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heliads · 3 years ago

Note

Okay so, I know you have a lot of requests right now and you totally don't have to write this but I had this idea for a Nikolai Lantsov x reader where the reader is in a grouchy mood after having a really bad day and they are venting to Nikolai about it. And I mean bad as in; "Nikolai istg, Tolya ate my food and then I fell down the stairs, and this really embarrassing thing happened, ect, ect" and Nikolai is like "Oh really that's horrible" and he just kinda makes fun of her a little but then a few hours later he wakes them up and takes them outside in the middle of the night to watch the stars to make them feel better because he's like "I know you had a bad day but I thought this would help" or something and some kind of cute confession happens! It's just an idea I had and I thought it was kinda cute! (Tbh it sounded so much better in my head and I'm not sure if this makes any sense) sorry if this was way too detailed. ily!

nikolai my beloved <33 ily too bestie!!

masterlist

It has been one terrible day, even by Ravkan standards. You’d think you’d be happy here, being able to do good work to protect your people as the General of the First Army, and you usually are, but today is an unfortunate exception. In a series of mishaps and mistakes, you’ve quite possibly lost all hope for humanity at large.

Even the surrounding landscape, which usually delights all passersby, seems to have taken on a foul mood similar to the one that cloaks your own shoulders. A low, thick fog has slovenly draped itself over the grounds, swallowing all occupants in a haze of gray. Street lamps do their best to keep the stuff at bay, but even their normally bright lights have been all but snuffed out in the face of nature’s latest apathy.

The crunch of assorted rocks and pebbles under your boots sounds more like small bones breaking as you make your way forward to the Grand Palace. After a long string of meetings with your commanders, which basically revealed that your army is just as malnourished and undersupplied as you’d feared, it’s nice to be able to return to the place that has pretty much become a home away from home ever since you first stepped foot in Os Alta.

You’re greeted at the door by Genya Safin, who, as usual, manages to look utterly charming despite the hair-ruining fog currently creeping inside the palace along with you.

She raises an eyebrow at your appearance. “Has someone else died, Y/N, or is it just another one of those days?”

You grimace at her admittedly accurate appraisal. “Just another one of those days, I’m afraid. If you want, I can find a dead body to excuse it.”

Genya shudders. “I’ll have to decline that offer, I don’t think I can deal with the stench today.”

You can’t help but smirk at her comment. “Neither can I. See you tomorrow morning, I hear we have an early meeting to discuss troop movements near the Fjerdan borders.”

You wave goodbye, grinning at the face Genya pulls at the mention of yet another early morning spent cloistered inside the War Room, trying to figure out how to win a losing battle.

Still, even seeing one of your closest friends isn’t enough to dislodge the permanent dour mood from your mind. Not feeling up to a meal in front of the various dignitaries that constantly pester Nikolai in the hopes of getting something from him, you make a token appearance in the king’s receiving room, talk to the necessary generals, and retreat just as quickly.

You do manage to grab a plate before you go, because if you’re going to be skipping another formal meal, you do at least want to have your supper. You head to your room, unlocking the door and checking your quarters with the level of paranoia that one is forced to adopt when they’re anyone of measure in Ravka.

You fully intend on sinking yourself into war reports and potential treaties for the next couple of hours, but you’ve scarcely sat down for ten minutes before there’s a knock at the door. You allow yourself one moment of glowering at the desk in front of you before giving up and answering the call. It appears that there will be no solitude, not for you.

However, of all the visitors, you’re fairly fond of this one. Nikolai Lantsov, blond king and local troublemaker, is leaning against your doorframe. He takes your arched brow as a welcome inside, and saunters causally inside as if he owns the place. Technically, he does, but you refuse to think of that point at the moment.

Nikolai takes his usual place in your sitting room.. He finds a seat, as per usual, in the one armchair that you personally think is rather hideous. Nikolai seems to adore it, though, which is the only reason it hasn’t been headed to the scrap heap a long time ago.

Once he’s gotten himself situated, Nikolai cocks his head at you. “Trying to escape another dinner, are we?”

You groan, slinking into the chair opposite him. “I’d hoped to, at any rate. Would it be possible for you to be slightly less aware of your surroundings so I can get away with skipping your ceremonies?”

Nikolai shakes his head in mock sorrow. “If I did, my dear general, I think you’d be out of a job because I would have been assassinated. It’s all a part of the job description.”

You give him a look. “You could notice the assassins, not me. I’m sure other kings have managed to overlook their officers before.”

Nikolai grins cheekily, clasping his hands behind his head. “Ah, but I am not most kings. I pride myself on being a trailblazer.”

You smirk in spite of yourself. “And judging by the amount of negotiations that haven’t taken place with Fjerda, I’d say you’re blazing not just trails but bridges.”

Nikolai’s mouth drops open. “Cruel, Y/N. You were supposed to be helping me with said negotiations.”

You reach for the glass of kvas at your side, already poured in the scant few seconds you’d had to yourself before Nikolai came a-knocking, and raise it in a grim salute. “Oh, I know. It appears that the Fjerdans are rather distrustful of even our best attempts at diplomacy.”

Nikolai leans forward slightly in his chair. “Yes, but wait a moment. I know that face, Y/N. Something has happened to dismay my usually chipper general.”

You consider pretending that nothing is wrong, then decide against it. Nikolai has always been able to read you like an open book, something that both infuriates and intrigues you, depending on the day. It’s especially irritating because despite the fact that Nikolai can seemingly tell a shift in your emotions from the slightest change in your poker face, you can never get a read on him.

“A couple things happened. Nothing major.”

Nikolai sighs theatrically. “Y/N, my dearest commander, if I thought you were holding something back I would be grievously disappointed, and also robbed of any possible entertainment for the evening. I have skipped out on my own supper to check in on you, after all, and I feel that I should then have the right to hear whatever it is that you’re holding back.”

To prove his point about a lost supper, Nikolai leans forward and seizes a rye roll from your plate. He holds it up with an air of grave concern. “This is my hostage until you spill your secrets.”

You press a hand to the bridge of your nose, although it’s mainly to suppress a grin. “There’s no use in pretending you’ll return it, I know that roll will have disappeared by my second sentence.”

He smirks, tearing the aforementioned sacrificial roll in half. “You couldn’t be more right. I love that you can see through my bluffs.”

“Only roll-related bluffs, moi tsar. You could sell me a jar of cheap petrol and have me convinced it was liquid gold.”

Nikolai looks pleased to hear this. “I appreciate the testament to my skills in deceit, but it won’t be enough to distract me. The things that went wrong today, if you will?”

You fish around for some kind of excuse, but it’s no use. Besides, you have been rather wanting to rant all day, so you don’t entirely want to shoo away your willing audience.

“I think it’s better to ask for what didn’t go wrong. First of all, I couldn’t fall asleep for hours, so I got no sleep until long past dawn. As a result, I overslept, and even though someone tried to save me a plate from breakfast, Tolya ate it. When I confronted him, he just recited some ancient verse about how fasting can save both the soul and the stomach. He wouldn’t even apologize.”

“After that, I had to go meet with those awful Kerch diplomats for what was supposed to be a thirty minute meeting, and I ended up being there for two hours. They wouldn’t stop haggling about the proper tax on imports, and their lowest amounts were far too high anyways. Later, I was trying to get through the Grand Palace, and I think I was so dizzy from a lack of food and proper company that I literally fell down the stairs. Thankfully, no one saw, but I knew, at any rate.”

“Also, none of my troops want to follow my orders, and all the West Ravkan commanders are trying their hardest to break away again. I’ve had to send several cruel messages but I think I’m going to have to go visit their camps myself to maintain order. All that, and I’m not even sure it’s worth anything, because the second I make a decision on troop movements, the Grisha Triumvirate decides that we should do the exact opposite. I love them, but I’m at my limit, I swear.”

The words come out in a tidal wave, and although you were never intending to say that much, it is nice to have it all out. Nikolai stares at you for a moment, as if processing all of the information you’ve just thrown at him, and then the corners of his mouth start to twitch up.

“Tolya quoted poetry to make up for stealing your breakfast?”

You gesture irritably at him. “Yes, and now you’re stealing my supper to make up for it, I suppose. If you’re just going to make fun of me, you can see yourself out of my chambers. I’m not in the mood for witty banter.”

Nikolai manages to tamp down the renegade parts of his smile, although you can see it glinting in his eyes even afterwards. “Ah, love, don’t take it too seriously. I think I would consider violence if the same thing happened to me. I have to silently chant the statistics of David’s labs in Lazlayon over and over in my head to distract myself whenever Tolya corners me to talk about some epics.”

You regard him suspiciously. “You do?”

He nods fervently. “It’s happened many times, which makes it no easier. If I could send you strength, I would, but I would never dare to assume your current fortitude is anything less than perfect, despite your trip down the stairs.”

You glare at him, but you’re interrupted by the chime of a clock over your mantle. Nikolai glances towards it, grimacing.

“I fear I have to leave you to your musings. I’m supposed to be meeting with Zoya over a new budget addendum for the Little Palace.”

You raise your glass again, and Nikolai takes his leave. You can’t deny that you feel more alone when he leaves, especially at the thought of where he’s going. You can admit that you’ve been thinking of Nikolai more than you should as of late, and you do know that half the palace has assumed the Lantsov king and his fearsome Squaller general are already a couple.

You take a drink of your kvas, and even the burn of it against your throat feels normal now, no different from usual. You love Zoya, and have long been able to smile at her pointed remarks, but you do envy her for the fact that she likely has Nikolai’s heart firmly in her hands.

You decide to go to bed early, although it’s not like it makes much of a difference. You still can’t fall asleep, and spend another hour lying in bed staring at your ceiling until a knock comes again at your door.

You slide your legs out from underneath the covers, slipping on shoes and grabbing a jacket to settle around your shoulders while you answer your caller. You’ve long learned that midnight calls are never good, so you can at least hope that nothing has gone drastically wrong.

However, when you cautiously open the door, Nikolai is looking back at you again, just as chipper as before despite the late hour. He extends a hand to you.

“I haven’t woken you, have I? Come with me, please.”

You stare at him, although you do take the offered hand out of reflex. “Has something happened?”

Nikolai reaches behind you to shut the door. “No, nothing. There’s just something I want to show you.”

You arch a brow, but say nothing. Nikolai seems quite pleased with himself, so at least this late-night rendezvous isn’t a sign that something has gone terribly wrong. Nikolai escorts you out of the Grand Palace, careful to avoid maids and guards who might spin fictitious tales about why the king and his general would be seen wandering the halls together at such a late hour.

Nikolai doesn’t stop his brisk pace until you’re outside and in the gardens, sneaking past hedges trimmed by the cold night air and flowers bending under the weight of moonlight threading their petals with silver. Lone spiderwebs, already touched by dew, trace pearlescent strands across windows as you walk.

At last, Nikolai stops by a bench in a clearing. The flowering trees and fruit bushes have all stopped a couple of yards back, allowing the night sky to flow into the resulting gap in the branches. Nikolai releases your hand so you can take a seat on the wrought iron frame, although you miss his touch as soon as he does. Thankfully, the bench is just small enough that your shoulders gently press against each other, so you do not yearn for his warmth.

Nikolai turns his head up towards the sky, smiling as he sees it. “I love coming out here on difficult days, such as the one you just had. You can see the stars for miles.”

You follow his gaze, and gasp quietly at the sight. You don’t think you’ve had the chance to truly study the sky in quite some time, too preoccupied with making sure the very earth doesn’t fall apart underneath your feet, but the constellations have missed your absence keenly. It looks as if some great hand has flung a necklace of silver beads out into the sky, and stars formed of those long-gone pearls.

“It’s beautiful,” you manage, lost in the astral world unfurling before you. “I haven’t had time to appreciate that recently.”

When you are finally able to tear your gaze from the stars, you realize that Nikolai has stopped considering the sky, and is instead studying you with equal fervor. The moonlight has blanched his curls, making the usual golden strands look bone white. You envy it for being able to touch his face with such depth. Who is the light to come so close to him?

Nikolai seems to regard you with the same delight, though. You can feel his eyes on you, and are suddenly aware of how you look, the fact that your hair is loose from its typical army regulation style. You’re still in your nightclothes, after all, and your jacket has slipped from your shoulders to reveal your throat and collarbone. It’s highly improper, but from the way Nikolai looks at you, you could be dressed in the finest fashions all of Ravka has to offer.

Slowly, he speaks again. “I haven’t taken anyone else out to see this. Only you.”

Only you. Saints, the things you could imagine with that phrase.

“I don’t know that anyone else has shown me anything of quite this splendor. Only you, as well.”

A soft smile touches Nikolai’s lips. “Would it be rude of me to say that I’m glad of it? I have been for a while. I have problems in which I am deeply envious of every soldier who gets to greet you, of every nobleman who is allowed to dance with you at galas. If I could, I would never leave your side, nor say a word that wasn’t your name. I am in love with you, my esteemed general, perhaps more than is wise.”

You have never been able to read Nikolai as well as he reads you. Still, in this moment you can tell that he is telling the truth, and veracity drips from every syllable.

Your lips part, and a moment later you manage to answer him. “There is nothing wise about what I feel for you. That was the worst part of today, I think. I saw you but I didn’t know that you could be mine.”

Nikolai’s hand raises, tilting your chin up so you can face him. “But I am yours, love. There is no part of me that would not gladly be yours.”

Some part of you was expecting his kiss, yet it still comes as a surprise. Maybe it’s because the kiss is the confirmation that this is actually real, actually happening, that it isn’t merely a blissful dream after a long and tumultuous day. Regardless, it is quite possibly the best thing yet to happen to you. You think you could spend the rest of your eternity out here in this moonlit garden, still and quiet save for the beating of your heart. Perhaps, indeed, you will.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @aleksanderwh0r3, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

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biracialdisaster · 3 years ago

Text

Tuesday

pt 1 of the Jailbait series

So the lovely @grungyblonde put the seed in my trashy little brain about a jailhouse nurse!reader and my soft country boy Arvin, so here's what I hope will be the first of several connected one-shots where Arvin gets caught.

Words: 1100 ~ Content: mentions of murder, period-typical attitudes towards women, implied violence, implied abuse of power

It's an ordinary Tuesday the first time you see him. You'd been briefed that a new prisoner was being transferred to the prison you're employed by. Death row - inmate convicted of the murders of four people, including a preacher. You shiver to think about what you'll see when you look into his man's eyes. Skimming over the paperwork in his file - not much in here, you muse - you note his young-ish age. Youth is no indicator of innocence, though. You have met more than one fifteen year old who was cold-blooded to the core, and prisoner A.R is older than that. A grown man.

You wait in the starkly white med bay for him to attend his medical. It's a requirement for all new prisoners, whatever their crimes and whatever their sentence. You hear the clink of the heavy chains prisoners wear, and turn when the huge metal door opens, keys clanging against the warden's belt.

This is the man convicted of four counts of murder, including shooting a preacher in cold blood, in his own church?

He looks tired. His hair is messy, hanging over his face. An early-autumn brown, it looks soft. Stubble of the same shade grows along his upper lip and jaw, perhaps a day or two's absence of a razor.

When his gaze meets yours, he inclines his head slightly, politely. "Ma'am." His honey-on-grits drawl skates along your senses, prickling you with awareness. No one who has murdered four people should sound like that, like sin made into sound.

He looks pale under the cheap prison strip lighting. There are shadows under his tawny, lion's mane brown eyes. He has a face of planes and angles, speaking of a poor upbringing and perhaps just enough food. His knuckles are scraped. He looks sad. He looks like he's seen a lot. Old eyes in a young face. You wonder if his countenance would change with a smile. Would it light him up from the inside? Would the smile reach his eyes, or would they stay sad?

These are not thoughts you should be having.

"Sit down," you urge.

The warden pokes him with his baton, none too gently.

"There's no rush," you add, for the warden's benefit. Warden Cole has always been heavy-handed, particularly with prisoners who are older, younger, or of skinnier build than the usual. Bastard likes to assert his dominance. You don't care for it.

"Thankyou, ma'am," the prisoner murmurs, clinking over and taking a seat.

You give him your name. "I'll be assessing you today before you enter your cell, okay? What's your name?"

"I'm Arvin, Arvin Russell." A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You ask him questions about his height and weight, whether he smokes or drinks - he does smoke - and what his diet is like.

Then you get him to remove the prison-issue plastic sandals and step on to the scales so you can check whether his estimates of his vitals are close to the mark. He weighs a little less than you'd expect, but he's not terrifyingly underweight, either.

"Any issues with bowel movements? Passing water?"

Heat creeps up his cheeks; you notice the slight flush. "No, ma'am."

"Good. Would you uncuff him?" You say to Cole. "I need to listen to his heart."

Cole frowns. "This prisoner is convicted of murder in the first degree, four counts."

"Thankyou, I've read his file and I feel quite safe with you here," you say, keeping your tone saccharine sweet.

Cole puffs up unnecessarily. You barely refrain from rolling your eyes at his peacocking. He makes a great show of swinging his keys, taking them off his belt and unshackling the prisoner - Arvin, that's his name.

"Now. take off your shirt for me," you instruct, gently.

Arvin's body is lean and lithe. It looks like a body honed from hard physical work. You can imagine him as one of the construction boys hired for the railroad building that's been going on in earnest nearby, connecting these backwaters to the rest of the state.

You take the stethoscope from your desk drawer and hook it into your ears, standing to cross to Arvin and press the little metal cup to where his heart beats. He smells faintly of the prison-issue soap and the detergent that all uniforms are washed in, and under that, the ghostly tang of cigarette smoke and a whiff of freshly cut grass.

You count the heartbeats, check the watch pinned to your blouse. "Good. Thankyou, you can dress again now."

He thanks you softly, and does so. It's no more than a second before Cole is back on him, cuffing the metal back in place.

"You're safe now," he says curtly.

"Was I not safe at any point?" you ask innocently. "Mr Russell, let's have a look at your hands. Scraped up a little, I see. How did that happen?"

He looks away. "Candy-ass boys beatin' up on my sister," he mutters. "She killed herself 'cause of them. I couldn't let 'em get away with it. Sweet Lenora never hurt anyone."

Your heart clenches. It could be a sob story, but your instincts say it isn't. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thankyou."

You dab some medicinal alcohol over the cuts. He winces, but doesn't make a single sound. You bandage his hand.

"If you need to see me, the Warden can arrange that, otherwise, I visit every two weeks for any checks that need doing, medication reviews and whatnot."

He nods. "Yes, ma'am."

You have the strangest urge to tell him to take care, but of course, you don't. You just look up at Warden Cole. "I'm ready for the next patient now."

He snorts. "You mean the next prisoner."

"Everyone who comes through these doors is a patient, Mr Cole, whatever they've done beyond them. Understood?"

He looks disgusted at taking backtalk from a woman, but this prison needs a nurse, and he knows it. "Yes, ma'am," he mutters.

You watch Arvin's hands curls into fists in his lap, and you see the violent streak in him. He doesn't like women being disrespected. You can well imagine him killing to protect his poor deceased sister.

Cole leads him away without another word. You watch him go, wondering if you'll see him again. Hoping you will, and feeling sick about it.

Four counts of murder.

Every day here, people surprise you with what they're capable of.

#arvin russell x female reader #arvin russell x reader #the devil all the time fanfiction #the devil all the time #the devil all the time au #arvin russell au #tom holland imagine #tom holland characters #arvin russell

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touyasdoll · 3 years ago

Text

Initial request that unfortunately went poof: Reader w/ social anxiety & how Amajiki, Kirishima, and Aizawa would react if someone was rude to them in public and made they cry/have a panic attack.

I feel you on this, anon 💕 social anxiety is a bitch, but I’m sure that these boys would absolutely have your back if anyone dared to be rude to you!

MHA Men Defending an S/O w/ Social Anxiety

Friday the 13th Celebration

Pairings: Aizawa x reader, Kirishima x reader, Amajiki x reader

Genre: comfort

Warnings: rude ass people, alcohol mention, panic attack

Shouta Aizawa

You’re out shopping, getting some groceries, when Shouta steps away to grab something from another aisle.

Some asshole isn’t paying attention to where he’s going and he collides with you & then has the audacity to bark at you like it’s your fault.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot.”

Shouta isn’t having any of that

He’s rounding the corner as he watches the whole ordeal and he’s at your side in a flash, putting a protective arm around you while he casts his capture weapon around the jackass in front of him

“You wanna try that again?” He tightens the fabric around the man, his eyes glowing as his hair floats around him.

“Eraser Head! I-I’m sorry, man. I mean, I’m sorry, miss. That was my fault. I’m so sorry!” He sputters, looking frantic as he apologizes to you.

“Go.” is all Shouta says, his threatening persona dropping as he releases the man, who leaves his cart stranded in the aisle as he takes off.

“Are you okay, kitten?” His voice is soft as he looks down at you, pulling you closer as he wipes away the tear on your cheek.

“Y-yeah,” you nod, curling into his chest as he hugs you tight, yours small voice becoming even small as it’s muffled by his clothes. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, love. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, rubbing your shoulder soothingly. “Why don’t we just head home? I’ll just come back later and get what we need. We can order dinner in tonight. That sound good?”

“Really?” You peek up at him, a small smile tugging up the corners of your lips.

“Really,” he smiles down at you, brushing some hair away from your face. “C’mon,” he takes your hand. “Let’s get outta here.”

Eijirou Kirishima

You’re out & about downtown, just having a good time with Kirishima and your guys’ circle of friends.

Kirishima never strays too far from you, always keeping a hand on your back or extending his hand so you can keep a hold on his finger.

He knows crowds can get to be too much, so he stays close in case you need him or you get overwhelmed. He understands and he’s always checking in with you throughout the night like the sweetheart that he is.

The literal brick wall that is Red Riot is usually more than enough to keep creeps at bay. I mean, even without activating his quirk, Kiri is a pretty intimidating specimen.

Standing at a solid 6’8 & comprised of nothing but muscle, you’d think no one who have the balls to try anything with him around.

Until one drunken moron catches your off guard by getting a little to close to you while Kiri’s invested in a chat with Denki. He’s standing right beside you at the bar while you wait for your drink.

“Hey there,” the creep grins at you, a wicked sight as the alcohol on his breath wafts in your face. “Bet those pretty little lips of yours would look so good wrapped around my—,”

He doesn’t get to finish his abhorrent statement, because Kirishima’s palm comes flush against his chest in an instant, rocketing the scumbag away from you without much of an effort on his part.

“If I ever hear you speak that way to anyone again, I swear I’ll crack your ribs next time and you’ll be lucky if that’s all I do,” he places himself between you and the pathetic man, who’s struggling to pick himself up off of the floor.

“Fuckin’ relax, man. I didn’t lay a hand on your bitch,” he’s brushing himself off, too drunk to realize the rage that Kirishima is vibrating with when you tug on his hand.

“Eiji,” you whisper, your voice shaking as it becomes harder for you to take a breath.

His anger is forgotten as he spins around, pulling you into his embrace as he shushes you softly.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you,” he guides you towards the door, hurrying you outside so you can get some fresh air.

“Are you all right?” He rubs your back, his voice gentle when you start to breathe a little easier.

“Mhm,” you nod, letting out a long sigh as you wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, baby,” he smiles, placing a kiss to your forehead.

Tamaki Amajiki

Yes, he has a great deal of social anxiety himself

HOWEVER

He’s also a badass when it counts and he will do anything for the people that he truly cares about

You’re out shopping one day, just milling around the mall as an excuse to get out of the house when he gets a call that he has to take, so he steps away for a moment

He doesn’t go far, just outside the store you’re in, leaving you browse

Some guy comes up and makes a comment about how you look a little down & how “you’d look so much prettier of you smiled”

And you’ve heard that quite enough in your lifetime, so you politely tell him that you’re not interested and step away, crossing over to the other side of the store

But he follows you, insisting he’s a good guy, you should give him a chance, “what could it hurt, doll?”

And you insist, your voice wavering as you reiterate to him that you’re not interested and that you’re actually here with your boyfriend

He scoffs, “Your boyfriend? Really? Well, where is he then? Quit playing hard to get. You some kind of prude?”

“She said she’s not interested,” Tamaki asserts, his voice booming from behind the man, who turns to see him glaring daggers at him.

You rush to his side, clasping his hand in yours as you fold your arm around his, standing halfway behind him.

“Well she could be more polite about it. I’m not some creep,” the asshole wrongly insists.

“Actually, you are. Hitting on someone who obviously isn’t interested and continuing to do so, after they’ve already made that fact clear makes you a creep.” He explains, his tone concise and intimidating. “So get lost, because I don’t particularly like creeps hitting on my girlfriend.”

He tries to play it off, flashing his palms as he steps back, “Whatever, man.” And he hurriedly heads off in the other direction.

He lets out a huge breath when the guy is out of earshot and turns to you, placing a hand on either of your arms as he searches your eyes.

“He didn’t touch you or anything, did he, bunny? How are you feeling?” His eyes are kind and understanding as he rubs yours arms.

“No,” you shake your head, wiping away the tears sitting in your waterline as you sniffle. “I’m okay now that you’re here.” You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I’m so glad I have a brave hero like you around to protect me.”

“I’m so lucky to have someone like you to protect,” he smiles down at you, closing the distance between your lips to kiss you sweetly.

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bulletproofscales · 3 years ago

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Hi there! Can you do a Namjoon + Jin fic where Namjoon thinks he's straight until he meets Jin and falls in love?

hiii!! so given that this is mroe of a vague request i took some liberties in the writting and tried something new with the plot!! i hope you enjoy!

tags: hurt/comfort , internalized homophobia , anxiety , self discovery , namjoon token straight , gay club , making out , dry humping (sfw) , public space (sfw) , late talks , chubby seokjin bc i can , side jihopekook

5.6k words

link to ao3!!

Namjoon isn’t uncomfortable, really! He isn’t…. But he can acknowledge he isn’t really in his element right now.

Well…he is the straigth man at a gay bar; he knows he isn’t the target audience. And Namjoon is okay with that!

He is just here to be of moral support to Jimin and Hoseok, who usually come here by themselves. But tonight came with the specific purpose of “getting dicked down”, their words. And they were crazy to think Namjoon wasn’t going to come and make sure they had a safe night.

So yeah… it was his idea to come, sexuality isn’t going to stop him from making sure neither of his friends gets dragged away by some creep. And he is trying hard to use that as a way to not regret this moral choice. In the end, no matter how hard he tries to fool himself, sitting at a stool at the bar of an LGBTQ club, isn’t really his image of an ideal saturday night.

The drinks are good at least, and it's been about two hours without anyone approaching him fortunately. Jimin and Hoseok would’ve whined to him about that in the past, now they know better than to push.

Namjoon is not closed minded, being probably one of the only cishet person in his friend group. Of course he’s… pondered. Considered… he even tried.

Yeah… The big elephant in the room. Being here definitely isn’t keeping memories of it at bay. Right now, he feels pretty similar to how he felt those 2 months he lasted with his boyfriend.

Tense, apprehensive, and like he’s somewhere he isn’t supposed to.

It won’t be long until Jimin or Hoseok come to where he decidedly sat at the beginning of the night, and tell him they’re good to go. And he’ll be able to leave, and stop thinking about how undeserving he is of being here.

When a hand settled between his shoulder blades, it felt too big to be Jimin’s, too knobbly to be Hoseok’s. He is already frowning as he turns over his shoulder to look, Namjoon’s expression softens when he gets a sight of the man.

Maybe it was the gentle angling of his face, or the long straight slope of his nose, or the careful curve of his eyes seemingly traced by an artist, darkest paint used for his irises. His lips too, beautifully plump, their pink tint visible even under the club’s lighting, the tender line of his upper lips making him seem like he’s already smiling.

Maybe, it's the daiquiri.

“Hey…” The man says easily, like he doesn’t even have to strain his voice to make himself be heard above the loud music and chatter. Namjoon can notice the way the stranger’s eyes widen a little in interest at the sight of him; smile growing confidently on his face.

“Did you come by yourself?” It's only when he steps closer to the bar, and therefore, to Namjoon, that he gets to appreciate the sweet tone of his voice. His hand moving from the center of Namjoon’s back to wrap gently around the base of his nape.

He can’t help but delay his answer, eyes still taking their time looking over the stranger’s face. His touches unprovoked but… then again, this is a gay bar that he is in. The angelic stranger isn’t wrong for assuming…

“I uh—I came with my friends…” Namjoon musters up a smile, nervous, tense, but a smile. He didn’t notice how trapped he had been in his own head the entire time here; clinging to this interaction in any way to distract himself. “They’re lost somewhere on the dance floor.” He even chuckles weakly as he says it.

The stranger’s eyes glint. Properly leaning against the bar, elbow set on it, properly facing him. That easy smile still on his face, lurring Namjoon in.

“What's your name?” For better or for worse… He doesn’t seem to be phased by Namjoon’s awkward silent batches. Tilting his head as if amused by the sight of a slightly tipsy awkward man trying to make his way through a conversation.

“Namjoon…” He sighs it out, as if his voice wasn’t straining anymore either. As if the ease of the stranger became contagious. “Yours?”

“I’m Seokjin. My friend is also somewhere on the dance floor.” The stranger, Seokjin, chuckles as he says it. In the back of his head, there’s a voice telling Namjoon that he knows what Seokjin is here for, that he knows it's something he can’t offer.

Selfishly, he tries to enjoy the curve of Seokjin’s smile for a little longer.

“And I’m not much of a dancer.” Seokjin adds, his fingers beginning to rub the very edge of Namjoon’s buzzcut. He can feel his own breath stutter.

“I somehow befriended two dance majors.” It's not just his voice that isn’t straining, it feels as if the whole club is quieting down around them. Namjoon chuckles softly; it feels like even Seokjin might be able to hear. “There's no way I'm going there.”

It isn’t the full truth of why he is recluding himself. But the small fit of laughter he manages to coax from Seokjin’s chest and the gentle rubbing of his nape, is enough to keep Namjoon buzzing closer. Seemingly entransed.

“We’ll have to find a way to keep busy while they’re there…” He feels it, the gentle tugging of Seokjin's hand, subtly pulling him closer. It's faint enough that… if he wanted, Namjoon could hold himself in place. His grip of his nape so light he could probably take Seokjin’s wrist and move his hand away.

But he doesn’t, he leans closer the way Seokjin wants him too. It's so easy to crowd his space against the bar; the slight widening of his smile enough of a reward for Namjoon. His features are so much more hypnotizing from up close. Only mustering to nod at Seokjin’s propositions at a loss of words.

“You’d like that?” He adds, probably because of the lack of confirmation for Namjoon. Checking in… If he wanted to reject Seokjin, it should be now.

It has to be now.

“Yeah…Yeah I-I would.” It's only now he realizes, Namjoon never stopped leaning in, and Seokjin never pushed him away. Their noses close to brushing, breaths beginning to mix.

Close to the point he can smell a bit of the drink Seokjin probably had earlier too; even if he handles being tipsy a lot better than Namjoon seems to be handling it. Letting himself get lost in the rhythmic caressing of his neck, in the way Seokjin licks his lips, smile widening at his response.

And he doesn’t give Namjoon time to question himself. No time to fear or doubt. Because Seokjin closes the gap between them, slotting their lips gently. Even softer than he could have ever imagined just from looking; no matter how close.

It can’t compare to the feeling of Seokjin’s other hand caressing up Namjoon’s arm, following the bulging of his muscles up to his shoulder; just to meet the fingers still rubbing at the short hairs of his nape. Or to the way he angles his head to deepen the kiss, Namjoon’s rhythm sloppy as he follows; it's been so long. Tongues meeting seamlessly, slow and unhurried.

He can feel Seokjin begin to separate. But after that first taste, Namjoon’s body acts on its own, reaching for the softness of Seokjin’s waist tugging him back in; this time with more intent. Feeling pride bloom in his chest when his actions coax a surprised noise out of Seokjin's lips, one that he gets to muffle and swallow down; not even audible within the loud club, but felt through the vibrations of his lips moving against Namjoon’s. Big hands squeezing where he holds Seokjin against the bar in response.

His body buzzing with something he can’t put the name on, of having such a gorgeous man bend to his touch; as he stands up to crowd Seokjin’s space even more. Feeling the way his arms properly link over Namjoon’s shoulders in invitation as he stands up, their height is not that far off. But it lets his actions run looser, feeling perfectly out of control.

Namjoon realizes afterwards that he is humming back into Seokjin’s mouth, low and vibrating in his chest. His body acting on its own, seamless as it reacts to the feeling of Seokjin’s soft torso against his; legs slotting in between one another as the space between their bodies ever smaller. He can feel his hands becoming restless, caressing up and down Seokjin’s plump sides; limbs becoming clumsy with desperation. As if, unable to figure out his body in the dark club, Namjoon was trying to memorize the feel of it with his hands. Groping into the pliant fat when he found Seokjin’s hips or fingers sinking in between the small rolls that stacked up his waist.

Only noticing his hums turning into downright moans from the little noise that slips out when Seokjin finally separates their lips.

“L–let's go…” His voice sounds breathless, his lips redder and a bit more swollen. As he tries to gently guide Namjoon away from the bar, shoving him back carefully It feels like Seokjin is the one towering over him this time, as he obediently follows the man’s guidance; it's so quick he doesn’t get to ponder where they're going before Seokjin is shoving them into a bathroom stall; world blurring around him only able to stare back at the man with widened awe.

And if Namjoon had felt desperate back at the bar, nothing could’ve prepared him for the way Seokjin pounces to kiss him. Hand cupping at either side of his strong neck; strong enough to send Namjoon to sit onto the (thankfully) closed toilet lid. Seokjin follows right to settle on top, on his lap; ample thighs spreading when they settle on top of Namjoon. At the shocking moment his hands instinctively go to Seokjin’s hips, holding him in place as their lips meet fervent and ravenous. The noise of the club muffled to the point they can actually hear each other's noises now.

His melodic mewls into the kiss are making Namjoon’s brain swim in pleasure, letting his hands knead at his full hips. Before they continue to wander, slipping to wrap across Seokjin’s back, slipping lower to meet the curve of his ass. Maybe it's the smell of alcohol, cheap cleaning products, smoke, and sweat; but that floaty sensation in his mind is turning into a feeling of lightheadedness.

A feeling he welcomes, Namjoon doesn’t remember a time he ever felt this loosened, this relaxed. Actions seemingly flowing without consequence of his psyche. He gropes into the fat of Seokjin’s ass, moaning at the feeling of his fingers sinking in. Though he coaxes another pleasured groan out of Namjoon, when he grinds his hips at the motion. Sliding his ass across his lap; feeling the friction of their crotches in the smooth grinding of Seokjin’s pelvis.

It's like everything stills for Namjoon then.

At the throbbing of his dick against Seokjin, at the clutching of his own stomach in something he can only recognize as distaste. At the realization of what he is doing, and who he is doing it with.

Something he isn’t supposed to, with someone he isn’t supposed to.

The clutching turns to twisting, the twisting turns to the numbness and tingling spreading across his hands, making them shaky and painful. Trembling as he lets go of where his grip was keeping Seokjin close, or now, guiding the movement of Seokjin’s hips.

He really didn’t mean to be a brute when Namjoon holds his shoulders and pulls him back, forcing them to separate. Gasping for air, heart thrumming in his chest threatening to push out. Namjoon didn’t realize when exactly was it that he stopped focusing on breathing. Right now, it's insane to believe there was a moment of the night where he wasn’t focused on it at all.

“Namjoon?” His eyes had been unfocused, staring at a random spot in Seokjin’s chest. Though the sweet tone of his voice makes his head snap out. He must truly look insane, if the way Seokjin widens is anything to judge by. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t know, it felt so maddeningly liberating but getting threateningly close to vertigo. Terrifying and unhinged and uncontrolled in a way that isn’t what Namjoon is.

How did he manage to fuck up twice?

“I–I should–I should go.” His voice sounds cracked as he tries to leave from the stall, to push Seokjin's weight off his lap. And he does, he is compliant, letting Namjoon push him away as much as he needs. He even lets Namjoon storm out of the stall, ungracefully. Not nearly as drunk but dizzy nonetheless. The stench of the bathroom feels as though it was sinking to his skin, making him reek. Making him grotesque. He stands there only for a second before realizing his lungs won't struggle any less if he stays here, suffocating in the stuffed bathroom.

Namjoon doesn’t turn back to see Seokjin’s reaction, the guilt and terror overwhelming him too much to even bare think about it. His body is on autopilot as it stumbles through the mass of people, not caring to find Hoseok or Jimin; he’ll text them later. Once he is out, once he can breathe past the smog of sweat and smoke again.

The bouncers are looking at him a bit suspiciously for the way he stumbles and pushes his way out of the bustling club. But it's worth it for the mouthful of fresh air he gets to inhale afterwards. It fills his lungs and makes him cold from the inside out. His clothes pressed snug and wet against his body from the sweat, Jimin and Hoseok did tell him he was using too many layers. His hands are cold with chilling sweat as he runs his fingers through his buzz cut; letting his nails dig in a little bit and drag him back to reality.

Relief lasts only for a second, his mind gaining lucidity as it realizes what he’s done, again.

He makes himself sick with his own sense of entitlement, the one that leads him to situations like these, of leading innocent men on. Disgusted with his ability to toy with them so easily. Somehow always realizing a little too late, when he can’t turn back without hurting, that this isn’t who he is.

It feels as though Namjoon can’t help himself. Like he is always waiting to take as much as he can, even when he knows he will eventually have to let go, to stop pretending. Procrastinating from the inevitable parting that will have to happen; but postponing it as much as possible.

A hand that's too big to be Jimin’s and too knobbly to be Hoseok’s taps his shoulder unsurely. He turns and still manages to be surprised to find Seokjin standing right in front of him. Phone and ID in hand.

“It must’ve fallen out of your pocket when you rushed off.” His tone isn’t accusatory, but Namjoon still shrinks under the guilt taking them from him.

“Thank you… You could’ve just given it to the staff.” A nervous but thankful smile grows on his face, though he can’t dare to look Seokjin in the eye.Instead focusing on the jacket he either didn’t notice he had on the entire time they met, or Seokjin just didn’t have on until now.

“I know, but I needed an excuse to come check on you…” It's the equally timid and slightly guilty tone of Seokjin’s voice that makes Namjoon’s gaze snap up to meet his eyes. “Are you…alright? Was it too much?” Thick eyebrows don’t look nearly as cunning as he remembers them with how they scrunch up in worry. The contrast leaves Namjoon a little speechless, along with the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth right after.

“I shouldn’t have pushed too much without asking, I’m really so sorry Namjoon-ah.”

It's the ridiculousness of that statement, how far off Seokjin is from the actual truth that pushes Namjoon to stop being a coward and explain himself. The first person to hear of him and his sexuality being a complete stranger.

“No!” He reassures at first, a little too loudly, hands even reaching for Seokjin before quickly retreating back to curl at his sides. “No you… You did nothing wrong I promise.” That first part is easy, it's what comes next that's dreadful.

Much like spending the night at a random bar by himself for the sake of his friends, opening up about things he’s worked his ass off to repress also isn’t Namjoon’s ideal image of a saturday night. Yet Seokjin looks at him not like he is waiting for an explanation, but worried for Namjoon’s trembly state.

“I’m straight.” He explains, the way he has actually practiced to say before coming to the club; preparing in case anyone approached him. Sighing out with an apologetic tone clinging to his voice, guilt trickling evident in his face. And that would be enough, if he actually managed to say it before anything happened.

Now… after the way he treated Seokjin, it's not nearly enough.

“I–I really just came here for my friends… I didn’t plan on-one meeting anyone.” Seokjin’s expression is stoic and suddenly unreadable. Scarce of the charm that made his intentions with Namjoon so obvious when they first met, and making him unreadable. So he continues. “I dont–I dont know why I didn’t tell you or why I didn’t stop y-you but I–I can’t I’m sorry… I’m really really sorry…” His hands move frantically in front of him as if to make a better excuse for himself.

“Okay…” He sounds like he is processing the amount of words just dumped on him. “Well… Here’s your phone and your ID…” Namjoon had been so focused in keeping his own eyes on him, that only now he notices Seokjin’s eyes avoiding him. Rather staring down at their hands as Namjoon’s belongings are given back. “Maybe buy a jacket with pockets that have a zipper.” Seokjin tries to chuckle, but it's toned down.

Namjoon takes the harrowing guilt with open arms, feeling his heart sink at the other’s mannerisms. He nods instead, quickly as if he was being scolded. “Yeah... Yeah thank you, again.” He puts them back in his jackets. Using that moment as an excuse to look away, to give Seokjin those few seconds to back away and go back in the club; if his night hasn’t been completely ruined by Namjoon yet.

But when he looks back, Seokjin is still there.

“I might just keep you company until you settle a little bit… You’re still shaking.” He can tell he is trying to make it sound lighthearted when he breaks the silence. Though Namjoon can only stare at himself a bit in awe at the fact that yes, his hands still tremble even as they stay a bit in front of Seokjin.

Huh.

He nods before he can get his lips to formulate the short and awkward: “You don’t have to…” Seokjin begins to guide them away from the club entrance. And when he sits on the curb, he looks up at Namjoon expectantly. Making his complaints die in his mouth, as he wordlessly follows sitting down next to Seokjin.

“I don't feel like going back in anyways.” His eyes are immediately directed away from Namjoon once he takes seat. Maybe the dim streetlight and blue neon sign of the club are fooling him, but he could swear Seokjin’s cheeks had a slightly reddened tint.

“Ouch.” The nervous chuckle is telling of how uneasy he still is with Seokjin’s company.

“You deserved that.” At least this time he side-eyes Namjoon to tell him, the joke still holding too much truth to be properly funny. He still takes it as a win. “You weren’t the only one going out of their ‘comfort zone’.” His sentence finishes with a humorless snort.

It stuns Namjoon because… As deserving as he is of it, this is the first time getting this type of backlash. Hoseok and Jimin all too kind of the confused mess he was after the breakup. And his ex all too devastated, and Namjoon too much of a coward to give him the time to voice out his hurt before leaving. It feels… chilling.

Seokjin sounds as frustrated as Namjoon feels.

“That's the thing, it's not out of my comfort zone.” His voice trembles as he says it, even if it comes out as strong with exasperation. “It doesn’t feel out of my comfort zone when it's happening.” Namjoon can hear his heart pounding out of his chest, frantic and spastic; drowning out the revealing confessions coming out of his mouth. But Seokjin didn’t stop him; and much like it happened before: Namjoon couldn’t stop.

“As soon as I start thinking it stops feeling right. Because I know that what I’m doing is wrong!” His voice gets stronger, the anger and resentment he has hoarded for himself making his voice strain with irritation.

“Being with men is wrong?” Seokjin interjects, his raised eyebrow only making Namjoon widen and snap out of his rage fit.

“No! Just… Toying with them like this and leading them on, when I know I’m straight!” It comes out as a whine. Turning to Seokjin with pleading eyes, advice, a slap to the face, anything.

But Seokjin gives him nothing of that, just a puzzled look. “If the guy is enjoying it, and it doesn’t feel wrong to you… Why is it wrong?” He sounds so genuinely puzzled over a question that sounds so simple. So simple it's something Namjoon’s anxiety ridden brain had gone completely over.

The confusion in Seokjin’s eyes is contagious. As Namjoon feels his own rage sizzle out, frowning to himself as if to think what he could possibly tell Seokjin to explain himself.

Instead, this is what comes out.

“B–because I’m straight…” The conviction tries to be so strong in his voice; but it fails miserably.

And the unconvinced silence that comes after only makes Namjoon’s wavering uncomfortably evident.

“Did you ever give yourself more than 2 minutes to prove otherwise?” There's a mocking chuckle coming out of Seokjin's (infuriatingly) plump lips; clear to reference what happened inside the club a few minutes ago. But right now, mockery isn’t what Namjoon needs. He can feel the way his own expression dies out into something defensive, and angered.

“I gave it 2 months. Is that enough?” Namjoon doesn't yell, but his shielding sarcasm is blatant. His tone venomous, as he stares at Seokjin probably ragefully, and Seokjin simply stares wordlessly with wide eyes.

His lips begin to move to respond. But two palms, that Namjoon does recognize as the smallness of Jimin’s and the daintiness of Hoseok’s, slam against his back.

“We’ve been looking all over for you!” Jimin’s tone is worried and he is still yelling as if he was inside the club.

“Pick up your damn phone for once, Joon-ah!” The whine comes from Hoseok, at his other side, cheeks flushed red. “We are going back to ours.”

“With him.” Jimin giggles pointing back, and all four of them turn to see a random chubby guy that, if Namjoon's deductions are correct, refused to follow Jimin and Hoseok to talk to a group of random people.

“That's Jungkook.” Surprisingly it's Seokjin that speaks. “He came with me, he is innocent.” He deadpans, and it seems enough for both of Namjoon’s (probably tipsy) friends, as they nod and rush back to ‘Jungkook’.

“We’ll return him in the morning.” Hoseok smiles one last time before walking off tugging Jungkook to a cab. Leaving Seokjin and Namjoon to follow them with their eyes, and… inevitably leaving them alone…. after Namjoon’s little outburst.

“So… wanna get ice cream?” The casual tone of his voice is unbothered enough to actually startle Namjoon. Completely unaffected by the obvious awkwardness between them.

And despite everything… “You’ll have to pay for the uber there.”

“I was designated driver for the night.” He is smiling smugly as he says it. But all Namjoon can think of is the confirmation that Seokjin must’ve been sober the entire time of his advances; warmth blooming in his stomach at the thought. “You can tell me all about those 2 months.” The domesticity of his tone stops sounding tonedeaf to the awkwardness, and it turns into… actual friendly interest.

“Al-Alright.” He nods, lifting himself up from the curb and offering his hand up to Seokjin, who takes it. Huffing a little as he stands up as well.

The walk to Seokjin’s car is bizarre, it feels like it should be uncomfortable, yet Seokjin’s demeanor looks completely unaffected: his walk relaxed as he pulls his car keys. Old looking, with a cartoon character Namjoon doesn’t recognize hanging from the rearview mirror.

The need to fill out the silence isn’t suffocating as Namjoon would have anticipated, but he asks anyway. “What ice cream shops are open at 3 am in the morning?”

“Oh, there aren’t any, we are just going to McDonalds.” He snorts and begins to drive with ease through the empty streets, soulless techno music playing through the speakers. Music that gives Namjoon all the time in the world to think about the situation he is in right now… in a random stranger he failed to hook up with, going out for dessert… and probably confess all his deepest feelings to.

He should definitely feel more out of place than he does right now. The trip to McDonald’s isn’t long enough to let him force himself into feeling anxious. Because seemingly suddenly, Seokjin is going around to the drive through.

“Good evening, I’m going to have an m&m McFlurry with chocolate sauce and…” He turns to Namjoon then, wordlessly.

“Mixed vanilla and chocolate cone.”

“And a mixed vanilla and chocolate cone. Thank you!” His tone definitely sounds cheerful for any 3 am customers, handing the two ice creams to Namjoon as he parks in one of the many empty spots. Immediately taking the McFlurry from his hands and digging in. “I definitely needed something sweet to finish the night off…” Seokjin’s voice sounds muffled from the eating. But he is met with silence, Namjoon just staring at him; like it was just now dawning on him that he is talking with a random stranger.

As if he was reading his mind, Seokjin adds. “You know you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, right?” There's a worried smile on his face, plump cheeks making the curve of his smile slightly overlap at the end. A detail Namjoon only would have been able to tell under the neon yellow of the McDonald’s sign.

And of course he knows…

“I do want to, it's just… not one of my most noble and great moments.” Namjoon tries to smile and lighten the heaviness in his chest from the guilt. The memory alone is still vivid and jarring in his conscience.

“You were making out with the hottest guy you’ll ever get and you ran away… I’d say I’ve seen you do worse.” His tone has no malice, joking innocently before his expression softens. “Tell me.” Gentleness evident in his voice, lurring Namjoon in such a different way than he did back at the bar.

“I already hurt someone before, just like this.” The first words are the hardest to slip out, but he sees the way Seokjin is giving Namjoon (undeservedly) his entire attention. “He was in our friend group and we were especially close and you know… All my friends are gay so I was always open to you know… the possibility.” His voice dies down once he feels himself getting too carried away.

“You were open to a guy coming in and sweeping you away.” Seokjin adds once he notices the growing timidness.

“Yeah...” “Did he do that?” His voice is much more careful when he comments this time.

And Namjoon is more careful with his answer as well.

“Kayee… was really good to me.” He can’t help the way his own tone becomes tender at the mention of his name. “And I felt like I could be myself around him, we got each other, you know?” Namjoon’s eyes had settled for his own lap, but when he looks up Seokjin was nodding.

“He wasn’t straight?”

“Openly pan, and I didn’t think twice about it until I started doubting my own feelings for him.” He feels his mouth run dry, and takes a break licking into his cone. “I mean… we were so close, what else could it have been?” His eyes are looking at Seokjin like he is genuinely looking for an answer. And before he tries to fumble out an answer, Namjoon soothes him by continuing himself.

“Looking back at it, it feels like it could’ve been so good. But as soon as it started I couldn't enjoy any moment of it.” It's hard to hide himself and how frustrated he feels. “It was my first relationship with a man so I figured I just… had to get used to it.”

“Did you feel bad from the get go?” When Namjoon nods, licking his ice cream, he asks. “Did you tell him?” And when a sigh is the automatic response that the question evokes out of Namjoon, he knows he has a lot to unpack.

“He was the first one to confess, which I thought of like…a sign that this thing could work…. That we could work.” His eyes can’t look at Seokjin’s now. “So I didn’t want to make him feel like I was unsure, or like I was having doubts from the start.”

“So you just waited it out?” The gentle tone of his voice is shocking enough it makes him look up at Seokjin.

A sad smile spreads on his face. “Tried to.”

“Two months is already too long of a time to be stuck in a cycle like that… And what happened?”

That's the worst part, the one he is ashamed about the most.

“I didn’t even have it in me to break up with him, even when I knew I wasn't happy. Or even acting happy enough to convince him…” There's a small victory in the fact he can at least keep eye contact as he says it.

“I was too much of a coward to even break up with him, Seokjin. He had to do it, and I got to play dumb and detached the entire time. Just hurting him as he tried to salvage us!”

Namjoon realizes a little too late how worked up he was. Yelling over something he has no right to feel angered over. He cuts himself off, seemingly shrinking into the old passenger seat.

“You look like you’re about to apologize, don’t.” He didn’t even get to open his lips again before being shut up. “I asked, didn't I?”

“You did…”

“So you won’t.” “I won’t apologize.”

It feels like he's done the first right thing of the night when Seokjin beams at his response, eyes lightening up and beautiful lips curling to a smile.

“Don’t look so proud, I didn’t achieve anything.” There's a joking tone to Namjoon’s voice, but his smile is genuine, a little taken aback by the warmth from the other’s face.

“Well… I can’t tell you if you're straight or not, Namjoon-ah.” He chuckles, discarding the last of his ice cream; having had all the time to finish while the other vented. “If that's what you're implying.” Seokjin gives him a side eye before continuing.

“But… If you’re honest to someone upfront, I think they wouldn't have any problems just testing things out…” Suddenly he isn’t looking at him as he finishes that sentence, shrugging it off.

His jaw drops for a second, before he can properly let out a wheezing laugh. Making him fold over himself against the deck fo the car, hand slamming against it, while the other has to focus on not crashing the melting abandoned ice cream cone.

“After everything, I’ve told you! You want to date me, you just said that!” He is still wheezing, probably too loud for anyone sober to endure at the prime hour of 4:03 am. But he can’t hold back, scratchy but squeaky laugh echoing in the car.

“Stop painting me like I have bad taste, and stop putting words in my mouth!” Seokjin is showing at his shoulder in a failed attempt to make him budge; yelling just as loud and inappropriately, jokingly outraged. “I’m just saying you're allowed to experiment if you want!” His voice gets a few pitches higher when he is arguing like this. Making it all that much more funny to Namjoon's ears.

“Do you want me to experiment?” It sounded funnier when he thought it in his head as they laughed hysterically inside the car. But once it came out and their laughter had begun to die down, it just sounded plain flirty.

And he’d be mortified by it if he didn’t see Seokjin’s expression completely widen into genuine shock. Jaw slacking open as he palms his lips. “You did not just twist my good genuine advice into that.”

“Just answer the question, Seokjin.” Even with a joking tone, these flirty types of conversations is something he could've never done before. Yet they feel so easy now, with the weight of his chest, with the pressure gone. Leaving him breathing room for his heart to skip a beat at the sound of Seokjin’s giggles.

“No but seriously answer me, can we go to your place? I’m pretty sure my friends are fucking your friend back at mine.”

#namjin #chubby seokjin #internalized homophobia #anxiety #hurt comfort #making out

37 notes · View notes

devildomimagines · 3 years ago

Note

could we maybe get the brothers' reactions to an mc that has a lot of bottled up anger issues? kinda similar to how satan is with his wrath, but they just... can't stay mad for very long; they can be upset, sure, but mad? angry, even?? maybe for like, idk, a minute before it just fizzles out.

Sure thing! I love exploring emotions so let's go~

Belphegor

He doesn’t totally understand the rage but he’s lived with Satan long enough.

Though don’t get him wrong, he’s been angry before, frustrated and grieving to the point of murder *cough* but typically he doesn’t have the energy to expend.

Belphie definitely knows the feeling of fatigue once the anger has run its course and left you burnt out.

He offers you support in those moments, calm and quiet so as to not fan the embers.

If he’s awake, he recognizes the first signs of your anger. Your short replies, the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clench and unclench.

He’s never seen you let loose but he secretly wants to see the destruction you could cause.

If he catches it in time, he’ll pull you away from the situation, claiming he needed you for a nap.

Beelzebub

The same as his twin, not typically angry but understands from being around Satan.

The only times you can remember seeing him in a fit of anger were when he was denied food one too many times or when his team lost their Fangol match.

Beel doesn’t think you would be as explosive as he has seen Satan be but he also doesn’t want to take the chance and have you get in trouble.

I like to think he’s pretty attuned to his human, he can sense when their heart rate raises or feel the tension in the air when their anger flares.

He immediately takes steps to extricate you, even if that means throwing you over his shoulder and booking it out the door.

I think he would go to Satan for things that he does to calm down to try to help you. He wouldn’t name you, to keep your privacy, but unfortunately he’s a terrible liar so it’s pretty obvious.

Since he’s built like a brick house, he offers to be your punching bag if you ever need it, he swears he wouldn’t feel a thing. It’s tough to stay mad long enough to take him up on that offer but it’s appreciated.

Asmodeus

I think Asmo has the best understanding of wrath having heard it from the source directly.

Satan has monologued Asmo’s ear off about everything from how he felt to how he dealt with it.

When Asmo sees the same anger in you, he immediately jumps in, just as he would with Satan.

The only thing that won’t work on you would be Asmo’s charmspeak. Since you aren’t affected by his Avatar, he can’t sweet talk you down off fury’s ledge.

He knows other tricks, breathing exercises or distractions work just as well and he’s noticed you’re much quicker to recover than Satan would be.

He worries for the times you’re not with him, would you use his tricks or would you let the anger fester and bubble up under the surface?

The easiest solution in his eyes is to always be with you, no need to worry if he’s always available to you.

Satan

Satan has felt the familiar pangs of wrath coming from you previously and he gets it. Good lord does he get it. He’s never related to someone more than you, once you’ve disclosed this about yourself.

He nods when you describe it as the anger starting out slow and red-hot like lava creeping through every vein in your body.

Then it’s all consuming and all you can feel is the fire of wrath. In those moments you recognize the need to punch, kick, or scream; something to relieve the fury.

But before you can act on it, the rage is gone. You’re left charred and feeling empty inside; the fire having consumed your being and left nothing alive.

He can share various things he’s learned to keep his own wrath at bay but it doesn’t always help so he’s promised to be your outlet when you need to let go.

He’d rather you explode at him than finding you in the aftermath of being burnt out. It breaks his heart when you give him that look that both says “you’re too late” and “I’m sorry, I tried.”

Satan would never be disappointed in you, so he reassures you all the time, “There’s no need to bottle up your emotions around me.”

Leviathan

We’ve all seen him get angry in game, mostly exploding at Mammon.

In those situations, when he’s comfortable, he’s very expressive, but more than the other brothers, he understands bottling up undesirable emotions that you don’t want to deal with or have others deal with.

He knows firsthand how that doesn’t help, if anything it escalates the issue in your own head. It’s like an echochamber of all your worst thoughts being amplified.

Levi offers to always listen to you rant, wherever, whenever. It’s the middle of the night and Beel’s destroying the kitchen on the other side of your bedroom wall for the 6th night that week? Give him a call. Asmo dragged you out to a club and you’re tired and want to come home? Call him, he’ll come get you. Mammon sold one of your personal items? He will gladly add it to the list of things he pesters Mammon about.

Just as you have listened to his rants on video games, anime or manga, he’ll be there to listen to your rants if it helps your anger.

He doesn’t know specific techniques to help but he can offer examples of what they did in the anime, “My Roommate Leaves Dirty Dishes in the Sink for so Long That They Get Moldy and Now I Need to Use One of the Moldy Dishes. Is It Passive Aggressive to Ask Them to do the Dishes or is it Just Aggressive?”

If you don’t want to talk about it then he’ll offer to take out your anger on some video game baddies as a substitute.

Mammon

Not gonna lie, he might be the cause of your anger sometimes.

When he’s not going through your things, he’s pretty clingy and a bit pushy. He doesn’t always say what he means and talks himself in circles when he doesn’t want to admit to something. It can be annoying if your personality doesn’t mesh well with that.

Mammon is, however, very quick to pick up on the shift in your demeanor.

He’ll roll back his last action whatever it may be. If he threw an arm around your shoulder, he’d remove it. If he made a joke, he takes it back and apologizes.

If it wasn’t something he did then he jumps to your defense, often putting himself in between you and the offending party.

He usually gives Satan space but Mammon wants to help you if he can.

I could see him being very sweet to you after an episode, trying to soothe the edges that came undone, even if only for a second.

Lucifer

King of swallowing emotions, let me tell you.

If you wanted advice on how to not bottle your emotions, this is not the demon for you.

He does understand the rage though. How it burns and devastates anything that comes in contact and how it can take on a life of its own……

Lord Diavolo help you if this is ever directed at Lucifer but if it’s not then he will happily offer his services to smite the cause.

Lucifer may worry that your wrath feeds off of and develops with Satan’s. The worst possibility being you start feeling resentment towards him just like the fourth born.

He will learn your triggers and will make an effort to avoid them if possible to keep your anger to a minimum.

Lucifer will always be available to talk to and would be comforting and accommodating behind closed doors.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #my writing #anon squad #I got carried away with Satan's lol how could I not haha

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stayevildarling · 3 years ago

Text

Wilhemina Venable x Reader- Sick

word count: 5.4k

warnings: mention of scoliosis, sickness, dizziness, angst + fluff

A/N: Hi everyone! I can't believe this is my first sick fic but I just had to do one with Wilhemina x Reader. If anyone would like to see some more, I might do a series of these with Cordelia or Ally or even Billie. (Let me know)

This is dedicated to a very special person I met on Tumblr- I hope you remember to take a break from time to time and look after yourself! ✨

Taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @mrsdeanhoward , @alexajbitar , @in-cordelias-coven , @kenzbro , @loverofallthingssarah , @twistedpoeticjustice , @billiebeanhoward , @minaslittleone , @lilypadscoven , @vintagepaulson , @ninaahs , @whitelotus00 , @httpfiftyshadesofgay

''If you decide to go into work, it's at your own risk, don't come running to me afterwards, if you don't feel well'' Wilhemina's harsh words ring through your ears as you stand by your desk, trying to focus on the tasks ahead. All you can feel, as your hand wanders to the table, desperately looking for some support to not lose balance, to not give your legs the power to stop supporting you and to fight your body from giving up and letting exhaustion win.

In reality, Wilhemina's words weren't supposed to come out as harsh and rushed as they did, her stern and cold tone and demeanor, only a defensive mechanism for the woman, trying to hide her true feelings that are buried deep within her soul. She meant to protect you, from yourself mostly but also the sickness and the flu that had come knocking about a week ago, but you being stubborn pushing it away as if it wasn't real or meaningful.

However, as you stand by your desk, trying hard not to lose balance, you realize that all along Wilhemina had been right and you should have listened. The times, she told you to stop working so much and doing over hours as your job demanded it, the times she told you that making her a bath or cooking dinner isn't necessary that day. The times she told you to take care of yourself and simply lie down but you wouldn't listen, always caring more about everyone else's wellbeing, especially the redheads than your own.

''Miss Y/L/N, have you finished your assigned task yet by chance?'' you hear the voice of your boss, as she enters and you wish she didn't, as her voice only adds to the throbbing pain in your head, causing your vision to blur and everything to feel even more unbearable than it already does.

With all the fight and strength left in you, you manage to turn around and grab the folder, handing it to her with shaky hands. You had always been good at hiding, either fighting battles of sickness or overwhelming thoughts, drowning in your own emotions deep down but remaining to keep a perfect facade and smile to the people on the outside, so they didn't understand and learn your true feelings as you see no reason to bother them with it. However, no matter how much you try and hide this and pretend that you aren't consumed by sickness fighting your body, it's very visible in your features.

Even though your boss is a very hectic person, always caring about performing well and getting work done as ''efficiently and quickly as possible'' as she repeats on a daily basis, even she manages to notice your fragile state. Your face, which is usually filled with light and warm smiles, doesn't just lack the genuine smile and warmth but also color as you are incredibly pale. She quickly connects the dots, noticing how your hand is gripping around the desk still and how your other hand is shaking uncontrollably.

''Miss Y/L/N, are you feeling alright?'' you hear her ask before your eyes feel heavier as the exhaustion is slowly creeping up on you and you have trouble concentrating on what is happening, as you feel more in a dream-like state. For a moment, everything seems to pause and you only snap out of it when you feel some weight pressing on your shoulders and someone forcing you to sit down on a chair they pulled closer.

Only as you force your eyes open, slightly confused and dumbfounded at what is happening, you realize it's your boss making you sit down and walking to the other end of the room to get some water for you. ''Miss Y/L/N while I appreciate your determination, you should have called in sick this morning'' she explains, while handing you a glass of water with a compassionate smile but the concern visible in her features. ''I just wanted to-to finish the'' you start but stop midway as you feel sick at the pure sensation of water in your mouth, let alone swallowing it.

''I understand but you need some rest, that much is plain, need me to call someone for you?'' she asks but you instantly tense, knowing your girlfriend Wilhemina will definitely not be amused if she has to pick you up from work, after explicitly telling you not to go in the first place, this morning and last night. Not to mention, she is at her own workplace, having to deal with her own piles of work, her constant back pain, and two idiot bosses on top of it all.

''No I am ok- okay'' you manage to get the words out and force your best smile, knowing if you aren't going to be convincing enough, she might not let you leave without calling someone. ''Very well but you better not show your face here, until you are truly better'' she warns, with a little smile, knowing how determined you are, and while she appreciates your work attitude a lot, she knows you tend to overwork yourself and forgetting to take care of yourself in the process.

Taking a deep breath, you somehow manage to prop yourself up and grab your bag, taking slow but steady steps towards the exit and the bus stop. As you walk through the corridor, momentarily blinded by the bright lights flickering, you are well aware you shouldn't attempt to get on the bus, considering there is still a little walk back to yours and Wilhemina's apartment but you could never bother your girlfriend with this, not because she told you so in the first place but because you need to remain stable and alright.

As you walk through exit and towards the bus stop, you feel some droplets of rain on your skin and instantly shiver a little as the cold water only adds to the uncomfortable feeling. Focussing on your vision and the bus timetable as you actually don't know the times because you would usually never leave work after two hours, the dizziness momentarily passes a little as the thoughts become overwhelming. Waves of uncomfortable thoughts crash into your brain, with no way of stopping ''What if they will fire me, what if people will be disappointed in me, what if Wilhemina hates me?''.

You try your best to take deep breaths and push the thoughts away but the only thing usually helpful at keeping the storm and waves of emotions at bay, is the woman you are trying to hide this from. Usually, she could tell by how stressed or anxious you seem and without addressing it much, she will just pull you into her arms or let your exhausted body rest on her lap, the soft hums and stroking her fingers through your hair, stopping the thoughts momentarily.

''Are you getting on Miss?'' you hear a male unfamiliar voice, snapping you out of your thoughts and noticing that somehow the bus already arrived and you blink a few times, confused whether you just stood there for ages, unable to focus on anything in reality anymore or if it just happened to arrive so quickly. ''Miss?'' he tries again, his voice now showing a slight sign of impatience. Your mind automatically connects it with Wilhemina's impatience whenever you would just admire her, completely taken back by her beauty and features and the same agitation in her voice, as she would try to speak to you.

''Yes,'' you quickly say and get on the bus, showing your ticket like you would every morning. Finally collapsing onto the nearest seat you can find, leaning your head against the window and closing your eyes, you feel some of the exhaustion fade as you sit on a comfortable surface. Your thoughts wander back to Wilhemina and it suddenly dawns on you that you haven't even texted her your usual good morning text yet or checked-in how her work is going. A small part of you wants to avoid any confrontation with her today as you are still worried, she will be mad at you.

After all, maybe you could avoid all the questions and confrontation if you simply lied. Of course, you are fully aware it won't be easy to lie to your girlfriend, especially with her always being able to tell but you wonder if you could somehow pull it off. Pretending to still be at work and only got off work a bit earlier, not to worry her and not to argue, as she did tell you after all not to come running to her.

Deciding on actually messaging her and pulling your phone out of your bag, you realize it was a mistake as soon as the bright screen blinds your vision yet again. All you could see before your eyes force shut, is Wilhemina's name on your screen but you can't begin to read the messages as your fragile state isn't allowing you to do so. Deciding on dealing with that later, you rest your head against the window and zone out for a while, trying hard not to fall asleep on the bus and end up somewhere entirely opposite to your direction and final stop- home.

Part of you doesn't remember how you ended up in bed a while later, your brain too tired to remember the details of getting off the bus at the right stop and walking aimlessly for a few minutes before you found yourself in front of your shared apartment. Thankfully, along the way, your subconsciousness took over and guided your body home safely, as you were in no state to focus on much anymore, your body on autopilot mode.

As soon as your tired body finally comes into contact with your mattress, pulling the blanket closer to your face and snuggling up comfortably, you feel relieved, and before any more waves of overwhelming thoughts arrive, your body finally allows itself to rest and you fall into a deep slumber. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered to set an alarm for in a few hours, making sure you would be awake for when Wilhemina would return, even in your sleepy and sick state, still keeping track of everything and keeping your perfect facade up.

However, whenever you try and protect everyone around you, considering every detail perfectly you tend to ignore yourself in the process and checking in on how you are feeling or how decisions might affect you. As a result, you didn't just take a small nap like intended, you fell asleep, sleeping off most of the fever and letting your tired body fight the illness. However, due to your state, you fail to wake up from the alarm or wake up to Wilhemina coming home from work, a little early as she couldn't reach you all day, not the usual lunchtime call or messages you would sent her, no matter how busy you are.

As soon as Wilhemina unlocks the door, discarding her small purple handbag on the table, she walks through the apartment in an effort to find you, her cane hitting the floor hard and with a heavy force, reflecting what she is feeling inside. Of course, she had known you haven't been feeling well and not only hiding it from her but also trying to push through like you usually would. The redhead didn't mean to lash out at you or use the harsh words she did in the end but your actions and behavior reminded the sometimes stern woman of her own behavior. Always ignoring her back pain and pushing through endless emails or documents on her desk, regretting it the same day or days later when the pain felt unbearable, and yet she still hid it from everyone.

She was trying to look out for you, the times she told you not to go in, take a break, and also when she said she wouldn't be there. Of course, she would, Wilhemina loves you and her love for you has been both the most confusing and strong thing she has ever felt for anyone. You had crashed into Wilhemina's life like a thunder, unexpected, and with heavy force, she had no idea the day you walked into her life, it would change everything. It didn't just change Wilhemina herself and being able to open up slowly, it also allowed her to feel emotions and understand them as something positive and not something you should try and hide or avoid at all costs. From day one you had brought out her soft side, allowing those walls to tumble down and letting the light and love into her life as her heart has been a dark and lonely place for long enough.

Her first stop is the kitchen, hoping deep down she wouldn't find you cooking in there, or the dining room with a meal prepared, as she wouldn't want you to overwork yourself even more after work. After not finding you there, she checks the bathroom but no sign of you either, only to finally be met with the bedroom in complete darkness. Slightly dumbfounded, she switches the light on, the lamp slowly filling the room with light and exposing your fragile, shivering body on the bed.

Wilhemina's heart almost breaks at the sight, seeing you in such discomfort and knowing at the same time it must be bad if you voluntarily went to bed early and skip the usual responsibilities that aren't actually your chores or Wilhemina expecting them of you but you thinking that regardless. She slowly approaches the bed, her cane hitting the floor very carefully and quiet now, sure to not wake you up in the process, as she wouldn't want to startle you or add to the discomfort you are in.

She finds you wrapped in a blanket, still wearing the clothes you had left in this morning and Wilhemina knows if you willingly did that, you must have felt awful when you returned home. Her hand wanders closer to your face, gently tucking at the blanket so she can take a look at your face. She gasps a little when she sees how pale you are, droplets of sweat on your forehead at the same time and her heart breaks at the sight, seeing her little one in this much pain and distress.

For a moment the redhead debates what to do as she has never been great at taking care of anyone or allowing people to take care of herself. As a child, she was often told not to exaggerate, that her back pain isn't that bad, that it doesn't need checking out from doctors and that she just has to deal with it. Eventually, she started to believe it and the emotional abuse she suffered in her young years, combined with the pain, made the redhead believe that she isn't worthy of affection or love or someone taking care of her. Even till this day, she barely allows you to help her out with her pains, not liking the fact anyone would show her the affection and tender care that was lacking in her younger years.

Gently, her hand reaches for your forehead, her rational thinking kicking in now to determine the state and severity of your illness. As soon as the back of her palm comes into contact with your forehead, she gasps, her facial expression changing from concerned and wishing she could just cure you right there, into worrying and shock. Her nostrils flare as she has no idea how you managed to get through the last hours and at the same time feeling angry, that you kept her in the dark and didn't call her. A small part of Wilhemina understands however, as she would have done the same thing, hide, keep the perfect smile and pretend like nothing is bothering her.

Wilhemina stands there for a moment, looking over your body exhausted from sickness, deciding on what to do, her rational side is telling her to take you to a doctor but there is no way she would trust them. The redhead woman had too many bad experiences before to trust them again, often mistreated with her back or prescripted the wrong medication and there is no way she would ever let her little one go through similar experiences. In the end, she decides on the only thing logical which is taking care of you herself, right at home. She balances on her cane again, trying to be quiet before walking into the kitchen to retrieve the necessary items.

The ruffling noises, mixed with cane tapping coming from the kitchen, as well as the cold unknown feeling on your forehead a little while ago, end up waking you up from your slumber, and instantly your body tenses up as you realize Wilhemina is home. In your slightly panicked state, overwhelmed with the thoughts on how to get out of this situation, ignoring the throbbing headache or the fact the room is spinning from the lack of food and water today, you once again fail to acknowledge what is right in front of you.

Right in front of you, stands Wilhemina, your girlfriend, a little tray in her hand, trying to balance it with the support of her cane and free hand, looking at you with a confused reaction, both about the fact you are awake and also the fact you are staring at the wall, not moving at all. ''Little one, you are awake'' she states, her voice sounding a little softer than usual. Instantly you snap out of it, panic once again rippling through your body as you fear her reaction, ignoring the fact she is standing in front of you with a little tray with water, soup, and medication.

Wilhemina notices you tensing, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in her back that the carrying of the tray had caused her, she walks closer to the bed, putting the tray on the night table finally, before breathing out a moment as the uncomfortable feeling leaves her. She turns to you, her eyebrows furrowing again, the concern now very visible in her features, unable to hide it any longer and not caring about that, your wellbeing her main priority.

''Little one'' she states, her head tilting slightly and her eyes slowly locking with yours as you force yourself to take a look at your girlfriend. As soon as you take a look at the redhead, you feel partly relieved as there is no sign of anger visible but at the same time, you feel awful for the concern you had caused her, not to mention the back pain you must have caused her, considering her awkward posture, standing in front of you, still balancing both hands on her cane. Finally, as your eyes wander to the little tray, you feel like bursting into tears at the fact Wilhemina had done this for you, considering she must have just returned from work and you knowing how hard things like these are for her with her condition.

''Mina?'' your voice cracks not only from the feeling of knives in your throat as illness seems to have taken up most of your body but also tears building up, both guilty ones putting Wilhemina through the effort as well as sad ones that your walls are breaking down, right here in front of the woman you usually encourage to let her walls down and true emotions in.

''I'm here little one'' she whispers, her hand wandering to your cheek, cupping it gently and stroking it with the back of her palm. It doesn't take words to exchange what is on each other's mind, you feeling sorry for lying and pushing, realizing now that indeed your partner had been right from the start. And Wilhemina also feeling guilty for using such harsh words on you this morning and at the same time upset to see her girl in such distress and pain. As soon as you feel her palm on your cheek, some tears stream down your face as you try and contain the sobs and fight back the last few emotions and thoughts, keeping you from breaking right in front of her.

As soon as Wilhemina feels the tears falling, she catches them with her thumb, wiping them away gently before whispering ''Now don't cry sweet girl'' trying to hide her own emotions and the pain it brings her whenever seeing you upset. Whenever she would see you in any kind of distress or any negative emotion visible in your features it would cause her great pain, a different kind of feeling than her back could ever cause her, as her heart would ache, her only intention to make you smile again, especially in that dorky adorable way she loves and that causes for her heart to flutter, even though she wouldn't admit that to anyone, including you.

After wiping your tears, Wilhemina hands you some water and medication from the tray and you look at her with a slightly confused expression, as you haven't fully realized yet, it doesn't need words for Wilhemina to understand how awful you are feeling. ''Now take them little one, it will make you feel better'' she promises and without thinking twice you lead the tablets to your mouth, swallowing them with some water. The feeling of the cold liquid soothing your throat momentarily distracts you from the pain that you seem to feel all over your body. ''Good girl'' Wilhemina praises as you hand her the bottle, a little smirk rising on your features.

''Now I need you to eat this'' she demands, handing you the bowl of chicken noodle soup, that you usually love. You look at her with a slightly disgusted expression as the thought of food is only adding to the sick feeling in your stomach. ''I know but eat up for me, will you?'' she asks gently, not reminding you of the stern Wilhemina at all. All you can do in response is nod and take the bowl from her hands. ''I will be right back'' she explains, leaving you behind with your soup before walking out of the bedroom. For a moment you debate whether to just abandon the food again, as you genuinely don't feel like eating but there is no way you would let the woman you had fallen in love with, down a second time today.

You enjoy the silence for a moment, the only sounds to be heard, the spoon as it scoops up the liquid, feeling soothing in your throat but painful in your stomach at the same time. Shortly after the sound of a cane fills the room again and with each tap you somehow feel nervous, knowing the conversation was still to be held why you had lied to Wilhemina and not listened to her in the first place, only adding to the anxiety you feel. You see as the redhead walks in with a few towels and your favorite pajamas, that she would usually mock, too ''adorable'' for her liking, as you would usually put it.

''Have you had some?'' she asks and points at the soup and you simply nod while your eyes are begging her not to eat anymore. ''Fine, come on there is a bath waiting for you'' she informs you and you simply nod and slowly make your way out of bed. Midway to the bathroom, you realize how severe the nauseous feeling has been and you hold onto the wall to balance for a moment before you feel a hand on your back. ''I'm right by your side'' you hear Wilhemina's voice behind you and it sends a warm, comfortable fuzzy feeling through your body, reminding you that you aren't alone in this and that your girlfriend has got your back, literally.

You manage to find your way to the bathroom, with the support of Wilhemina's hand on your back and even though it takes you a while, you manage to sit in the bath and let the warm water soothe your skin and tired muscles. ''Do you think you will be okay in here for a bit?'' Wilhemina asks and you simply nod, feeling sleepy and relaxed at the same time. As your partner, walks back in the bedroom to prepare you for the night ahead and her own night which will probably result in no sleep and a lot of worrying over you, you sink a little further into the bath, confusing the bathtub with your own bed for a moment as you feel a little too comfortable.

''Little one are you-'' Wilhemina enters the bathroom, only to find you in the bath, asleep, your head resting on the purple little pillow she had bought a while ago and attached it to the bath. She frowns at the sight for a moment, before her features change as she realizes, this time she is going to have to wake you up, as there is no way her back condition will allow her to simply lift you out of the bath and carry you to bed, as much as she would like to do that. The usual strong woman fights some of her own tears back both at your state but also the painful reminder of her scoliosis.

Slowly you wake up, as you feel some water on your head and a hand washing out some shampoo, combined with a few muffled words that you can't quite understand yet, only just having woken up from your little slumber. ''Little one, wake up we have got to get you out of here'' you hear Mina's voice. You blink a few times, dumbfounded at the fact you are in the bath, not remembering much but feeling that your body is already feeling more relaxed than waking up earlier from your first slumber. ''Mina, what are you doing?'' you question as you realize she is bending awkwardly to wash your hair out and free it from the bubbles of shampoo. Quickly you sit up and free her from the uncomfortable position. ''Come on let's get you out'' she says and with all the strength you have left, you prop yourself up and exit the bath. Soon your skin comes into contact with a warm towel provided by Wilhemina.

You enjoy the feeling for a moment, before slowly getting changed into your pajamas and following your partner back to the bedroom. At this point, the medication has already freed you from most of your pain but your body still feels exhausted, so you quickly lie down in bed and pull the blanket closer, shivering slightly from the cool sensation of the air on your legs. Wilhemina returns to the bedroom, moments later in her purple nightgown, her hair falling loosely now and you admire your girlfriend for a moment, never quite able to believe how lucky you truly are and also always finding yourself taken back by her beauty, after years of being with each other.

The redhead approaches her side of the bed, book in hand as usual but for a change abandoning it on her night table, resting her cane in her usual spot, and carefully sitting down while leaning her back against the headboard of the bed. ''Come here'' she instructs, opening her arms and freeing her lap for you to rest your head in. Usually, she would do this after you had a long day at work, Wilhemina being able to tell instantly what an awful day you must have had and how it exhausted you both mentally and physically.

Reluctantly, you move your tired head onto her lap, still worried deep down about the conversation that is yet to be held and her true feelings about this. You had lied to her, hidden the truth from her and even though the redhead had often done the same, it felt different to you, like a betrayal. Your eyes close as soon as you feel her hands come into contact with your head, her fingers running through your hair gently and momentarily numbing the pain you are in. The smell of lavender sends you in a little dreamlike state as your partner just did a small evening routine instead of the usual, more bothered about making sure you are safe and feeling alright.

''Is that the hand cream?'' you mumble, starting to feel sleepy already as your whole body is ready to forget about today, the medication soothing your tired muscles and keeping your temperature at bay. ''It is little one'' Wilhemina whispers, smiling a little and relieved that you are still somewhat in a clear headspace as you remembered the lavender hand cream you had bought her before. She strokes your hair, untangling some knots gently with her fingertips as there was no time to brush your hair, the idea of the comfortable bed too convincing.

''Are you feeling alright, my darling?'' she asks, noticing how you are already on the verge of falling asleep. ''Hm Mh'' you mumble, as you slowly start falling asleep, despite trying to fight to stay awake to be in your partner's embrace and feel her safety and the warmth she radiates onto you, just a moment longer. She frowns, hating to see you pushing yourself so hard and her not being able to do anything about it, the state you are in now only the result of pushing yourself over the past few days.

''You need to stop being so hard on yourself and pushing'' she warns, knowing deep down you aren't fully aware of her words anymore as you fall into a slumber. ''I just want you to be safe and healthy'' she carries on, holding you in her arms, as if she was trying to shield you from the outside world and things that might be thrown across your way, including yourself. As soon as the redhead hears your little snores, she smiles a little, happy you are at least getting some more rest in her arms and at the same time glad, she is able to protect you now, knowing tomorrow is another day to come to have an actual conversation about this. She averts her gaze, and she is met with the mirror on the other side of the room, seeing you asleep on her lap and for a moment the woman, usually so hard on herself crumbles for a second as tears stream down her cheeks.

She remembers the moments in her younger years or even to this day, where she kept pushing and listening to her parents or the ugly voices in her head, telling her she isn't deserving to take breaks or look after herself. As she sees you safe and sound in her arms she can't help but feel gratitude, that you had walked into her life a while ago, knowing that you both have each other now. At this moment as she watches your tired body, chest rising and falling with each breath, she promises herself to never let you push this much again and to get you to take care of yourself, fully aware it won't be easy as she struggles with those things herself.

''Everything will be okay, I'm here little one you are safe'' she whispers, reassuring you again that you aren't alone in this and that she will be by your side. After watching you for a few seconds longer, she carefully reaches for her book, opening it and keeping herself occupied while she is determined to stay awake, not caring about sleep herself as she feels the need to stay with you and be there for you in case you wake up and need the redhead.

As she opens her book, now occupied by it, you are already asleep, your body slowly healing from today, both a mix of medication, rest but also the tender care, love, and affection Wilhemina has shown you since arriving back home and continues showing, as one of her hands is still rubbing soothing circles on your head, occasionally checking your forehead for a temperature.

#wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable imagine #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine #sick fic #writing #wattpad #lgbtq #female reader #american horror story #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs season 8 #fluff #sarahpaulson #americanhorrorstory

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flamingo-writes · 3 years ago

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It's Better When The Sun Goes Down — Nanami x Reader

This is a piece for the Anilysium Server NSFW Collab! Make sure to check the masterlist to see other writer's works! This month's prompt was: "I can't hold back anymore"

I'd like to dedicate this fanfic to one of my dearest and closest friends. I'm not a Nanami simp myself, but they are. And I have fun writing for Nanami, and also I love writing angsty things and flawed characters. Reg, I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoy my more casual writing.

(it's pink bcs youre Chancho)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Mentions of breakup and heartbreak, alcohol and drug consuption, public sex, ghosting, lots and lots of angst. This does not have a happy ending. This is also non proof read bcs I kinda left it to the last minute I'm sorry, I'll go back and edit it when I am not in a rush dcj nd

Summary: Nanami’s return to the Sorcerer life wasn’t so bad. It could be better if Gojo wasn’t determined to get him back with his ex. As Nanami tries to get on good terms with them, things get out of control, only to end up where it all began.

I made this playlist while writing, in case you wanna listen to it while reading. Preferably listen to it without the shuffle, but you can hear it on shuffle, no biggie.

Nanami had forgotten how painfully unbearable Gojo could be. His return as a Sorcerer had been nothing out of the ordinary for a Sorcerer's standards. Missions here and there, or watching over some of Gojo's students. But God, he had surely stepped out of the line this time.

He couldn't even begin to explain how much he hated his current situation. Fighting by your side for the first time in years felt like rubbing hot oil on an open wound. The uncomfortable ignoring the elephant in the room between you two, as you two tracked and fought what felt like a million Curses.

When the adrenaline was at its peak, it felt almost nostalgic; though he'd then remembered everything else and immediately made his own reality bitter and awkward. Overshadowed by the advantage of years of experience ahead of him made him resent you even more. He knew it was childish and pointless to keep remembering everything that happened between you two, but that bittersweet memory would most likely keep him at bay.

You were still strong, witty, fearless, reckless and quick to act and defend yourself. The way you moved looked more swiftly and coordinated than you did back in your student days. Almost as if you were a professional dancer. He hated every bit of it. He couldn’t stop looking at you, thinking about you, and the possibilities of what you two would have become.

After the mission was over, no words were exchanged between you two. Aside from the: "Are you alright?" He told you as you simply gave him a thumbs up as you caught your breath drenched in sweat. An entire ride in an uncomfortable silence, until he reached the school and you got out of the car.

"Thanks. You did a great job. Keep it up" You said. Cold, and straight to the point. Closing his car door before he could reply. And soon, you were gone.

As Nanami tried to get his mind off the mission, Gojo made it difficult. He called him to ask for the details of the mission. He seemed amused and intrigued, as clearly you hadn't told him shit. And honestly, he could understand why. Gojo was meddling on things that weren’t his business, and things that had died a long time ago.

"Why are you interrogating me, Gojo?" He asked as he pressed hisnfingers on the bridge of his nose. "Ask your underling…"

"Because that jerk left for the bar as soon as they arrived" He explained. "And I know better than to annoy a drunk [Name], It took me a while but...I finally learned my lesson" He chuckled. “I knew they could hit hard, but damn, I had a big ass bruise…” Nanami could almost hear his stupid grin.

"You make it sound like it's a recurrent event" Nanami pointed out, slightly surprised as he didn't know you were a drinker.

"Oh, Nanami-kun, you really know nothing huh?" Gojo said, smiling widely as he had managed to manipulate Nanami into asking.

"Know what?" Nanami hissed as he now swore he could hear Nanami creepily grinning at his phone.

"No, nothing!” Gojo said as if it were nothing; trying and succeeding at peeking at Nanami’s curiosity “I'm not gonna talk over depressing things on the phone. Gotta go, bye! Kith kith, Kento-kun" Gojo sang and hung up, as he smirked, proud of his little mischief. He sighed deeply as he stretched in his bed. "Soon, those two will be back together" he smirked to himself.

Nanami hissed a curse under his breath as he locked his phone and threw it on his bed and went to the kitchen. If he had understood well, Gojo had just hinted at a possible drinking problem. He tried shaking his mind off of it. You couldn't, could you? You weren’t a drinker...You weren’t the last time he saw you. You were able to party and have fun without having to intoxicate yourself.

You were wild, cheerful, unpredictable. Everything he was not. And that’s what had made him fall in love with you back in your school days. You were so laid back, he could feel it permeating into him when you two hung out. The few times he’d broken rules was because you’d been the bad influence, however, you somehow managed to get away with it, and leave him with some distant memory in which he felt actually glad to be alive. He usually felt like he was walking on a cloud stuck in time, being present and enjoying the little things that made his everyday memories.

He’d really screwed up after breaking up with you...if he could call that a breakup... His life took a dramatic turn. And then, he turned his back to this world, and got immersed in the gray life the average man in Japan had. Away from what he's familiar with, away from his friends, away from you.

And now, apparently, you had a drinking habit. He wondered if he had caused it, or if he was one of the reasons behind it. The guilt started creeping in. The same guilt and regret he felt after ghosting on you. Not being able to bring himself to properly end things with you.

The guilt he’d managed to swipe under the rug for so many years creeped back out, and followed him around as the afternoon went by. After having a shower, changing into more comfortable clothes and in a lame attempt to cook dinner, he decided to test his luck. He put on a dark button down shirt and decided to go to the bar closest to the School. He felt the naive hope to find you there. However, if you had an actual problem, then his chances to see you there were higher.

Such was his surprise to find you there, trying to get rid of some insistent guy who kept talking to you despite your very obvious lack of interest. Before you could spot him, he watched you aggressively turn to the guy and talk to him in a rather rude tone. Sounding almost like a moody sailor as the guy’s face soon was washed with horror and disgust and walked away. As you turned your face back to your drink, your eyes scanned the bar, finally spotting him.

“Oh god” You whined as you pulled the glass to your lips. “It’s too early to be this drunk…” You hissed.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, pointing at the chair in front of you.

“Tell Gojo to go fuck himself…” You snapped at him as you stood up and stumbled your way to the bar asking for a refill. Nanami looked at you, feeling slightly sorry for your tipsy state, as he’d never seen you like that. And he knew being mad and drunk was never a good combination. As you turned around with your glass and made your way back to your table, you gave him a slightly repulsed smile. “You’re still here…”

“Gojo didn’t send me here, if that’s what you’re thinking” He replied.

“He might as well have manipulated you into doing so, has that crossed your mind?” You said with a sassy tone as you sat back down. “Why are you still standin’?”

Nanami took that as an invitation as he ignored your last comment, trying to refuse the idea that Gojo had manipulated him.

“Rough day, huh?” He said as you nodded and stared at your drink.

“Look, Kento. I’m glad that you’re back. I really am. You’re strong, and you’re smart…” You began. “But I’m gonna cut the chase, I’m kinda annoyed too. Ever since you got back, Gojo has been sticking his snobby nose into my business” You explained. “Many of the missions he sends you in, I’m supposed to be there as well, but manage to get busy by then and not go”

“So you’re actively avoiding me?”

“Yes” You replied bluntly. “Mostly because Gojo is trying very hard to bring us back together. But no, I learned my lesson the first time” You said taking a sip to your scotch, feeling it smoothly sliding down your throat, no longer feeling the burn from the alcohol.

“I haven’t apologized for that…” Nanami began.

“Don’t” You interrupted him. “It’s better this way”

“Are you sure? Because you still seem to have an issue with it…” Nanami said, managing to read you like an open book like he always did. He still had that ability.

You glared at him, angrily as you opened your mouth to snap back at him, but your mind was foggy and a big portion of your brain was focused on the little details surrounding him. His black shirt, the first buttons undone. His thick wrists, one of them hiding underneath a fancy looking watch, his blond hair pushed back, his sharp features...And god, his smell. The smell of his cologne luring you in like a fly to honey. Since any words made it to your mouth, your next step was to take another sip.

“You’re drinking too fast” He pointed out.

“None of your business” You said standing up and taking your wallet out and leaving a few bills on the tale. “I’m out” You said coldly and walked out of the bar.

Nanami sighed, frustrated that he hadn’t managed to get anything out of interaction. Aside from the pretty clear fact that you disliked him. However, he didn’t think of the possibility of you resenting him so much because you still had feelings for him.

As you walked out of the bar, the chilly wind hit the back of your neck, making you shiver. You cursed, knowing it was going to make you feel drunker faster. You made your way to the school with long steps, trying to make it to your dorm before your last drink made it to your head. Despite the cold wind, the hot tears in your eyes in a way kept your face warm. As you tried to keep yourself from crying, you heard steps behind you.

“Wait” You heard Nanami’s voice calling behind you as you stopped on command, against your own will. You swallowed the lump on your throat and managed to keep the tears still in your eyes, as you refused to look at

him. “At least let me walk you home. You can’t walk on your own like this…”

“Oh, so now you care?” You said turning around and looking at him, giving him a smug smile. “You’ve changed” You scoffed bitterly.

“Please” He said, knowing better than trying to argue with you.

Your stare on him softened, as something within you urged you to say yes. To have more time with Nanami and maybe cling to the bittersweet memories you were constantly reliving since his return.

“Fine” You said, very much to his surprise. He smiled and walked closer to you with the gentle smile that had been haunting your dreams as of lately.

“C’mon. My car is not far from here…”

You stopped coldly as he mentioned a car. Taking a second look at him, you wondered how much he’d changed. He’d become an adult through and through, hadn’t he? While you were still a mess...Or so you thought. To Nanami’s eyes, you were a far better sorcerer and warrior than him. And he envied you for it.

“Are you actually going to take me to the school?” You asked, suddenly growing suspicious of him, as you’d had plenty of experiences with strangers on the street and knew better than going into someone’s car in a drunken state.

Not that you didn’t trust Nanami. You didn’t trust yourself drunk.

“I was actually thinking of taking you somewhere for dinner and then to the school” He said.

“Not hungry”

“No, but you’re drunk. It’ll sober you up, and tomorrow morning you’ll thank me when you wake up without a hangover” He said as he walked towards his car.

“I don’t have any more money on me” You lied, looking for an excuse to avoid spending any more than necessary with him.

“I didn’t ask you if you have money” He said boldly as he managed to make you smirk for the first time since his return.

“Smooth, Nanami. You’ve grown” You said as you followed him.

The walk to his car felt like your chest burnt far more than the alcohol ever did. It felt bitter, it hurt and was nauseating. Was it really it, or was it the alcohol finally catching up with you? Like flashes of instant memories being erased from your memory, the drive to a restaurant felt like a poorly edited foreign film. The car felt like some intense themed park ride as you felt dizzy with the alcohol whispering everything you missed about him. It was gross and it was sickening.

The Ramen sign on the outside on itself managed to sober you up a little by taking your mind off Nanami. As you followed him, clumsily standing on your feet, you sat on one of the tables and tried to make sense of the dancing letters in the menu. More flashes of memories were taken off your head, as you wondered what was happening and how drunk were you for you to start blacking out.

“Not good…” you muttered under your breath.

“Did you say something?” Nanami asked.

“No. Nothing”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m not”

“You’ll feel better in a bit. Don’t worry…” He said softly as he sipped from a soda you didn’t know he had. When had he ordered it? You looked in front of you to the nice surprise that you had one too despite not knowing how or when. “I ordered some ramen for you. Something spicy...It’ll sober you up faster”

You chuckled as you looked at him.

“And how do you know that?” You asked with a cheeky tone as he smiled softly.

“Went drinking a lot with friends from work” He said. “I learned a few things here and there”

More brief black outs kept lazily painting a rather miserable painting in your memory. As you ate your ramen, you found yourself relaxing more and more. Was it the hot spicy broth? In the beginning, the balck outs weren’t getting any less frequent, however, as the night went by, you found yourself sobering up like he said. Soon, the black outs were gone, however you were still somehow locked in a haze. Although it made sense. The amount of booze as well as the short time, it was going to take a lot more than just one hot bowl of spicy ramen to get you back to a sober state.

The conversation kept flowing comfortably as both of you ate. It was reminiscent of the old days, nostalgic and somehow morbid. As the both of you tried to grasp at the old days when your worries were limited to school work. Catching up like old friends who hadn't seen each other, as if you didn’t have hard feelings for each other.

After having finished your food, Nanami paid for both of your meals and went back out into the cold night. The sky black, stars hidden by the streetlights as you made it to his car and finally noticed the silver color in it.

As he drove back to the school, you noticed he took a small detour, instantly setting alarms in your head.

“Where are we going?” You asked, your voice considerably serious as he noticed the change in tone from the pleasant talk they were having in the restaurant.

“There’s somewhere I’d like to go…” He said as he briefly looked at you and gave you a tender smile.

That smile made your heart uncomfortably skip a beat as you hated the effect he still had on you. You didn’t dare to ask any further as you slowly recognized the route he was taking. As he slowly took one of the roads towards the edge of the city close to the coast line. He stopped in a rather deserted place, as he got off the road and stopped the car.

Despite the lack of light, aside from the few streetlights, you knew exactly where you were. A whole in your chest opened dramatically as you felt your eyes tear up and happy memories attached to the location flooded your mind.

“Kento…” You said chuckling bitterly.

“When I said I wanted to apologize, I meant it…” He said as you clenched your jaw and looked out your window, avoiding his stare.

“And I told you I didn’t want to talk about it…”

“You’re still upset about it, I get it. And I don’t blame you” He began as he felt his heart beating hard in his chest. “Look at me, please”

You wanted to say something to him. But you knew you would break down crying as soon as you opened your mouth. You took a deep breath and without saying anything you looked at him. His dark brown eyes gazing into yours, as he was looking at you with a rather pained stare.

“You remember this place, don’t you?” He asked.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you clicked your seatbelt, getting it off.

“I’m done” You said dryly as you opened the door and got out of the car.

“No, [Name]. Please, wait” He said as he mirrored your movements and excited the car walking around it.

“Of fuckign course I know where I am, Kento” You barked as you walked away approaching the door. “I know where I lost my fucking virginity, okay?” You barked as you stopped coldly and looked at him, tears finally streaming off your face. “Look, I’ll make us a favour and summarize this conversation. Yes, you’re a fucking asshole for just taking off one day and completely disappearing. Yes, I’m still mad about it. No, I won’t take your apology. No, I don’t care about whatever shitty excuse you have for me to listen to you. You bringing me here out of all places isn’t going to change shit…” You spat all in one breath as you stopped and took a deep breath.

“I loved you, Kento. I really did. And it hurt to have you just dissipate like you were a hallucination or something...You were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything! And one day I lost all of that. You ruined sex for me!” You yelled angrily. “I could never hold, kiss or sleep with anyone, because at some point I’d see your stupid face, and then be incredibly underwhelmed because I would not enjoy sex. I can’t feel anything anymore, Kento...The only way I can actually enjoy those things is by getting drunk or high” You admitted. “I can’t walk into bookstores, nor eat sandwiches or diet coke, nor drink tea because all those things remind me of you. And yes, it’s lame that all these years later I still care about those things. And this is why I can’t forgive you” You cried, as your voice shook.

Nanami’s heart broke little by little at each one of your words. He knew he’d screwed up and had hurt you deeply. But he wasn’t aware of the actual impact. He clenched his jaw as he felt his chest tight and a lump on his throat. Now the drinking problem made sense. Gojo had painted it like you were an alcoholic, but it wasn’t exactly the case. So you’d gone to the bar to get it off with some stranger, probably pretending it was him.

The dizzying pain and weight of his mistakes blinded him for a second as he walked towards you as you kept bitterly complaining. As you tried to walk away, you made a very poor effort as he caught up with you and cupped your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him and shutting you up by pressing his lips against you.

The sudden surprise made your heart stop. Your mind turning numb and blank at once as you struggled to bring yourself to push him away. However, truth be told, you didn't want to push him away. The poor attempt to push him away was more than obvious. The strong fighter you were, barely making any physical effort. Nanami's hands wrapped around your back and pulled you close, squeezing you against him as he sighed into the kiss.

Finally kissing him back, you locked your lips against his desperately, eager to taste the lips you've been dreading in your dreams. Clinging to him like he was going to disappear again, a soft whimper escaped your mouth. Your chest pressing against him as he felt his own world getting blurry.

He broke the kiss pulling away as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You have no idea how much I missed you” He whispered as you clung to him.

“I-I…” You stuttered, the words tasting bitter before they even made it to your mouth. “Fuck, I want you, Kento” You growled as he pulled you in, kissing you hungrily again.

His hands posessively clinging to you as he slowly guided you back to the car. One step at the time as you both melted in a hungry sour kiss. As you ran out of breath, you pulled away, gasping for air as you gripped his collar in your hands.

“I can’t hold back anymore” You said as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, walking back to his car.

Your words unleashed a shiver down his spine as his heart skipped a beat and raced like crazy, as his pants started feeling tighter on his crotch. He chuckled softly as he realized his own judgement seemed to have disappeared with that first kiss. And before you could even make it to his car, he gripped your hips and spun you around as he bumped his forehead against yours.

“I can’t either” He admitted as he guided you to the car’s hood and pulled you over it. Ass you sat on the warm hood, he got between your legs and you wasted no time wrapping them around his waist. He grunted softly feeling your crotch against his as you pulled him closer to seal your lips together.

As you soon were absorbed by the dizziness of your rising heat, his hand went to your bare thighs as he slowly caressed your skin, going up and lifting your skirt up in the process. A soft moan slid into his mouth as he gripped your ass softly and squeezed it. The way your skin got covered in goosebumps and how you jerked your hips made him moan in response.

It felt good, and intoxicating. The driving desire burning his insides. The feeling of desiring to taste you all over and have you shaking underneath him. God, he’d missed that particular rush of adrenaline. His body reacting to the deeply buried memories now loose. He felt like he was in the best high he’d experienced. Lightheadedness and presence in the moment, he hadn’t felt this alive in so long.

Your hands were slowly undoing his buttoned shirt and were quick to explore his warm skin. He pulled away from the kiss, gasping as he looked at you. Your devilish smile matching your hungry stare. You leaned forward kissing his neck, nibbling on his skin every now and then. His hand gripped your hair tightly, pulling it lightly, making you look up at him as he stared at you.

He leaned forward, kissing you once more, this time a lot more slow and a lot more tender. It was sweet and it was slow and it took you by surprise. You felt his sweet kiss begging you, still holding on to the feelings you both decided to drown unsuccessfully. It almost hurt. It was the kind of kiss that told you how much you missed and needed each other. How much you regretted the mistakes you’ve done.

As you melted against his lips, his hands slowly slid your panties off. You helped him lifting your hips a little but as you giggled against his lips.

“Eager?” You said with a playful smirk.

“You have no idea” He replied as he took off your panties and shoved them in his back pocket.

His hand made it back to your thigh, slowly going up until he palmed your hot sex. Stealing a gasp out of your mouth, he teasingly ran one of his fingers through your dripping slit, making him smile satisfied.

“I’m not the only one, huh?” He said as you looked at him with lustful eyes.

You took his glasses off and set them aside. You were about to go back to kissing his neck when he slid one finger inside of you effortlessly. A rather loud moan escaped your lips as you shut your eyes closed feeling your entire body tingle in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You smiled satisfied as you continued kissing his neck. Slowly, he got another finger inside. The delicious stretch of his second finger prompting you to bite his neck softly making him growl your name softly. His fingers explored the whole he knew so well, as he found your sweet spot almost by muscle memory. More moans came out of your throat sounding like music to his ears.

“Fuck, Kento” You hissed as you took off your top, not caring that you were outdoors and by the road. Up to this point, you were so pent up, you simply craved him like you’d never craved anything before.

Nanami wasted no time and kissed your neck, going down to your neck, gently biting your skin every now and then. Sucking delicately on your skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t last long. He pulle dhis fingers out of you, clinging to your body desperately. As you laid on the car’s hood, you devoured him with your lustful eyes, begging him to get on top of you. Wearing just your skirt by this point, Nanami groaned at the plain sight of you.

He undid his belt and his pants. Your hands playfully teasing your own body in an attempt to drive him crazier and crazier. He cursed under his breath as he couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled his painfully hard erection out of his pants. You watched hi, intrigued, stretching your hands towards him, gently gripping his dick. His breath hitched and you smiled proudly.

Nanami leaned over the car hood, slowly getting on top of you, his shaft resting on your belly as he looked at how much deep could he go inside of you. His tip almost reaching you belly button, as the idea alone made a shiver run down his spine.

"Please, Kento" you gasped, need dripping from your voice as you caressed his dick

He growled softly as he pulled away softly, aligning against your entrance and slowly going in. You gasped, pushing your head back and pressing your hips against his making him go deeper.

Hissing your name, he jerked his hips, his tip.kissing your cervix as sudden rush of pain jolted through your body, followed by pleasure. You dug your nails in his shoulders as he thrusted back and forth, hitting all the right spots. The sound of his gasps and grunts hypnotizing as you got wetter by the second. His length coated in your juices, echoing in lewd wet noises.

He was rough. He usually was. Back in student days, he was particularly rough. As quiet and collected as he seemed, he sure got his stress out if his body through wild sex.

Relentlessly pushing against you, stretching you in such a delicious way only he knew how. Strong and aggressive movements as your walls swallowed him whole every time, breathless moans escaping your lips with every push. The cool wind kissing your skin, only enhancing his warmth.

As you felt your orgasm progressively approaching, the realization of how addicted you were to him hit you. He was everything you desired. And it was wrong. Before the feeling of uneasiness started to sink in, a sudden electric rush ran through your body. Painfully and soothing, as you tightly clenched around himbsoon numbed your mind.

As you came around him, your walls sucked him in tightly, as he was right over the brink, your velvet flesh pushed him off the edge. He didn't have time to pull out. And honestly, he didn't want to pull out. The way your walls milked him felt delicious. As he rode you through your orgasm, filling you up as his head felt dizzy and the world was spinning faster than usual. His hot seed coating your insides, as you shut your eyes closed, feeling the very last of your orgasm fading away.

He pressed his forehead against yours. Loud pants echoing.

However, the world didn't quite return to its regular focus.

The rest of the night went by in a fuzzy hot mess of events. You returned to his apartment and kept feasting on each other, making up for the lost time. Both of you incredibly starved and needy, you desperately went at it over and over again. It was a rather long night. As you feared, no one made you feel as he did. All of him was addicting. His smell, his voice, his warmth, his skin...It didn’t matter how many strangers you fucked, or how drunk or high you were, he felt just right. He made you cum so easily, it seemed ridiculous everyone else couldn’t.

But you knew it was far more than that.

You were still deeply in love with him. No wonder why he had that effect on you. Just hearing his breathlessly gasp was enough to have you soaking wet and under his mercy. Between sweet kisses, fake promises and sweaty sex, he quite literally fucked you to oblivion. Until either of you could take it any longer and you two fell asleep in each other’s arms. It had been a long tiring night, as you knew many of your muscles were gonna be sore the next day. Your chest painted in red and blue bruises.

It was possibly one of the best night sleeps he’d had. In such a long time. The uncomfortable hole in his chest didn’t feel so wide now. Just like you, he didn’t know how much he actually needed you until now. His regrets, his guilt, the thoughts haunting him on how much of a jerk he’d been when he simply took off...All those feelings went away for a night. As he tasted the wonders of the universe under your skin. Feeling ecstatic and euphoric for the first time in years. However, nothing could’ve prepared Nanami for what he was about to experience when he woke up.

“What the hell is this?” Gojo asked as he waved around the folder you’d left a few hours earlier in the Headmaster’s office.

“Why the fuck do you care?” You said as you grabbed it, ripping it off his hands.

“You’re seriously leaving for Kyoto?” He whined.

“So my transfer was accepted? Great!” You said sarcastically as you opened the folder and saw the Headmaster’s seal at the bottom.

“What about Nanami-kun?” Gojo replied as the very last string of your patience snapped.

“Oh, fuck you, Gojo! You tried to force us back together, but it’s not going to happen” You snapped. “I’m done. I’m done with him, and I’m done with you sticking your nose in my business”

“Do you really think that running away will solve anything? You’ll still be depressed as hell”

“The less I know about him, the better” You said as you turned around, hot tears blurring your sight as you headed with long steps towards your room. “I don’t trust myself around him…” You whispered. “He’s my weakness Gojo, I can’t let that happen…” You said coldly.

You’d left that morning very early, before Nanami woke up. And you left leaving no trace of you ever being there. Unintentionally doing the same he did. It was unintentional because you hadn’t done it out of spite. Your thought process had been simply. You preferred to not have that conversation and simply leave without him noticing. You had had the exact same thought process Nanami had had all those years ago.

You didn’t waste time and soon started packing your things to leave for Kyoto right away.

#jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #nanami kento #nanami x you #nanami kento imagines #nanami x reader #nanami angst #server collab

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aenaxes · 3 years ago

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Hey! I was wondering if you could write Crosshair going to the reader for random cuddles no matter where they are, late at night or out on the beach with the batch. BTW, I love the way you write and it never fails to get me inspired to draw our favorite clone boys. Good luck with Uni!

warnings: none

w/c: 1.6k

a/n: ahh tysm for this request! i got a little carried away lol but it's just because i had a lot of fun writing it! :-) hope this helps stoke the artistic imagination! (and thankfully uni is out for the summer so i have more time for our favorite clone boys)

It’s one of the better known facts that Crosshair doesn’t like to be touched, even if warranted, even if he’s asked. There are too many variables in another’s hands: accidents happen, sabotage is never unlikely, and sometimes youthful fear rears its cruel head, and he is flooded with the knee-jerk reflex of memories in the alabaster halls of Tipoca.

So the first time you cuddle with Crosshair, it’s just as much of a disaster as you expect it to be.

Crosshair lies like a corpse over the centre of your bunk, back rigid and ramrod straight, his deathly look complete with the ridiculous bandage criss-crossed over his hairline (courtesy of the simple joys of a ten metre human javelin toss and Wrecker’s miscalculated aim).

Where painkillers weren’t quite enough to keep the concussion headaches at bay, he’d somehow come to the conclusion that you would be. And who were you to turn down a sullen Crosshair mumbling awkwardly for cuddles at your door?

With careful hands and just enough of a firm touch to coax him onto his side without spooking him out of his moping, you maneuver him with his back towards the wall and gently push him further in before you climb onto the space beside him. He flashes you an uncertain look, and you offer him a wry smile in return.

“Relax a little,” you say, lifting his limp arm and slotting yourself against his side until your chests are flush. It’s less cuddling than it is you trying to mold yourself around the hard, firm lines of the tension etched into Crosshair’s muscle and poise. But if he was willing to put aside his standoffish pride to ask you for cuddles, you won’t deny him. Finally content with your arrangement, you lift your chin and fix him with a wry smile. “I can’t spoon a board.”

“Was that an insult?” he offers, a weak attempt at his usual wit that comes out as more of a whimper than bite. But to his credit, he’s listening to you, and you feel him shifting slightly in an attempt to make himself comfortable despite his somewhat unsettled expression.

“Maybe,” you counter. “Loosen your shoulders. Stop tensing. Cuddle, Crosshair.”

“I’m trying,” he mutters, and when you close your eyes to laugh, you barely miss the small upward turn of his lips.

When you wake up the next morning, you feel reborn, all loose-limbed, sated joy as you stretch your arms to your side, expecting Crosshair’s lean form curled close. Instead, you find yourself alone in your bunk, your covers pulled neatly up to your chin with no sign of your surly sniper in sight. You pull yourself together, albeit with a frown, throwing on a fresh set of clothes and readying yourself for a day of snarking (a bit spitefully) at Crosshair for leaving without so much as a thank you.

But then you see it. A small mug sitting on your desk: caf.

As you peer over the rim, you’re hard-pressed to mistake it as anything other than your preference made to perfection, and judging by the steam curling fragrant and wispy over its surface, it’s fresh.

Crosshair says nothing when you pass him in the helm, but when you flash him a grin, he huffs and offers you a lopsided smile back.

It takes the lesser part of one week for the headaches to abate. In between then and Crosshair’s begrudgingly clean bill of health, he comes knocking at your door four more times, each time gently loosening the deep roots of tension coiled through his bones more and more.

“You’re getting better at this,” you murmur into his shoulder on the fourth night, your leg thrown over his hip and your arms tucked securely under his. His first night in your quarters had ended in little beyond simply lying shoulder-to-shoulder. The next two had been (failed) attempts to spoon the entirety of Crosshair’s lanky form. And the night penultimate had been a slightly more successful endeavor in throwing all experimental caution to the wind and waking up chest-to-chest in an oddly comfortable tangle of limbs.

That night worked, and so you do it again.

“I had a good teacher,” Crosshair snorts, and he wheezes, his arms curling snug around your middle, when you gently jab him in the side.

You mutter something into his shoulder, but your own words do not reach your ears when you feel his chin settle atop your head. He shifts carefully until he’s curled entirely around you, the anchor in a still sea, a promise that you, together in shared space and breath, simply are. It’s funny how these things work, you think, breathing shallow and slow as Crosshair brushes his nose over the crown of your head and stays.

And then the concussion heals, and he’s gone.

It’s a bit startling how quickly you had grown accustomed to Crosshair’s presence in your bunk within the brief span of a week. You don’t expect to miss it, the easy nighttime habit as Crosshair quietly slinks to your room: a well-rehearsed ritual of playful snark before the gentler art of accommodation, pushing and pulling in tandem to find the sweet stability of your cheek laid over Crosshair’s collar and his palm warm over the small of your back.

You don’t expect to miss it so much that you find yourself lying in bed well past lights out, simply bracing to sling meaningless jokes thrown in the helm the next morning about how Crosshair’s gone soft, little baby brother Crosshair, like the week prior meant little but a favor to a friend.

The telltale knock sets him apart; four rapid, light raps on the durasteel that you’ve come to know so well, and you’re hauling yourself out of bed and slapping the door lock open as fast as you can.

“Cuddles,” Crosshair says as soon as he catches sight of you in the doorway.

He should be fine; he is fine, if Tech is to be believed. So there’s no reason for him to be waking you and requesting entry. But he is here. You stuff down the dizzying stutter in your chest and meet the mirth in his eyes with the best frown you can manage.

For all the stubborn fronting and the cold refusal you could offer him, there’s something you cannot bring yourself to resent when Crosshair—sour, cynical Crosshair—lets the word “cuddle” find home, curled soft over his tongue (lets himself find home in you).

“Will you make me caf in the morning?”

“Depends on how well you cuddle,” he replies, his tone a deadly calm, only betrayed by the knowing gleam in his eye.

“Says the man who didn’t know how to cuddle a few days ago,” you shoot back.

“The apprentice outdoes the master,” Crosshair shakes his head with a wistful sigh, and you laugh, reaching forward to twine your fingers with his, letting him take his rightful place as the doors close behind you.

—

He comes back home.

Wrecker tells you to give him space, Echo shakes his head when you idle in front of his closed door, and even Omega offers you a sad, apologetic look when Crosshair makes the rare, silent appearance outside of his quarters, a spectre and his bacta patch haunting the ship’s hull before he disappears again.

You listen to them for a few days, but it chews at you from inside—the gnawing thought that Crosshair had been alone for so long, that he’s still alone now. Even if his basest instinct had always been to withdraw and cope in isolation, you can’t stand the idea of leaving him by himself any longer. So when the others have long since fallen asleep, you creep to Crosshair’s room and knock four times in rapid succession.

Like you had expected, he’s awake. But when he opens the door, he keeps his unfocused eyes cast aside.

“Cuddles,” you whisper, testing, hopeful, and you open your arms to him as you stand on the threshold. “Just like we used to?”

Only then does Crosshair flick his weary eyes up, rimmed red with exhaustion, grief overdue. And after four long days, he finally meets your gaze.

You watch as his eyes linger under furrowed brows, peering at you as if he isn’t entirely sure if you’re real, if you’re really there. Watching him waver between your face and your open palms and back again, you imagine Crosshair thinking that it’s always been the other way around: him seeking you out at odd hours to wrap his lean arms around your shoulders, breathe deep, and simply bask in how close you were to his beating heart.

And now it’s you.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, stepping forward between your outstretched arms to gingerly place his chin over your shoulder and settle his lean arms at your waist.

All those times you spent curled, molded around him in the quiet darkness of your bunk—it’s honed you to know him like you know yourself, committing to indelible memory the way he breathes, shifts, fits with you.

And he’s different. A year’s worth of separation would do that, change. But where you feel some new muscle and sinew against your skin, there is undeniable familiarity in how he seeks you out despite the tremble in his hands and unsteadiness of his breath.

There is familiarity in finding home.

You reach up, looping your arms around his neck. And when you pull snug, you feel him squeeze your waist in return, holding tight and holding close.

“Just like we used to.”

#aH thank u for ur patience dear #i did veer a bit off course by focusing on one environment #but massive brain for the beach suggestion!!#beach trip shoujo episode vibes for a separate work perhaps #sageislostinspring #crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #yaej.writes

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ficauthor · 3 years ago

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inspired by the prompt by @danphanwritingprompts:

Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion. “Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked. Maddie scowled. “Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him. “It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

and some other headcannons that I've seen float around tumblr about trans Danny fic below cut if you dont wanna follow the link.

Looking out the window was making him nauseous, like really really nauseous. The kind of nauseous he only got when sick or from a good punch. He knew a thing or two about good punches. He’d been taking them for a few years now.

It really wasn’t fair if you asked him. One should ask him because it was an experience that only he could experience. After all, halfa's were rare as can be. Skulker had certainly told him enough for him to know. Every brush with alcohol in his younger days was, well, a mixed bag. He processed it faster than the average person so he was lucky in that aspect that he got drunk faster. But if anything his messing about with alcohol before he was 21 told him it was that it also left much faster than normal. Bullshit ghost rules and all of that. Genuinely being a ghost even half one had very few upsides. Some people online speculated about how cool ghost powers must be to have but clearly none of them knew about the burden that it came with. Sometimes he still wished that he didn’t know.

However this time for whatever reason the alcohol was hitting him and staying. Maybe it was because the previous times he’d been drinking cheap party booze in Dash’s garage with Sam and Tucker, no one but the three of them aware that they were even there. Instead this time the booze was some semi expensive shit, he didn’t know the name or type but he’d been promised quality. Why he of all people was being given quality alcohol he'd never know but he wasn’t going to turn it down.

That being said seemed the trade off was intense nausea. It wasn’t that bad all things considered, he actually preferred being sloshed for the upcoming event but his body was not agreeing with that. Not that his body agreed with a lot of things. The disagreement between ghost and human sometimes really bit him in the ass. His head was floaty, the world in front of him was spinning badly, maybe it’d be worth it to never drink again. Especially if he was going to have this reaction . If only he’d invited Sam and Tucker. They were great fun and always knew how to reel him in. Man he missed them, if only they didn’t all go to different colleges. But nooo all of their majors just had to have few overlapping colleges. At least they were all within a drives (or in his case a flying) distance. When he wasn’t feeling too sick and unbalanced he’d have to fly over to their dorms for a movie night. It’d be nice. Sam might even be able to get them into someplace cool again.

In a stagnant attempt to push the feeling away he turned away from the window and towards his family. Jazz was studying a text on her phone. Probably a message from her girlfriend at university. Maybe she was inviting her. That’d be nice. She seemed nice when he’d saved her as Phantom a month ago, then everyone was nice when their life had just flashed before their eyes and they were rescued from it’s visions. Even when he and Valerie were on the worst of terms he was always grateful when ever she rescued him in either form. Bar Johnny 13 his sisters' taste in partners wasn’t actually all that bad. He actually liked her last girlfriend. Even then with Johnny he wasn’t sure how much of that was actually her taste and how much was Kitty’s possession.

Certainly Jazz’s apprehension couldn’t be blamed, three of her previous partners both highschool and college were driven away by how weird their family was. She claimed she was fine with it, something about them not truly accepting all parts of her but still. That sucked. School had been rough enough, he couldn’t even count the amount of people that had been weirded out from being his friend because of his parents. Well there was also his reputation but his parents being renowned ghost hunters and chaotic town kooks certainly did not help. Looking back on it more of that might have actually been on his reputation. A nerd with A+ grades until highschool only to then end up with Ds on the best of days and bruises on the worst. Yeah some of that was probably on him.

Jazz gave him a look, he’d spaced out and looked at her for too long, it was weird now. He gave her a shrug and turned to their mother.

Laughing would be rude; he had to remind himself when he spotted her dancing along to the car radio in her dorky adult grooving. It was peaceful in a way. A down time he didn't usually get to appreciate before something bad (normally ghosts) interrupted. It was almost nice in a way to be calm with his mom and sister. Even if the former looked really really stupid.

He snorted anyway at his mom’s dance moves. Discombobulated shoulder jerks and little hand motions mixed in with little head rolls that had no rhyme or reason. It was wildly out of beat and didn’t match the tone of the song on radio. It was definitely the kind of dancing that Tucker would disparagingly call “white people shit”. The thought alone of Tucker's pain at his parents' dance moves was almost enough to send him into hysterics.

Man he missed Tucker.

He’d have to check in on Tucker soon, since he started the latest school assignment he’d sort of ghosted everyone, for the lack of a better word. It was probably the stress of dealing with his assignment partners, he’d done the same last time. Still… in a town and world with ghosts it couldn't hurt to try to check in on him. Tuck was a big boy now he could hold his own in a ghost fight but he didn’t like the idea of leaving him to it. Call him what you will but obsessions were just like that.

Maybe he was a little possessive.

Just a touch.

“Oh Danny!” his mom squealed as a new song filtered in. The Uber driver rolled his eyes, clearly he thought no one could see him but Danny caught it in the rear view mirror. ” I love this song, isn't it rad!”

He tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was so ridiculous. His parents were doing this on purpose! They had to be! There was no way that they weren’t no one was that out of touch. That behind on lingo. Warm giggles and chuckles bubbled forth, messy and loud. The kind of laugh only those closest to him could coax out of him. Back in school it was only Tuck and Sam that got him to laugh like that (maybe Jazz if she was lucky) make him lose his composure so quickly, but more and more readily his parents had been able to also force the laughs out of him.

If only fourteen year old him could see him now. He’d be so embarrassed. Sitting in the back of an Uber laughing openly at something silly his mom was doing. She said something he couldn’t catch, teased him probably for laughing. A random pop song and the air coming in from the drivers open window were just loud enough to cover even a raised voice. Even still the there was comfort. Whatever she said was from a place of love.

He loved car rides sometimes. He didn’t always appreciate them when he was younger, kind of like how he felt about his parents. Especially when he was 14 but now? They were some of his favourite times spent with his parents. He just couldn’t help it, something about the rolling scene and music with easy conversation lulled him. It helped keep his obsession at bay, blocking it from flaring if he could see that some of the most important people in his life were there, in front of him safe and sound.

He still ached. Felt that compulsion to check Sam and Tuck. Rather than scream like normal it was a soothing whisper. He was able to drunkenly send them a text about how much he loved them without the skin crawling need to see that they were still standing.

The Uber slowed to a crawl, the Sudan squealing as they stopped. Man that guy really needed to replace his breaks. He could get in a wreck and then whoever he was ferrying around could get seriously hurt.

No!

He shook his head; he couldn't let his obsession obsess on something so small. It was probably safe to look out of the window again so he chanced a look. Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion.

“Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked.

Maddie scowled,“ Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him.

“It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

Damn he hadn’t meant to forget the occasion but he couldn’t help it his mind was already prone to wandering and the alcohol was just making it worse. Really it was a miracle he passed highschool in the first place, even when sober his mind just struggled to latch onto subjects, and that was before he had to nightlight as Phantom, hell it wasn’t even nightlighting it was a full double life. Really he didn't even know how he was managing college with the heroing on the side. Best guess if he was pressed to give one was that his parents’ disappointment and the desire to go to space was combining into the ultimate peer pressure. Funny how his brain worked like that, maybe Jazz could explain that to him. She was good for stuff like that. Explanations for why his brain was weird. She tried to give him an acronym for it one time something with A's. An attention thing of some sort. He'd have to ask her about it again sometime so he could wrap his mind around it.

“Hey!” Jazz opened the door, her face inches from his, the scent of some fruity cocktail on her breath,” get out Danny, and remember, act normal. At least for dad’s sake.”

“Yeah,” he waved her off stumbling to his feet, honestly it wasn’t fair that the ground was so unsteady beneath him, kind of transphobic if you asked him. “If you wanted me to act normal then why’d we all get plastered?” he joked.

“Shush,” Jazz clamped a hand on his face, their slow amble up the church's many steps paused. “Don’t lick a gift horse in the mouth Danny, you know this will be insufferable.”

He licked her hand, she recoiled, wiping the spit off on her fancy black dress.

“Danny!”

He stuck out his tongue in retaliation.

“Behave, ”she chided.

He rolled his eyes and followed her. It was just a funeral, what was the worst they could get into?

The second he stepped in the church threshold he knew. It put his whole body on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the faintest trickled of mist? ghost vaper? Ghost breath? He actually had no clue what it was that came out of his mouth.

Well he never really understood what he was saying half the time anyways, his mouth had a habit of running out from under him. The worst case of that was just the other week, he was talking to Sam over skype about something and he’d forgotten that she knew about Phantom, how really he had no clue, and he just went on for about twenty minutes making some out there wild excuse for why he’d missed their last hang out when she’d stopped him.

Honestly it was getting embarrassing, even worse was trying to keep things he said to his parents in each form separate. He really had to tell them soon.

It was so easy when he was 14 the breadth of his conversations with them as Phantom at the time could be summed up with a snarky quip from him or a “I’m gonna dissect you” from them. Now though they seemed to be fully taking seriously the notion that ghosts had depth to them. Which while true was deeply inconvenient for him. That meant he had to have interactions with them as Phantom and keep his identity straight ( ha ). Maybe he should be grateful, they weren’t threatening to dissect him anymore that was certainly a plus, they still definitely wanted to examine him however. He had considered it, in the depth of the night, allowing them to examine him only to drop the transformation part way through. It’d be funny, just a little bit to catch them off guard like that. But they didn’t deserve a coming out like that. He stifled a groan, he thought he was done with the closet when he’d come out but no life just had to never end and add in ghosts.

“Danny,” Jazz hissed at him.

He slurred out a huh at her in confusion.

Damn he’d been staring out at nothing, the Pastor? Priest? He didn’t know the difference to be honest, was still talking about Vlad. Shit that’s right! The second he’d walked in his ghost sense had gone haywire, Vlad was still (half) alive in that plush ass casket. He wondered how bad it'd be to fake a stomach ache and transform into Phantom for some ass kickery. Knowing his luck though Vlad might just feign full death embrace just to make a fool of him.

He would do that, fake his death, hell he was doing it right now! Motive was still unclear to him but Danny was going to get to the bottom of it. The man at the front, religious figure of whatever denomination, was gesturing large and big as he wrapped up. It was really official, and stuffy, when he finally fully died he wanted his funeral to be nothing like this. Maybe Tuck's ideas of dramatic funeral pranks were where it was at. Or maybe even Sam's ideas of celebratory parties that remembered the dead's life. He wouldn’t object to either of those.

Alcohol was fading out of his system again, well it’d been nice while it’d lasted but it’d probably be best to not be sloshed if Vlad wanted to cause a scene.

He sat at the edge of his seat as his father came up for a speech.

“Vlad,” his father stopped to blow his nose,” Vlad was a good friend of mine in college, w-we,” his lip trembled, his large jaw hammering up and down as he stammered for words. It took everything in Danny to not sink into the pew bench in embarrassment. Jack was for all intensive purposes the only person in the entire church that seemed genuinely broken up about the billionaire’s death.

“We drifted apart for a while, and he’d just started to come back to mine and my wife's lives a few years ago and- and- I-I sorry,” he winced as his fathers voice died.

While he didn’t understand his fathers affection for the man his heart couldn't help but ache for the man’s sorrow. His father had such a large heart. He was so trusting and held so much affection in his large beating heart. It was a weakness and a strength. One his mother often said he inherited. He didn’t know if he could see it. He wasn’t so soft, so trusting, so eager to love and care as his father. Then the larger man hadn’t been burned the same. Hadn’t had his heart half electrocuted to death like him.

His mom walked up on the stage, he was briefly impressed by her composure, she was buzzed but also in heels and looked to all the church exceedingly well put together. Quietly she was speaking her hands gently on Jack’s shoulders patting his back soothingly. She often sold herself short. Stating her heart not to be as big, Danny didn’t believe that, not really, his mother was just more careful in those she let in.

“I wasn’t as close to him as my husband,” she admitted, having softly taken the mic from Jack. her fingers were curled around it softly, but her other hand was in her hair. She was fidgeting and searching for words,” but I’m sure those he was close to will miss him dearly.” she said tight lipped. Jack whispered something to Maddie quietly making her smile tightly and nod. The man moved to his seat and let his wife continue his speech in his stead.

It was nothing notable really, Danny wasn’t one for paying attention to speeches or lectures and a funeral would not be an exception. He caught a few snippets though, his moms implication that she liked him better in college. A line hoping that in death that he could hopefully move on from the past. He really tried to not laugh at that one clearly because she'd noticed the exes. How many of them had known before? How many of the exes had to learn of their blueprint right then and there in the funeral.

Still he sat teetering on the edge of his seat, half paying attention to her words and mind half trained on that open casket. Vlad lay there in the plush box waiting. What for he couldn’t tell yet but he wasn’t going to be caught unaware.

The speeches couldn’t have ended any slower in his opinion. He wished that the alcohol hadn’t run it’s course already. It was so much easier to get through shit when his mind was quieted and his obsession was dulled. Instead he was forced to wait, his waking obsession tearing at his insides making him wait. Watch the lingering guests with apprehensive eyes. A few were expected. Gaggle of divorced exes. Some smattering of people that vaguely had Vlad's chin and nose. It was bizarre, some looked wildly like him and others well. They were utter strangers to Danny. They all were but they seemed almost faceless in how unknown they were. Interestingly none of them really seemed that choked up. He’d never expected troves of people depressed about Vlad’s passing. Still to only have one sobbing mourner? Maybe they just grieved differently...

Yeah maybe.

About when he got his water from the refreshments table he realized that Vlad really wasn't pulling a stunt. Still he had no clue why he was in that damn casket if he was still (half) alive in there. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, his worst nightmare was being trapped in one of those, yet Vlad had clambered in willing foot after foot laying stricken and board straight for all that he knew to see him. It didn’t make sense. There had to be some trick.

There had to be.

He thought maybe after his father had bowed his head over the casket head in hands loud body wracking sobs shaking his shoulders that Vlad might then spring to life (ha) and attack them. No, instead he remained laying in that coffin, the soft plush pillow under his head holding him still, the flowers in hand still clutched in strict fingers. He must have some sort of long con going on then. Some sort of goal he was aiming to reach by laying stricken and dead.

Wouldn’t be the first time the man had pulled a bizarre stunt. The time he’d kidnapped Danny and his mom sprang to mind. But there were few situations that came to mind where faking one’s death could come in handy.

A severe looking man walked up to him a small plate of hors d'oeuvres in hand. Sam would hate the sight of the small snacks, not a single one was vegetarian. And Tuck? He’d be laughing his head off at the name and size. He really had to rope them into a trip to the movies or arcade sometime soon.

The man greeted him, straightening his professional looking tie as he spoke. The man was exceedingly out of place, in a clean and crisp business suit that hardly matched the tone of mourning clothes. Then his parents were wearing their jumpsuits under their fancy clothes so glass houses and all that.

The man was painfully dull giving Danny his condolences in a rather stilted and clunky tone. The man clearly didn't want to be there. He raised an eyebrow at the man as he finally asked how he knew the ‘deceased’.

Telling the man something to the effect of, “Just through my parents,” somehow making it clear to the man that he wasn’t particularly choked up by the billionaire's death. Gee he wondered what gave it away, his flat unaffected tone? Or the fact that Vlad was a billionaire with no moral backbone.

Huh, he must really be missing Sam a lot to be thinking like that. he hated to admit it but she was kinda right.

Business suit was disinterested in conversation with Danny after that, he hastily wrapped up the conversation. Man even muttered “shame.” under his breath, if Danny wasn’t half dead he wouldn't have caught it. But well nothing ever really worked out well for bureaucrats did it?

Had Vlad seriously faked his death to avoid paying a few measly bucks? The man was a billionaire! He must really owe them a mean amount of money for them all to arrive at the funeral like this. Maybe they hoped the will would work in their favour? Not far in front of the refreshment table were two suits talking unabashedly about the amounts that Vlad owed them. If it weren’t for the setting Danny would think that they were coming or going from an important meeting.

For what was probably the first time he properly looked at all of the guests. Actually taking them in, a good chunk like he’d noticed before were the exes that half looked like his mom, and their kids (hopefully they weren’t biologically Vlads). Then there were the vague family members that looked like Vlad watered down with kindness. But the rest? Suits and-

Oh.

Oh he had to step behind an archway and stuff a fist in his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Vlad had fucking bounty hunters being sent after him! It was karmic, he had to stop himself from busting a gut right then and there in the middle of a church. It was already blasphemy enough to be the walking dead he didn't want to also throw in disrespecting the (only mostly) dead into the mix.

Well at least they weren’t all debtors, lurking around the corners and edges of the room was a guy he’d worked with as Phantom a few years ago. He was kind of hot in a rugged sort of way. If it weren’t for Sam and Tuck he’d have considered flirting seriously with the other man. As it was his joking flirting got him in trouble with the other two.

He was really acting up being normal, that rugged man. Mingling about with other people dressed neatly.

Clear to only Danny what he was, what the others like him were, the man wandered unaware that Danny was watching him. Ironically he only knew they were bounty hunters because Vlad had hired the rugged man and his crew to hunt Phantom that time a few years ago and now? Oh the tables have turned. Someone, maybe one of the exes, or the debtors wanted him dead. Damn what had Vlad done?

Ghost Zone inhabitants had mixed opinions on him, many of which wanted him dead or knocked down a peg. But that was the Ghost Zone, half of them wanted Danny dead at some point or another. This was the human world. Earth and shit, it was much harder to piss off someone to the level of murder. Not impossible but damn. He grinned at this, Vlad was (half) alive and (sorta) well in that casket and he couldn’t do anything if he started to stir shit up. Life was beautiful, twinkling and gorgeous, he decided. He Didn’t need Tucker and Sam to have fun.

He started with one of the exes. He went out of his way to ignore her dyed red hair and pale purple eyes as he talked with her. It wasn’t her fault that Vlad had a complex, he reminded himself as the woman talked. Fault couldn’t be pinned on her for the parallels he could search between his mother and her. She was nice in a weird way, again really like his mom. It was unnerving. He kept trying to ignore her beady eyed gremlin of a child as she talked to him about the will.

Whatever Vlad had done for all the people in his life to only care about the will and the will alone Danny wanted to do the express opposite. It was almost painful in a way to watch all of these people act like they weren’t only here for the money. Served the man right, it was still depressing, the man had everything on paper but not a damn thing in reality.

“Do you think his daughter will show?” he tactfully added into the conversation after the woman had made some condolences about his family and Vlad.

“Daughter?” the woman asked, her large eyes blinking slowly,” I'm sure you're mistaken, Vlad told me he doesn’t have kids.”

“Oh,” he said, feigning apology, inside he was loving this, sure Vlad couldn’t admit the truth about the clones but clearly the man had seriously left out some details to his ex lovers. “Are you sure? ‘Elle is nineteen now,” he said, it was technically true if you counted right. She was also only seven if you counted right. It was all about semantics.

“Ninete-” the woman stammered something hard settling in her eyes,” he told me he didn’t want to have children,” she looked down at her angry eyed child (he hoped the little dude didn’t kick him in the shin) who had a hand fisted in the end of her dress. “If you’ll excuse me, Daniel, this was an- enlightening conversation.” he watched her walk away to a woman with a big chunky bracelet.

Also a redhead. Of course.

A sharp pain seared in the top of his ear he prevented himself from yowling out as the fingers attached dragged him over to a corner.

"ow ow ow," he whined out quietly trying heard not to draw attention to himself. It didn't really work.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jazz hissed at him when they were hidden away from the rest of the group.

“First of all: ow!” He rubbed his ear delicately between his finger pads,” I’m not a child anymore, maybe borderline sibling abuse was funny in 80’s sitcoms but it's not anymore.”

Jazz rolled her eyes,” second of all?” she pressed, she was still slightly buzzed and yet she was still holding herself with so much composure. Kind of impressive, if she hadn’t just physically threatened to rip his ear off.

“Secondly I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Not do-” Jazz floundered,” Daniel!” she hissed out again struggling to keep her tone low. Damn she was mad, she only pulled out the full name when really fucked up,” I know your relationship with Vlad was- complicated.”

He snorted,” he tried to kill me multiple times, Jazz.”

“Yes bu-”

“Dark Dan,’’ he pressed further.

“I get it!” she snapped in a whisper-shout,” but a funeral isn-”

“He isn’t dead Jazz. Or really fully dead I guess I should say,” he laughed

Jazz rolled her eyes,” This is concerning behaviour Danny.”

“W-what?” he asked.

She tapped her chin pensively, she was psychoanalyzing him again, gag, “You must be transferring your complicated feeling about him into-”

“Jazz,” he groaned. It was best to stop her before she got on a roll, “Ghost senses remember? He’s still not fully dead, I can tell. He faked his death.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh," I'm not saying I believe you, but say he did fake his death-”

“He did.”

She shot him a look, “Why? Why would he fake his death? He’s a rich ceo multi-billionaire with more money than most of us can conceive of, nonetheless actually obtain, what does he get out of faking his death?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, this was easier when Jazz was talking to one of Vlad’s cousins ignoring him stirring the pot.

He explained what he’d pieced together so far, with the suits and hunters lurking around the edges of the room it was easy to point out how out of place they look. Slowly a realization fell on her face, an acceptance of what he was saying.

“When I was talking to the stepford exes they were all talking about who would get the estate.”

“Do they know who?” he asked.

Jazz shook her head,” no the will was kept really secretive from all of them. There was even a bit of an altercation from two of the younger ex girlfriends over it.”

He winced at that, he couldn’t blame them for being mad he just wished Vlad wasn’t faking death for them to take it out on. “The bottle red and the one with the big bracelet?” he prompted, remembering the end of his conversation with the former.

“No that’s Maddison and Maggie, the two that fought were Morgan and Melenie.”

“Maddison? Maggie? Morgan? Melenie?” he repeated with a grimace voice getting higher with each name.

“Yeah I know,” she said with a sigh,” a textbook case of projecting an ex, or in this case crush, on future partners leading to a string of failed relationships,” she frowned looking over at the group of clustered red heads. Danny followed and examined them, they were all looking at something their eyes occasionally darted over to-

Oh of course, mom, they ‘d probably done the math already. He winced at the thought. He’d half thought about it before finding the notion funny. Now in his sparkling sobriety of the evening he couldn’t find the humour.

“At least they all mostly get along,” Jazz offered, trying to look away from how the dozen or so women were looking at the one woman they were all stacked against.

“Really?” he blinked at her,” I’d have thought that they’d all be fighting cause of the- well you know,” he gestured to the, everything, of the situation.

She shook her head,” no, they seem to all understand that it was all on Vlad, two of them, Mackenzie and Melody,” she clarified to even more of his confusion,” even found out that they were seeing him at the same time. How they didn’t know with all of the press that followed him I’ll never know, but they decided to team up on the legal front if there are any issues with the will.”

“Really.”

Jazz nodded,” yeah I was surprised too, but good for them, Vlad went around causing too many issues in their lives.”

He nodded in agreement as he looked at at the sea of redheads, some of them had grown out their hair revealing dark roots, some had hair styled in poufy curls reminiscent of his mothers old style and one of them had completely cut her hair into a half shaved look, it was actually similar to the look that Sam had now.

“Want to cause some problems for him?” he asked.

“Danny, legally and socially he’s dead, what could we do?”

“Legally yeah,” he agreed,” but technically he’s still half alive in there, and can hear everything that people say-”

“Are you suggesting that we ruin his reputation?” Jazz asked with a poorly hidden smile. He loved that in the years she’d loosened up. It was a good look on her, relaxation.

“Ruin?” He said, in mock scandal, ”I'm merely suggesting we bring it down to where it belongs.”

“Oh ‘merely’ what is that a fifth grade word? I'm impressed!” Jazz teased.

He shoved her lightly with a laugh,” oh fuck off I’m in college now you know.”

“Really? Accredited and everything?”

He stifled his laugh,” shut up, you know dealing with ghost shit messed with my grades.”

Truthfully he’d expected her to joke further about it, to razz him about doing so much, or maybe analyze him, diagnosis him with trauma. Instead she hugged him.

“I’m sorry so much was put on your shoulders so young,” her voice was raw. Too raw.

He patted her back, stomach squirming. Because what was he to do with that? The tender care held for him in the cracks of her fingers. The sorrow that settled in her pores all for him?

“Hey stop that,” he eventually said, pulling back,” or I'll make clockwork take me back in time so you never find out.” He didn’t mean it, he never did.

Jazz laughed a little wetly, he didn’t comment on it. Why would he? Also didn’t get a chance as she ruffled his hair, despite the fact that he was now much taller than her. “People are allowed to care about you, asshole.”

He scrunched his nose up at that,” ew what? I detest affection.”

“Oh detest another good one, really racking up those vocab words huh?” she sniffled her hands on her hips, a little lean in her back as she smirked.

Snorting, he stepped back and fixed his hair,” how about we make this a competition?”

“Huh?”

“First one to make Vlad burst out of his casket and rage in ghost mode wins.”

“Really? What would the winner get?”

He tapped his chin making a humming noise,” how about this, loser has to reveal their secret.”

Jazz laughed nervously,” I don’t have a secret Danny.”

Danny gave her a look,” Jazz, I’ve met your girlfriend.”

She bit her lip looking down at his outstretched hand, a debate playing in her eyes.

“Hey you don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he said softly,” this is just meant for fun after all.” he knew better than most what forcing this stuff did.

”No, it’s fine,” she took his hand and shook, if a little clumsily,” that doesn’t mean they have to meet her though.”

“Oh don’t worry,” he said,” it won’t be my fault if they do that’ll be entirely on them.”

“Danny!” she exclaimed at him as he fled to the other side of the church. Finally this funeral was going to be interesting!

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked the swaying uncle of Vlad. The man smelled of beer and hors d'oeuvres. Not that Danny could judge if it wasn’t for the thick layer of spray on deodorant that his mom smothered him in right before he got in the uber then he’d probably smell just as rank. Then there was the fact that he’d pregamed to.

The older man narrowed his eyes at Danny, he was shocked to see the man he looked to hardly be much older than Vlad yet he was his uncle? He’d gone to ask about it but thought better about it, the less lore he knew about Vlad’s family the better, he really didn’t want to know about how many kids and when and how the Masters ‘clan’ had. Conversation with the older man was… stilted, to say the least. But he was certain that if he told him something then it wouldn’t get back to him. And that was half the game wasn’t it? Finding a way to spread the most rumours without people finding out it was him or Jazz. All without powers of course, that almost went without saying.

The man didn’t seem too broken up about Vlad, they probably weren’t that close and Danny had always gotten the impression from the billionaire that he was a smidge too snobbish to fully have developed relationships with people. As often as he teased Jazz for being snobby, she at least was nowhere near as bad as Vlad. Man damn near invented snobbishness and assholery. He’d have to ask clockwork if Vlad’s ancestors were just as bad. Judging by some of his family, probably not.

“Well before he passed,” Danny prompted, pausing in a way to snag the older man's attention.

“Yes?” the older man asked when he didn’t continue.

“Well,” Danny fidgeted with his nail,” you know his signed Packers jersey?”

The older man nodded eagerly.

Danny looked to the side,” it’s a fake,” he whispered to the man.

“Really?”

He nodded,” yeah, but please don’t tell anyone,” he added,” it’s bad enough that they know he was banned from buying the team-”

“He was what?”

Danny fought to hide a smirk. He knew it’d be easier to sell this lie if he started smaller.

“I thought everyone knew!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, most of the town knows, it’s just, no one talked about it to be polite.” okay that might have been overselling it a bit but the distant relative seemed to really be drinking it in.

“What did he do?”

Danny looked side to side like he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

“Well a few years ago when he was closing the deal to buy the team he got caught stalking some of the members!”

“Really?” the uncle asked,” wha- why?”

Danny shrugged,” they never really found the reason he was following them, he was even trying to seduce some of the wives.”

The man gasped,” I- really?”

Danny nodded. “But you can’t tell anyone you have to promise me.”

He watched as the man smiled in what he thought was slyness,” of course! I just, with all of those wives he had!”

Within the next five minutes Danny heard the rumour circulate across the room and it had grown legs. How glorious those rumours legs were.

“I heard he’d tried to break up a marriage on the team!” an ex wife (Maggie maybe?) hissed.

The other ex (Mary? The other woman might have called her) laughed,” would it really be any surprise? With what he did to Morgan and Melenie?”

The first woman nodded sagely,” fair I can’t believe I even fell for his tricks.”

All things considered the rumour was spreading well, and there was not even a gasp of a suggestion that he was the source. He couldn’t wait to hear what Jazz had invented, with the rumbles he’d already started to hear, it was probably great. Jazz always did have a way of getting into people’s heads. Find what interests them the most.

“So this daughter of Vlad's?” the woman he was talking to prompted, he vaguely remembered Jazz saying her name was Maddison. She’d found him again some time later; her child now safely deposited over by the other kids with their group babysitter. They were in the middle of the church now, the other two still whispering about the packers' spouses.

“ ‘Elle?” he asked as if he’d forgotten.

The woman nodded her curls bouncing as she did.

“Can I see a picture of her?”

He pulled up an older photo of them hanging out, the picture was grainy and they were both sticking their tongues out at the camera. Shit he’d really forgotten how alike they looked.

“You both-” the woman said before stopping. She glanced at his parents.

Shit he had to go into damage control,” well she’s also my cousin,” he fibbed.

“Cousin?”

“Yes! Technically once removed? Or something like that, I didn’t meet her until a few years ago, we were really blown away with the family resemblance!” he laughed. "Really it's uncanny!" He continued.

Too far! Too far! He was leaning into it too much! It wasn’t like he could just tell her the truth, that Dani was Vlad's only successful half dead clone of him! Then he’d also have to out two things about himself to her.

“She travels a lot,” he added. He really needed to learn when to shut his big mouth,” she was in Paris a few years ago actually.”

“Really?”

He couldn’t even blame the alcohol! He was just this stupid naturally huh? They’d been saying it for years Sam and Tucker, if only he’d taken them seriously before this. His idiocy might really be terminal.

“Yup, I haven’t seen her in awhile though, hopefully she visits again!”

Scrutinizing eyes scanned him up and down, darting from each corner of his face hunting out the ruse. He really needed to learn to shut his big mouth.

“Do you have her number?”

Crashing noises filled his brain. Her number? The last thing that he had expected was interest in ‘Elle. he’d just thought that they’d get upset at Vlad and leave it at that.

“ ‘E-elle's?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry if this is prying but me and the other ladies,” she gestured to a few of them,” we’re talking and we want to support her!”

“I-” he hesitated, he hadn’t really planned for this,” what?”

The older woman nodded,” we all talked it out and if we get the estate we’re going to support one another and the kids, and it seems like ‘Elle just got stuck in the middle of this like the rest of us.”

“Yeah uh, let me just text her first?”

“Of course honey!”

Danny walked away from that conversation feeling distinctly weirder than before. Regardless he pulled up his phone and slid out the keyboard.

He opened up the “With an I” contact.

Hey i accidentally got you adopted by like fifteen random women that used to date vlad

5:43 p.m.

You what? Lul

5:45 p.m.

He looked up around him before typing out the next message

Yeah long story short he faked his death. Its weird

5:46 p.m.

I’m at the funeral and the exes wanna like support you?

5:46 p.m.

Well Vlad wasn’t good for much but at least i now have a multitude of mothers

5:47 p.m.

So i can give them your number?

5:47 p.m.

Yeah have at it! If this causes chaos for vlad im all for it !

5:48 p.m.

“So her phone number is.”

By the time he’d separated himself from that conversation a few more rumours were floating.

“I heard that the reason he died in a car crash is because he was on the run from the law!” one of vlad's relatives whispered.

“Really!” another responded.

Elsewhere some of the attending staff were murmuring too. “I heard that he got caught smuggling maple syrup cans from canada!”

“Cans?”

“Yes apparently the good stuff is canned there.”

He walked to a new group this time with the suits.

“I hear that the money in the accounts is dirty.”

“According to my source his invested stocks were backed with illegal funds.”

“If there’s drugs really attached to it like I was told then I don't want anything to do with it.”

“I agree it's hard enough to get money from wills with spouses involved. It's even harder if the feds sniff any drugs.”

“It might not even be worth it to try with all of the ladies,” a different suit complained,” I overheard them talking about lawyering up together if anything goes wrong.”

Another much older suit scoffed,” this business was much easier before the exes started working together.”

Finally he heard his own new rumour starting to gain some traction.

“Wasn’t it found out that he was stealing science equipment from the nearby college?”

“Oh whatever for?”

“I heard it was for making a specialty shampoo.”

“I’ve always wondered how he kept his hair so nice and shiny.”

Jazz was good, too good, considering that neither of them had really clicked into any social cliques in highschool. Now she was gossiping better than even any of the A-listers.

“It’s just such a shame that they can’t come,” Jazz was even fake sobbing, damn he was going to have to up his game.

“Who couldn’t come?” One of Vlad's older cousins asked, Danny wondered if Jazz was screaming inside at the hand she had around one of the older exes' waists, it was casual and tender. If one of Vlad's exes was getting together with his cousin because of the funeral , Danny would shriek from laughter, hell if he accidentally used his ghostly wail it’d be well worth it. Vlad of all people deserved to have a partner snatching occur to him.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Jazz said,” I thought that everyone knew,” she looked from side to side,” please don’t tell the other ex wives Monroe I’d hate for their feelings to get hurt over this.”

Damn she was good. The wife- Monroe who was leaning comfortably on the cousin nodded.

“Of course Jazzie,” she said in a deep comforting New York accent,” this can be brought up to them later more delicately later. Though I must admit,” she said after a pause where Jazz thanked her for her discretion.” I myself am curious who wasn’t able to come.”

“Well you know how he used to do ghost research with mom and dad?”

Where was she going with this? She was selling it well, Danny had to admit but for the life of him he couldn’t guess where this was going.

“Yes of course,” the cousin nodded as Monroe spoke.

“I can’t name the amount of times he used to write home in our youth about his little ghost adventures,” the cousin added.

Jazz nodded ,” well at the school there was the Lunch Lady Ghost and the Box Ghost, he was seeing them romantically in between their stays in the ghost zone.”

Danny held back a snort box ghost! If he laughed too hard in that moment he’d drop the ghost form and would fall on top of the group that’d gathered around her. As much control as he’d mastered over his abilities over the past couple years there was nothing that would be able to save him from Jazz’s wit.

“I’m sure box ghost is very helpful for moves,” one of the crowd commented amicably. The others though had nothing to say. Clearly they’d all actually met Box Ghost.

The gossip might have even stayed in that circle if it weren’t for another one of the cousins being right there and then deciding to tell his wife, who then told one of the ex-wives, who then told another, who then told a suit. So on and so forth.

By the time that Danny was back in human form and settled on the opposite side of Jazz’s conversation he was hearing the children that some of the wives had brought talking about Vlad ‘holding hands’ with the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady. Why couldn’t he have thought about that? It was so good, it was perfect, literally no one could prove it wrong. And embarrassing, seriously Box Ghost!

All the stuff he knew to be true about Vlad sounded so far-fetched.

Half ghost?

Well most people didn’t know about them.

The time he infected his two closest and longest friends with ghost pimples?

Needed the half ghost context.

If only there was some-

“I hate Vlad!” one of the kids near him cried out stomping down his foot.

Unsurprisingly all of the kids agreed, okay he was a little surprised, usually Vlad had the wool pulled over on most people. So the fact that all of these kids hated him really meant something.

“He stole my cotton candy at the fair!”

“Well he told me that I didn’t need to see daddy anymore cause he was gonna replace him!”

Eager ears pointed at them he drank in their every complaint. He’d known that Vlad was cartoonish levels of evil for awhile (see the infecting teens with ghost acne for personal gain as proof, or kidnapping him and his mom) but never had he truly expected for him to be so stupid as to do it all in the open in front of all of these kids. Then again some of this might be his obsession making him act out. Smallest sliver of him almost felt bad about that, the fact that Vlad was in a way forced to be this way, but it wasn’t really anything he wasn’t before. Obsessions just highlighted what was already there. Made it more severe.

“Uhm excuse me,” he tapped the shoulder of one of the shorter women,” Mallory?” He'd asked the babysitter for her name but for the life of him he was struggling to keep all of the exes straight in his head. There were just too many of them and they all looked too similar to his mom.

“Yes,” her eyes flickered with recognition,” Danny?”

He laughed,” yeah that’s me!”

“Some of the others were mentioning you!” she said with a bright smile taking his hand,” thank you for telling us about ‘Elle! I can’t believe he kept her a secret from all of us for so long.”

He nodded in agreement,” well about Vlad-”

“Oh no, what else was he hiding?” she asked, there was a laugh ringing from her but Danny didn’t need ghost senses to know it was dead on arrival,” I’ve learned so much more here at his funeral than I ever did when we’d been together.”

He laughed a little at that, a stilted awkward laugh that only filled his chest halfway. He almost felt bad telling her about this, but she deserved to know the truth. “Well I overheard some of the kids complaining about Vlad.”

He filled her in on what he’d overheard about the kids, the petty little actions of Vlad. The cotton candy he’d stolen (which was weird he’s rich), the fathers he threatened to replace, it was all so bizarre. Danny was about halfway through when the casket began to shake.

Vlad masters was not an impulsive man. He was calculated, smart and forward thinking. At least he certainly liked to think so. No impulsive man goes out of his way to plan his nemesis’ death and demise for twenty years. No reckless person would spend his time building an empire carefully crafting his abilities and connections for taking down his enemy. Vlad however to his greatest distaste was in fact still half human and not infallible. While he was meticulous and in his personal opinion exceedingly intelligent he had no way to properly plan for wrenches in his schemes.

The fenton boy, Daniel was his biggest hurdle but it was only a matter of time before he found the right way to tackle the issue. He was just a particularly big roadblock. If only his emotional attachment to his dunderheaded father wasn’t so strong. These issues were all small potatoes compared to the one he was in now. The details can be spared and smoothed over all that was truly important was that he was at his own funeral.

He’d always wondered what people's reaction to his death would be. Contact with his extended family had been… loose, for the lack of a better term since his ‘accident’. Deep down however he knew that when or if his time came, truly came, that they’d have a reaction. Probably sadness, he had been close to a few of them before his accident, hell he’d been close to them before his company had taken off. At the end of the day he simply had better things to do. Plans to make, revenge to ruminate on. It wasn’t his fault that they’d fallen to the wayside. They simply weren’t as important as Maddie.

He’d toyed with the idea that maybe his dear Maddie would sob over him, that she’d denounce Jack when she saw that he was no longer an option. How deeply poetic it’d be for that to happen. He never liked the idea of her only realizing their potential then but he couldn’t ignore the artful symmetry of it all. Some of the books that Maddie used to read in college had those even beginning and ends, those swooping through lines that tied it all nicely in a pretty bow. His first death had ripped her away from him. It’d gifted her to Jack on a silver platter, and his second oh how glorious it’d be if it drew her to him. Making her denounce her imbecile of a husband. Leaving the stocky man discarded. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder and even with its harsh edges his death bringing her close to him was something to behold. If only that was what he was watching happen.

Unfortunately for Vlad Masters Owner, Ceo, and founder of Vladco. Life was not an art piece nor a well orchestrated game of football. No instead he got to lay still (half) alive in his exceedingly expensive casket and listen to the dolt sob.

It started like all of the worst things while heading to the Fenton's for another plan to be set in motion. The restraining order was still being held up in the courts so there was technically nothing legally stopping him from seeing them, or especially her. Besides he was a billionaire, those things were more fine machines than anything for him. Once it was enacted all he’d have to do was pay a fine.

Unfortunately it was during the drive that issues started. Again finer details notwithstanding for he’d run them all in his head a thousand times now while laying in this blastedly comfortable casket. While on the drive it became clear to him he was being followed. No matter , he’d smugley told himself. He’d been followed by techbro fans before they were easy to deter. Easy to remove from his time and life. However in a deeply detestable turn of events the car following him did not belong to a fan.

He knew from the offset of seeing the make and model that it wasn't his average follower, those types usually had older beaters or worse highly expensive care that they had no business owning. No, instead this car was perfectly down the middle of class and price. How he detested those cars, they had no class. It was effectively similar to the many unmarked police cars that he used to have follow him during his brief stint as mayor.

Regardless the car was tailing his limo, it was simple at first to attempt to outmaneuver them. Eventually his limo was pinned.

Blah blah blah mindless details later some pointless shooting at him with guns and he’d jacked their car. In the end it was simply easier to fake a fatal car crash. then there were all of those witnesses that had to see his death. Walking it back was impossible all circumstances considered. At least when they attacked him they only knocked his driver out, the legal case of that would have been a logistical nightmare and he still had some hopes of getting access to his funds later.

It was almost funny in a karmic way. Almost as poetic as he had wanted pretending to be dead to be. Only problem was it was poetic in exactly the opposite way. The person that he hated most there sobbing the loudest. It’d be so much easier if it was Madeline sobbing. If she was sobbing, a faked death could be almost satisfying. If she melted down it could almost be worth it. Instead it was Jack Fucking Fenton.

Numerous things were to be expected from his funeral, Daniel's arrival, yes, Maddie’s, undoubtedly. Even Jazz’s and Jack’s all expected arrivals. Some of them were more annoying than others but they were the requisite arrivals. Even his gaggle of ex flings was to be expected (they had to try and get their hands on the estate and money somehow. Well jokes on them he’d left it all to Maddie). No, what he hadn’t been prepared for was Jack’s incessant wailing and sobbing.

The man was besides himself absolutely losing his mind right next to his goddamn open casket. It was getting hard to keep a straight face when he wanted nothing more than to leap from the plush silk sheets and throttle the man. His hands might not quite reach around the other mans thick neck but he could give it a good try he was sure. To put it simply and without intense amounts of rage he had mentally calculated for a lot of variables, not one of them being Jack of all people struggling to breath, choked out sobs instead of breaths coming from him as he hovered nearby. Not a single variable included being cried on by the most loathsome man in all of Amity Park. Every tear that fell on Vlad’s extremely expensive make up was another tally against the man’s. Had he no clue how hard it was to not flinch every time a drop of water splattered on his face? It was much harder than it looked he’d have him know.

Didn’t the idiot realize that he hated him? That he’d never cared for him? At least not since his death.

Worse was when Maddie and the Fenton children staggered in, he could smell the alcohol on them from a mile away. It was tasteless! The smell alone nearly made him leap from his casket and throttle them where they stood (Maddie with exception of course). Have they no respect for the dearly departed? Have they no care for social decorum? Those Fenton spawn would never survive in high class society. Not like himself and Maddie. Oh how he wished he’d never gone for those pale imitations. They hardly kept up with all that he needed.

All he had to do now was ignore everyone and get through the funeral and he could be Plasmius full time. Pursue Maddie 24/7 with no worries of the law (though with some worries of Phantom). If only those blasted Fenton's would stop spreading rumours about him! And he knew it was them! Who else would say such outrageous things?

Okay certainly if one wanted to be technical Danielle was his daughter, but he hadn’t raised her. She was not his blood, she was not his in the most important ways.

Then there was that rumour about the-

“He-hey Vlad.”

Oh, oh no.

“I uh, I’m gonna miss you.”

No no no no no! He couldn’t do this! He wouldn’t do this! He would not stand for this! He did not go out of his way to fake his death for this.

Jack blew his big blubbering nose into a handkerchief so hard it honked. Honked! He was going to throttle this man at his earliest convenience. Getting cried on he could deal with, revolting as it was. What he couldn’t and wouldn’t deal with getting yammered at. That was not in the details. He did not plan for this.

“I- uhm- I know we weren’t really close these last few years.”

That was putting it lightly.

“Or really at all since college,” there was a wet laugh from Jack.

If that oaf ended up coughing slobber on him- Maybe if he tried hard enough he could die for real, that’d be nice. He’d never really craved death before, not like in this moment. It’d be so much easier if he just didn’t have to hear this.

“I-I know you didn’t really like me in the end.”

Wait what? Had he finally gotten a clue? That was a first. Maybe his overt plotting had finally gotten through to the oaf. If Jack attacked him now that’d almost make this all worth it. He might even consider revealing he’s Plasmius if he did.

“I know I messed up, I-I must have hurt you, I don’t really know how, but- but uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Yes ye- He was what?

There was another laugh sob from his ex friend,” It’s probably too late since you’re uh- dead, but whatever it is I did to hurt you, I'm sorry. I hope,” he trailed off into a high pitched keening whine.

Stop stop stop! This is not what he wanted!

“I hope you rest well Vlad.”

Footsteps receded away from him at that.

Well what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? What in the world was he supposed to do with that knowledge? Internalize it? Grow and change as a person? He was (half) dead! He was well past the point of growth! He was beyond growth.

For all Jack knew he wasn’t coming back! For him and basically all of them he wasn’t coming back! The only person that would know was Daniel and maybe his sister if he told her. Maybe his brat friends if he messaged them.

What did Jack get out of telling him all of that?

Certainly not money, the will had left everything to sweet Maddie, not him. Some sort of moral upper hand? A sense of feeling like he got one over Vlad?

No the dolt wasn’t that complex, his intelligence lay somewhere between absentminded and incompetant on a good day, there was no moral forethought. Yet why did the words settle so deeply in a corner of himself? Carving out a crevice in him that ached and burned?

“Did you hear about why Vlad couldn’t buy the green bay packers?”

Why? Why did it dig in his flesh? why when he’d thought he’d burned all of that away.

I'm Sorry.

“No, why?”

Life was easier when he was fully alive. College life was simpler. At least then he could fool himself that Maddie thought of him equally as she did Jack.

“Well I heard that he was stalking the team!”

What?

Why would he stalk them? He’d never stalked someone once in his entire life! (death maybe but he’d never admit that) he could buy all the tickets to their games he had no reason to stalk them!

There was no practicality in stalking them. Just like Jack had no reason to apologize to him! The idiot didn’t even know what he’d done to hurt him. He hadn’t ripped the apology from Jack. He wasn't on his knees begging from him. Hell he didn’t even know that he’d killed Vlad. Jack Fenton was as oblivious to the fact that he’d died back in college as he was to the fact that his own son was dead and playing hero as Phantom.

The density of the man was rivaled by no other.

But then why did he apologize?

“Did you hear?”

He got nothing out of it.

Why did it ache?

Burn? He wanted for years nothing more than to make the man sob and beg for forgiveness.

Why did having it fulfill nothing?

“About him and the Box Ghost?”

Would it burn just as painfully if he finally got sweet Madeline’s confession? Would it ring just as hollow?

“I thought it was the lunch lady ghost?”

No. There was something about Jack that made it wrong. Something about that blathering moron that lashed the words to him like a blade.

“I think it was both.”

And what the hell were they all blathering on about? What was all of this nonsense about Box Ghosts and smuggling and stalking? What were any of their empty little words?

Did any of that really matter? Their blathering human rumours and petty squabbles when he, the very guest of honour in all ways but one was laying here before their very eyes on the precipice of something? He was teetering at some edge, he didn’t know what it was but he could just make out the shape of the hole he was almost toppling in, he just had to know what it was. He just-

“Well I heard-”

They heard- they heard! What did it matter what they’d all heard! Nothing that they heard could matter in the slightest not when he was dealing with this! Not when he was reeling with whatever this was! The weight and size of it completely overtaking him and yet none of them aware, he was suffocating being overtaken by the edge of knowledge some realization he’d yet to make and hee still couldn’t read it. All because they wouldn’t stop blathering on and on about what? Lies?

Stupid foolish tales spun by his greatest enemy!

By a child.

If it were not for the show and pageantry of it all, if it were not for the display that he’d set about around him he’d be yanking his hair by the roots, tearing it slowly strand by strand from his scalp. And if there was one thing that Vlad Masters was, it was a showman! He was dramatic and he was going to be so unabashedly it was not his fault that there was no one that yearned for his life to roll onwards like Jack. None of it could be held against him. He was a romantic! Everything he did was for her.

Had it truly all been for nothing?

All these years.

Had she never really cared?

“Dirty money, attached to drugs. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pool.”

All this time.

Did he really-

“Never even mentioned a daughter!

All his schemes!

Jack's tears were so warm when they cut the thick funeral makeup.

“So many secrets for him to keep.”

Dozens of attempts on his life!

Did he really care? The water on his face was still warm.

“Wasn’t the cause of his crash a run from the law?”

“Would you all just shut up already!”

Silence blanketed the church as Vlad’s voice finished ringing out the wooden box still perched on its little stage. The casket was still shaking and the flowers were falling from the box as the hush grew sharper. Energy crackled from the casket shooting out and blowing the bulb above. Glass fell from the light falling gently on the flower petals.

None one spoke, Danny’s father had a hand over his mouth, new large tears welling up. He looked green and pale, unlike most of the stunned guests he looked like he was about to be sick.

Danny shot a glance at Jazz, she nodded and jerked her head to the side. He ducked out. Things were about to get hairy.

There was no response from Vlad for a second as it seemed the outburst was done. Even the children who’d been shrieking with laughter and joy from their play for most of the funeral were silent. The falling glass and shaking box were deafening in the silence. Danny ducked behind a pillar and into the doorway that led to the restrooms. There was no one there. The closest person was his mom but she was standing silent and stunned not an eye tilted away from the casket. He couldn’t blame her.

It wasn’t everyday your incel stalker had a breakdown after he’d legally died.

He transformed. On the most part there weren’t many people near the casket. It was just a few lingering Exes, most people were near the refreshment table. His first line of action should be to grab the people near the stage and get them to safety. Then?

Well the rest was adlib.

At least he had stored the Fenton thermos in his suit jacket (just in case). If only Sam or Tucker were there. Things were so much easier with their help.

Just as he was about to jump into the situation, the group of exes all swarmed Vlad. Shit he’d have to replan everything. He wouldn’t be able to get in an ecto-blast with out the fret of hitting one of them. He could always try Ice or a little storm cloud?

Just as a new plan was starting to formulate one of them (Maria?) slapped Vlad hard across the face.

Smack.

The noise echoed loudly across the church.

He grimaced.

Oh.

He did not want to get in the middle of whatever that was. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of it at all. Backing back into the bathroom he turned back to normal. Didn’t matter what the situation was, he was not going to get in the middle of a dozen or so angry exes and Vlad. It was his grave (even if Danny had helped him dig it a little) like hell Danny was getting buried with him.

“Vlad Masters!” one of the exes screamed,” you slimy pathetic excuse of a man.”

Yeah Danny was not getting in that, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to watch.

“Ow!” Vlad cried out, his eyes were glowing red, but aside from that he still looked very much the same.

Weird, Danny didn’t expect him to stay in human form. He guessed it made sense if he changed into Plasmius the gig would be up. There’d be a lot of questions too. Knowing Vlad’s tendency to monologue he might even explain the concept of Halfa’s.

“M-Maria!” the older man stammered out,” darling hello-”

The woman smacked him again,” I’m Maggie,” she spat out.

Danny winced, yikes. Makeup covered Vlad's gaunt face but Danny could imagine the smarting red forming on his cheeks.

“Y-yes of course, how could I mistake your beauty, how foolish of me to compare the two of-”

The clearing of a throat interrupted as Maria herself tapped her foot.

“Maria!” Vlad exclaimed this time correct, even if taken by surprise.

“Yes,” the woman agreed,” but don’t mind me, what were you saying? Something about comparison?”

The billionaire awkwardly laughed as he seemed to take in the fact that he was surrounded by all of his exes. Phantom wasn’t even needed. Villain defeated right then and there by the rage and power of his many exes. Again Danny found himself desperate to find out whatever the older man had done to make everyone hate him so just to do the express opposite.

When he actually fully died he hoped his funeral wasn’t this… whatever plan he actually ended up with he just didn’t want this.

“So,” Jazz said as she settled next to him leaning on the pillar with him,” any idea what got him up?”

“Nah,” Danny shrugged looking over to his sister. She looked more sober now, less unstable on her feet.” He didn’t really decree what his gripe was this time.”

Jazz sighed,” so no winner yet.”

“Unfortunately,” he said,'' He also technically didn’t go ghost mode.”

Jazz groaned resting her head on his shoulder,” I wanted to go home, these heels are killing me!”

He stuck a tongue out at her,” shoulda transed your gender like I did,” he teased quietly.

“Ha! Really funny Danny,” she flatly commented with a roll of her eyes at the tired joke.

“Ah meany,” he pouted.

“You walk in these heels at a funeral,” she complained again,” At least if he went full ghost It’d be socially acceptable to ditch them.”

He bit his tongue remembering a rant that Sam had gone on recently about heels and social pressure. How she’d then thrown one of her platform boots at Tuck when he made a remark. Jazz probably wouldn’t appreciate his lovesick ramblings about them.

“Looks like we'll just have to continue to watch this unfold.” he said instead with a sarcastic twinge.

“Oh what a shame!” Jazz said flatly,” sucks to be us.”

Danny snickered as Vlad continued to try to dig himself out of his hole. How he wished Sam and Tucker were here. Unfortunately for him they were both far too busy. Ah well he’d just have to video it all for them.

How unfortunate for Vlad that he was made to sit through his own will reading, and how fortunate for Danny Fenton that he was the one that got to watch it all go down. In the entire time that he and Vlad had been nemesis he never knew just how much he wanted exactly this to happen. Actually if someone ever suggested this happening younger him probably wouldn’t have appreciated just how funny this was. No fourteen-to-fifteen him was far too invested in things like learning his powers and finding out just how observant the rest of town was. Also looking cool. Adult him however? Freshly 21 and college attending him? Oh he could enjoy the fuck out of this situation.

There was some minor debate among some guests over how ethical it was since Vlad's ‘ghost’ was now here to view the reading. Some point could be made that it might be weird...

“Isn’t it rude?” one family member had suggested.

But...

“It might be in bad taste,” another guest had even pipped up.

No one really liked Vlad anyways

“Oh no!” Morgan said,” I want to know what it says, and who better to see how accurate it all is.”

Oh how glad he was that those few were beaten out. How glad he was that the crowd was seeing blood. That the group was too nosey and invested in the drama to really get caught up in such small things as ethics. How grateful he was that the exes were in half a mind to Kill Vlad a second time.

Fortunate he was, that his luck was finally turning up. It might even be the universe trying to pay him back for all of the shit he’d been dealing with since he was fourteen. Return investment on the untimely youth death. Honestly if it was it was a pretty bang up start all things considered. He’d have to find out if there was a ghost involved in the control of karma. They might just end up with an edible arrangement on their lair door. Older adults loved that shit so ghosts should too.

“Hm,” the lawyer said when they entered the room with the walking corpse of Vlad masters. The office was small and hardly held everyone, but snugly, far too snugly for comfort they all fit on the other side of the large desk.

No one said anything to the lawyer. Whether the man had been privy to the rest of the funeral or had just arrived Danny didn’t know but he had to admit this entire situation was bizarre even with full context. Not many of them knew ghost rules and the only ones that did were in either stunned or gleeful silence. There was no objection to the fact that Vlad had dragged his body with him, not a voice descenting on the fact that his form hadn’t shifted. Not a single attendee seemed perturbed by the fact that Vlad was not really a ghost.

Even the paid bounty hunters didn’t know how to discern ghosts from humans judging by their stunned expressions. Though he’d love to watch one of them attack Vlad in the middle of a church. Stabbing a man in the house of god might just be a big sin, though Danny wasn’t sure.

“Well this is unprecedented,” the lawyer commented,” never in my time have I ever seen a dead man rise for the reading of his own will.”

Vlad grumbled but no one could make out the words as the two exes on either side of him glared.

Oh how fortunate Danny was indeed, never before had he ever been so glad for his untimely death. If it all led to watching Vlad squirm like this still trying to keep his alter ego a secret? Pain and strife, the many attacks and attempts on his life were worth it.

“Well if there is no protest,” the lawyer said. For a moment Vlad looked very much like he wanted to protest, but the glares of the exes kept him silent and made him snap his jaw shut. Danny knew what went into keeping a corpse looking fresh. Shame the mortician seemed to have skipped wiring the jaw shut. Then, Vlad didn’t seem to need physical wires to keep him silent and well behaved, his Exes were all doing that job very well.

“In that case,” the lawyer sounded queasy, if Danny wasn’t so invested with the drama unfolding he might have turned to verify. “Then I believe we will begin.”

The man started out by reading the long legal preamble, the paragraphs upon paragraphs of titles and information about Vlad that was included. Danny understood that him being the owner of VladCo was technically important for the will but did he need to include all of his ten titles at the company in the will? It just felt excessive. ‘Ceo, entrepreneur, founder, head of decisions, etc.’ did anyone care? Leaving out the most important title of ‘asshole’ was the biggest mistake of his will.

“Yes I think we get it,” Monroe said, her accent clipping the words in stiff professionalism. Bless her for cutting the pain short. “I do have,” the woman glanced at the cousin who was still holding her hand,” A more important social engagement to attend to with Carmila.”

The lawyer stammered,” yes of course ma’am my apologies.”

“It reads:

‘First, I hereby denounce all previous wills made by myself, Vlad Masters, no matter nature or kind.

Second I Vlad Masters hereby appoint,” the lawyer paused making a face before he continued,” Madeline Fenton love of my life as the executor of my estate, networth, and-” the lawyer paused,” the ownership of my beloved cat ‘Maddie the cat, the third-”

“Huh, I guess you listened to my suggestion after all and got a cat.” Danny muttered as at the same moment his mother reached her breaking point

“You what?” Maddie was standing out of her chair, indignation flaring in her eyes,” Vlad! I don’t want any of this.”

“But but,” Danny tuned the man out as he made the normal declarations of love. Trite at this point his mind was already trying to entertain itself. Fast forwarding this would be nice, if only his core was time based. But no he got Ice, and Weather, and other weird disconnected powers. He was electrocuted to death! Cruel that he didn’t get cool electrocution powers.

They were still arguing when he tuned back in. Loath wasn’t a powerful enough describer for this love diatribe that Vlad spewed every three to five business days. His mom yelled something back, a few of the ex wives even chiming in agreement. Well at least they didn’t hate mom that was a plus.

He shot Jazz a look as he repositioned his phone camera to get a better shot.

‘This again?’ he tried to communicated with his expressions. Tuck usually laughed when he tried and Sam told him he looked to constipated.

She shrugged and nodded as if to say ‘this again.’

“I am happily married! I told you I won't leave Jack for you!”

Tuning out the conversation didn’t seem to leave out many details. Everything was falling exactly into the same patterns as always.

“Maddie please-” the billionaire tried to beg.

This made the woman snap,” no don’t Maddie please me! You have not respected my decision to marry Jack since it happened, well guess what Vlad it’s too late for you! You were never even an option!” she turned to Jack and put a hand on his shoulder. her voice much softer when she spoke,” come on honey we’re leaving. Kids?” She turned to the two Fenton children. The both of them stood with no protest. Like hell they were going to end up on the wrong side of their mother right now. Mission orientated as she was they had no doubt she could commit Vlad's murder and get away with it. legally she might even considering the fact that he was technically a 'ghost' right now.

Just as she was about to step out the door she turned,” oh and ladies, don’t worry about a legal battle I’ll work with our family lawyer to transfer everything to all of you.”

There were some small thanks from the stunned Exes as the office door latched shut behind them.

The air in the car was-

Well the word tense didn’t really sum up the air but it was the best approximation that Danny had. It could have gone worse, he supposed he could have genuinely ended up fighting Vlad again. Chances where that if he fought Vlad while he was Plasmius that the formerly rich business mogul would then use the moment to out Danny as Phantom. Not just his family but all of the church. If he had to rate the evening it was definitely not as bad as he expected. About a six or seven, depending on his critical he was being.

“Uh so who won the bet?” he whispered to Jazz. he wasn’t worried about his parents, Maddie was soothingly rubbing circles on Jack’s back as the man drove. That and they were sat in the back, sometimes the front seats struggled to hear them at a normal level forget a whisper.

Jazz furrowed her brows,” I guess neither of us really won, he didn’t even go ghost.”

Nodding, he thought back to the man’s loud entrance,” He also didn’t say what rumour got him up.”

“So do we both lose?”

“I guess?” he looked over to his parents,” so we both tell them?”

Jazz sighed leaning back in her seat, hair dramatically laying behind her,” yeah I guess.”

“You don’t hav-”

Jazz cut him off with a snort,” no it’s fine, my things not really as big all things considered.”

Fair, she had a point with that. Their parents already knew that she was interested in men and women but still revealing partners to them was always weird and nerve wracking. The first time he’d introduced Sam and Tuck as partners and not friends he’d expected a lot more questions. Turns out if you hunt ghosts for a living nothing is really weird after that. They just bought him new sex ed books. Sentiment appreciated but still weird considering he could google that sort of thing now.

“So Danny,” his mom said, her fingers tightened on her phone. They were lucky she got old brick Nokias instead of those new Smart phones. She’d break them in a week. Jack wasn’t paying them much attention as he drove, he seemed to still be shell shocked. Hopefully he didn't crash, okay so maybe he didn't always like car rides. Sometimes the looming threat of a car crash really messed with his obsession.

“Yeah mom?” he asked.

“I was talking to some of the ladies.”

“Uh huh?” wherever she was going with this he didn’t like the tone.

“And imagine my surprise when one of them tells me Vlad has a daughter.”

“Weird right,” he said. Please stop, please stop! He begged, wherever this was going it was nowhere good. It would have been better if he’d just died in that accident. Screw whatever he thought back when he thought his luck was turning up. He was still the most unlucky bastard in all of amity park.

She hummed in agreement,” and imagine my surprise when they said she was your cousin.”

Danny didn’t have a response to that, Jazz was stifling a laugh next to him.

“And then,” she said,” she showed me a picture of her.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, Danny," there was a pause as she seemed to collect her words," why does she look like you pre transition?”

“Does she?” sweating wasn’t really something he did so much anymore, not since his core started cooling his mortal flesh, it was nice sometimes. But it didn’t stop nervous sweating. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Hadn’t- Danny,” his mother sighed,” sweetie if you want to start presenting as a girl again you can. We won’t judge you.”

Wait what, “ what?!”

Shrieking loud bursts of laughter came out of Jazz.

“Jazz!”

That set him off, it was just so ridiculous.

“Honey I’m serious,” his mom sounded so upset her tone lost. She really was trying.

He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t his fault. It was just so out of the realm of what was happening. Man his parents really didn’t have any of the facts.

“Danny?” his father asked the tenseness in his shoulders from the funeral leaving way to confusion.

Him and Jazz made eye contact and the laughing got so much worse. If being part dead didn’t make him need to breathe so much less he’d be choking. He’d die, it was just- they still didn’t know and somehow that was all the funnier. God he was calling Tuck and Sam right after he explained everything they were going to get such a kick out of this. Especially Tucker.

“That’s not-” wheezes high and stringy, cutting him off, he was struggling even with his ghost lungs.

“Danny my boy,” Jack asked quietly,” what’s funny?”

“We’re trying to support you Danny!” his mother exclaimed.

Finally he quelled the laughter enough to speak,” okay okay,” he whipped a tear from his eye. “I’ll explain it all it just probably isn’t something dad needs to be driving for.”

“Danny what do-”

“Just trust me okay?” he grinned at his mom in what he hoped was reassurance.

She sighed and looked at her husband, Jack furrowed his brows and the pair silently communicated before the man hit his turning signal.

The small side road was perfectly out of the way enough that no one would be able to peer in. It was some half abandoned picnic area but none of them reached for their seatbelts to leave the car. It was just the closest spot they could stop.

“Okay,” he started giving Jazz a look, she nodded comfortingly,” Remember how the portal didn’t work at first?”

It took them a moment but they nodded in remembrance.

“Right well I died.” it was best to just rip the Band-Aid off.

“What?”

“Danny- honey you’re not dead.”

He thought so at least, he sighed pinching his nose,” I need you guys to wait for questions till the end okay?”

“But honey you’re not dead!” she didn’t sound so sure as she looked him over.

“What your mother said my boy! You’re sitting right there!”

Danny groaned,” guys please?” there was a pause as they looked at each other and finally finally agreed to wait till the end. “Sam said I should check it out, see if I could fix it. I put on my suit, and,” he made a buzzing noise with his tongue,” the button shocked me to death when I hit it. It was dark so I didn't see,” he looked to the side. The trees outside were swaying peacefully in the wind. Jazz put a hand on his shoulder, he took a steading breath and clenched the hand with the thin invisible scars. “It was an accident but,” he turned back to them resolution in his eyes,” I died that day, When I woke up, well, brace yourselves okay,” he let the tugging cold of hic core shift and change his appearance.

There was silence. He’d expected something but, no, even Jazz wasn’t saying anything.

He cracked an eye open, his parents were staring at him dumbfounded. Yeah that was about par for the course.

“Well this happened and now, I’m half Ghost,” he admitted,” everyone in the ghost zone knows that’s why there were always so many attacks at the school.”

“Half?” his mom asked despite herself.

Danny nodded,” yeah I still age, and need to eat and breath... mostly on that last one. It’s kind of cool I can go invisible,” he demonstrated before changing back,” and phase through things and float,” he demonstrated both in succession allowing the belt to glide through him as he hovered up an inch. “Shoot Ecto-blasts… probably best if I don’t do that one in the car though,” he laughed.

“Okay,” his mom said.

“Okay?” he asked.

His father nodded,” sure Son, we love you. It’s weird but, well we hunt ghosts for a living.”

He laughed,” yeah fair enough.”

"I-" his mom looked over at Jack," We're proud of you sweetie, that's a lot to undertake at so young."

he chuckled," it wasn't so bad, I had a lot of help," he grinned at Jazz," Between her Sam and Tuck I don't know if I would have lasted half the battles I did."

"You knew Jazz?" Their father asked his tone soft and slightly hurt.

She smiled softly," yeah, I walked in on him transforming. Thought it was best if I let him tell you guys."

"Part of the apprehension might have been the dissection thing," Danny addmited.

"I- honey-" his mom put a hand over her mouth in shock.

"I'm sorry son," His dad said," it was closed minded of us to assume stuff about ghosts we didn't know."

"Well you weren't always wrong. Just usually."

“So ‘Elle?” his mom prompted before Jack could pepper in questions about what the got right.

He sighed,” yeah her full name is Danielle, technically she’s the only living clone of me Vlad made.”

“Only living Clone?”

“Vlad made?”

Man he had a lot to explain. Years of events just gone unsaid. Some small part of the divide between them was shifting, growing smaller.

“Is now a good time to tell you guys I have a girlfriend?”

Danny choked on a laugh. Not to long after his parents followed after the tension disrupted, Well at least he had Jazz to help explain. Sam and Tucker too when they weren’t busy. It'd be a mess and weird to finally clear the air between them, but at least he knew they were proud of him.

#My writing #danny phantom #trans danny fenton #trans danny phantom #everlasting trio #thats their ship name right? its not like super there its minor but ye #danny phantom exists in my brain in vague memories and nothing else #only the smallest amounts of cannon may be contained in this fic #idk i dont have enough brain to know tho #danphanwritingprompts

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Let’s Get Away

Summary: It’s due time for Natasha to take a break.

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes / No

Word Count: 3,899

“ty mne ne doveryayesh’?” - “do you trust me?”

* * * * * *

The other side of the bed is cold when you wake up, void of the body that had been keeping you warm at night.

Sleepy eyes scan the room and even though you know she’s gone again, you still feel disappointed to find her combat suit missing from the closet.

Knowing that your worry for her isn’t going to allow you to go back to sleep, you toss the covers away from your body and trudge out of bed. After brushing your teeth, you grab the first aid kit and head to the common room.

Two and a half cups of tea and a partially burnt bagel later, you hear the tell tale sound of Natasha coming home.

Not only does FRIDAY announce her arrival, Natasha herself lets out a pain induced groan.

Having known your fiancé for more than ten years, you can even hear the difference in her footsteps, the way her feet shuffle across the floor instead of her usually confident strut. She’s exhausted, bruised and beaten, but not in the least bit ready to admit to needing a break.

It’s dead silent between the two of you.

Natasha was really hoping you’d still be asleep, most nights she’d been able to slip back into bed without you noticing, until you saw the fresh scars and bruises in the morning.

Tonight is different though, and she can tell. In the way you quietly rise from the couch and walk over to her, the way you sigh when taking her hand in yours and seeing her newly bruised knuckles, the way you aren’t able to look her in the eyes even after you’ve pulled her to sit down and start to tend to her wounds.

Every touch is soft, some could say overly delicate. You touch her as if one wrong brush of the alcohol soaked cotton will hurt her or break her completely. You know it won’t, she’s the Black Widow for Christ sake, she’s had far worse injuries than these and her pain tolerance is high, that doesn’t stop you from being gentle with her.

Even though the atmosphere is tense, Natasha can’t help but to remember that this is exactly how you were with her when you’d begun to develop feelings for her.

Being a medic at S.H.I.E.L.D since before she was recruited meant you weren’t new to dealing with the injuries of the agents that came through. When she was brought to you the first time, with a gunshot wound to her thigh, you were the perfect picture of calm, cool, and collected. While you weren’t aggressive or rough with her, there was a noticeable difference in her first visit and how you would later treat her.

Despite her incredible skill, Natasha ended up taking a lot of trips to the med bay, all of which lead to you two getting closer. Which in turn lead to the development of your feelings for each other. Each one, she felt you becoming softer with her, she started to see the worry in your eyes when she would come in. There was something about the way you treated her as if she wasn’t invincible that drew her to you, she was always the badass Black Widow to majority of the people she knew, it was a breath of fresh air to have someone treat her like she’s just Natasha.

Natasha sighs heavily,“ I’m sorry.” She mumbles, but you hear it in the quiet of the compound.

For a moment she thinks you’re pissed at her, what with the lack of a quick reply. In reality you’re just focusing on pulling the tiny shard of glass out of her knuckle, cleaning, and wrapping it.

Once you’re done, you set everything you’d used to the side, opting out of painkillers since it won’t do much to her enhanced dna anyway.

“What exactly are you apologizing for?” You ask softly, finally looking up into her eyes. It surprises you to see the amount of guilt in her eyes that you do. A frown forms on your face.

“I-” she swallows, breathing heavily,“ I don’t mean to worry you so much.” That guilt in her eyes mixes with a troubled expression and it breaks your heart.

“Then why keep going out there?” You turn to face her completely, legs folding as you play with your fingers.“ If you keep it up the NYPD are gonna be out of jobs.” You try to tease, hoping a little joke will take that look off her face.

God you hate seeing anything other than a smile on her face.

Natasha shakes her head and the tears that spring into her eyes after her prolonged silence takes your breath away.“ I don’t know what I am outside of being an Avenger,” she confesses. When a tear escapes, you reach up and swipe it away, leaving your thumb there to caress her cheek.“ There’s always been a mission, a threat, a purpose.”

Listening to the way she says it, you know what she actually means to say. She had a purpose. The fact that the Avengers dismantling has left her feeling so lost wasn’t something you knew. It affected her hugely. Tony and Clint both stepping away to be with their families, Thor switching over to the Guardians, Bruce going back to do whatever he had been doing after Thanos’ snap, and Steve choosing to go back to be with Peggy only to return and pass the Captain America mantle to Sam.

If you were in Natasha’s position there’s no way you wouldn’t be affected by that. Everyone was moving on, everyone seemed to have their purpose outside of the Avengers, everyone left her behind.

You take a deep breath, tilting your head to catch her eyes,“ not knowing what to do is hard,” you see her shoulders drop at your words, as if she’s relieved to hear that you understand.“ But it doesn’t mean you don’t know who you are.”

That makes her freeze, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Her head tilts to draw her gaze from the floor to your face.

“Nat, honey, you were an Avenger. And I know what that means to you. But being an Avenger was only part of who you are.” A gentle smile forms on your lips at just the thought of how extraordinary this woman is.“ You’re a loyal friend, an incredible aunt, a hero,” she chuckles softly at that,“ and you are the most amazing fiancé.”

Soft green eyes bore into yours, tears brimming her eyes again but for a different reason all together.“ I love you so much.” She says, turning to press a kiss to your palm.

Pulling your hand away, you open your arms to her and she happily obliges to your invitation for a cuddle. A grunt of pain escapes her when she twists to lay between your legs, her body freezing up for a second, before she nearly slumps into you.

Her back presses into your front, your arms circling her waist. You press a soft, lingering kiss to her temple and she laces her fingers with yours, taking in a deep calming breath.

“The last few years have been hectic, and even before all of that, it seemed like we never slowed down,” you tighten your hold on her,“ but right now, we don’t have those kinds of threats looming over our heads.”

“You’re saying I should stop.”

With a frown, you shake your head and lean over to look her in the eye,“ no, god no. I told you, a hero is part of who you are. What kind of fiancé would I be if I told you to stop doing what you were meant to do? Not a very good one right?” She answers with a nod and a chuckle.“ nor would I be a good fiancé if I let you keep going without telling you to take a break.”

As if her body picks up on that phrase alone, a long, loud, yawn leaves her lips. You can’t help but smile at how cute she looks, her nose all scrunched, eyes shut. The second the yawn ends she blinks back the tired tears and snuggles closer.

She says something but it’s muffled by another yawn and by the time that one ends, her eyes are shut, and she’s fast asleep.

* * * * * *

When Natasha wakes up in the morning, she’s in bed and she’s alone.

The emptiness of the space beside her does something to her heart and she can’t help but wonder if you got this feeling whenever you woke up and she was gone.

Some of that guilt from last night creeps back up and she groans, turning to bury her face into your pillow. While your scent usually calms her down, now it only serves in reminding her of just how dumb she feels.

You’ve always been the most understanding and loving with her, more than anyone she’s known. Just like last night proved, you’ve always known that saving people even though it put her in danger was what she was meant to do. You knew how important it was for her to clean her ledger, you even understood when she went to Russia for months to shut down the Red Room and make amends with her family.

The second she came back you didn’t have to ask if she’d done what she set out to do, you could just tell and it translated through the following days. You took even greater care of her just to ensure that she was truly okay both physically and emotionally.

After all of that, after all you’ve done for her, she’s still making you worry by throwing herself into danger she doesn’t have to be involved in. Somehow you even understand that.

This time she groans, squeezing the pillow as frustrated tears pool in her eyes.

“That does not sound like someone who’s having a good morning.” Your teasing voice hits Natasha’s ears and through her frustration she can’t help but roll her eyes. Then moving to sit up, resting her back against the headboard.“ Wh-what’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

You rush to her side, hands and eyes instantly starting to roam her body for any signs of injury worse than what you found last night.

“I-I’m fine, physically.” That just makes your frown deepen.“ I just realized I’m the worst fiancé in the world.”

Figuring this has to do with last night, you climb over her legs and sit beside her.“ As your fiancé I think I’m the one to determine whether that’s true or not.” She raises an eyebrow at you and you know to drop all the teasing.“ Okay okay. Why do you feel that you’re the worst?”

“Aren’t you tired of me?” She turns to look at you directly.“ I’ve always been in danger and you’ve understood and now I’ve been blatantly throwing myself head first into danger and yet you still understand?”

You cock your head to the side with love in your eyes.“ I’m far from tired of you Romanoff. Am I fond of the idea of you being beaten up and shot at, no. But I love you and I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself. And I’m going to worry about you because that comes with loving you. You could work with puppies, or babies, or I don’t know what a safe job is, either way, I’d still worry about you.”

A sigh falls from her lips,“ that makes me feel a little better.”

“I know how you can make it up to me.” Hopeful eyes look back at you.“ Get your cute little ass out of bed, get ready, and meet me out front.” You smack a kiss to her cheek before hopping out of bed, leaving Natasha to watch you nearly bounce away in excitement.

Curiosity is the main driving force in Natasha’s actions. She does in fact get out of bed, taking a much needed hot shower afterwards and changing into a pair black stretch pants and one of your sweatshirts.

The last thing she’s expecting when she meets you outside is to find you leaning against a very new looking silver sports car. It being a convertible allows her to see the red leather interior.

“Is that my sweater?” You ask, brows pinched together with a finger pointed at her chest.

“We’re getting married medovyy, what's yours is mine.” A sweet smile hits her lips. You weren’t going to ask her to change anyway cause you love seeing her in your clothes, but had you been considering it, that smile would’ve done you in.

Humming, you shake your head,“ that aside. Let’s go.” You reach back to grab the handle and pull the door open for your fiancé.

“Go where?” She takes a hesitant step forward.

You smirk, reaching up to cup her cheek and ghost your lips over hers,“ ty mne ne doveryayesh'?” You whisper.

Dammit she’s a sucker for you speaking Russian. Had she known when you started learning in your first years of dating that it would become a weakness, she would’ve stopped you. You already had a hold on her, that just made it tighter.

It’s why she nods, seemingly in a trance. Only easing into the seat after you’ve given her a proper kiss.

The door shuts after her and you round the car, jumping over the door and into the driver’s seat. You look over at her,“ I’ve always wanted to do that.” You say giddily, before clicking your seatbelt into place.

With a shake of her head, she puts her seatbelt on as well, and gets comfortable in her seat.

“The final destination is a surprise, but you can know that we’re going to that little diner you love so much in Greenwich.”

She can’t help but smile at you. She couldn’t get more lucky if she tried.

“One last thing,” you reach across her lap to the glove compartment, pulling it open and retrieving two pairs of sunglasses. Setting them in your lap, you lean towards her and reach up, fingers deftly combing the braid from her hair, and then you slip the glasses onto her face.

Winking at her, you slip your own pair on and start the car. It purrs to life and right before you pull away from the compound, you flick the radio on.

The quiet that settles over the two of you is full of contentment. Music plays softly as Natasha holds your free hand in hers, fingers occasionally playing with the engagement ring on your finger.

That feeling remains as you open the door for her and escort her into the diner. You let her slide into the booth first and she takes your hand and tugs you down into the seat beside her.

An amused smile plays on your lips that makes the redhead give you a look, her eyebrow raised at you.“ What?” She asks.

“Nothing I just-” you chuckle shortly,“ I remember a time when you’d only let me sit across from you. I could hold your hand but sitting next to you, that was a no. Wasn’t until a year after we made things official that you let me sit next to you. I couldn’t help but wonder if that meant I was special.”

Her finger presses into the side of your jaw and she gently turns your head to face her,“ you are special. Especially to me.” And then she kisses you so sweetly you think it might give you a cavity.

Your breakfast date passes with flirty remarks, quietly spoken affections, and soft kisses between bites of food and sips of tea and coffee. After which you settle the bill and head back out to the convertible.

The next destination is unknown to Natasha but, unlike usual, she finds herself excited about the unknown. It’s an odd feeling but she welcomes it, letting herself feel free of worrying about what’s next. And you revel in seeing her like that.

Sending an occasional glance in her direction just to watch her long red tresses flow with the wind, to smile softly at the way she shuts her eyes and let’s the breeze caress her skin, and to chuckle when her hand raises to create a wave against the wind.

More than ten years you’ve known her, majority of which you’ve had the privilege of calling her yours. If there’s one thing being with her has taught you, through every obstacle you two faced together be it arguing about if tea was better than coffee to the many many life threatening missions she’s been on, it’s that moments like these were precious.

There’s never any way of telling when the next world or universe threatening event will occur, if it’ll be the one to take Natasha away from you, so it became abundantly important that you get these chances to bask in being with her.

Your thoughts lead you to subconsciously taking her hand in yours, raising it to press your lips against the back.

Natasha smiles. She swears your lips feel like rose petals. Nothing compares to your kisses.

“I love you,” you say blissfully.

Nothing except that.

“I love you too,” she squeezes your hand.

The look of excitement that lights across your face makes her eyebrows raise. It’s not the same as the usual look you get when hearing her say those words, your expression is usually softer. Which is why she follows your line of sight when you look away from her.

Her eyes are met with the view of a beautiful lake house and she quickly snaps her gaze back to you.

“You’ve given the NYPD a break these past couple of months, I think you’re in need of one.” A wink finishes your statement and she surges forward, hands on your face to pull you into a searing kiss. It expresses her love for you more than words ever could.

With the cutest most beautiful smile you’ve ever laid eyes on, she throws her door open and excitedly tells you to come on. And you’re more than happy to follow.

Leaving the bags you secretly packed in the trunk, you accept Natasha’s outstretched hand, and allow her to guide you around the grounds.

The view of the lake and everything beyond looks even better than the pictures let on. For a last minute trip to Jersey, this was considerably good.

Despite how tempting it is to stroll down the dock and hold Natasha in your arms like the clichés you read about, you save that for later, instead following the still curiously excited redhead towards the house.

In one action you scoop your fiancé up into your arms after having unlocked the back door. Her arms wrap around your neck and she raises her eyebrows at you in question.

“Figured I could get some practice.” Your teasing tone is back, your words bringing a coy smile to her lips.

“Are you still excited?” She asks as you step into the house, careful to not bang her head on the door.“ I know we’ve pushed it off a few times.”

You gingerly set her down.

Postponing the wedding was never due to a lack of wanting to be married.

The first plan was thrown out the window when Lagos happened and the team fell apart. Neither of you were sure about getting married while on the run, your family no longer around. But you’d found yourselves in the city of love, completely taken by the atmosphere, and decided that there was no need to wait. Then Thanos came. Losing half of your family to his homicidal plan hit you both incredibly hard.

Three and a half years it took for you both to realize that maybe you couldn’t get everyone back, which also made you appreciate that through everything you’ve always had each other. While there was nothing you could do about the past, you had a say over your present and you wanted to spend as much of that as wives as you could. Only for Scott Lang to show up in the midst of planning with the idea of the Time Heist.

All of that happened, you got everyone back and were blessed with your family again. So when things settled you both got back to planning. A year and six months after the final battle against Thanos, where Thor “went for the head”, you were finally a mere two months away from making the woman that is the love of your life your wife.

“Am I excited to become a Romanoff?” Your question trails off with a pondering gaze to the ceiling. Natasha’s eyebrows pinch together at your need to think about it and seeing her frown makes you laugh.“ After three failed attempts I think it’s safe to say I’m pretty damn excited.”

The redhead smacks your arm in annoyance at your constantly playful behavior and you wrap your arms around her waist, laughing once again.“ You’re incorrigible.”

“Oh absolutely,” you wink,“ but I think that’s one of the many things you love about me.”

Her eyes narrow and her lips press together in a thin line, a hum of uncertainty leaving her lips. That makes your jaw drop and this time Natasha laughs. When she raises a brow at you, you nod in understanding.

A beat of silence passes before you both set off to do something, Natasha offering to make tea and you go to grab the luggage from the car. Taking both straight to the bedroom before going back to join Natasha.

She raises the cup of tea to her lips, eyes focused on the view outside the window. You slip behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder and looking out the window as well.

You know something’s on her mind but you’d learned a long time ago to let her open up herself as opposed to prying.

“Do you think everyone will be able to make it?” She finally speaks up.

Biting your lip in thought, you take a deep breath,“ I think everyone is going to try their best to be here but things come up. Everyone has RSVP'd so they want to be there that’s for sure.” You’re taken aback when you turn and find those green eyes staring back at you.

The most intense emotions swirl in those angel eyes.

“I know I keep saying it but, I love you, so much.” Her free hand raises to rest on your cheek.

“And I, you my love.”

Adjusting herself back into your hold completely, she returns her gaze to the lake.“ Thank you for this trip as well.”

“I figured if I brought you out here I could get lucky.”

That statement seems to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. Natasha slips from your grasp and heads towards the back door.“ Wait no, I’m sorry. I meant to say that I did it cause I love you and I wanted to spend time with you!” You call after her, only for her to continue to walk away.

For the rest of this trip, Natasha knows you’re going to continue to be a pain in her ass but she also knows that for every annoying and teasing comment, there are ten times as many affirmations of love and whispers of sweet nothings.

You whisked her away to give her the break she so greatly needs and deserves and you plan to make sure she enjoys it in full.

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #reader insert #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanova #natasha romanova x reader

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sirenascales · 4 years ago

Text

-> double black [part five] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

The killer is revealed! What surprises are in store? [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

2,420 words

warning: mentions of domestic violence and rape, violence and straight up murder

note: here we go... this is the second to last chapter :) hope you all enjoy reading! no smut again lol

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

"This place... is creepy as hell," I mumbled under my breath, glancing curiously over at Dazai as we climbed out of the car and started walking towards the large abandoned factory. "Are you sure this is where Ranpo told us to go?"

"Yep~ He's usually never wrong, so there must be something here we can find~" Dazai sang, nonchalantly walking inside the factory. I sighed deeply and quickly followed him, shivering at the creepy aura it gave off.

"Ugh, does somebody really hide out here? It's giving me the creeps," I whined, hugging myself and rubbing my hands up and down my arms.

"What if there are ghosts here?" Dazai wondered and I shuddered deeply, fear striking my heart at the mere thought.

"Don't say that!"

"Will you two shut up?" A third voice spoke up and my eyes widened in surprise.

"Chuuya? What are you doing here? And... who's that?"

In the middle of the factory, Chuuya stood before a man tied up to a single chair, a linen bag over his head. Chuuya had a deep frown on his face, obviously extremely irritated with something.

"Wh-who is that?! Please, help me!" The man begged, howling in pain when Chuuya kicked him in the stomach.

"Shut the hell up!"

"Is that the one?" Dazai asked and Chuuya nodded. I looked at them in confusion.

"The one... what?"

"This," Chuuya started. "Is the one that's been stealing from the Port Mafia for well over a year. Along with that bastard Taichi."

My jaw fell open in shock, not expecting that at all. "Wh-what do you mean stealing?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Taichi was in charge of moving product and bringing back the cash from the Northern area of the city. He's been getting his hands in the product, selling them little by little on the side to line his pockets." Chuuya seemed to grow angrier and angrier by the second as he explained. "We've been investigating that thief for three months and we finally pieced it together. Thanks to you." Chuuya's angry gaze is now on me and I feel my heart drop to the ground.

"What do you mean? Me?" I stuttered, looking over to the man as he began to struggle in his chair. He rocked from side to side, pleading loudly for his life.

"Please, let me go!"

There was a large bang! followed by a scream as Chuuya swiftly brought out a handgun, shooting the man right in the head. I was the one who screamed.

"I hate disloyalty," Chuuya spat, his voice cold. His equally icy glare narrowed on Dazai, who didn't even react to the man being killed, unlike myself. My now shaking hands were clamped over my mouth, in shock by what I've just witnessed.

"So tell me," Chuuya began, now turning to face me. "How is it that you knew that Taichi was meeting a drug dealer... the dead man at your feet specifically?" He didn't even give me a chance to answer before he continued. "How did you know that? Were you there?"

I rapidly shook my head, heart thudding in my chest. "No!" I exclaimed, taking a step back.

"Really? Taichi was killed in the South. That wasn't his area, and he wasn't even assigned to move the product. Hasn't been for months since the investigation started." Chuuya's voice was even, and it sent shivers down my spine. I took another step back. "Well? Explain yourself."

I gulped, absolute fear coursing through my body. I could feel the sweat slide down my temple and. "W-well, I overheard him talking about what he does for you. So! I just assumed..."

Chuuya scoffed, laughing dryly. "Plausible, yes." He dug into his coat's inner pocket and I gasped sharply when he held up my knife. I was stunned, thinking I had lost it, but Chuuya had it all along. Suddenly, that day I went to visit him in his office ran through my head, and I realized that was when I last saw my knife. Fuck.

I felt a sense of dread wash over me.

"I know you take excellent care of this knife, clean it regularly. Except for the blood in the hilt."

"And the bloody clothes I found under the sink in your bathroom," Dazai finally spoke up and I gasped sharply. "You probably should have thrown those clothes away before you had me sleep over. You know I like to snoop," He continued on as I clenched my shaking fists. Dazai circled around so he and Chuuya now stood before me, tall and intimidating. "You're the killer, aren't you? Actually, you don't have to answer that. We already know that you are."

I didn't say anything, my lips pulled in a thin line as I stared at the ground. I started to breathe a bit heavily, heart pounding and my blood boiling with the anger and rage I tried to keep at bay from the moments I wake up in the morning to the time I go to sleep at night.

"Well?" Chuuya yelled, growling. "Aren't you gonna say anything?! You killed him!"

I lifted my head up, and the two men looked genuinely surprised at the look in my face, eyes dark and narrow and full of anger. I was seething, but I couldn't help the sick, twisted smile that grew on my face. "And what if I did?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "Hell hath no fury, right?"

Suddenly, there was an almost inhuman shriek as a figure jumped out from behind the men, knife brandished and slicing right at Dazai. Dazai luckily dodged it, the figure landing on its feet before standing tall. Dazai and Chuuya are both shocked, as they now stared at the perfect clone of myself. The clone didn't give Dazai any time to process, running towards him again and slicing almost wildly with the knife in hand.

"My, what a turn of events!" Dazai exclaimed a bit excitedly, taking in my clone's features. She looked exactly like me, except she looked more wild, her face contorted into one full of rage, anger and anguish with a seemingly endless stream of tears pouring down her face. Her movements were erratic, cries leaving her mouth as she lunged for the attack.

Meanwhile, I had engaged in a fight with Chuuya, but even I could immediately tell just how outmatched I was and that I had no hopes of beating him. Still, I threw a punch at him, able to get him right in his cheek, but he quickly retaliated with a harsh kick to my side. I cried out in pain, clutching my side.

"Are you crazy," Chuuya hissed. "Ability user or not, I'm one of the best martial artists in the Port Mafia! You're not beating me!" He dodged yet another of my punches, jumping back before he kicked me again right on my torso. I grunted in pain, falling on one knee.

"I'm afraid I don't like you," Dazai told my clone as he ducked down to dodge a wild swing. He quickly shot up, successfully headbutting the clone. She cried out in pain, covering her face with her hands as she fell back, Dazai reaching out to grab one of her wrists. As soon as he did so, she disappeared, his ability coming into effect. He let out a tired whew! dusting his hands off before turning to the fight between Chuuya and I.

Even if Chuuya did outmatch me, I tried to keep fighting him, until he suddenly grabbed me and threw me hard on the ground. I gasped, the wind knocked out of me. "Fuck!" I cursed, struggling to breathe as I tried to stand up. I am forced right back on my knees, a hand pressing on my neck. My anger disappeared, and by then, I knew that it was Dazai.

Now that all my anger, and fury was gone, all I had left was the immeasurable despair that settled in my chest, tears now freely sliding down my cheeks. I couldn't stop my sobbing, feeling the two men's wide eyes on me.

"He was beating her!" I cried out, just desperate for them to hear me out before they passed their judgements on me. "Taichi... was beating Keiko and... I never knew! She's been my best friend ever since I moved here and I never had a clue! Not one! Until that day she called me.. when I was at your place," I glanced at Dazai, lip quivering as I struggled to continue. "I went home and when she came over... I knew something was wrong I... then she took off her clothes and there wasn't an inch of her skin below her neck that wasn't covered in bruises I-"

I choked up, covering my face as I started to sob uncontrollably, the pain of once seeing my friend who was so full of life, looking like a scared, beaten animal as she stood before me. As I cried, Dazai and Chuuya looked at each other, just stunned beyond words.

"I knew..." I spoke up after a moment. "That one of these days, he would actually kill her. That's why she was so afraid to leave him. He was already beating her, and raping her, what would stop him from killing her if she defied him?! Huh?!" Even with Dazai still holding onto the back of my neck, I started to grow angry. "So, I killed him. I killed him before he could have a chance to kill her!" I then stared at Chuuya in his blue eyes. "And I'll do it again."

"After Taichi dropped Keiko off at my apartment, I snuck out through the emergency stairwell and back exit to follow him. The building is old, so I knew there were no cameras."

I carefully kept the hood of my hoodie over my head as I followed Taichi from a distance, a determined look on my face, one that said that I will not stop.

I soon followed him into the alleyway, where I hid behind a dumpster and watched him do his drug deal. He was grinning and laughing, acting smug and it was honestly fucking disgusting.

"I waited until he was completely alone before confronting him. He didn't expect to see me at all."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Taichi demanded, glaring at me. He wasn't that nice, friendly guy he played himself to be anymore. "What the fuck are you doing in Port Mafia business?"

"I honestly don't give a fuck about the Port Mafia. I do give a fuck about Keiko, and you're going to stay the fuck away from her."

He just stared at me, before he threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Okay... okay, stupid bitch. That was kind of funny. Just go back home before--"

"And before he could finish his sentence, my clone stabbed him right in his back."

I watched Taichi fall to the ground, my clone falling on top of him, shrieking as she stabbed him over and over again in a rage filled flurry. There was blood everywhere, some even spraying on my clothes as I watched.

Then, I stepped closer, pulling out my knife and landing one more final blow right in his chest, killing him.

"And he was as good as dead."

"... was Keiko in on this?"

Keiko opened the door to my apartment, letting me rush inside before closing and locking the door. She turned to look at me, eyes wide as she took in the blood on my clothes.

"Did... did you..." she stuttered softly, and I nodded.

"He's dead."

Keiko burst into tears.

"You know the answer to that already."

I was sitting on the ground now, head hung low as I stared at my hands. "I killed someone," I said softly, eyes burning with tears as I clenched my fists. "But when it comes to the people I love... I will do it again. So," I turned to Dazai. "Turn me into the police." I then turned to Chuuya. "Or just shoot me in the fucking head. I'm not strong enough against either of you... I just ask that you keep Keiko out of this. She has suffered far too much already."

I kept my head down, Chuuya and Dazai standing above me. Chuuya had a displeased look on his face, though Dazai's expression looked a bit forlorn.

"You'd do anything to protect your friends," Dazai stated and I looked up at him, looking broken, and small. Dazai gritted his teeth, frowning deeply.

"This is so fucked up," Chuuya grumbled, his mind moving at a mile a second as he rubbed his temples. Taichi was as good as dead anyways, seeing as him stealing from the Port Mafia was punishable by death. So what the hell is he supposed to do now? Chuuya growled in frustration.

"Did you guys..." I started, voice small as a thought plagued my mind. "...know all along...?" I bit my lip, keeping my gaze on the floor. "And when we-"

"It's not what you think," Dazai spoke up, knowing exactly what I was thinking. "You were just sloppy. But I don't blame you for panicking, bella."

"I knew as soon as you brought up the drug deal," Chuuya spoke up and I scoffed, laughing at my own stupidity. "I just wanted to fuck you 'cause of that dress."

Dazai snorted while I couldn't help the short laugh that escaped my mouth despite the situation. I shook my head, sighing deeply. I just decided to accept their answer, as this wasn't the right time to dwell upon my insecurities. I glanced over to the dead body of Taichi's accomplice, thinking he was probably going to die by the Port Mafia's hand anyway.

Dazai followed my gaze, tilting his head a bit as he tapped his chin. "There is no DNA evidence," Dazai recalled and Chuuya narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yeah, so?" he replied, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"So," Dazai started, glancing over at me still on the ground. "There is no proof of her involvement. Man, just what will I tell the Boss now?!" Dazai threw his hands up dramatically, Chuuya's eye twitching in annoyance.

Still, the Executive kept his mouth shut, taking in the meaning of Dazai's words. Then, he looked over at me, blue eyes staring me down before his lips twitched upwards a bit.

"Oh yeah... I won the race."

-End

tags in replies!!

#bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya smut #dazai smut #yeehaw!!!

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simultaneously-sick-and-calm · 3 years ago

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»pairing: Man from the Railroad!Atsuhiro x fem!reader

»word count: 3.2k

»Part 1 | IS IT A GOD INSIDE YOU, GIRL? (1st OGoA AU piece by @get-shiggy-with-it )

»summary: A deal is struck and a desire indulged.

»a/n: part two!! Thanks to my beloved @get-shiggy-with-it for beta reading for me. I hope you enjoy!

»warnings: Appalachian folklore, piv sex, fingering (f receiving), monsterfucking (if you squint), implied tragedy (mine disasters, death of workers/children), some reader backstory, historical AU 1800's mining town, Old Gods of Appalachia podcast AU, 18+ MDNI

The Man from the Railroad was no less intriguing when he returned one evening weeks later to meet with your brother. Just as you'd suspected, he’d practically leaped at the opportunity to cut a potentially lucrative deal without the ever-present gaze of your father looking over his shoulder. For years he had been trying, and failing to make dear old dad believe that he was ready to take over the company. Much to his chagrin however, it was clear that while your father didn’t really trust anyone with the specific ins and outs of the business; the man had seemed in recent years to bristle just a little less when approached by your soft questioning voice, over the harsh cut of his son’s.

This time upon entering the parlor room Atsuhiro took your hand in his own immediately, bringing it once again to the soft plush of his lips in greeting. The heat under your collar seared up the length of your neck, settling once again on your cheeks. “My darling lady! How lovely it is to see your enchanting face. A sight for sore eyes, indeed.”

“Why thank you, Sir. Once again you’re proving to be far too kind.” You brother failed to stifle a huff, clearly irritated that you were distracting his mysterious benefactor. The noise of it shook you back from the daydreams threatening to pull you under.

Pushing from your mind the thoughts of hands at your waist...or how his lips might brush over more of your skin in that same gentle way they caressed your fingers; you guided Atsuhiro’s attention to your brother, finally introducing them. “Henry, this is the Man from the Railroad who asked to see you the other night.”

“Yes, of course!” came your brother’s too jovial attempt at making himself appear likeable. Guiding your guest away without so much as acknowledging your presence. “I was so pleased to hear that you’re interested in our little family affair, kind Sir. Please follow me and we can speak more privately in the office.”

“That sounds just delightful. Lead the way, my friend.” Casting one last glance over the shoulder of his perfectly pressed suit, Atsuhiro winked and followed your brother through the office door.

And just like that, you were once again left standing alone at the desk, consumed by the lingering heat of his lips against your skin. And oh lord above you were hungry for it. It wasn’t an overly familiar feeling, admittedly, but you were no stranger to this kind of desire...to this yearning that threatened to burn you up from the inside whenever you caught wind of him. Which had been often over the last several days.

Since his appearance it seemed as though he was everywhere. Word spread of groups gathering in the large fields just outside town, all to listen to him speak. He promised them purpose, good and honest work that would better not only their own lives but those of all who surrounded them.

Fathers and sons.

Wanderers and vagrants.

All were welcome to join him in working for the Railroad. There was a place for every good, hard-working man among his ranks, and every voice who whispered about this black-suited man with the green bolo tie seemed almost as smitten as you.

Even as all the rumors and the chatter flowed like the streams at the base of the mountain. As the other young women in town flushed and swooned at the sight of the hat sitting proudly above the group of men that surrounded him; you held on to one small thing. The way that his given name tasted on your tongue. It was bitter and sweet, rolling over the plush of your lips with an uncertain kind of hope. For all the tongues that wagged about his sudden and overwhelming appearance in your small hometown, none of them referred to him by any name at all.

Only you had been bestowed the privilege--no, the honor, of having a name to breathe out into the darkest moments of night when every beautiful slope of his face occupied your mind. Those fleeting seconds when all you could hear was the gentle tone of his whispering in your ear, imagining the way that it might deepen and rasp under your kiss. The way it would feel to have your fingers intertwined with his own, or trace them delicately over the sharp line of his jaw and the gentle turn of his grin. All of a sudden the ornate handle behind you turned, startling you once again from your daydreams.

Henry’s voice, followed immediately by the soft floating drone of Atsuhiro’s were just on the other side. You caught just the tail end of their conversation as the door swung open. “Well, Henry my friend, I am simply delighted at the prospect of our future endeavors together. I think that with your manpower, and my connections we can truly turn the tide in this battle. Industry is the path to the future, and we must move along with it. Ever onward and ever forward, as they say, hmm?”

“You’re absolutely right, Sir. I think this is the start of a great partnership.” Henry hadn’t sounded so enthusiastic about anything, aside from maybe a free round of drinks at his favorite watering hole, in years. “We have many who would love to be a part of the kind of thing that you’re offering, and I think that my father especially will be looking forward to seeing all your plans come to fruition.”

Fruition. That was quite the word choice for Henry, and you did your best to stifle a chuckle. Usually by this time he was long inebriated past the point where words with a second syllable became a struggle for him. The attempt was admittedly half-hearted, and the smallest of sounds slipped out before it could be reigned back into the confines of your chest.

Thankfully, Henry was already in the midst of pulling a coat from the rack, and making his way out after a hearty handshake with his new partner. “Wonderful to meet you, and I’m sorry that I have to run out so quickly...I, uh have another meeting to get to.'' He tipped his hat in Atsuhiro’s direction and added a muffled “Sister. I’ll see you in the morning. Please make sure that the good gentleman has all of the information that he needs before you go.”

The both of you murmured farewells in return as he hurried out--no doubt late to boast about his success to the usual crowd of drunkards and fools with whom he spent most evenings. And with his hurried exit, you felt the heat under your skin creep back into its former home. Warming your face in what must have been a world record time. Absently you lifted a hand to brush a stray hair from your eyes, hoping in vain that the action might shake you out whatever state these daydreams had thrust you into. A beat passed in silence, and then another before you felt Atsuhiro’s eyes find you across the small space. He was so much closer just an hour before and still you felt like you’re burning up from the inside out at his attention.

Steeling yourself against your own hesitation, you turned to face him and tried to find your voice among the rabble of butterflies that currently occupied all of the space that used to cradle your lungs. “Henry, seemed to be rather taken with you, Sir--”

“As much as I enjoy hearing you refer to me so formally, my darling girl. You are well aware of my name.”

His hungry stare could have consumed you. In fact, the longer you stood there, with just a few steps holding the rigid distance between you, the more of you became quite certain that it would do just that. Every quip that you might have hoped to throw back sizzled away on the molten heat of your usually sharp tongue. “Y-yes, I am aware of it.”

“Then why,” three smooth strides closed the distance between you, bringing him impossibly close, “my dear, do you seem so insistent on forgetting it just when I want to hear it the most?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I know a great many things. Things that others do not, and could not know. Like the way that your lips curl so lovely around my name in the stillness of night. It's a tantalizing sound my dear, and I am eager to hear more of it."

He was so close as he spoke, the way his breath danced over your lips was astounding. Being so close to him felt similar to the way you had imagined in the several days since he last filled the space around you, but there was also something altogether unexpected about it. Everything about him seemed to surround you, compressing into a space far too small for any physical being to occupy.

The heady smell of him had you intoxicated, clinging to every inch of skin that lay exposed in the cool autumn air that rolled through the open door. His very presence was heavy, like the blankets of fog that clung for far too long at the mouths of caves, or the last sticky days of summer heat that always lingered on the mountain air.

As a child you could recall the way it felt to taste air like tonight’s on your tongue. The way that it invaded your senses, and bit back as if it had teeth all its own sharp and jagged, in their futile attempts to keep the turning seasons at bay. If it weren’t for the way Atsuhiro’s fingertips burned a path along your cheek as they moved smoothly from temple to jaw, you might have been lost to its chill.

He knew.

He knew everything.

More than just the way you spoke his given name. More than the flicker of hope that melted away at the wax seal surrounding your heart. More than the way you melted into his embrace in the same way now.

The glint in his earthen eyes gave way to something more than human, a sum of parts greater than just the man himself who now pressed his body so close to your own. And in that moment, every story your grandmother shared, every warning weaved intricately into the design of the tales came back to you. Along with one other...

Your grandfather didn’t often indulge in storytelling, but he made sure to tell you one. The one about the man from the company with a green bolo tie and sharp silver tongue, that he had met as a younger man. The man who never shared his name, but worked beside him for years to open the mine. To set your family's legacy on its path, one which would eventually lead to this great reaping of the effort he had sown generations ago. You hadn’t ever figured out if the tale was laced with warning like all the others. Honestly, you couldn’t remember any other details, but now you were quite sure that it would make no difference.

You were certain of just one thing. What he needed, and what you wanted were one and the same.

What he sought from you was an opportunity for indulgence. The shred of his humanity that remained among whatever else made up the mass of him was wavering. Flickering like the prayer candles adorning every window in every home as they mourned the things he and his revolution stole from them. He knew that you understood what he was -- what he wasn't, really, and that you weren’t afraid. The weight of your acceptance seemed to settle on his shoulders, and he crumbled into you.

“Atsuhiro...” You whispered into the lips that ghosted over your own.

He tasted like the first crisp breeze of the season. Sharp, and tinged with inevitability, but heavy with understanding that the death of all things familiar lay in wait at its heels.

Desperation overtook him, painting a new color on his usually monochrome pallet. Teeth and tongue fought hard to remain in control, and he won. Licking into your mouth and sighing beautifully when finally you relented the battle of wills and allowed him to consume you completely.

The hands that moments ago were caging you in, now began to roam. Kneading, sliding, savoring every pliable part of you. Hooking a hand beneath one of your knees, Astuhiro lifted your leg, guiding you so shift backward until you found yourself seated on the desk. You used the leverage to lock your legs around his waist and pull him into you, the action bunching your skirts around your waist. Mewling when your hips were finally pressed fully together, you felt the smirk return to his face. Finally you felt him, hard and hot, even through the few remaining layers of clothing that kept you apart.

He pulled away then, tilting your face to look up at him and relishing in the way you groaned at the loss of his heat. Not to say that he was faring much better, it had been so long since he allowed himself this small pleasure, and you were so willing. He was surprised at himself, really, for managing to hold it together this long already. “This is not the first time you have been touched like this, is it, my pet?” He purred into your ear as fingers traced a soft line up the length of your leg, halting to knead the soft flesh just inches away from where you both wanted him to be.

“No, it’s not--hmmm, please…”

He could practically feel the pulsing, the soft wet heat of your waiting cunt. The pretty sounds you made going straight to his cock, and he wanted more. He needed to hear you cry out his name in strangled ecstasy. “Please what, my darling girl? You’re doing so well for me already. Tell me what it is that you need?” he crooned, relishing in the way you preened at even the smallest bit of praise.

“I think,” you began, once again finding the bravery within yourself that his presence seemed to pull out of you, “that it is you who needs me, Atsuhiro.”

He was, for a split second, shocked at the way you took his face in both hands, pulled him to your level and kissed him hard. It was beautiful, this growing fire in you, and as it overtook his senses, he thought for a moment about how he could have loved it--could have loved you--in another life. Or even in his own, back when he was truly just a man. When his name was his own to give freely and did not come with so steep a price.

But now was not the time to linger on such fantasies.

The hand trapped between your bodies made quick work of your underwear, baring your needy cunt to him at last. And Atsuhiro groaned, an altogether animal sound at the slick he found waiting for him there, and he used its abundance to ease first one long finger, then a second, in time into the heat of you. Stroking gently, he explored the soft velvet of your walls until he found it, the spot that made you keen against him. The dark whimper of his given name that fell from your lips when he began to circle the bundle of nerves in sync, was almost more than he could bear. Never in all his time spent on this wretched earth, had he heard something so beautiful.

Now, you were no sweet spring blossom, innocence was something you left behind long ago. But the delicious way he played your body like a violin was foreign indeed. None of the clumsy hands that rushed to lift your skirts had ever made you feel so good.

"Astu--Ah!" You gasped against his shoulder, feeling for all intents like a spring wound too tightly. One hand wound itself tightly in his silky hair and the other blindly searching for the smooth buckle at his waist. Panting, struggling for words between ragged breaths. "Wait! Wait, I--fuck--I want to feel you."

"Yes, of course my dear."

Sliding from your seat on the desk, you beckoned him to follow and settled back into the plush of the sofa. You barely caught the way that his breath hitched as you finally loosed him from the confinement of his clothes. Taking a moment to admire him, you allowed your fingers to trace the lines. Strong smooth stomach giving way to slender hips and and cock that you might even say was pretty. Impressive, certainly, but not in any way that made you fear pain. Rather he looked as though he was made to fit together with you just right.

And oh, how perfect it was.

Atsuhiro trembled as he sank to the hilt into your warmth, and the both of you sighed as he began to move.

Slowly.

Gently.

The moment stretched and was reverent in a way, as though the both of you understood its gravity. He angled and nudged that heavenly spot again, and the way you clenched around him forced a low groan into the air between you.

He looked up with wide eyes, struck again by the reality of you.

Never in any of the handful of times that he'd chosen to indulge in his baser instincts had the object of his fixation been anything more than a pretty face and a warm body, in the end. And he had the small handful of marbles in his breast pocket to prove it. Each one a reminder that he was no longer Sako Atsuhiro. He couldn't risk leaving a loose pair of loose lips with something so powerful as his own name.

But you…

You were something altogether different than the rest. Unexpected. Secure.

He could lose himself in you.

And as you came undone around him with a whimper of his given name, he did just that. Vaulting with you over the precipice. He worked you both through the high, and in return you kissed him deeply.

A while later, still entwined on the old velvet sofa, your name, whispered softly in the surrounding stillness pulled you back from the edge of sleep.

"Hmm?" You asked gently, afraid to disturb the peace. You knew that this was borrowed time.

"You know that I cannot--"

You silenced him with lips against his own. "I know."

"Thank you, my dear."

You awoke the next morning to a stack of those shiny cards on the desk, and a note. Scrawled quickly over the surface were just a handful of words.

These are for the men that your brother wishes to send my way. Keep none for yourself. Ever onward and ever forward.

-A

Next to them in the slim vase where you'd left the blue marble, now was only a long white feather. Very much like the one you'd noticed missing from his hat.

#sako atsuhiro #mr compress x reader #bnha #mha #sako atsuhiro x reader #old gods of appalachia au #the man from the railroad!Atsuhiro #tw monsterfucking (maybe)

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bellakitse · 4 years ago

Text

The 'B' Word

Carlos and TK run into Carlos’ three sisters on the street and decide to have dinner with them. Over the course of the meal, their friends with benefits relationship changes.

Written for @911lonestarweek - Day 1: Romance/“You are the only one for me.”/Fluff

Carlos holds the door for TK to walk through, trying to keep his grin at bay in the face of TK’s epic pout. He’d suggested a night of putt-putt, thinking it would be a friendly and easygoing activity they could enjoy as they try to put more emphasis on the friends part of their unconventional relationship. It was supposed to be a casual night out. However, Carlos didn’t anticipate that TK would be horrible at the game or be such a lovable sore loser.

“You cheated,” TK accuses him, the scowl on his handsome face cuter than it has any right to be. Carlos swallows back a sigh at the thought. It’s moments like this that show him how truly head over heels he is for the man before him.

He pushes that thought down too.

TK has made it more than clear he’s not ready for more than what they are right now – friends who enjoy each other’s company in and out of the bedroom.

He tells himself how he always does when these thoughts start to creep in that it’s enough for now. He gets to spend time with TK; he gets to touch him, hear the soft sounds he makes when they’re together, he gets his smiles.

So what if they don’t have a label?

Having some parts of TK Strand, Carlos has quickly learned, is infinitely better than not having him at all.

“At putt-putt?” he questions with an amused grin pushing away his less than pleasant thoughts. “You think I cheated at putt-putt?”

“Yes,” TK shoots back, his expression set in a childish frown, causing Carlos’ grin to grow.

“How exactly?” he questions, outright smirking when TK stalls, his pout growing as he can’t come up with anything.

“You distracted me with your you-ness,” TK finally answers, waving a hand in his direction as if it explains everything.

Carlos feels his face go warm, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling incredibly smug too. He reaches out, slipping a finger through one of the loops of TK’s jeans, pleased when TK comes into his space easily, his arms going around Carlos’ neck as he holds him close.

“That’s an interesting way to say you think I’m hot, sweetheart,” he murmurs teasingly as he presses his nose against TK’s temple.

“You already know I think that,” TK scoffs at him, turning his head to kiss the corner of his mouth, his tongue peeking out in a tiny teasing lick. “Don’t pretend now.”

Carlos lets out a steadying breath as his body instantly reacts to TK’s goading. “I still like to hear it,” he answers with a playful pout of his own, happy when it makes TK chuckle.

TK brings his hands down, cupping Carlos’ face between them, using the leverage to close the tiny height difference between them as he brushes his lips against his. “Needy,” he whispers, the word spoken against Carlos’ mouth causing him to let out a moan, proving TK’s point.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he whispers back, his hands giving TK’s hips a suggestive squeeze.

TK laughs softly as he shakes his head. “You promised me dinner.”

“I’ll make us something when we get there,” he promises now, groaning when TK shakes his head again.

“You and I both know – if we get behind closed doors, we’re not eating anything but each other, Reyes,” TK tells him, smirking shamelessly when he gasps at his words. “I want real food first.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, willing down the blush on his face and the arousal coursing through him at the mental image TK’s words have provoked.

TK goes to take a step away from him, ready to start walking on their quest to find some food, but Carlos holds on to him, grinning back at him when it makes TK raise a brow in question. He doesn’t answer with words; instead, he cups TK’s face like he’d done to him, swallowing the small gasp he lets out with his lips.

He kisses TK thoroughly, taking his time as he feels TK’s body go lax against his, kissing him back lazily, pressing his tongue against the back of Carlos’ teeth in a way that makes his toes curl from the butterflies he feels in his stomach.

Carlos could get lost in the act of kissing TK Strand and often does, like now, which is probably why he doesn’t realize people have walked up to them until there is a loud and obvious clearing of someone’s throat startling the two of them.

“What – “ TK starts to say, sounding dazed, and Carlos would take a moment to be proud of that if it wasn’t for the horror he’s experiencing in the face of his three older sisters standing before them, grinning like deranged clowns.

“Well, well, well,” Lola starts, like the rabble-rouser she is, her grin looking painful from how big it is. “Look who we have here being all indecent in public? Isn’t there laws against practically having sex in public spaces, Officer Reyes?”

“Would he have to arrest himself?” Valentina asks ironically – the oldest but by no means the most mature – piling on with a smirk of her own.

Sofía, the second oldest and usually the quietest, smiles softly at him, almost sympathetic if it wasn’t for the laughing glint in her eyes. “How much do you wish the ground would swallow you up right now, manito?”

“Very much so,” he grits out with a tight smile as their enjoyment of the situation grows. He feels TK’s body shift next to him a second before his hand touches Carlos’, linking their pinkies together. He turns his head, surprised at the gesture, and finds TK looking a little lost but supportive of him. It loosens something in his stomach, and as TK gives him a half-smile, Carlos is helpless but to return it. “TK, these are my sisters, Valentina, Sofía, and Lola,” he says, pointing at each of them in turn, getting a wave back from all three. “Girls, this is TK,” he continues, not adding anything else though he can see the curiosity in his sisters’ eyes. “Anyway, we were going to go grab a bite to eat, so – “

“What a coincidence, so are we!” Lola exclaims happily, her brown eyes twinkling, and Carlos shakes his head, already seeing where she’s going with this.

“We should all get a bite together,” Valetina continues, and Carlos has to stifle the groan that is dying to come out at the tag-teaming happening before him.

“We barely get to see you, hermanito,” Sofía adds on with a sad face that fools no one.

“We saw each other two weeks ago at Mami’s for Sunday lunch,” he points out, rolling his eyes when the three of them shrug their shoulders in unison.

“Way too long, bro,” Lola answers, getting a nod from their other two sisters. “And we’re obviously not sharing enough if none of us knew you have a boyfri – “

“Okay!” Carlos interrupts before she can finish the dreaded ‘B’ word. The last thing he needs is his meddling sisters spooking TK with that title. He looks at him with an apologetic look on his face, hoping he understands. “Do you mind if they join us?”

TK looks at him for a moment and then at his sisters, a sly grin making its way onto his face that fills Carlos with dread. “That depends,” he starts, raising an eyebrow at the girls. “How many ‘baby Carlos’ stories can I get out of this meal?”

Carlos lets out that groan he’s been holding back as his older sisters all smile at TK like he’s a new shiny toy.

Being the boldest one of his sisters, Lola steps towards TK, slipping her arm through his. “All the stories you want, my dude. Let’s start with the one where Carlos would play Selena’s ‘bidi bidi bom bom’ on repeat and do her spins in the living room until one time he almost threw up on the carpet from twirling so much,” she recounts, throwing a grin at him over her shoulder as she and TK start walking ahead.

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, opening them again when he hears snickering at his side. He glares at Valentina and Sofía and their matching grins.

“We better catch up to them before she tells him that you can’t get through a single Disney or Pixar movie without crying like a baby, and that’s why you don’t watch them in the theater anymore,” Valentina warns him, laughing at him when his eyes widen.

He doesn’t move for a moment, letting them pass before him. TK throws a look back at him, half-worried but also gleeful as Lola says God only knows what in his ear, and Carlos can’t help the mixture of apprehension and tentative joy he feels at his worlds colliding.

“Keep up, manito, before we steal your boy away,” Lola shouts out, already crossing the street with TK still wrapped around her arm.

“Shit,” Carlos swears low before rushing to catch up.

֎֎֎

They end up at some hipster tapas restaurant. It’s not his usual style, but his sisters and TK seem to like it as they all pick from the multiple small plates at their large table. The girls each have a wine glass in their hands and blessedly don’t blink an eye when TK says he doesn’t drink and orders an ice tea.

He sits next to TK, with his sisters on the other side of the table, watching the two of them like they’re putting on a show for their enjoyment. He glares at them, hoping they’ll cut it out, but they seem to just find his scowls enjoyable – ignoring him in favor of focusing on TK.

“So TK, how did you and our little brother meet?” Valentina asks, starting off the inquisition.

TK pauses mid-reach for the papas bravas at her question before grabbing the dish and scooping some onto his plate for him, giving him a smile when he says thank you. “Um, we met on a call,” he starts to say, taking the plate of garlic shrimp he offers him in return. “I’m a firefighter; we were answering a call to a car accident, and Carlos was the leading officer on the scene.”

“Ohh, a firefighter, nice,” Lola says, throwing him a teasing look. Carlos is grateful for it as it makes TK laugh, and he misses the pointed look his other sisters give him at the way he and TK interact so easily.

He knows they are dying to ask.

“How did you snag such a hottie, Carlitos?” Lola continues, turning her teasing towards him.

Carlos rolls his eyes; used to his sister’s good-natured ribbing, he opens his mouth to mess with her, only for TK to let out a snort.

“Well, first, look at him,” TK answers for him, turning to look at him with a teasing but soft look of his own, a sweet smile playing on his lips. “He’s gorgeous.”

Carlos feels his heart jump at the easy way TK compliments him, not shy in the least as it makes his sisters share another round of looks that this time TK catches.

“It seems to be a family trait. You’re all very beautiful,” he says to them with a charming smile that has Carlos groaning and laughing at once as it totally works on all three of them.

“Don’t butter them up,” he complains as he sees the twinkle in all their eyes. “They’re already insufferable all on their own. If you hype them up, they’ll just be impossible.”

“It’s not hype if it’s true,” Sofía says with a flick of her curly hair, getting a nod from Valentina and Lola.

“That’s right, wey,” Valentina continues, grinning at the face he makes at them. “Listen to your boyfriend; we’re beautiful.”

Carlos freezes at the word boyfriend, but TK just laughs with the girls, moving the conversation along as he asks more about Carlos’ childhood. He leans in, listening intently as the girls share embarrassing but honestly sweet stories about him. Each looking at him with the great love he knows they feel for him.

TK hangs on to every word, smiling softly over at him every few minutes as he files away information – like his love for anything custard and his intense fear of cicadas.

“One time when I was 15, this kid in the neighborhood was picking on me,” Valentina tells the story, sharing smiles with Lola and Sofía as they start to chuckle, remembering the moment.

“We were all playing outside, and he came over and started making fun of my glasses or clothes. I don’t even remember, but I was on the verge of tears when Carlos, who had been playing with his action figures on the porch, comes running and kicks him as hard as he can on the shins, surprising the kid. He tripped, and Carlos jumped on him, hitting him with his tiny fists, screaming at him not to be mean to his sister,” Valentina pauses, looking over at him fondly. “I’m eight years older than Carlos, he was only seven at the time, but he was still protecting me.”

“Awww,” TK gushes, looking over at him with a tender glint in his pretty green eyes. “That’s so sweet and so in character.”

Carlos feels himself blush at the focus of everyone around the table, fidgeting as they all grin at him. “I protect the people I care about,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“I know,” TK answers softly, reaching out to take his hand. “Trust me, I know.”

Carlos stares at TK feeling a shift in the air, his silly heart giving a flip as hope starts to sneak its way inside it.

“What else?” TK questions, turning back towards his sisters but not letting go of his hand.

The girls share another look between them, and Carlos can only guess what they’re thinking before they jump into more stories.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter and childhood anecdotes, and before Carlos knows it, they’re settling up the bill and walking out of the restaurant. They linger outside for a moment before, one by one, the girls hug TK first, telling him he needs to come to the next Reyes’ lunch and that their mother is going to fall in love with him. TK smiles through it, not making any promises other than checking his schedule with him. He forks over his phone easily when Lola asks to add him to WhatsApp with the promise of baby pictures of him, and Carlos just knows she’ll add TK to a group chat before the end of the night.

They turn to hug him, tight and warm as always, each whispering in his ear how much they like TK and how happy they are that he’s found someone who makes him smile the way he’s smiling. He hugs them back, all the while looking at TK over their shoulders, wondering what’s just happened in the course of the night.

He hails them a cab and reminds them to text him when they each get back to their homes, getting fond rolls of their eyes as they promise before getting into the cab, leaving him and TK alone with this sudden shift in their relationship.

Neither says anything for a moment, each knowing one of them needs to start.

“So,” he begins, biting the bullet. “I guess we should talk about tonight because I don’t know if you realize this, but my sisters just left with the impression we’re in a serious relationship, and that means I will have at least a dozen texts by morning from my mother.”

“Sure,” TK says, nodding quickly, nervous energy pouring out of him. “But first –“

TK takes a step into his space, and then another until his chest is pressed against his, and Carlos instinctively puts his hands on TK’s slim waist seconds before TK covers his mouth with his, in a hungry, almost desperate kiss. Carlos matches his energy, pouring all the love and longing coursing through him, claiming TK’s mouth the same way TK has claimed his heart.

He holds him so close he’s sure TK can feel the way his heart is pounding against his own.

“TK – “ he gasps out, his skin tingling at every point of contact. “What – “

“I’m crazy about you,” TK blurts out, stepping out of his hold to pace. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t see it coming. You were just supposed to be this cool guy I had good chemistry and good sex with, someone I would be friends with and share a bed with on occasion. This was supposed to be simple. But every day, I fall for you a little bit more and more with your kindness, your patience, the way you make me laugh and smile even when I don’t want to.”

He runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up, looking adorable even as his eyes have gone wild. “You weren’t the plan. You came into my life when I was at my worst, and for some reason, you still wanted to be around me, offering me the best of you, and I have been trying to ignore it because I thought it was too soon after my break-up or because deep down, I think you deserve better than me.”

“There is no one better than you,” he interrupts, needing TK to understand that once and for all. “You’re not perfect, TK, I know that,” he says, holding up a hand when TK goes to argue. “But there is no one better – you are the only one for me.”

TK lets out a gasp at his words, finally not moving about, coming to a stop, and Carlos takes the chance to touch him again, bringing him in closer as he cups his face, tilting it up to him.

“Your sisters looked at me tonight as someone worthy of you,” he whispers, his eyes going glassy. “I so want to be that. I want to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos smiles, feeling everything inside him melt for the man in his arms. “Oh, baby,” he whispers softly, leaning in to kiss his forehead, his eyelids, cheeks, and the tip of his nose before he brushes his lips against TK’s. He pulls him into a hug when he feels him tremble. “Don’t you get it? You already are.”

“Carlos – “ TK gasps something like a sob into his neck.

He pulls him back, making sure he’s looking at him before he finally says the words he’s been holding in for so long. “I’m in love with you, TK.”

TK lets out a wet laugh, nodding rapidly as he grasps his shoulders. “I’m in love with you too,” he answers, smiling brightly, matching Carlos’ own smile.

The kiss they share is salty from their mixed tears but perfect.

Breaking the kiss, they press their foreheads together, basking in the moment and the change in their relationship. Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever been happier, but after a moment, he finds himself letting out a groan as a realization creeps in.

“What is it?” TK questions him curiously.

“I just realized that if my sisters learn we weren’t official before we ran into them and that dinner with them helped in any way – I’m never going to hear the end of their mocking,” he answers, blinking in surprise when TK lets out a chuckle that quickly turns into a deep belly laugh. It only grows as Carlos pouts at him in return.

“Not even five minutes of being boyfriends, and you’re laughing at my pain,” he says, trying to keep from smiling but being unable to do so at the use of the ‘B’ word and the way TK lights up at it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

TK sobers at his words, the laughter dying out but the loving smile staying in place. “I am so lucky,” he says softly, taking his hand.

Carlos intertwines their fingers, bringing their hand up to his lips, laying a kiss over TK’s knuckles. “I’m lucky too.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #lonestarweekend #lsweekend2021 #tk x carlos #my writing

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