I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus - Damian Wayne x Batmom
Prompt: You know the song I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus? Pretty much what the title says with Damian being shocked to see Batmom kissing “Santa Bruce Wayne Claus”.
“Damian, sweetie, what are you doing?” You asked looking suspiciously as you observed Damian setting up a dangerous looking bear trap in the fireplace. As a parent you figured you should at least a little bit worried, as Batmom though little surprised you anymore.
“I’m protecting us from unwanted intruders.” He answered simply, not bothering to stop setting the trap or at the very least act like he should be hiding what he was trying to do.
“Protect us from who?” You asked.
“The supposed magic fat man who breaks into homes through the chimney. He won’t be getting into this home.” Damian said with fierce determination. You racked your mind on how to possibly rein in this situation.
“You mean Santa Claus?” You asked.
“Yes. He will pay dearly for breaking and entering into our home.” He said threateningly.
“Sweetie, Santa leaves presents. He doesn’t have any ill intentions when he comes into houses.”
“It’s about the principle mother! He has no right!” Damian said righteously. And to think you thought Damian didn’t believe in Santa Claus …
When night fell and all the boys went to bed you went down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water when you ran into Santa Claus himself. You smiled fondly at Bruce while he set presents under the tree in a bright red suit.
“I’d watch where you step if I were you. Damian took … precautions.” You cautioned him, leaning against the doorframe as you slowly sipped your water.
“Believe me, I know. I had to disable a trip wire connected to the trigger of a crossbow.” Bruce chuckled setting the bag of presents down and walking over to wrap his arms around your waist.
“You should have at least triggered a few of them. An arrow imbedding in the wall or some spilled blood will go a long way to keep Damian’s belief alive.” You joked poking him in the side.
“Duly noted.” He grumbled. You smiled warmly at him before being overcome by a deep yawn.
“Come to bed soon? Knowing Dick, it’ll be an early morning.”
“Go ahead and go to bed. I’ll only be a few more minutes.” Bruce encouraged gently.
“Alright.” You agreed reaching up to press a kiss onto Bruce’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Santa.” You said playfully. Bruce smirked and tilted his head slightly so that your lips met. You giggled lightly at the feeling of his fake beard scratching your face.
“Intruder!” Damian’s voice shouted out furiously from the stair case. “Get your hands off my mother!” He snarled, charging at ‘Santa’ with his sword raised. Bruce sent you a quick wink before throwing down a smoke bomb and disappearing to goodness knows where.
“Coward!” Damian shouted into the emptiness of the room, hoping that the intruder would show his face and battle him. When it was clear that wouldn’t happen Damian rushed over to your side.
“Did he hurt you? I swear I will hunt him down if he hurt you!” Damian promised. You gently laughed and hugged him to you, your fierce over-protective son.
“I’m fine, sweetie. Let’s go back to bed.” You said, already leading him towards his room. “No buts.” You said firmly when he looked like he wanted to argue. He let you lead him back to his room but stopped you in front of you and Bruce’s door.
“I’m staying with you tonight, Mother. I won’t let him hurt you.” He insisted. You smiled fondly at him and gently ran your fingers through his hair. From the look in his eyes he wasn’t about to take no for an answer.
“My hero.” You smiled genuinely and opened the door to your room. Luckily Bruce lay “sleeping” in the bed, appearing to never have left. Oh you’re good …
Smiling to yourself you crawled into bed with Damian not far behind you, falling asleep between you and Bruce. It would seem that Damian scared the intruder Santa off because he quickly fell asleep and didn’t wake up until early the next morning when Dick bounded in during his rounds to wake everyone up.
Prompt: As Clark Kent’s best friend and kind of sister you’re used to the strange. Still seeing him get cozy with Wonder Woman is more strange than you’re used to. So when the chance to cozy up to a billionaire playboy comes around, who are you to say no?
When that knock wakes you up at three in the morning, you consider killing whoever is on the other side. You pull yourself out of bed, your comforter wrapped around your shoulders, and make your way to the door.
You open is to find Clark, Diana, and an unconscious Batman between them. An unconscious Batman who is bleeding all over your floor. You look them in the eye, and ask, “You realize I’m a photographer and not a doctor, right?”
Clark rolls his eyes, and pushes his way inside. “Duly noted. The bleeding has stopped for the most part, but he’s under some sort of alien drug. Hal got a cure, but it’ll be a while before he comes out of it.”
You close the door behind them, “So you need a place to stash him?”
Clark shrugs, “He’s part of the team, and he’s damn good at what he does.”
You blink as Clark puts him on the couch, “You were just complaining about him yesterday.”
“You complain about your sister all the time.”
“My sister is an entirely different matter.”
“Clark.” Diana’s voice is soft, a reminder.
He let’s out a deep breath, “Right. We have to go. We’ll collect him in a few hours. Stay inside and don’t get yourself killed.”
You wave him off, and turn on the T.V. knowing that you won’t be getting back to sleep. You collapse in your armchair and watch the chaos unfold. You’re more than a little bitter that Clark hadn’t given you a heads up that something was going down. Your passion was photography, and things like this called your name. To tell the story of what was happening. The true story.
After about six hours, you guest begins to stir. You glance at him, as he sits up. You meet his gaze and he simply says, “You’re Clark’s friend.”
You nod, “Change of clothes is in the bathroom, feel free to shower too.” He stares at you, and you stare back, “I already know the secret identities of ninety percent of the League. One more won’t kill me.”
His voice is gruff, “It might.”
You shrug, “Then don’t. Sit there in the blood and filth on my couch. I’m going to make Clark buy me a new one anyway.”
His lips quirk slightly, “Are you now?”
You smile, “My guests are mainly reporters, they tend to pick up on things like blood stains.”
You watch him leave for the bathroom, and listen as the shower turns on. Your attention remains on the TV, while you pull out the breakfast fixings; cereal, bread, milk, butter, bowls. After about twenty minutes the doors opens and you stare at the man standing in your bathroom doorway.
He raises one eyebrow and asks, “Are you surprised?”
You screw your mouth into a pondering look, “Not completely. Makes sense, who else would have the money for Batman’s toys. Bruce Wayne fits.”
He nods before moving into the kitchen, and pouring himself a bowl of cereal, his eyes remain glued to the television screen, “How bad is it?”
“Not the worst thing to have happened. They’re in cleanup mode right now.” You take a bite of cereal.
“And whose clothes am I wearing?”
He nods, “Excellent. Then it really will be his fault when I kill him.”
You hide your smile behind a spoonful of cereal, “Not a fan of plaid and blue jeans.”
His scowl said it all, “I’m not a fan of him continually asking me out to his family farm to relax. And insisting I’m made for farm life.”
You can’t help it, you laugh, “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s been hit in the head one too many times.”
“You don’t think I’m made for farm life.”
You smile, “You have city boy written all over you. You’d survive, you’ve been through worse. But you’d be bored within minutes, and murderous by the time lunch hits. I’m the same way, and I grew up in Smallville.”
He raises an eyebrow and asks, “Thrill seeker?”
You shrug, “I’m a photographer. A damn good one. It allows me to go where I want, when I want.”
“I bet the boy scout loves that.”
You scowl, “He’s the over protective brother I never asked for.”
You shake your head, “one younger sister. We’re not on speaking terms. Parents have been in and out of jail since I was a kid. My grandmother raised me. But she was up there in years, and could only do so much. The Kent’s were nice enough to help out.”
He grins at you, before pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes flicking to the television screen. You sit there in silence for several minutes before his phone rings. You listen as he talks, assuring the person on the other line that he’s fine.
You meet his gaze unashamed as he hangs up. He smirks at you, “Looking to write a tell all?”
You smirk, “Clark does the writing, I just take the pictures. That being said, a picture of Bruce Wayne in jeans would set me up for quite a while.”
He smiles back, “Or you could let me take you to dinner.”
You raise an eyebrow, “You really want Clark to kill you, don’t you?”
He answers your question with one of his own, “Aren’t you a thrill seeker?”
“Absolutely. But something tells me that you, Bruce Wayne, may very well be the adventure of my life.”
I wrote @rebelraptorcaptain a little Peter drabble for Vday and I needed more.
“Holy shit, Peter,” your eyes widen at the handsome devil. “You cleaned the Milano!”
“I sure did, baby,” he beamed with pride and pulled you into his chest. “Happy Valentine’s Day, you little shit.”
Laughing, you pulled away from Peter and marveled at how clean the ship looked. “How long did this take you?”
Peter groaned out in a sigh, “Too long, I ain’t doing it again.”
“And Rocket’s bombs?”
“Yeah, don’t touch that blue box down there,” Peter pointed to a crate tucked under the table.
“Duly noted,” you smirked.
Peter walked up to you and reached down for your hand, “Go sit down.”
Your eyebrow raised in suspicion, but you took the seat anyway and watched Peter put on his favorite mix tape. Immediately Redbone’s ‘Come And Get Your Love’ came blasting through the sound system and you let out a loud laugh as Peter’s hips started to move to the song.
“No, Peter,” you choked out with a smile.
He grinned and pointed a finger at you, “Yes, Peter.”
Your cheeks flushed as he moved toward you, swinging his pelvic back and forth. His hands moved in the air and he sang along to the song. You snorted when he grabbed a wrench from the table and used it as a microphone, but then he moved directly in front of you and your throat dried.
“Come and get your love!” Peter sang to you, a seductive smile on his face. He tossed the wrench back onto the table and straddled your lap, not bringing his weight down onto you. His groin hovered directly in front of your face and his fingers started to unbuckle his belt. “I said find it find it come and rub it if you like it yeah.”
Damn the man knew how to make you blush like a fool, because he just laughed sweetly and removed his fingers from his belt. Instead he cupped your face with his hands and leaned down to kiss you softly on the lips. You moaned into his mouth and placed your hands on his waist, sliding your hand up his shirt.
He smirked against your lips and slowly broke the kiss, “Oh, man I’m getting lucky tonight.”
“Don’t be so sure, Quill,” you teased dragging your fingers down his firm abs.
“I’m pretty sure we’re going to bone,” he chuckled and moved from you, pulling you up with him. “I have a surprise for you.”
You glowed with anticipation as he grabbed a hold of your hand.
“Come on,” he pulled you toward the cockpit and winked at you.
“No freaking way,” you screamed and jumped up against him. “Is this a joke!”
Peter threw his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. His lips graced the edge of your ear and he whispered the most sexiest and seductive words you had ever heard in your entire existence. “Baby, you can fly the Milano.”
Oh yes, Peter Quill was definitely getting lucky this Valentine’s Day.
A/N: So here it is guys! The new version of Feel Me, I hope you enjoy the parts I’ve added. There’s gonna be more. Some more emotions are still to be explored, so I’ll get those out there when I get to them. Happy reading! xxx
After living in New York for little over two years, you had a steady job at a lunchroom. It wasn’t all that glamorous, but you enjoyed it. The place was quiet, kind of secluded, but often moderately busy with regular patrons.
The second week in working your new job, in a new city, in a new country even, a man walked through the door just as you opened up shop. He seemed shy, timid, and waited patiently until you finished locking down the doors so they wouldn’t slam shut with the wind picking up.
Imagine Jensen being a nervous goofball at your wedding rehearsal.
Characters: Jensen x Reader
Warnings: Fluff, mild wedding angst
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: 6k Celebration and One Year Fic-i-verary Celebration Fic FIFTEEN. The line requested was, The line “Do I really say awesome a lot?” was requested by @iwrotemyownending . It will be highlighted in the fic. I combined it with a gif I just fell in love with. Hope you enjoy it! It kind of came out of NOWHERE. It’s a little cliche, but I love it. Thanks for celebrating with me!
Summary: Tyler has a new phrase. But how true is it?
Authors Note: Slightly inspired by Friends, slightly not. Part Two maybe? Also, this story is told as the reader is female. As always, for my NonBinary/Male pals out there, if you would like for me to rewrite the story with genderless pronouns, just let me know and I’ll get it up as soon as possible.
Warnings: Slight mature content, implied smut
If there was one thing Tyler said more often than not, even more than his signature phrase of Smile Always, it was “we’re just friends”. (Y/N) and Tyler had been friends for years now, ever since the first time he had come out to visit Mark in LA. After meeting him during one of your many long hours of working at you local coffee house, you had started a relationship of sorts. Yet, the long distance was killer, and the two of you decided a friendship was much easier to maintain. And now, with Tyler living in LA to help with Mark’s videos, you were closer than ever. This, of course, lead to hours upon hours of teasing from the team, and your friends. No one seemed to get the hint, and at this point, you had given up. Waiters who used to get an earful for calling him your boyfriend would get a polite nod and smile, friends who teased you would be met with a witty comeback, and Ethan, who had gotten into the habit of calling you ‘Mrs.Schied’, was met with a swift punch to the shoulder. Tyler, on the other hand, had no problem with any of it. The two of you were friends, why should it matter what other people thought?
In the short few months that Tyler was working with Mark, you had already made great friends with Teamiplier. Amy and Katheryn would often be invited over to your house for girls nights with your friends, or just to avoid the boys when they were being particularly difficult. Your house, in a way, was a social hot spot. Whether it was your friends or Tylers, there always seemed to be someone wandering around your house. You enjoyed the company, and especially were thankful when you had locked yourself out of the house. If Ethan hadn’t been there, you were sure all your groceries would have been spoiled. You’re positive almost everyone has a copy of your key.
It was Thursday, your favorite day of the week. To some, it was just another day of the week, another day until the weekend. But Thrusdays in your house meant 'date night’ of sorts. You and Tyler would go out to eat every Thursday, whether it was the new, fancy restaurant downtown, or the nearest fast food place. It was a special day, when you two could easily talk about whatever you wanted with no interruption from your other friends. You loved your friends, but there was rarely a time you got to be alone with your best friend.
You were quick to dress after a day of work, changing into a simple dress for your bistro date tonight. It was your turn to pick up Tyler today. Or, well, you were sure if you didn’t go into the office, he was going to try to talk his way into staying a little longer than necessary to help. Just as you were pulling up the driveway, Amy had bursted through the door, completely soaked from head to toe, a grumpy look on her face.
“Amy?” You hopped out of the car as quick as possible, wrapping your jacket around her shoulder. “You okay? What happened?”
“Pranked.” She said simply, blowing a strand out of her face with a huff. “I can’t believe Ethan’s stupid prank worked on me.” You couldn’t help it. A bubbling laugh escaped your lips, just imagining the shenanigans that were happening throughout the day. “Tyler Thursdays?” She asked once she eyes the cute dress you were wearing. You smiled brightly, doing a single twirl to show off your newest outfit. “Cuuuute. Trying to impress someone?”
“You know it.” The wink you gave her caused her to laugh. “Tyler still inside?”
“Yeah, but I’d watch out. Mark has taken getting back at Tyler for the fake spider in his coffee this morning to the extreme.”
“Duly noted.” After making sure she was okay for the last time, you made your way into the house with extreme caution. However, as you made your way large room where you knew they filmed most of their videos, a large circle of white came sailing at your head. Acting quickly, you just managed to duck out of the way, the shaving cream filled plate hitting the wall behind you. Besides the small bit of splash that hit your arm and head, you were relatively unscathed. The room had completely frozen, watching you silently as you stood, wiping off as much as you could. Mark was standing comically to the side, positioned in such a way you knew he was the culprit of the 'prank’. Tyler was on the other side, holding up a large board for protection, most of it already covered in shaving cream. “I’ll be in the car.” Without another word, you turned on your heel, making your way through the house. Tyler was quick to say goodbye to Mark, dropping the board, and dashing behind you, apologizing profusely for almost ruining your dress. You refused to talk, that is until he promised to pay for your meal tonight. With a devilish smile, you promised yourself to order the most expensive thing on the menu.
The next morning, Mark had the perfect plan to get back at Tyler. Sure, it was just a spider in his coffee, but this was about dignity now. He talked his way into getting Ethan to help him load up a bucket of ice water, planning on giving Tyler a pleasant morning wake up. They had to practically waddle up the stairs, the heavy bucked held between them. They made sure to dim the hall lights to not wake Tyler with the bright light. Mark, with a devious smile, gave the Ethan the go ahead, and the bucket of water was poured all over the bed.
“Ah!” Though the boys did manage to get a scream out of a sleeping figure, it was definitely too high pitched to be Tyler. You bolted straight out of bed, pushing your now soaked hair out of your face, glaring at the two boys you managed to push into a stupor. Making sure to hold the sheets to your body, you stood, angrily pointing a finger to prove your anger. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You can’t just go around throwing ice water on people, especially people who haven’t done anything to you!” Despite the fact you were practically boiling over, the two boys couldn’t take their eyes off of you, faces completely red. “What?!” Surprised, you felt another blanket surrounding you, but not before you were turned and pulled into someone’s warm chest. Despite also being soaked with water, Tyler still managed to stay warm.
“You might want to leave now.” Tyler spoke with an even tone, making sure to hold you close against him. Not only was he covering himself for some sort of modesty, the room was too dark for him to find any clothes to cover himself up, in your anger you hadn’t realized that the white sheet usually placed on his bed was completely soaked, which meant it had done nothing to hide any part of you. Completely embarrassed, you pushed yourself closer to Tyler, waiting for the door to practically slam behind the two awestruck boys, and even for a few minutes after. Not only had you just been caught in bed with a person you swore you’d never see as more than a friend, but two of his best friends had seen you naked. What a great way to start off your Friday.
“Y'know your bitching is just encouraging him, right?”
“No one should be allowed to eat three cotton candies consecutively.”
“Four, this is my fourth one.”
“……. Hey, Andrew? That’s disgusting.”
“Thanks for the input, duly noted.”
kandreil fairground carnival date where andrew does nothing but disgust his bfs by eating an inhumane amount of sweets and junk food
I was so excited when I got my assignment and it was for someone whose work I already knew and admired! I hope you like your gift!!
“So you were right.”
“Was I now?”
“Yes. Ladybug agreed that buying expensive jewelry for a girl you are not dating does, in fact, send mixed signals.” Chat sighed as he dropped down through the skylight and sprawled out against the bedding.
“I told you.” Marinette grinned smugly, not even bothering to look up at him from her desk.
“I can’t believe that you two are ganging up on me!” Chat whined, burying his face into her giant cat pillow.
“I can’t believe you talk about me to Ladybug.” Marinette laughed, her attention already back to whatever project she was currently working on.
“well, she doesn’t like it if I talk too much about my civilian life and you are my only other friend as Chat Noir.”
“I know but… never mind.” She shook her head softly, muttering something under her breath.
“So what sort of present do you want me to get you for Christmas?” Chat asked peering over the loft railing. She froze, her eyebrows furrowing. He grinned in anticipation.
“You already got me a present remember? The absurdly expensive piece of jewelry?” She finally looked up at him with an eyebrow raised challengingly.
“Yeah but you hated it.” He smirked.
“I did not hate it! I just thought a 295 Euro necklace was a little much for a just friends present.”
“Yes you made your feelings on that perfectly clear last time. The point is I need to get you a present that you actually appreciate getting.”
“I do appreciate it! I am literally wearing it right now!”
“That’s just cause you feel guilty. I will get you the perfect present. Just watch.”
Marinette groaned, pulling distractedly on her pigtails.
“Chat you are being ridiculous. You don’t need to get me another present.”
“What do you want?” he asked, grinning wider.
“I want you to not get me another present.”
“Try again. What do you want?”
“I’m not telling you,” she huffed.
“Fine. I have other ways of figuring things out. Just you wait Princess, I will get you the perfect Christmas present.” He stood up, giving her a jaunty salute as he pulled himself back up through the skylight.
“Chat!” She called after him.
He waited silently on her terrace, holding back the bubble of laughter in his chest. He could hear her shuffling around in the room, waiting to see if he would poke his head back in or if he had actually gone.
Prompt request: “Are you hurt?” + “Is there a reason you’re crawling through my window?”
Summary: Your new neighbour is developing a habit of crawling through your bedroom window when he’s bored. You know you should stop him, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.
Word count: 1.6k words
You were excited when you’re parents told you a new family was moving next door. You were even more excited when you heard a boy who was your age would be your neighbour. In the middle of summer with nothing to do, you couldn’t help but fantasize about the perfect boy next door. It was every teenager’s dream, wasn’t it?
One early Friday morning, you were roused by loud noises coming from outside. Drowsily, you stumbled to your feet and peered out your bedroom window. It was pointless, of course, because the houses on your street were too close together, so all you could see was the vacant house’s bedroom window.
Only, the house wasn’t so vacant anymore.
A boy was standing in front of the window, brushing his teeth while looking half asleep. From what you could see, he had dark hair, pale skin, and some really nice hands. Then, his sharp eyes flicked to yours, and you soon discovered that your neighbour’s gaze was piercing.
Squeaking, you dropped to the ground–out of sight. You felt your cheeks heating up, totally embarrassed that you had been caught spying. Repressing the urge to scream, you crawled out of your bedroom and into the hall, where the noises from outside grew louder.
Now, you knew it was because your new neighbours were finally moving in. And you also knew that the boy next door was as cute as you had hoped. But of course he had to see you rumpled with sleep and invading his privacy.
Shaking your head, you got back to your feet and thudded down the stairs. In the kitchen, your mom was sipping a cup of coffee as she peered out the window, evidently spying on your new neighbours as well.
“Why didn’t you tell me they were moving in today?” you whined, throwing yourself onto a kitchen chair and slumping over the small table in front of you.
“I didn’t want to wake you up so early,” your mom replied, turning around to look at you. “Why, did something happen?”
“The boy is in the bedroom across mine,” you explained hesitantly. “He may or may not have seen me spying.”
“I heard his name’s Yoongi. He’s pretty cute, no?” your mom cackled. “Let’s just hope he finds the spying endearing, not creepy.”
Later in the afternoon, the August heat became unbearable. In your small room, there was little ventilation, so you were sweating buckets. Pushing away from your desk, you walked across the room to the window. You hoped your neighbour wouldn’t be able to see you. With a grunt, you pulled the large window open, feeling a gentle breeze billow through the opening. It wasn’t much, but it made the heat a little less painful.
Returning to your desk, you became so engrossed in watching anime that you didn’t process the sound of the window across yours clicking open. You didn’t hear the sound of someone struggling to stand on their window frame. You didn’t hear the sound of them leaping through the air.
But you did hear the loud crash of something colliding with your bedroom floor.
“Oh my god!” you squealed, spinning around in your chair. In front of you, Yoongi was sprawled on your hardwood floors, facedown and unmoving. “Uh, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Yoongi grunted, his voice muffled since he had yet to lift his head. Eventually, he pushed himself upright, opting to sit cross-legged facing you. When he didn’t elaborate on the situation, you crossed your arms.
“Is there a reason you’re crawling through my window?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t call it crawling, it was more of a leap,” Yoongi replied, not answering your question. “For a second, I thought I wouldn’t make it. Luckily the drop isn’t that big.”
“You shouldn’t be jumping through windows. That’s dangerous,” you scolded. “But still, that doesn’t explain anything.”
“I’m just bored,” Yoongi said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve been unpacking for hours, and I need a break. Our WiFi isn’t set up yet either, so that really sucks.”
You nodded at that, feeling a little sympathy for Yoongi’s situation. “You could have just knocked on the door like a normal person,” you pointed out.
“Yeah, but this was faster. Plus, I’m already here,” Yoongi responded. He jerked his head in the direction of your laptop. “What are you watching?”
“One Punch Man,” you answered slowly, a little embarrassed. But Yoongi’s lips twitched into a little smile, and you thought it was adorable.
“Sweet,” he said, turning to look at the laptop expectantly. “I’m Yoongi, by the way. You’re Y/N, right?”
“Yep, that’s me,” you replied. You picked up your laptop and sat on the floor beside Yoongi, setting the laptop in front of your crossed legs. “I just finished this episode.”
So you and Yoongi spent the rest of the afternoon watching One Punch Man on your laptop. It was a really odd situation, but it was surprisingly comfortable. Little conversations popped up here and there, and you took a surprising liking to your new neighbour. And luckily, he didn’t bring up the spying incident from earlier that day.
Eventually, when dinnertime came, Yoongi announced his departure and disappeared through the window he entered by. You peered after him curiously, but he had already faded into the darkness of his bedroom, completely out of sight. Smiling, you turned away from the window. You figured you should close it, but something compelled you to keep it open.
The next evening, while you were blasting music through your speakers, Yoongi came tumbling through your window again. You shrieked, dropping the nail polish you were holding onto your floor. Cursing, you reached blindly for some tissues to wipe up the spilled liquid.
Yoongi watched you clean expressionlessly, although you couldn’t help but feel his blank gaze was judgemental.
“This stuff is expensive, okay? Plus it stains,” you said defensively, tossing the crumpled tissues covered in black nail polish into the garbage. “Give me some warning next time.”
“What, am I supposed to yell through the window?” Yoongi snorted. “I feel like that wouldn’t make much of a difference.”
“I dunno, just text me or something,” you suggested. Yoongi raised his eyebrow at you, and you stared at him blankly before you realized you hadn’t exchanged numbers yet. “Oh, give me your phone. I’ll put in my number.”
“I left it inside,” Yoongi shrugged.
“Ugh, whatever,” you groaned. You plopped onto your bed and looked at Yoongi suspiciously. “So, why are you here?”
“Bored,” Yoongi replied simply. “Plus, you’re blasting some pretty shit music. I had to come turn it off.”
“Excuse me?” you balk. You pointed a finger at Yoongi. “You trespass into my room and then insult my music? Who do you think you are?”
“I’m just telling you the truth,” Yoongi smirked. You wanted to punch him in the face, but you also wanted to kiss him because damn that was hot. Wait, kiss?
Yoongi got to his feet and walked over to your laptop, sitting on your desk chair. “Let me show you some real music,” Yoongi said, typing something into your computer. Eventually, a new song started playing.
It was just a drum beat at first, but soon powerful rapping began to play. It was fast, and the rapper had a raspy, emotive voice. And their voice sounded strangely familiar.
“Wait, is this your mixtape?” you asked, your jaw dropping.
“And if it is?” Yoongi said, spinning in the chair to give you a look.
“What a shameless plug!” you exclaimed, clutching your stomach as you laughed. Yoongi gave you an offended look, and you brushed tears out of your eyes. “But this is really good. I didn’t know you rapped. That’s so cool.”
“Thanks,” Yoongi said, glancing away. You weren’t sure, but it looked like he was blushing. “But you have no taste in music, so it doesn’t mean much.”
“Hey!” you shouted, launching a pillow at Yoongi’s head. It bounced off rather harmlessly, but the look Yoongi gave you was murderous. He stood and approached you silently, and you backed up instinctively.
Then, Yoongi’s hands shot out, grabbing your waist and squeezing. You burst into laughter, trying to wiggle away, but Yoongi only tickled you harder. Tears streamed down your face as you laughed silently, your stomach clenching.
“I’m gonna pee,” you wheezed out, trying to push Yoongi’s hands away.
He made a face at that and backed off quickly. “That’s gross,” Yoongi said, his nose crinkling.
“It’s natural,” you sniffed. “You’re lucky I didn’t. That’s what you get if you tickle me.”
“Duly noted,” Yoongi laughed. He glanced out your window at the darkening sky. “I should get back now. I’ll see you soon?”
“Yeah,” you smiled, feeling more fond than you thought was appropriate. “See you soon.”
With that, Yoongi jumped onto your window frame, crouching precariously between your room and a two-storey fall. Then, with confidence, he pushed himself forward, leaping through the air and through his window. Yoongi crashed to the ground of his own bedroom, his muttered curses travelling through the quiet night.
You felt a bit lonely, even though he had just left. But at least you had tomorrow to look forward to. Grinning, you turned back to your computer and flopped onto the chair. You realized Yoongi had still left his mixtape up. Turning the volume on your speakers way down, you played his music, realizing that you may be developing a little crush.
- Girl in Luv
Ok so I was going to write I Got You On My Mind tonight, but I don’t have the time nor the energy for 2k+ part right now. I know I suck, but I want to be able to put out good content and sometimes I just can’t force a story. Plus, this one looked like a lot of fun, which it was. So I’m sorry for everyone who’s waiting, and I promise it’ll be out soon! I hope you enjoyed this imagine, stay tuned for more 💛
and this one “You were chased by the cops, got in my car and just yelled ‘Drive!’” AU!!
Anonymous: "You were chased by the cops, got in my car and just yelled ‘Drive!“ for an au prompt
Sorry about the ending - this has been sitting in my drafts for two weeks and I was getting impatient… This is on my list to be finished I promise :) (also if you have any ideas on how to end this send me a message or like… write it in the tags???)
Neil was relaxing in a borrowed Ford Fiesta that smelled like fish cakes, chugging a lukewarm bottle of water he had just bought from the gas station, and contemplating how much money he could spare on ethanol, when the passenger door swung open and slammed shut in one swift, chaotic movement.
He didn’t have time to register how panicked he should be, but the small blonde didn’t seem like someone his father would hire, and his stern command didn’t sound even remotely as threatening as Romero or Malcolm. Even so, Neil calmly set his water bottle in the sticky cup holder and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Who are you?”
The blonde suddenly rounded on him, his elbow coming up to Neil’s neck and applying pressure before he could even think about reacting. Neil faintly registered the familiar feeling of a knife pressed against his stomach, not quite puncturing the skin. “It doesn’t matter. You see those cops?”
Neil followed the blonde’s head tilt to the back window, where he noticed a few cop cars idling behind him in the gas station parking lot. Neil looked back at his captor and nodded as much as he was allowed, which wasn’t much.
“I don’t want to be caught by them, and judging by the state of your clothes and the fact that you aren’t even slightly tanned even though your license plate says Arizona, you don’t want to be caught either.”
It was a stretch, but Neil certainly didn’t want to spend the night in a police cell anytime soon. He could easily explain away the few accusations the blonde hit him with, but right now he just wanted to be far away from the cops now exiting their vehicles.
He tapped the blonde on the arm, “I can’t drive with a knife in my stomach.”
He was let go, but the knife remained poised between them. Neil admired the sleek design of it, definitely not something Lola would use, but the serrated edges were sharpened enough to filet a small pig. He shook his head to dismantle the direction of his thoughts and put the car in gear, tires squealing as he peeled out of the gas station parking lot. To his surprise, the policemen didn’t even glance at his vehicle as he pulled onto the nearest two-lane highway. He lowered his speed so he wasn’t breaking any laws, but kept his hand hovering over the gear shift.
“I locked the bathroom door and then snuck out the window. They’ll probably be occupied for at least another ten minutes.”
“That depends on how smart Columbia cops are,” Neil murmured, doing a few quick calculations in his head. There were three cop cars, two of which were just small city patrollers. The one he was most concerned with was the SUV with California printed on the license plate. Just what exactly did this kid do that warranted the arrival of an out of state cop?
“You’re right. 20 minutes.”
Neil shifted subtly in his seat to study his companion, who had slouched down and propped his legs on the passenger-side airbag. A study of nonchalance and apathy. “So what did you do?”
The kid didn’t answer him for awhile, keeping his eyes forward and expression blank. Neil had almost dropped the subject when the blonde suddenly spoke up, “Turns out cops don’t like it when you escape from their idea of rehabilitation.”
Neil considered this as he switched lanes, passing a semi truck who insisted on driving five miles under the speed limit. So the kid was either an escaped convict or an escaped mental patient. Great.
“Truth for a truth. What are you doing so far from home, Arizona?”
Neil wanted to laugh at the nickname, but he couldn’t find much humor in his current situation. “My mom was relocated for her job. I was on my way to school when you so eloquently barged in on my morning commute.”
“Hmmm you seem to think we’re playing truth for a lie.” The blonde didn’t show any hints of anger, but Neil eyed the knife he held over the center console all the same. “Distasteful game. Very one-sided.”
Neil rolled his eyes and gripped the steering wheel even harder. The kid was smarter than he originally thought. “I ran away from Arizona. Turns out fathers aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.” Maybe he could give away half-truths and hope for the best.
He watched as the blonde digested this information. He didn’t know how long their game would last, but he knew that this car ride wouldn’t end very well. He eyed his duffel bag, tucked away next to the gas pedal at his feet, his mother’s gun safely hidden underneath piles of carefully folded clothes.
“Duly noted. Your turn.” The kid motioned with his knife for Neil to continue the game.
“Either you’re used to switching names or you’re actually telling the truth.” Andrew mused while he adjusted the air conditioning.
“Glad that I can maintain your faith in humanity.” Neil quipped, swatting Andrew’s hand away from the dial and turning it back the way he had it. “Jail or mental hospital?”
Neil considered the blonde beside him. He really didn’t know what type of crimes warranted juvie over actual jail, but kidnapping an unsuspecting teenager at a gas station was probably up there on the list of federal offenses.
“Got any family left?”
Neil suddenly craved a cigarette. “Some. No siblings. You?”
“A twin. It was a recent development in my familial drama, so I wouldn’t delve too deep.”
Neil wasn’t planning on it.
They went on like that for about 30 miles, Neil giving Andrew half-truths about his past and his time in Millport, and Andrew hinting very sarcastically about a less than satisfactory time in juvie. Neil took every other exit on the highway, winding them through dilapidated towns with no real destination in mind. It was a learned behavior, but it came in handy in cases like these.
Narrator: it was at this point that @minyavd had @minyardfluff read the headcanon to decide how to end it.
Notes: swearing, fluff, angst, heartbreak, mentions of Steve x reader and Steve x Sharon Carter.
Summary: When you find out Steve is cheating on you, Bucky is there to help you through it; along the way, his feelings for you grow, as do yours for him.
One shot! I love Steve, I rly, rly do. But here we are. This is based on a request I got a while back from an anon. Duly note that I do NOT take requests anymore. I just needed to write something different than a series today.
It’s exactly five months ago today, and it’s his birthday. No wonder you’re thinking about him so much when you promised yourself to never let another thought be wasted on a cheater. When Bucky walks in to the room, he instantly notices your struggle. With a small smile he takes a seat next to you on the couch, scooting closer carefully, until he knows you’re not gonna tell him to back off. He swings his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, kissing the top of your head firmly.
When people ask me “who’s the audience for this story?”
my answer is always the same: People Who Like This Sort of Thing.
No matter what That Sort of Thing may be. It might be I’m the only one who likes it. That’s OK. That’s still who I’m writing to please.
People who DON’T like This Sort of Thing are not my audience, by definition. (though, honestly, I do love it people say, “I don’t usually like this sort of thing but I loved this!” That is a damn good compliment. I always welcome it - I just don’t expect it.) If I’m writing a pairing or a genre or a kink or something that people out there don’t like or think shouldn’t be written or whatever, that’s OK. This story isn’t FOR them. Their opinion will be duly noted and filed away, and my story will continue to exist for the people whom it IS for.
I think writers should stand tall and be proud of whatever we write - and also truly know their audience: People Who Like ThIs Sort of Thing that they happen to be writing. Your audience is always the people who are looking for the specific story that you’re writing, right now. They’re out there. Do it for THEM.
This isn’t in response to any specific wank I’ve come across recently, this is just a compiling of thoughts from my journal. (Yes, the handwritten one.)
Can you do an imagine where Damian lost his s/o in battle and is going crazy looking for her; however, there's too many villains, and Bruce has to forcibly drag Damian away to retreat because he refuses to leave without her?
you for the request! It’s a little bit short but I hope you will still enjoy
calls out your code name once more as he knocks out the villains that are
attacking him. He elbows and kicks and punches them but his mind is distracted.
You are nowhere in sight – you have yet to respond to any of his messages and
your comm-link is not responding too. He tries to run to where he had last seen
you fighting but the moment he tries to head there, someone gripped his shoulder
and pulled him back just in time for Damian to avoid the small bomb.
have to retreat.” Batman tells Damian who turns to look at him sharply.
She is still out there, father.” Damian growls and Batman shakes his head. “There
are too many of them and we have to retreat, Robin.”
shakes his head. “You may retreat, father but I will not leave her out here
alone.” He shrugs off Batman’s hold on his shoulders and looks around the area
for any sign that might indicate where you have gone but there are more villain
coming in instead and as much as he wants to retreat, he simply cannot leave
you behind. Mostly because Damian promised that he would always have your back
and now? He did not even realize when you had disappeared.
Batman exclaims before pulling his distracted son in time to dodge the kunai
thrown in his direction. Batman took out his smoke bomb before throwing it on
the ground. There is no way they would be able to find you in this mess so
Batman did the one thing he knew would work well on Damian. “I’m sorry, Robin.”
eyes widen but just before he could even shrug Batman off, Batman hit the back
of his neck and Damian lets out a small yelp before darkness clouds his vision
and he loses consciousness. Batman lifts him up and took out his grapple gun –
he hears the footsteps approaching and knows if he misses this chance, they
will be in a long, long fight, one that he cannot afford to handle with how
distracted his son is. “Penny One, we are retreating now.”
noted, Sir. The aircraft is ready and in position.” Penny One’s voice comes
through the comm. “Is everyone in tip-top shape sir or do I need to ready the
shakes his head as he shoots the grapple gun and both Robin and Batman are now
soaring up. “It seems we are missing a partner – Robin’s partner.”
my. I reckon the young master is incapable of doing anything at the moment? In
any case, I shall be making some tea.”
So here is another Bughead fic. This is one is canon compliant. @riverdalehighvixens thank you so much for your help, checking over my work. :)
It doesn’t take long for Jughead to figure out that something’s on Betty’s mind.
Betty had been acting weird ever since Dilton Doiley came in with the information of seeing Miss Grundy’s car in the woods.
Not ‘I know Archie is sleeping with Miss Grundy’ weird, Jughead would have been able to pick up on that. No, this is different.
But from the way she spends her time staring off into space, hand holding a pen over her notebook ready to write if she has to, Jughead can tell that she doesn’t want him to notice anything is amiss.
He decides to test his theory.
“Betty?” He calls out casually.
Betty doesn’t respond.
“Betty?” He asks, a bit louder, but still keeping his voice soft.
Betty looks over at him quickly, pressing her pen down to the notebook ever so slightly. “Yes, Juggy?”
“I’m going to get something from the vending machine, you want anything?”
“No, thank you.” She smiles gratefully at him before looking back at her notepad, which doesn’t have a lot written in it.
Jughead turns around and heads to the vending machine, his theory proven correct, doubling his concern.
It isn’t until the next day when he’s sitting with Archie, Betty, Veronica and Kevin that he notices something else. While Betty’s doing a good job of listening and joining the conversation when it comes to Kevin and Archie, Betty’s not looking or talking as much with Veronica.
He’s off to his own, just sitting there in all his 'brooding mystery’ as Veronica calls it, and tries to pinpoint other areas of tension. But other than Betty not looking at Veronica, and Veronica shooting well hidden concerned glances every once in a while, everything else is fine.
Archie is excitedly telling them about his new sound proof music room and how he’s going to invite them over as soon as he’s not grounded anymore. His excitement is enough to distract Jughead as Archie looks at each of his friends one at a time. That’s the magic of Archie, he makes you feel special.
Kevin is too into Archie’s story that he’s not as observant as usual. If Jughead can give him credit for anything, it’s always catching the smallest shift in Betty since she’s his best friend. But now he’s exchanging ideas with Archie, who’s responding back with the same enthusiasm.
It seems today was a good day to have this conversation. Otherwise, both Kevin and Archie would have picked up on Betty and Veronica’s behavior.
Veronica excuses herself to go to the restroom, asking Betty to watch her purse. Betty tells her yes, and Veronica gets up after looking at Betty, but Betty is resolute in not looking at her.
Jughead gives it a minute before announcing he’s going to get something from the vending machine. Archie and Kevin make their demands pulling money from their wallets.
“Yeah, you’re a little quiet today. I think you’re in need of a sugar boost.” Kevin adds in.
Betty chuckles nervously. “I’m not quiet. You guys have reason to be extra chatty today. It’s really cool that your Dad is doing this for you, Archie.” Betty smiles.
Archie smiles in return. “Yeah, he’s the best. Is there anything you want?”
“Just a water, thank you. I’m just thirsty.”
Jughead takes their money, making note of everything they wanted, and he’s just in time to run into Veronica in the hallway.
“Going to the vending machine, want anything?”
“I’ll go with you.”
Well that makes everything easier.
“You’re quiet today.” Jughead points out, thinking this is a safe place to start.
“Archiekins has better news than anything I could say.” Veronica states, and Jughead knows she’s playing conversation chess, because that was said so Jughead wouldn’t try to ask more questions.
Jughead almost admires her, but he’s got an objective. “You’ve had a bad couple of days. I can understand that.”
“Can you?” Veronica shoots him an easy smirk.
“Not personally, but if Betty is any indication, then yes, I understand.” There, he set the bait.
Veronica doesn’t let anything past her impassive face, but when she glances at him the worry there, in her eyes. “Is she okay?”
She’s not, but Jughead doesn’t know what’s wrong, and if Veronica doesn’t know either then he doesn’t have any leads anymore.
“She’s been extra quiet ever since the Clayton incident.”
Veronica isn’t confused like he thought she would be, and Jughead realizes that she does know something. Maybe not the whole thing, but she knows something.
“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Veronica doesn’t answer right away.
“I don’t know anything if that’s what you’re after.” She finally states.
“But something happened.” Jughead says.
“You’re her friend, right? She trusts you?” Veronica asks instead.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Then ask her. You’re not one to beat around the bush, just ask her.”
“You can’t tell me anything?” Jughead asks, because he knows if he’s going to have to ask Betty, he won’t be able to help her like he hoped he would.
“It’s not my place to tell, Jughead.” Veronica starts walking down the hall to the vending machine and Jughead doesn’t try not to worry this time, because Veronica confirmed that something was bothering Betty.
When they return, Betty is the first one to look over. It doesn’t take a genius to know that when she sees Veronica and Jughead together, Betty figured that they talked about her. It was in the way she didn’t look at him once even though he was sitting right across from her on Archie’s left.
After school, when they’re in the Blue and Gold offices, Betty stares at her notepad, writing every once in a while, but Jughead knows she’s waiting for him to say something. There’s a visible tension in her shoulders.
Jughead wants to ask, he wants to help, but if he knows something about Betty it’s that she has to be the one to take the first step. Anything else would be too much like how her Mother demands things of her.
Betty relaxes her shoulder before she looks up at him, expression casual, but her lips closed tight and that tells Jughead everything. She won’t talk.
“You want to get out of here? We can work at Pop’s today. I’m in the mood for a burger. I’ll buy you anything.”
“I thought it was always on me?” Betty asks after a moment’s pause as she searched his face, a small smile starts forming in her lips, and Jughead knows he’s doing something right.
“I’m breaking the golden rule of asking you to leave before my article is at least rough drafted. It’s on me today.” He gives her a pointed look. “Just today. My demand still stands.”
Betty shakes her head chuckling and that knot of worry twists uncomfortably in his chest, because he wants her to always be smiling and easy going and happy. She shouldn’t loose her happiness by being bogged down by whatever had happened.
“Okay.” She stretches before grabbing her things and Jughead shoots her a half smile.
He makes easy conversation with her, keeping the subject on the article and how even though he broke the rule, he gets bonus points for knowing what he’s going to type up. So it’s like he did the whole article.
Betty does seem more relaxed after that, and Jughead makes sure to keep on safe topics.
“I’m really happy Archie’s Dad soundproofed the garage for him.”
“It should be fun hearing his new songs.” Jughead acknowledges. “We should go together.”
They both pause, processing his words. That had to be the second time Jughead asked Betty to do something with him.
Betty slowly smiles at him. “You know, if you want to ask me out, all you need to do is ask.” She’s teasing him and Jughead has to fight off a grin.
“Duly noted.” Jughead replies, opting to keep his answer vague, but even then a soft blush blooms in her cheeks and she can’t stop smiling as she continues to eat her fries.
Jughead watches her silently, with a fond smile of his own.
“ Can we at least pretend to be civilized? ” “ We’re supposed to be civil? ” “ Now, please… invite me in. ” “ Come in before I change my mind. ” “ You do realize that everyone hates you. ” “ Tonight, we celebrate our truce. ” “ So, you’re throwing a fake party in honor of a fake truce and your guest of honor is in a dungeon. ” “ Have fun with that. ” “ So, talk to me about this. ” “ This is the ebb and flow of violence and tragedy. ” “ What does it want? ” “ You think this person might be at your party? ” “ I’m counting on you to help me find them. ” “ Speaking of which… ” “ Late start to the day, ______? ” “ Hi. Creepy. ” “ Normal is boring. ” “ Are you here to kill me? ” “ My priorities have changed. ” “ So, you know, one plus one equals captured. ” “ I like her, for what it’s worth. ” “ Well, you can make up for it by doing me a favor. ” “ I don’t think I have a choice. ” “ Well, you’ve outdone yourself. ” “ I’m inclined to agree. ” “ Violence must only be seen as a last resort, or it will only weaken our position. ” “ Yes, well, I’m a creature of of very specific habits. ” “ No bloodshed. ” “ Bloodshed is inevitable. ” “ And should any turmoil arise, should anyone dare to disrupt our kingdom, let them answer to me. ” “ How the mighty have fallen. How the tables have turned. Still trying to find the right idiom. ” “ You ransacked my place. Classy. ” “ If you think that waving that blade around is gonna scare me, you’re more desperate than I thought.” “ Threatening my friends. That is… that is low. ” “ So it’s just business with some pleasure. ” “ Let this evening be a respite from past grievances and and an opportunity to forge new friendships.” “ Stiff drinks. Hot waiters. Seems like a cool shindig. ” “ You got a plan? ” “ It was a nice speech. ” “ Well, your concern has been duly noted. ” “ You positive this will work? ” “ I always wondered what my parents might have been like, what they might have thought of me. ” “ Might I suggest we begin before the evening ends? ” “ You can start by locating our enemies. ” “ You ready? ” “ What does any of this mean? Our suspect is a hanged magician with a penchant for hanging swords? ” “ Well, then by all means, let’s go find the viper in our midst. ” “ This is the one. ” “ I think I need to do this part alone. ” “ You seem confident. ” “ Remember the deal we made. ” “ I spy a lady in need of accompaniment. ” “ I’m so glad the lack of invitation didn’t deter you from attending. ” “ You should try not to be so clingy. ” “ Well, given your reputation, one can never be too careful. ” “ You seem to have made up your mind about me. ” “ Let’s start again. ” “ You’re bluffing. ” “ Go ahead, call my bluff. See how that works out. ” “ I’m good at finding what I want. ” “ And I would so hate to see you become their next blood sacrifice. ” “ Of course, there is another way. ” “ He’s either cutting a deal or killing somebody. Either way, we really ain’t got nothing to talk about. ” “ You know, I can’t say I blame you. ” “ Don’t try to justify what it is that you did: you know you were wrong. ” “ Have all your battles been free of casualties? ” “ You know, in my experiences, I’ve learned that survival comes at a price, just like love and family and basically anything else. ” “ You probably tell yourself that because you haven’t got anybody else. ” “ Is everything okay here? ” “ He seems nice. Want me to break his legs? ” “ Tell me what it wants. ” “ Regardless, my terms are set. ” “ It’s a good thing one isn’t judged by the competence of one’s enemies. I’d be rather insulted. ” “ I was you once. ” “ Now, that right there should show you just how bad your master actually is. ” “ I’m gonna take that as a compliment. ” “ I ought to flay the skin from your bones, but these are uncommon times, are they not? ” “ I must say, it is a compelling offer. Murder in exchange for clemency. ” “ You’re even more perceptive than your reputation suggests. ” “ And in what fairy tale do you think that I would allow that to happen? ” “ My offer was a courtesy. ” “ You have quite the one-track mind. ” “ Tell me, do you hate me on general principle or was it something I said? ” “ I hid and watched what you did. ” “ Careful not to overplay your hand, _______. ” “ I did what I had to and you’re quite welcome. ” “ So, am I supposed to thank you? ” “ An alliance between you and I is essential. ” “ I don’t bargain and I’m done with reason. ” “ I owe you an apology. ” “ I get the sense that’s kind of par for the course with your family. ” “ Well, the night’s still young. ” “ Of course you’d enter in the creepiest way possible— again. ” “ I try to avoid bloodshed; you become the town executioner. ” “ Tell me what you know. ” “ And it will come for us all. ”
First ever Pitch Fanfic… Be Kind… I “edited” this after work… sorry if I missed more than a few errors… This notion of a tattoo has me feeling some type of way… Shout out to the fandom you inspire me everyday… and @megaphonemonday for throwing me down the hole of this trope :)
Tell Me What You Want
Whoever thought it was a good idea to play truth or dare deserved bad things. The team was was away in Cincinnati and had unanimously voted against going out to the bars after the game. Sonny was still bitter about the TMZ thing and everyone else was on notice and ordered to keep their indiscretions to a minimum. So some genius came up with the bright idea to stay in tonight and drink a few beers in Blip’s suite. Minus Mike, all the usual suspects were present.
Everyone dismissed Old Man Lawson’s absence on account that he had been in a foul mood for the past two days. Everyone assumed it had something to do with Rachel, and left it alone.
Ginny wanted to care, but things were finally coming into place. She had recovered flawlessly and was playing her best ball. Amelia was back and had finally learned the meaning of boundaries, and Ginny had made it a point to check in with her mom and Will at least once week. Rehab put things into perspective and family needed to be on some level a priority. Rehab also taught her that you find out who your real friends are when the tide has turned, and it’s not looking so good.
The entire team rallied around her. Took her to appointments, even the guys who had always been a bit rougher around the edges were more than supportive. But she would have never imagined her Captain would essentially vanish. He was there when she woke up in the hospital. She remembered reaching for his hand when the doctor told her that she had elbow tendinitis. She would recover and play again. But Mike disappeared. No late night calls, no surprise visits, nothing.
Ginny had heard through Evelyn that he was back with Rachel. The information didn’t come out easily and Evelyn knew the effect it would have on her, but she needed to know. At that moment Ginny decided that she needed to move on and past wanting a man that didn’t want her and was still very much love with his ex wife. Even if she felt like time froze when they occasionally made eye contact that lasted for far too long, or when she violently tried to forget that night at Boardners. She wanted to forget his hand on her lower back. She wanted to forget his scent that is so distinctively Mike and so distinctively amazing. She wanted to forget that for that very real moment, he wanted to be with her too. But the moment passed. He was with Rachel, and that was the end of it.
Needless to say his absence came as a reprieve to Ginny. There’s only so many angst filled outings with the guys she could take.
“How about a game of truth or dare?” Javanes suggested as Blip rolled his eyes.
The suggestion was questionable but he got no nays and this version of truth or dare turned out to be a hybrid of truth or dare and kangaroo court.
Overwhelmingly, the guys including Ginny chose truth and were surprisingly honest about every lucid detail. Sonny proved to be worst than TMZ because he had the scoop on everyone. He got Dusty to admit to that rendezvous in Miami with German twins. Blip admitted to crying during the remake of Beaches, and Butch verified that the alleged picture of him in pink boy shorts does in fact exist. And Livan didn’t exactly confirm or deny hooking up with 2 Kardashians. It was all fun and games until Ginny’s horsey laugh came to an abrupt stop. Sonny said that next person had to chose dare and of course Ginny was next.
Ginny squared her shoulders, never one to back down. Not to mention, she figured Papi would take it easy or her… at least she had hoped he would.
“Alright Papi, what you got?” Ginny asked.
“Ok.. don’t kill me Mami, but inquiring minds want to know… where is your hidden tattoo?”
Ginny’s face instantly burned red. One little report and overnight #BakersTAT was a thing that even Elliot couldn’t stop. All these years she had managed to keep it hidden and somehow someone somewhere caught wind of it. Ginny knew she would eventually be outed, but she was hoping that would be sometime after she got the damn thing removed. The guys wouldn’t leave it alone for weeks and she thought the story was finally old news… But she couldn’t back down from this now, especially not after what Butch and Blip had just copped to.
“This is so messed up,” Ginny sighed running her fingers through her hair.
“Alright since no one is going to let this go.. ever..” Ginny started.
“I will show it to you Livan and you can confirm its existence,” Ginny explained to a sea of grumbles from the guys apart from Livan who was grinning from ear to ear.
Livan looked like he had hit the lottery, but he knew that if she showed it to anyone it was going to be him. He and Ginny were inseparable, real friends. Livan was finally understanding the true Ginny. Not in the way that Lawson did, he doubt they ever would have the connection that she and Lawson had, but it worked for them. Livan didn’t know what caused the rift between Mike and Ginny, but it was palpable. There was a great divide there that everyone felt. But Livan didn’t ask and Ginny didn’t tell.
Ginny ushered Livan into the bathroom of the suite and closed and locked the door.
“You’re a little shit, you know that Papi?” Ginny asked, smoothing her hair out of her face.
“Of course, but you would’ve pulled the same thing if you had something on me,” Livan stated.
“Duly noted,” Ginny said with a nod and a smirk that scared Livan just a tad bit. He knew Ginny wouldn’t forget, and he would get his eventually.
“Well you’ll have plenty of time to cook up your revenge later Mami. You know you can trust me, I won’t tell anyone what or where it is.”
“You can’t Livan,” Ginny added finally realizing that she was going to do this. She could’ve easily said no; not even Evelyn knows about her tattoo. Livan was her friend. She was sure he would have questions…questions she really didn’t have the answers to, but she did trust him.
“I won’t Baker,” Livan said in a serious tone as the guys obviously fought to eavesdrop from behind the door.
Ginny slowly took off her teal Nike racerback tank to reveal her blush Nike sports bra. She would be lying if it didn’t surprise her how big Livan’s eyes got. Their relationship had molded into best friends / brother/sister territory, but his expression was strained and Ginny found it slightly amusing.
Ginny peeled up the left side of her sports bra, along her ribcage and she heard the loud inhale from Livan. She hadn’t made eye contact with him before she heard him ask, “How long have you had that?”
“I got it when I was 18,” Ginny said, her voice slightly above a whisper. Livan didn’t look surprised, his expression was almost sad. The entire clubhouse knew there was always something between Mike and Ginny. Livan knew Mike couldn’t possibly be that stupid to try to start something with Ginny. But Livan had also witnessed on more occasions than he could count Mike staring at Ginny like he depended on her every word to live. No man looks at a woman like that that isn’t completely and fully in love with her. It’s only now that he realizes that Ginny is in love with Mike too.
It wasn’t the small 36 in ink that gave it away, but the many conversations he had had with Ginny about getting her tattoo removed that came rushing into his mind like a flood. Ginny had many opportunities and down time to get it removed, made appointments to go even, and yet she didn’t.
Livan didn’t have to ask because he knew Mike didn’t know about this.
“Well say something,” Ginny said fidgeting with her fingers after she put her shirt back on.
“I know the Old Man is senile, I just hope he’s not stupid.” Livan said, giving Ginny a weak smile.
Arriving back to her own apartment was new, but it was an upgrade from the Omni; she would adjust. No sooner than she had set her gear down, hopped in the shower, and climbed in her bed, her phone rang.
“So, why wasn’t I invited to the Padres sleep over?” She heard from a grumpy voice.
“You were, you turned us down.. remember?” Ginny replied.
“I turned down groupies, bad music, and cellphone paparazzi. But I could’ve been persuaded to witness you and your boyfriend’s first 7 minutes in Heaven,” Mike quipped.
“And just that quick, this conversation is over,” Ginny said with a little more bite than she intended.
“Not so fast Rook, geez, I remember the days when you could take a joke,” Mike huffed out.
“Well I’m not in the mood Lawson. I just want to relax and not hold this phone,” Ginny said as snuggled further into her bed.
“Well then come to the door and we can talk face to face, no phone required.”
Mike heard a dial tone and heavy feet stride to the door. This was likely a bad idea, showing up at Ginny’s apartment, unannounced and uninvited. But he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He needed to get to the bottom of all the chatter about Ginny and Livan. Blip was convinced that it was harmless and that they were more like brother and sister than anything else. But Mike knew he would be hard pressed to find any man in that clubhouse that wouldn’t lose his shit over an opportunity to spend time with Ginny Baker. And Ginny and Livan were close. A hell of a lot closer than he would ever like them to be. But he couldn’t be the dick that kept Ginny and Livan from developing as battery mates. He hated it, but Ginny’s game depended on having a great catcher, even if it wasn’t him.
His thought was instantly broken when she opened the door. Her curls were still wet; a few drops had dripped down to her very thin gray tank top… and holy boy shorts. Small. White. Tiny. Boy Shorts. Long, toned, caramel legs in those boy shorts. A perfect pear shaped ass in those boy shorts.
“Why are you here Lawson?” Ginny asked conjuring up more irritation than she actually felt. Her favorite Lawson was here, the one who wore Henleys and looked at her like she was the most precious and sexiest thing in the world.
Rachel. Ginny remembered, as her internal cold shower washed over her.
“May I come in?” Lawson asked as Ginny stepped to the side. Mike fought like hell to not look at her ass as she slid by, but failed as he caught a trace of the coconut scent he had grown so fond of.
“So are you going to tell me about Show and Tell or not?”
“Of all the things that came out that night, that’s what’s got you so worked up? Drop it Lawson,” Ginny said grabbing a bottled water from her fridge.
“I wouldn’t call this worked up Baker, just asking a question… a question you seem hell bent on avoiding,”
“None of your business,”
“This team is my business,”
“Here we go… seriously Mike, what is your problem? Your mood swings are making me nauseous. If this team was your business, where the hell were you during my rehab? The rest of the team was there. Where were you?” Ginny spat out. “You don’t get to lecture me about the team…” Ginny said exasperated. Ginny was so tired of this hot and cold bullshit.
“What exactly are we talking about here Gin?” Mike said feeling the heat in his face.
“Are we talking about the team? Rehab? Your rules? Your every attempt to keep me away!” Mike yelled.
“Keep YOU away? I wasn’t the one who bailed on their teammate Mike.. I wasn’t” Ginny stopped as Mike headed to the door.
“Gin, I’m tired of arguing. I’m tired of it. Tell me what you want.”
“Mike I don’t want to argue either, but..”
“Tell me what you want.” Mike said. Ginny could feel the exhaustion in his voice. She came and stood near him, willing her eyes not to water.
“The truth,” Ginny said, almost trembling.
“The truth… alright… the truth… Rachel and I split after your injury. I was a wreck. You got hurt and it was my fault. Rachel made a few comments about me getting over it and injuries being apart of the game, but I didn’t want to hear it. She said the first time we failed was because I was in love with baseball… this time she said we failed because….” Mike paused.
“It wasn’t your fault Mike, none of this was your fault.”
“I should’ve agreed to shut you down Gin, I should’ve..” Mike started as he felt Ginny’s hands clasp the sides of his face.
“This was not your fault.” Ginny said looking him square in the eyes. Mike cautiously wrapped his hands around Ginny’s waist and pulled her into him. Breathing her in, and muffling into her hair, he said one last time… “Tell me what you want.”
Ginny pulled back slightly from Mike, instantaneously missing his warmth. With faux confidence, she slowly pulled her gray tank top over her head and tossed it on the floor. Ginny paused before she lifted the soft pink thin fabric of her yoga bra slightly, just above her rib cage. With her right index finger she gently tapped just below the number, his number. She was exposed. Literally and figuratively. When Ginny had enough courage to return her gaze to Mike his eyes had grown dark.
If ya’ll want more, tell me! Comments and thoughts are encouraged…