types of doughnuts: chocolate glaze, chocolate cake, and chocolate old-fashioned. My mother comments still that this is a predilection I inherited from my father. I believe my grandparents preferred maple bars, and my grandmother favored those with custard filling. The sweet perfume lingered in my mother’s car and our home for the rest of the day.
After school one day, after one of these Sundays, my Uncle Randy took me out around the neighborhood on my bicycle as my mother was unable, due to her work schedule, with him following along on his. Wet asphalt assaulted my lungs and tongue with its thick fog clinging to the air around us as the sunshine glinted off of the trails the water sprinklers left behind. My training wheels still attached, I wobbled back and forth, nervous of riding over cracks in the pavement, thinking they would crumble and I would fall into a pit, and he eventually dismounted his bike and walked along side with me. He also quipped “Step on a crack and break your mother’s back,” and added to my anxiety. Chateau La Salle maintained a uniform appearance, even to an oblivious seven-year-old with no knowledge of Homeowner's Associations and the grief my grandfather dealt with regarding landscaping and the property manager. Resident’s lawns cut the same length, similar color-schemes, and manicured flower beds. Most homes also had jasmine that climbed up the sides of the houses, much like ours. When it was warm out, like that day in September, the whole park filled with that fragrance and bit my nose. I sneezed, and my uncle handed me his handkerchief, which I hated to use since it could not be thrown away. We encountered a sign that read “Dead End” and I pleaded with my uncle to go back. He insisted we just ride to the sign, and then we could turn around, but I started sniffling and told him I was scared. I felt queasy and hot and I struggled to breath in the air around us. In my mind, I saw myself falling into a chasm that would open if we went on just a bit farther with no end, just a complete absence of light where I could not see the dangers that could be posed to a little girl. He laughed a little, but agreed that we could go back home, even as I looked back towards the sign.
That night, after my mother arrived back home and after dinner and as I was drawing in front of the television with him, he explained to me that a dead end was only a road that went nowhere. I believe on that same night, as we all settled in to watch a movie, he darted out of the house yelling at someone. I tried to follow, but my mother would not let me, saying that Uncle Randy must have thought he heard something. Uncle Dale did take off after him, however, and my mother took me to bed where I watched the play of shadows behind the Ariel the Little Mermaid curtains my mother made.
Convinced I saw a witch’s face or claw reaching out from behind the plumeria that grew in front of my window, I clamored into my mother’s bed.
The next morning he and my mother were in an altercation over the milk for cereal; he slugged her across the face with the gallon jug, and she almost choked him out. My grandmother cried while my grandfather separated them. Milk still soaked the carpet by the time I got out of the bedroom, too scared to make my appearance known any earlier and too scared to ask what was wrong. Someone drew the curtains in both the living room and dining room closed and patches of sun lay across the table and floor in discordant shapes and the front of my mother’s t-shirt remained drenched.
She grabbed her carpet steamer and worked on the floor for two hours as my grandmother berated her for the quarrel, but the scent of stale dairy never fully dissipated in that spot, though over time the ever-present odor of nicotine masked its presence.
Places have a scent, an aroma you will recognize the moment you are confronted with it. If you’ve ever noticed the way 7-11 stores smell the exact same no matter what location you are in, you’ll understand this. Olfactory memories are the easiest, and strongest, to trigger, and, as someone once told me--Randy, I believe--they are frequently said to be the most vivid.
On campus, I will, on occasion, catch a whiff of smoke and am taken back to my grandmother’s living room with the drapes drawn, sitting in my Mickey Mouse chair next to her favorite armchair and watching an episode of “Days of Our Lives” after school or during summer vacation, the cherry on her cigarette a beacon in the shrouded room, diminished only by the flashes from the television set. I still enjoy the company of smokers, despite not smoking myself; the scent of them causes my stomach to unclench and to take a breath that I realize trembles within my lungs. Coffee houses, too, take me back to early mornings with my grandfather in their honey-colored kitchen brewing coffee at 5:30 am before school or on Saturdays, and his timbre rumbling, “That’s not coffee, that’s syrup, granddaughter,” after I added my customary four-to-five teaspoons of white sugar to the cup he gave me while we sat and read the newspaper.
I mumble this to myself when I make my coffee at home, and miss the hiss and pop of the old Mr. Coffee coffee maker my family had as I pour hot water over the freshly ground beans that lay in the single-cup pour-over style brewer a partner of mine preferred.
Likewise, I cannot abide the acridity of burnt plastic or oil as that miasma clung to my Uncle Randy’s clothing and hair, and later took over his presence along with the room my mother and I vacated in ‘95 and seeped into the blankets he used to cover his windows and his bedding before he, too, moved out with Uncle Dale, later the following year. For my grandmother’s health, I think, as it had always been fragile, and began to decline with an alarming rate after my mother remarried in May of ‘96.
Waves of cinnamon and cloves and cardamom and cocoa filled our home when Christmas of 1995 arrived, and the day itself passed with little incident between our official “baking day” that my grandmother and mother coordinated with each other and the caroling that my mother and I participated in that year with my Sunbeam troop and the holiday shopping everyone says they hate but participate in.
To this day I love the Christmas music and decorations that overtake malls and shopping centers. Even when I get the chance to go back to Oakridge and Valley Fair they maintain their magic for me in the form of strands of incandescent bulbs wrapped around faux-pine garland that hang from the balconies and windows of the interior.
The day after Christmas, when the tree still stood upright and our nativity fully displayed atop my mother’s piano and my grandmother and I watched a holiday film on her television that rested on the broken set we used as a T.V. stand, the routine of our post-Christmas tradition disintegrated like those snails my uncle and I poured salt on earlier that summer. My mother said something--I don’t recall what--to my uncle. A response, I believe, to something he may or may not have said to my grandmother and she sent me to our bedroom and told me to play with the artbox that I received the day before. I stared at the closed door of my room, at the blue-and-magenta Lion King cover my mother crafted out of the larger sheet set I received at some point in the year before as shouts and thuds emanated down the short distance of the hall, my grandmother’s voice a tinny echo barely perceptible unless the ear strained to catch it. My stomach twisted around itself and coiled alongside my lungs and my fingers skimmed the tops of the grey keys of the touch-tone phone on my mother’s bedside table. I pulled my hand away when my mother came in and told me to keep the door locked before she left again.
The flash of blue-and-red from behind my bedroom curtains is my next memory as is the pleading of my grandmother’s voice and the image of my uncle--staring at his knees--in the back of a squad car that proclaimed to be a member of the San Jose Police Department. Officers spoke to my mother, and neighbors--including Mr. Bob and Ms. Marilyn and Mr. Marty and Ms. Dorothy--gathered on their matching front lawns that lined Chateau La Salle Drive, still studded with leftover fairy lights from the advent season, their breaths visible and curling in front of their moving mouths, rising into the charcoal sky.
#ellie writes#memoir#mental health#cw: past trauma#mention of violent behavior#this is still pretty rough#writing i mean#i'm gonna smooth this out one day
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@shamasikander sizzles in these stills as she wears the Santa hat. She is a doll and she is nailing the pole dance. It's always a great time to learn a new skill. Merry Christmas to all #ShamaSikander #poledance #actress #santahat #MerryChristmas #bollywood #polepose #Fitness #santa #doll #MoviemateMedia #sizzle https://www.instagram.com/p/CJI2r99pKVc/?igshid=lf1v1g01ycj1
#shamasikander#poledance#actress#santahat#merrychristmas#bollywood#polepose#fitness#santa#doll#moviematemedia#sizzle
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Globe, October 26
You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks
Cover: Jeffrey Epstein’s madam Ghislaine Maxwell’s love letters to Prince Andrew
Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Melanie Griffith looks alarmingly skinny in L.A., Machine Gun Kelly hangs out the passenger side of his ride in West Hollywood, Cynthia Nixon
Page 3: Pierce Brosnan takes it easy in Hawaii, pot-puffing rapper Snoop Dogg looks mighty mellow while playing DJ at a California concert, Jennifer Garner hits the beach in Malibu
Page 4: Rod Stewart’s wife Penny Lancaster didn’t think she was sexy after pigging out during the pandemic and having a hormone- and booze-fueled breakdown -- Penny says she and Rod treated lockdown like a grand vacation until she resolved to change her ways after seeing an unflattering selfie, Kim Kardashian is desperate to dump husband Kanye West but she is thinking with her head not her heart as she negotiates a pre-divorce deal to carve up their $3 billion fortune and she aims to avoid a dirty public divorce war over their fortune and their daughters North and Chicago and sons Saint and Psalm and Kim has all the paperwork ready to go but Kanye is burying his head in the sand and refusing to sit down and mediate -- Kim knows the moment she pulls the trigger all hell will break loose so she’s content to sit it out in the hope Kanye comes to his senses and makes this as amicable as possible after six years of marriage
Page 5: Warning signs are blinking for Katie Holmes’ red-hot romance with Emilio Vitolo Jr. because his mom doesn’t like their romance -- Emilio upset his mother by dumping his fiancee just hours before pictures of him canoodling with Katie surfaced and his mom thinks she brought him up better than that and she didn’t like how Emilio handled this at all, Mariah Carey never did the horizontal mambo with former fiance James Packer and when asked why Packer wasn’t mentioned in her memoir she said if it was a relationship that mattered it’s in the book but if not it didn’t occur and said they didn’t have a physical relationship
Page 6: Whoopi Goldberg is riding roughshod on The View and her co-hosts are whining she’s a self-obsessed and money-grubbing pain tyrant -- Whoopi’s disenchanted with her role on the show and that’s become a problem for everybody -- she’s nailing the political commentaries but she’s been badgering the other ladies to step up and quit expecting her to be The View’s political know-it-all
Page 7: Despairing Lisa Marie Presley wants to spend her final days at Graceland and then be buried next to her father and son -- since her only son Benjamin Keough committed suicide Lisa Marie is still beside herself with grief and she’s losing the will to go on -- her liver problems have roared back and she faces almost certain death if the vital organ fails
Page 8: Dolly Parton is ready to splurge $2 million for a total head-to-toe cosmetic surgery makeover in a grand last hurrah before her 75th birthday in January and she intends to wow the world with her new younger look while she parades her just released holiday album and new Netflix movie -- Dolly can’t wait for people to get a load of her and they’ll never believe her age
Page 9: Tommy Lee swears he’s been sober for a year but says before his last rehab stint he was swilling two gallons of vodka a day, blabbermouth talk show star Sharon Osbourne boasts that even after 38 years of marriage she and husband Ozzy Osbourne still do it at least twice a week, Led Zeppelin’s rockers are feeling like they’re in paradise after winning a long lawsuit claiming they stole the beginning of their monster 1971 hit Stairway to Heaven -- the band was accused of stealing the guitar opening for the tune from the song Taurus by the late Randy Wolfe of the band Spirit and the lawyer for Wolfe’s estate grumbles the band won on a legal technicality and Zeppelin rockers are the biggest art thieves of all times
Page 10: A bitter feud that’s ripped apart the family of the late Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin could end after his niece Rebecca Lobie extended an olive branch to his pregnant daughter Bindi Irwin -- the two had been at odds since Rebecca left her gig as managing director of the family’s Australia Zoo in 2015 and now Rebecca hopes to mend ways with her cousins Robert Irwin and Bindi, Sadie Robertson reveals she developed an eating disorder when she was body-shamed after competing on Dancing with the Stars in 2014, Ghostbusters star Rick Moranis was socked and knocked to the ground in a cowardly sneak attack by a thug while taking a 7:30 a.m. walk in the Big Apple and he suffered head and back and hip pain and was checked at a hospital before heading to a police station to report the vicious attack that was caught on video
Page 11: Prince Harry and his wife Meghan Markle are about to get clobbered with a whopping megabucks tax bill if they stay in the U.S. for too much longer because any foreigner who spends at least 183 days in the country is liable for federal and California state taxes and that means if they’re still here after the first week of November the taxman will be sending the pair who are worth an estimated $26 million a massive tab, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle have snubbed his grandma Queen Elizabeth’s annual Christmas get-together for the second year in a row even though at age 94 this will likely be her last holiday season -- Harry and Meghan are not ready to leave their cushy life in Montecito and at this stage they are really enjoying their new life in California and their new home
Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Colin Hanks stocks up on supplies in West Hollywood (picture), Rumer Willis is in kinky online snaps leaving little to the imagination in an image from her aptly named Bondage photo series the daughter of Bruce Willis and Demi Moore wears nothing but thigh high boots and black rope binding her nude body, Kylie Jenner has taken obnoxious to a whole new level when she proudly shared online snaps of her two-year-old daughter Stormi wearing a $12,000 Hermes backpack to start at-home preschool, Kathie Lee Gifford’s daughter Cassidy Gifford brought her husband Ben Wierda for a Celebrity Family Feud taping but his game show debut ended up showcasing that his snug-crotched khakis outlined too much below-the-belt junk
Page 13: Kate Moss in London (picture), Chiwetel Ejiofor shoots the heist flick Lockdown in London (picture), Gwen Stefani gets into the Halloween spirit in L.A. (picture), Drew Barrymore says she is terrible at keeping things but she does have the red cowboy hat she wore in E.T.
Page 14: Lori Loughlin and Mossimo Giannulli’s daughter Olivia Jade’s boyfriend Jackson Guthy who is the son of cosmetics magnate Victoria Jackson and direct-marketing mogul Bill Guthy was arrested for DUI in Santa Monica, Justin Bieber and bride Hailey Bieber made it through a whole year of marriage and made a splashy display of the milestone on social media, Fashion Verdict -- Arica Himmel 8/10, Katherine Waterston 4/10, Alessandra Ambrosio 3/10, Josie Canseco 9/10, Maisie Williams 2/10
Page 16: Following the heart-breaking crash of a two-year romance Reba McEntire is sporting a loving glow bouncing back into the arms of CSI: Miami hunk Rex Linn -- the two had their first date in January and have been virtual dating during the COVID-19 lockdown -- she said it’s just great getting to talk to somebody who she finds very interesting and funny and smart and who is interested in her too plus he’s very into her music and she’s into his career
Page 17: Ben Affleck and Ana de Armas have agreed to a trial separation after their sizzling affair was chilled by work-forced separation -- the pair were red hot until Ben split to film in Ireland and his long-distance calls with an eight-hour time difference to Ana turned into bicker-fests because they’ve both been getting defensive and bickering over even trivial things and frustrated with the small window they’ve got to talk and the connection isn’t great and they end up hanging up on each other -- Ana’s tired of being stuck in that big house of his alone in Los Angeles and she feels like the hired help doing chores and walking dogs so they agreed to take a few weeks of chilling out and see where they are after that, beloved TV icon Regis Philbin spent his final desperate months wallowing in gloom over the pandemic; according to Kathie Lee Gifford Regis couldn’t perform anywhere and he couldn’t be Regis for people and it broke his heart
Page 19: 10 Things You Don’t Know About Sara Gilbert, Pretty Woman boosted Jason Alexander’s career but the 1990 blockbuster had its downside because he was known around the world as the a-hole who tried to rape Julia Roberts and women would say mean things to him and punch him and he even got spit on by one woman, devastated Chrissy Teigen had a tragic miscarriage of a baby boy she’d named Jack -- the mom of two and wife of John Legend has been hospitalized in L.A. after experiencing complications and weeks before the miscarriage she was treated with Botox to relieve really bad pregnancy headaches
Page 20: True Crime
Page 24: Cover Story -- Ghislaine Maxwell’s love letters put Prince Andrew on the spot -- murdered sex predator Jeffrey Epstein’s accused madam Ghislaine is burying Prince Andrew under an avalanche of love letters proclaiming she’ll defend the disgraced British royal and begging for him to return her loyalty and affection -- now being held in a New York federal jail as she awaits trial on sex trafficking charges related to the late billionaire pervert Ghislaine writes Andrew most days saying how badly she fells about what he’s gone through and urging them to get through this nightmare together -- Andrew’s made some terrible decisions but even he knows it would be suicide to make any contact with Ghislaine and he needs to keep his distance and hope she stops writing these letters
Page 26: Health Report
Page 38: Real Life
Page 40: John Lennon’s widow Yoko Ono is telling friends she’s knocking on heaven’s door -- the ailing 87-year-old is confined to a wheelchair and needs round-the-clock care and she’s been privately confiding she’s on her way out sparking worry and confusion -- the question swirls does she really think her days are numbered or is she just fishing for sympathy and attention and premature eulogies from VIPs all over the world
Page 44: Straight Talk -- After living through a nightmare of false prosecution and imprisonment and persecution for a murder of her roommate Amanda Knox has been sucked into the criminal cult world of NXIVM whose kinky leader Keith Raniere has been convicted of sex trafficking children
Page 45: Kirstie Alley is set to chuck hectic Hollywood for the quiet life on a farm with a down-to-earth country guy -- Kansas-born Kirstie has been quarantining in Wichita for the past seven months and now realizes how little she misses Hollywood and how much she loves living a more simple laid-back life so she’s decided to buy a farm and has sold her 21-bedroom in Maine which has been her second home for the past 30 years so she can move to the country
Page 47: Hollywood Flashback -- Al Pacino in 1983′s Scarface, Bizarre But True
#tabloid#grain of salt#tabloid toc#tabloidtoc#jeffrey epstein#ghislaine maxwell#prince andrew#penny lancaster#rod stewart#kim kardashian#kanye west#katie holmes#emilio vitolo jr.#mariah carey#james packer#whoopi goldberg#lisa marie presley#dolly parton#tommy lee#sharon osbourne#ozzy osbourne#led zeppelin#stairway to heaven#bindi irwin#sadie robertson#rick moranis#prince harry#meghan markle#reba mcentire#rex linn
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