#but i suggested making a painting for him before. so I guess it's not completely because of the holiday? eh idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slut4thebroken · 2 months

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Home Improvements

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x wife!reader

Summary | Emmett does yard work while you’re outside tanning and you (both) get a little needy.

Warnings | Smut, semi public sex, humiliation, exhibitionism, a lil degradation, breeding, slight age gap, they’re so cute it kinda makes me sick lol.

Words | 1.8 k

Notes | I’ve been wanting to write some consensual Emmett stuff for a while so thank you to the anon who sent an ask to @kiss-me-cill-me who ended up tagging me🤭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

More of these two

(Ignore the fact that idk how lawn mowers work lmaooo)

You were laying down on a lawn chair in your favorite bikini, sunglasses on and book in hand, but you weren’t reading anymore. You were completely focused on Emmett. The top two buttons of his shirt were left open and his already short sleeves were rolled up a little, showing even more of his muscles and tattoo in a way that made your mouth water.

When you noticed he was standing still, you forced yourself to pay attention and realized he was looking at you. “What?” You called out. The engine of the lawn mower was still on, but it was quieter now that he wasn’t moving it.

“I asked if it’s too loud.” Your heart fluttered a little— he’s always so considerate.

“No it’s okay. Thank you for checking though.” You were out here first so of course he wanted to make sure he wasn’t disturbing your tanning/reading time.

You continued watching him. Occasionally he’d stop and remove his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but he was getting through it pretty quickly, much to your displeasure.

“Hey, Emmett?” You yelled, hoping he heard you with how far he was. He paused, turning toward you, and when you waved him over, he obeyed instantly.

“Yeah?”

“Aren't you kind of hot? It’s like 80 degrees out today.” You said casually, confusing him.

“A little, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Maybe you should take your shirt off. Feeling the breeze really helps.” You suggested, glancing down at your mostly nude body to show that you weren’t completely bullshitting that excuse. He chuckled quietly and shook his head a little, looking away from you with a small smile.

“Sure, baby.” You knew that he knew exactly what you were doing, but you didn’t care. You got what you wanted and that’s all that matters. He started unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, then tossed it onto the second lawn chair. Since he already knew, you decided to close your book and put it on the small table in between both chairs.

“You know, it also might help if you work a little slower too. Going fast means using more effort, and that means getting hotter quicker.” You knew it was grasping at straws and completely cheesy, but he scoffed a laugh and played along.

“Good point. Any other suggestions?”

“None that don’t involve public indecency.” You said teasingly and he chuckled again before walking back over to the lawn mower to continue. You could see now that his torso was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, only getting you more worked up.

There was something so incredibly hot about watching your husband do completely mundane, domestic tasks like mowing the lawn and barbecuing. He also had a really bad habit of doing home self improvements… so at any given time, there was at least one part of the house that was unfinished. The plus side to his love of home diy’s was that he’d build you things for the house, like extra storage in a weird space where nothing could really fit, or a new table after you accidentally spilled paint all over it and couldn’t get it off.

You frowned when he turned the lawn mower off and started walking over to you. “It looks amazing, honey.” You smiled, shamelessly eyeing his body as he sat down on the chair next to yours. You offered him your glass of ice water which he took eagerly, gulping down more than half of it in one go. “You know, I think you deserve a reward for doing such a good job.” Honestly, it was more a reward for you being able to sit here for half an hour without jumping his bones.

“You hate when I’m all sweaty.” You could tell that he wanted whatever you were offering though.

“Yeah… but that just gives us an excuse to have round two in the shower.” You smirked and his lips curled up into a small smile.

“Come here.” He said as he laid back in the lawn chair, letting you climb onto his lap. His hands settled on your hips as you took off your glasses and his hat before finally kissing him. Your arms draped over his shoulders, letting you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. When he pulled back, you whined quietly. “I don’t think I can do yard work while you’re tanning anymore. I’ve been hard since I walked out here.” You choked out a laugh, then started grinding on his bulge, making his breath catch in his throat.

“I agree. I’ve been wet since you started mowing.” You leaned down to kiss him again, still grinding your hips, and his hands dragged up your sides to cup your breasts, making you moan quietly. When he pulled your bikini down to rest below them, you let out a gasp that turned into a mewl when he leaned forward and sucked your nipple into his mouth. “Fuck- Emmett…” You said through a breath, tightening your grip on his hair. “People might see.” Even though you were in the backyard that had a wood fence all the way around the perimeter, there was still a chance.

“Thought you said I deserve a reward.” He grumbled, moving to your other nipple to suck and nip at it teasingly. “And I want to fuck my wife on my own property. I don’t give a shit if someone sees.” You knew that wasn’t true. You’d have to stop him from commiting a felony if someone accidentally saw your body because of how jealous and possessive he could be.

“I’m gonna be pissed if we get in trouble with the HOA.” A few years ago, you never would’ve imagined that you’d be married, living in a suburban house, worried about the HOA. Despite your words, you started snaking your hands down his chest and stomach to his belt. You managed to unbuckle it, even with how close your bodies were, then you opened his pants and took out his cock, stroking him to full hardness.

“Fuck.” He hissed, kissing up your chest to your neck, then sucking the skin into his mouth to leave a mark. “Need you, doll.” He whispered, hips bucking up toward your hand, desperately seeking out your tight, warm cunt. Since you were just as desperate, you quickly pulled your bikini bottoms to the side and sunk down on his cock, making both of you moan. You sat down on him completely, then paused, needing to let yourself adjust.

When his hands snaked around to your back and tugged on the string of your bikini, you gasped and tried to keep the fabric from moving away— at least with it below your breasts, you could quickly cover yourself if needed. Emmett didn’t seem to care about that though as he pulled it over your head then threw it somewhere to the side.

“Fuck..” You said through a breath. The risk was making you infinitely needier and as you continued to get more turned on, you started to care less about someone possibly seeing.

“Come on, baby. Give me my reward.” He gruffed. As if your body was completely under his command, you started rocking your hips, warming yourself up a little. You cried out when he suddenly slapped your ass. “You know what I want.” His voice was much harsher now, making it clear that this was a demand, not a request. So you started bouncing up and down on his lap, forcing moans out of both of you. “That’s it… Be a good little wife and use that greedy cunt to please my cock.” He groaned, slapping your ass again before moving his hands up to grope your tits. You were starting to sweat now as you panted, quickly heating up from the exertion.

Getting bolder, he suddenly reached for the strings on both hips, then quickly pulled to untie them. “Emmett..” You warned— being completely nude was way too risky.

“We can move this to the front yard if you’d prefer.” He threatened, making you falter. When you gave up on trying to stop him, he smirked and removed the fabric, leaving you fully bare. “What would people say, honey?” He murmured mockingly. “If they knew that you liked riding me in public, in broad daylight, without wearing any clothes.”

“Emmett…” You whined, his words making you needier.

“Oh, I know, baby… I know.” He cooed, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek. “You can’t help being a whore, but it’s okay because you’re my whore. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You mewled, desperately moving your hips, chasing your release.

“Say it.” His hands settled on your hips and he held you still, then started bucking up into you.

“I’m your whore, Emmett.” You whined with a blush. He moved one hand to smack your ass as a warning, then immediately put it back on your hip. “I’m your whore!” You cried out, much louder this time. “Fuck— please make me come.”

“Wait just a little longer, doll, I’m almost there.” He said breathily, tightening his grip on your hips almost painfully and bucking up into you so fast, you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. Your breasts were moving embarrassingly with how hard he was pounding you, only furthering your humiliation… which only brought you closer to the edge.

“Emmett.. please, I can’t hold it.” You whimpered, clinging to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.

“Go ahead, sweet girl…” He said through a breath. “Come for me.” You reached down to rub your clit and when your orgasm crashed over you, Emmett quickly lifted a hand to cover your mouth, muffling what would’ve been a mix of a scream and a moan. You stared down at him with furrowed brows as your body trembled with each wave of pleasure that rolled through you.

He cursed under his breath when your orgasm made your cunt squeeze his cock almost too tight, sending him over the edge as well. You only had to endure the overstimulation for a few seconds while he continued bucking up into you, riding it out. His grunts and breathy moans were creating a new pool of arousal in your stomach, but he was done before he could get you worked up all over again.

When he relaxed his grip, you accidentally sunk down all the way, making you both wince from the sensitivity. You were still panting and Emmett was in a similar state, but he snaked his hand around to the back of your neck and pulled you down into a kiss anyway. It was short, but still deep and passionate, leaving you even more breathless.

“I’m going to look into building higher walls for the fence so you can start tanning naked.” His lips were curled up into a poorly concealed smirk. “Just so you don’t get tan lines, obviously...” He said coyly, making you laugh.

I think I want to write more for them cause I really like their dynamic so send me some ideas <3

#emmett smut #emmett a quiet place #emmett x you #emmett x reader smut #emmett x reader #cillian murphy #Emmett x wife!reader

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awniie · 4 months

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NO OTHER BOY W/ CHOSO

summary: choso finds out what a period is and takes care of you ୨ৎ

content: fem!reader , reader has bad cramps , fluff , reader has mood swing , not proof read 𓏲 ࣪₊♡

notes: this was a little self indulgent…⊢ ✶ ˖ ࣪ ☁️

“so your bleeding?” asked choso , looking you up and down with pinched eyebrows as he laid next to you. You nodded, pressing the pillow to your stomach trying to take your mind off the pain that was racking through your abdomen. You’d recently started dating choso kamo, who didn’t have much experience with well, anything. Especially not menstrual cycles. So when he found you the bed, rolling over and letting out pained groans and going through what seemed like 3 different emotions at once, he’d almost called 911. You’d notice his panic and quickly that what you were going through was, normal, which took him some convincing. “And this is normal, like you’re completely fine?” Your boyfriend queried, still having an incredulous look painted across his handsome features. You could see how this could be conflicting to him, it was like that for you too when you were younger, but after however many years of going through this every month it became less and less of a phenomenon for you.

“More or less, but you don’t need to freak out. This happens once a month for about a week. You get used to it after a while, but sometimes, take that back, most of the time it’s an inconvenience.” You reassured him before wincing at another spasm in your lower stomach. He frowned, obviously not thrilled with this revolution. “Is there anything I can do to help it, subside? He offered, moving the pillow on your stomach and replacing it with his big, warm hands. It was a kind gesture, and helped you calm down as you felt your stomach contract. “Uhh..no-not much. Maybe a snack?” You suggested, your eyes searching his.

Since that moment, choso made it his personal mission to treat you like a princess for the rest of the week. ( he already spoiled you all the time, but you get what I’m saying ) He brought you all your favorite treats. Sweet pastries with tiny rocks of sugar that coated the top. Your favorite iced coffee drinks, and anything else that you craved. He made sure to postpone all other activities that week, just to cuddle and spend time with you. Once on your really heavy day, he stayed with you until you fell asleep, just to run out to the store and buy you something. You woke up a bit before he returned and you cried the entire time. Some reasonable, mature part of you knew that he’d be back, but that part of you had buried herself deep inside of you for the week. You cried and cried, and he did come back, he was utterly confused. He had a white bag in his hand, but dropped on the floor and came rushing over to you.

“Why are you crying, I only left for a bit?” He asked you, rubbing his back and comforting you. You hiccuped and buried your face into his chest. He was throughly bemused at your sudden outburst of tears. You guessed you didn’t give him much closure on mood swings. He didn’t ridicule you though, just making sure your stomach felt okay and that he was here now with you and everything was going to be all right. “Look babe, I bought you this.” He grabbed the plastic bag and opened it to reveal a stuffed animal, your favorite in fact, that had a little opening on its back.

“You can put it in the microwave, and it’ll heat up and you can use it for your cramps.” He informs you, taking it out of the cardboard container it was in. “Here I’ll warm it up now for you.” You couldn’t help but feel tearing up in your eyes again. No other boy has ever taken care of you as diligently as him. He’s been by your side for the past couple of days, murmuring praises in your ears and helping you sleep. You sniff and all those feelings take form.

When he comes back, he sees you with yours eye glassy and tear-stained cheeks. He takes a long look at you, but says nothing before positioning himself next to you. “So you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” He asks, nothing making eye contact while he places the heating pad stuffie on your abdomen. You feel your lip wobble slightly and the words come rushing out at the same rate of your tears. “You’re just so sweet. Taking care of me like this Cho’. ” You confess, once again burying your face is his chest.

Choso felt his heart melt. He didn’t realize it had meant so much to you, it seemed like the bare minimum to him, but he grateful accepts your words. “shhh..don’t cry please. I’m doing this ‘cus I love you.” he presses a kiss to your warm, salty lips. “I love you so, so much.” You kiss him back, just a little softer. “I love you too Cho’.

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mandukkul · 10 months

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PRACTICE — n. rk

synopsis: niki needs a break from dance practice and what’s better if not you to rewind and cool down

tags: bf!idol!niki x gn!reader, FLUFF!!! , established relationship

warning: not proofread, grammatical and spelling probably, please tell me if there’s any gendered pronouns in here i’m pretty sure it’s all gn but i’m not sure

word count 1k

published: 20th July, 2023

reblogs + comments appreciated!!!

author’s note: this one is so old i forgot i even had it. TRIALS IS LITERALLY LIYERALY LITERALLY STRIPPING ME BARE HOW DOES SCHOOL EXPECT ME TO REMEMEBRR THE ENTIRE SCHOOL YEAT INTO 3 HRS 😭😭😭. anywyas have a good read while i study my bio exam

The music began to die out, slowly being replaced with heavy huffs of air. The lights in the practice room reflected off their sweat, and the scent of icy-hot was infused with blood sweat and tears.

the choreographer clapped their hands in satisfaction, finally declaring their break.

The enhypen boys let out one big sigh in unison, all relieving from their end position and heading to their bottles.

Riki, without a second thought, darted at you, sitting all pretty (what he said) and watching intently— legs swinging as you hummed the tune of their song. a smile stretches across your features, shiny pearls that riki swore, outshined the lights in the room.

“you did so well, riki”

His name on your tongue was all he needed to get his energy back.

“here” shifting a cold bottle of water towards his direction, riki gratefully took it from your grasp, making sure to ever so slightly brush his hand against yours before probably downed 50% of the contents.

your eyes glued to him, staring as if he was a painting come to life. You didn’t mean to stare, but who could blame you. His glistening skin only made him look more ethereal with the lights assistance, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed what was supposed to be you water, his hair flipped back which further exposed his headband that you got because it reminded her of him.

He was perfect.

Finally looking down, he wiped the tiny dribble off his lips and stared down at you.

you staring wasn’t any new occurrence, no, it had been caught in the act several times prior, and today was no different. Although, Riki never seemed to get over it.

your doe eyes and pretty lips, how your cheeks naturally blush— maybe it’s because you’ve been staring at him for the whole time.

He kneels to your height, on his knees with your positions swapped. riki looked up to you with nothing but adoration in his eyes as you subconsciously brush a hand against his cheek.

he holds into your hand and leans into her touch. “you’ve been doing so well, riki” a hums a response pushing forward towards you.

you take it as a sign for affection, leaning in allowing your foreheads to touch— despite the spongy sweat filled band.

The enhypen boys try their best not to stare at the kdrama scene unfolding right in front of them but they swore they saw sparkles emit when your hands touched.

“OI, NIKI NO KISSING!” Jake calls out after entering the room with new bottles of water for the rest of them.

the boy doesn’t flinch at the noise, in fact he ignores it completely. “wanna cuddle” he mumbles in a sleepy tone, probably tired from the relentless hours of dancing and singing.

“hmm?” you hums almost teasingly, leaning away from him which makes his eyes dart awake. “if you want, i’ll stay over tonight, i’m sure junwon won’t mind” you suggest which seemed to rejuvenate him.

“okay!” he pulls your hand away from his face, and with a mischievous glint in his eye, chomps down on your finger.

a quiet yelp left your lips as you went to retaliate with a hard forehead flick which sent him rolling around in the ground.

“oi, i’ll make you sleep on the ground tonight!” you scold but there’s no threat in your tone, “but it’s my bed, won’t you sleep on the floor then?” he tilts his head at you.

“then i guess Sunghoon won’t mind an extra visitor in his bed, will he” he knows it’s not true, she also knows it isn’t — even sunghoon knows it isn’t, but he’s just so in love with you that he can't even bare the thought of it ever occurring.

whining, he gets up to hug you, with all his sweat spreading against your fresh clothes (which retrospectively, are his). “noo! you’re mine, only mine” he whines in a low volume which makes you giggle.

“of course i’m yours, second to Beomgyu of course” you tease once again kissing the side of his cheek to avoid any more complaints due to your teasing.

“beomgyu-sunbae doesn’t even know you exist” he remarks, holding onto her tightly, “yeah well, beomgyu-sunbae wouldn’t mind meeting me then” you retort with a giggle as he huffs in defeat.

“don’t worry, I'll always be in love with you. only” you reassures and he takes a moment to absorb her feature once again before rushing to peck her lips.

“HEY, THE KIDS ARE KISSING!” heeseung shouts for basically the whole world to hear, “at least i have a lover hyung, kiss jay if you’re so lonely” riki sneers back tightening his grip on you.

“why not i kiss you instead” heeseung giggles mischievously as he slowly approaches riki— who’s fight or flight response kicks in.

Almost immediately , niki began being chased by heesung. one taking his long arms to advantage by outstretching them to pull him in for a kiss while one took his long legs as a benefit to sprint faster around the room.

“hey riki! if heeseung catches you, i’ll consider that cheating and find Beomgyu myself” You shouts only pouring more gasoline into the fire.

“NO! ONLY I CAN KISS YOU!” and suddenly, youre off your chair,being lifted and bolted out the practice room like a sack of potatoes leaving the rest of his members behind.

“What about practice?” you laugh as you turn around to barely face him, “it’s okay, i learnt the dance ten minutes into practice!” he confidently proclaimed.

his hands around your waist holding secularly as you try your best not to wiggle out of his grip, he knows , as does she, that a memory like this is worth all the scolding they’ll get as soon as they’re found.

authors note pt. 2: THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS, I CANT DO MUCH RN BECAUSE IM PREPARING FOR EXAMS BUT I DEFINITELY HAVE STUFF SAVED UP FOR THIS (not alot but still stuff) AGAIN THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME AND I HOPE WE CAN GROW TOGETHER 🤓🤞

#mandukkul #mandukkul’s aquarium #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen niki #niki x reader #nishimura niki x reader #nishimura riki x reader #riki nishimura x reader #niki enhypen #enha niki #niki imagines #niki nishimura x reader #niki reactions #enhypen riki #enhypen imagines

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kookygranger · 4 months

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Is This Desire?

Firefighter!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Steve Harrington falls for you a little harder every time he meets you. Now you're free to live your life and he's ready to make a move on the girl he thinks about every day.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut-ish (allusions to sex), secondary character death, witchcraft, reader is a town outcast, fem!reader, no upside down/no hawkins au

Word count: 2k

Author's note: This story is inspired by a trippy and vividly detailed dream I had, minus the lovechild because that's not my vibe but good for dream me I guess.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter One: When Under Ether

1979

The first time Steve Harrington saw you was on a brisk fall night. Brown leaves lifted in small whirlpools down the street as children’s laughter and sugar-induced screams permeated the air. It was Halloween.

Steve wanted to dress up as Robin Hood, his outfit complete with feathered cap and fox tail sitting on his navy-blue bedspread at home, but his friends thought trying was lame now – so he settled for a ripped shirt and a half-assed green face paint job. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to be a zombie or Frankenstein’s monster.

He’d done that a lot lately. Changed things about himself that others his age suddenly found uncool or only suitable behaviour for babies. He may not have known as much as the kids that sat up the front of class, but he knew one thing for sure, he didn’t want to be thought of as a baby.

Maybe that’s why he was stood in front of the rotting wooden gate that led up to the house at the end of Maple Street, so far away from the rest of the neighbours that it could only barely be counted. Unless it was to get its own street name entirely, which right now Steve felt like it could, as far away from safety as possible to his small legs.

See, the old Ravenwood house was only spoken about in whispers, its history revealed in rumours perpetuated by ghost story obsessed children for as long as anyone can even remember the house being occupied. And with its peeling paint, overgrown and weed-riddled front yard, and creaking front porch, it was a ripe opportunity for a young boy to prove that he was no scaredy cat on All Hallows’ Eve.

Steve walked up the sunken stone path with his two friends in tow. Tommy, the boy who’d suggested the dare earlier in the night brought up the rear of the small group, knobbly knees knocking together.

Steve was wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans when a flurry of bats, unnative to this part of the world, flew into their path, screeching only slightly higher than the two boys behind him who ran straight back through the front gate. His heart battered against his ribcage as he squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath like his grandma had taught him to when he’d get mad or upset, and when he opened his eyes he saw you.

Watching curiously through the second-floor window, where you sat perched inside, a warm glow framing your small body. Steve thought you looked to be the same age as him, but he’d never seen you before. He smiled that charming Harrington grin he’d been told he possessed, then waved – you, more shyly returned the gesture. Then he’d heard his name called somewhere back beyond the threshold of this strange house, and he’d returned to his friends. Brushing off the ill attempt at machismo with talks of scoring candy.

When Steve’s head hit his pillow that night, veins pumping with sugar, he thought of you. He would never forget about the girl in the window. A beacon of light that dissolved his fears.

***

1986

The second time Steve saw you everything faded away into the background.

He’d been swapping occupational war stories with Robin at the bar in town, the one that didn’t refuse service based on age but based on your likeability according to the bartender. He’d made his way up to the bar through the lively post-work week crowd to order another round when he saw you. Through the far from sober bodies, tucked away on a barstool up against the wall, your hands playing with a sodden beer mat as your eyes wandered, people watching, Steve Harrington swore he saw the face of an angel.

Although time had changed you both, bodies growing up and through awkward stages, arms and chests filling out to be hugged now by the scratchy material of Steve’s striped polo and the soft cotton of your dress, your legs strong enough to bring a grown man to his knees (as far as Steve was concerned), the glint of a thin silver chain on the wrist that supported his big hands enough to capture the attention of almost all the girls in town – Steve had still known. It was you. By looks alone, you may have been a far cry from the little girl in the window, but he knew.

Inexplicably, for he could not cite the hairs on his toned arms raising at the sight of your eyes gazing back at his, or the warm, tight feeling in his chest he’d only ever felt once before as proper methods of identification. But your shy smile and hitched breathing as he drew near only confirmed it for him.

And before he knew it, his lips oh so close to yours, shining after his tongue had poked out to wet them were asking if you wanted to get out of there.

“Yes.”

Robin would later get more than her fair share of making up for his total abandonment of her without so much as a goodbye, but in that moment he couldn’t think of anything else but you.

How he could taste the bitterness of your perfume on your skin when he kissed your bare shoulder, how you sounded when he sucked on the skin under your ear and the vibrations you made together when he swallowed your moans, how you squeezed his hand that held yours beside your head laying on the pillow that wouldn’t be rid of your scent for a week after, and how you kissed him deeply after the seventh time he’d asked if you were still okay, if you still wanted this as much as he did.

When you left him, asleep with kissed lips parted in soft snores and hair mussed, the marks he’d left on your neck and thighs would serve you as a sweet reminder. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla followed you as you snuck back into your house through the back door, the quiet creak masked by the singing cicadas. Your uncle exactly where you'd left him, still sleeping off the extra spoonful of valerian extract and dried chamomile you’d steeped with his tea to buy yourself a little more time out there.

Where magic was forbidden. Where children threw cruel comments and the adults they’d overheard them from ushered them across the other side of the street. Out there where people would never be understanding of you, and boys who could trick you into giving up your power ran rampant.

You’d thought – hoped, dreamed – that maybe on your eighteenth birthday you could get a kiss. A moment of normalcy outside of your life stuck in this house but what you got was so much better.

What you got was imprinted on your skin with the lingering feeling of his lips.

***

1993

The third time you meet Steve, you breathe in your first taste of free air.

Steve had volunteered to take a ride with the EMT to transport a body to the morgue, on an otherwise slow shift at the firehouse. The only other one in town had called in sick and the nearest hospital was a town over.

When the bus turned down Maple Street, Steve immediately felt off. A sense of dread washed over him and only increased when the car continued off the main street and down the dirt road that led to the Ravenwood house. As the vehicle kicked up stones and a cloud of dust in its wake he’d been hit with a sudden wave of déjà vu, remembering dreams that felt as real as memories of walking up this path only to find himself back at the start over and over again.

When the bus finally came to a stop in the driveway Steve barrelled out, running up to the front door in a panic, his raised fist ready to knock it down before it abruptly opened. Exhaling quickly at the site of you, the sinking feeling in his stomach alleviated as he took you in for the first time in years.

You’re dressed for mourning. A soft black dress and scuffed boots, hair pulled back to reveal a bare face that Steve had the sudden urge to kiss.

“H-Hi.” He managed to stammer out a greeting as his colleague finally caught up to him, walking up the creaking steps to your front porch.

“He’s in the bedroom.” You held open the front door, moving aside to let them in. Voice small, smelling of lemon, cedarwood and white musk and Steve had to physically keep himself moving as he brushed past you.

Your uncle laid stiff on a double bed, on top of the covers and dressed in a tattered corduroy suit as if ready for viewing, his body now an empty vessel left only for a ceremonial send-off. A white handkerchief covered his face, a small bundle of dried cypress and sweet cicely perched on his forehead. A breeze from the open window across the room swayed the hem of your skirt as you stared at him.

Steve pointed to the handkerchief, asking you if they could move it but stopped his movements right away when you tensed. His colleague tells you it’ll have to come off during the autopsy and you fold, asking if it can at least go back on afterwards.

“Once we drop him off he’s out of our hands ma’am.”

“I’ll make sure it does,” Steve placates you and you offer him a small nod in thanks. He barely remembers to breathe.

You followed the stretcher out to the bus, a rumbling of thunder catching the two men’s gaze up to the sky when the back doors thud shut. The view was clear when they entered the house, no forecast for rain on this mild summer’s day. Now fat drops began to hit the ground with the rolling in of grey clouds. Steve looked down and noticed a small smile on your face.

You took a deep breath in with eyes softly shut. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk.” You took off down the front path, stopping at the front gate when Steve called after you, asking if you were sure as the rain only intensified.

You just turn and smile at him, waving with a fixed mind. “It’s cleansing.” Only to disappear into the tall grass fields across from your house in a blur of black. Walking away, a free woman.

The front door creaked closed, making Steve’s companion jump.

“Freaky.”

After that day Steve hears of regular sightings of the girl who grew up in that house. Gossip of blooming, bright lavender and bluebells, buzzing bees – life where there once was nothing but rot and death. A fixed white picket fence and carefully laid stone-path that led up to a now bright and welcoming looking house at the end of Maple Street. But this was still a small town and generational rumours took more than a fresh coat of paint to cover up. The witch who lived at the old Ravenwood house was still feared among small minds.

***

The fourth time Steve Harrington saw you he was dropping Robin’s overdue books off at the library on his way to work. Navy blue t-shirt hugging his biceps, tucked neatly into his uniform pants, the stomp of his steel-capped boots muffled by the scratchy charcoal carpet.

Robin had sent him in the hopes that he could get her late fees waived. He’d spritzed an extra spray of his cologne on before leaving their shared apartment, Harrington charm plastered on his face as he prepared to win over an elderly lady who was reminded of her husband when they first met. Only, the person behind the counter wasn’t wearing a blouse with a frilly collar or sporting a purple rinse quaff.

The person who greeted Steve was wearing a well-loved PJ Harvey shirt, with long braids running down her back, flashing a timid smile that ripped through his chest.

“Hi, Steve.”

End note: If you want dedicatedly researched, heart-wrenching witch core you should go read @storiesbyrhi's Eddie fic Burning Yarrow. I'd also recommend @rosewaterandivy's S.H. x witch!reader story, which is just blow me down gorgeous. Their words probably inspired the dream that inspired this story ✨

Thank you for reading! x

Steve edit by @/vasguett on pinterest

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #firefighter!steve harrington #witch!reader #she writes

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gilbirda · 27 days

Text

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 25

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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---

“So you are saying that the Infinite Realms’ government is organized like a dungeons and dragons party?”

Danny snorted and patted Tim’s shoulder. “Jazz’s idea, actually.”

From where she was quietly talking with Bruce, Jazz huffed. “I never said it was a dungeons and dragons party. I only suggested the organization that fit our strengths better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Potato, potahto.”

Jazz rolled her eyes, but went back to her discussion.

The group was walking towards the gardens, where a light lunch was served. Time went by as the Waynes asked anything and everything about the Realms and their rulers, now that there were no more secrets between them. They talked about Sam and Tucker and Valerie and even about Danielle, her origins and how she joined the team included.

The Fenton siblings enjoyed oversharing in a way that felt weird to the vigilantes, so used to hiding and concealing their thoughts all the time. Now that they were more comfortable, Danny and Jazz didn’t hesitate to act more inhuman around them, with the younger sibling floating when he got excited as if it was the more normal reaction.

It reminded Bruce of his colleagues in the Watchtower break room goofing around and using their powers for the stupidest reasons.

When Tim rejoined them, this time alone, he was more annoyed about losing the bet than missing the ghost royalty status reveal. Danny thought that was the funniest thing, and gladly started a new stream of oversharing information about Jazz’s princess status and all the titles she held, ignoring his sister’s attempts at silencing him.

They didn’t even notice lunch time approaching until Alfred reminded everyone in the house that they had to eat — yes, even their inhuman guests. The last part was added with a pointed glare and a short nod before the man walked away.

So now they were making their way to lunch, which was served outside given the nice weather despite being way into fall, chatting about Team Phantom and their roles in detail.

“So Sam is like the Barbarian of the team?” Tim pressed on. “And Tucker is the Artificer.”

Jazz huffed again.

“We are not—”

“Actually, is not that far from the truth,” Danny chuckled, “but not exactly just that. All of us are at least trained in one main duty and act as a backup for someone else. That guarantees that if one of us has to leave, nothing will be left unattended.”

“Like with Jazz being here.”

He nodded. “Jazz helped Tucker with all the record keeping and research in magical theory, as well as diplomacy and ghost law studies. Valerie helped Jazz with her main duties, and so on and so forth.”

“Magical theory?” Jason asked, one eyebrow arched. “Ghost law?”

“Sounds cool but it's actually just reading a bunch of books and trying to guess what they say.” Danny grumbled, rubbing his face. “I swear there is nothing that can make me pass out faster than reading those fuckers.”

“That’s because you don’t do your homework. Dorathea is a very good teacher.” Jazz chimed with a mocking smile.

Duke interrupted when Danny jumped to answer. “You said that the books weren’t Jazz’s main duty, so what is it?”

The young woman tensed for a second before putting on a gentle smile. It didn’t fool anybody, though. “I am—”

“Jazz.”

She turned towards her brother. “What?”

��Jazz, look.”

She frowned at his serious tone, the boyish glee gone completely, but turned to look at what he was pointing at.

It was a giant painting on the other wall of the room they just passed by, which was featuring a small family — a woman, a man and a child. All three were wearing nice clothes, serene smiles for the portrait.

“What’s the matter?” Bruce stepped closer to see what they were seeing, tensing when he realized what it was. “Why are you pointing at my parents’ portrait?”

The siblings looked at each other. “That’s your mother?” Jazz finally asked.

The look Bruce gave her was equal parts worried and calculating. “Indeed.”

Again Danny and Jazz talked to each other with facial gestures and looks.

“It can’t be.” Danny murmured. “Can it?”

“I don’t know.” She answered.

“Hey.” Jason grabbed Jazz’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

She glanced at her brother, frowning. She licked her lips and drew a long breath. “That’s Lady Gotham.”

One second passed by. Two seconds.

“No, that’s my mother.”

Dick giggled at the absurdity of the situation.

“Could she be wearing someone’s face?” Jazz ignored Bruce’s quiet breakdown to talk to her brother. “Or is it like ‘the Spirit passes down ownership’ kind of situation?”

Danny hummed. “I don’t think it is the second case,” he crossed his arms, “she felt like an Ancient and this woman couldn’t have been dead that long.”

“Are you saying that an ancient spirit is wearing my mother’s face?” The older man said, voice small. Even Jason frowned at the weakness in his tone.

Jazz seemed to snap back to reality and noticed that the conversation may not be the best given current company. She sighed. “We don’t know. Maybe. Was your mother special in any way for this city?”

“Are you kidding? Haven’t you heard about the Martha Wayne foundation? Or all the charity stuff in her name?” Tim scoffed. “Do you live under a rock?”

Jazz blushed. “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “I don’t pay that much attention to current events outside my work and Crime Alley.”

Jason pretended to try to hide his smile in Jazz’s hair as he pulled her for a side hug.

Danny made a face at the pair, shook his head and turned towards Bruce. “We can’t be a hundred percent sure, but it’s not unheard of for an ancient Spirit to change their appearance. It’s usually to fit in as time passes; but taking the face of a real person from their hunt?” He tilted his head, and Jason noticed the similarity with his sister. It was adorable. “That’s a new one for me.”

“We can always ask?” Jazz tried to move past her misstep.

“Do you really think she’d want to talk about that?”

“Maybe. If we ask nicely.” Neither sibling actually believed these words.

Bruce blinked slowly and started walking again, lost in thought. The rest followed as if nothing even happened.

“Is she really that scary?” Duke asked.

“She is…,” Danny started, rubbing the back of his neck, “she is surely something else. This city is cursed, man; so it doesn’t surprise me that the Spirit overseeing this place is just as cursed.”

“What Danny is trying to say,” Jazz jumped in, “is that the Spirit of Gotham has been deeply corrupted and, well, she’s definitely in pain, and sometimes she lashes out.”

“That’s a nice way to put it,” her brother scoffed, shaking his head and not looking at anybody. “I don't know what nice and watered down version of the story Jazzy here told you guys but when we first came here, she was pissed. King or no King, she was ready to kill me.”

Jazz blushed again. “I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.” Danny rolled his eyes.

She looked like she had something to say, but chose to close her mouth and ignore the chuckles.

They finally arrived at the nice backyard patio where a table was already set up for lunch. Alfred walked around the table with his cart, setting down the plates and giving the finishing touches to the display.

Nobody missed his little smile watching them naturally divide in groups and sit down together, his eyes lingering on Jason refusing to let go of his girlfriend’s hand even under said girlfriend’s brother's snarky comments about it.

It had been a while since the Manor was filled with noise like this. It felt… alive. Like how it was supposed to be.

The old man quietly grabbed his cart and went back inside to plate the second course for the meal. He didn’t glance at the moving shadows and the trickster reflections on the corner of his eyes — after so many decades serving at this Manor, this family, he got used to not being exactly alone inside those walls.

***

“I don’t know how you are going to break it to Frighty.”

Jazz froze mid bite, frowning as she swallowed the food. “What do you mean?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at Danny’s shocked expression. The young man looked around the table, maybe looking for support or an explanation, but he probably forgot they just met that morning.

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Jazz, Fright Knight has been courting you for around a year.”

Tim froze, glancing up to see Jason’s reaction. Expecting loud shouting to start, he was even more shocked when Jason leaned back on his seat and crossed his arms with a giant smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.” Jazz leaned in, glaring at her brother on the other side of the table.

“Hold on a second,” Dick pushed his empty plate aside to lean closer to Danny, “Fright Knight? The King’s right hand man? The Aspect of Fear?”

“That’s the one!”

“I don’t—” Jazz blinked, “I don’t know— How? When?”

“Uhhhh, since the first siege, I believe?” Danny's smile went from one ear to the other. “He said, and I quote, ‘I had never felt such things in battle before. Lady Jasmine’s war cries pierced my chest deeper than her lance pierced our enemies’.”

Tim shuddered. It was the way Danny impersonated this Fright Knight’s sickening dreamy voice.

“The first siege? That was more than two years ago!”

“And you haven’t noticed this guy being in love with you?” Jason spoke for the first time, grinning at his girlfriend.

“I don’t know?” Jazz threw her hands up. “I thought he was being nice!”

“For a whole year?”

“He’s been giving you courting gifts, Jazz!” Danny said, incredulous. “And you accepted them!”

“So those were courting gifts?”

“What were those gifts?”

“Swords.” Danny answered Jason. “Shiny blades. Ornamental and functional. Jazz has a collection back in the Realms.” He turned towards his sister. “Which, by the way, people keep sending gifts for you. I think they think that you are the ‘reasonable’ one of us and if they send you more swords you’d be more merciful.”

“I don’t need more swords.”

“You liar. You love swords.”

Jazz blushed, unable to say otherwise. “Still nothing he did told me he was interested.”

“Ancients, Jazz,” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Everyone knew he was head over heels for you. We thought you were preferring to deal with it in private.”

Her blush became worse. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands fidgeting with her napkin. “You know I don’t do all the romance stuff.”

Incredulous, Danny just pointed at Jason. “And how do you explain him?”

“It’s…” she licked her lips, “different. Unexpected. We just— we clicked.”

“Awww.”

Danny made a face and rolled his eyes, ignoring Dick and Cass’ cooing.

“Well. I’m not going to be the one dealing with all that. Frighty is all yours.”

Jazz sighed. “I’ll talk to him when I go back to the Realms.”

“Hm.” Danny hummed, suddenly lost in thought as he sipped his water. “Maybe you don’t have to.”

“What?”

“I said: Maybe you don’t have to.” He spoke louder. “Come back, I mean.”

She did a double take. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Danny took a second longer than what was expected. “You can stay here.” He leaned back on his seat, putting as much distance as he could from his sister. He was also evading her eyes. “Permanently.”

There was only the sounds of the birds chirping in the nearby trees and the wind flowing between the leaves for a few seconds.

“Are you—” Jazz’s voice was careful, low, “Are you firing me?”

Half the table was looking at Danny and the other half had their eyes glued on Jazz’s face. Her rage, while quiet, was familiar to those witnessing the moment — betrayals, infightings and disbelief ran though their minds as they remembered similar situations in their pasts.

“Jazz—”

“After everything you just— What the hell Danny?”

“I’m not— Could you at least look at me?” She did, and everyone could see her watery eyes. “It’s for your own good.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Jazz’s expression turned murderous as the tears escaped her eyes. She stood up, teeth grinding, breathing deeply a few times before she opened her mouth.

“You don’t mean that.” She crossed her arms.

Danny looked like he wished he was anywhere else but in that room at that moment. “Bad choice of words. I don’t mean that.” He slowly repeated.

“Good.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit, but she was still mad.

“What I wanted to say is…” He sighed and lifted his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at— You know I always mess these things up— Okay, okay I’ll get to the point.” He quickly added under Jazz’s narrowing eyes. He breathed in, breathed out. “I want you to stay here. In the living world. As long as you want.”

She processed his words, and slowly sat back down. The sounds of nature around them picked up like nothing happened, even if no one had noticed their rather unnatural silence.

“But you said…”

“I know. But things have changed, Jazz. I want you to stay. How could I not be okay with that?”

“But— But my role— And the Archives, and Walker, and—”

“Everything can wait. Or, I don’t know, we’ll deal with it.” He leaned in and took one of her hands in his. “We told you to come here because you really needed a vacation, and I stand by it. The Keep can wait for you. I can wait for you.”

“But—”

“Jasmine Fenton. You have given up everything for me. You were not meant for any of this ghost bullshit or war or fist fighting gods in a Denny’s parking lot. But you gave me a decade of that, and I appreciate it, but that’s enough. You can rest now, you can have nice things. You deserve it.”

Nobody missed when Danny gave Jason, and quick look around the people on the table, when he mentioned the “nice things” she could have.

Jazz opened her mouth only to close it again, more tears coming to her eyes. Her cheeks tinted red, maybe from embarrassment, maybe for remnants of her anger.

She yanked her hand from her brother’s and rushed to her feet, taking a shaky breath.

“Excuse me.”

Jason frowned, watching her go back inside the house and probably looking for a place to calm down.

He felt a kick on one leg.

“Go.” Danny interlaced his hands on the table and nodded in his sister’s general direction. “She needs you.”

Jason’s frown deepened, but he obliged without saying a word.

Bruce cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very self conscious under Danny’s stare. The young man didn’t look affected by what just happened like his sister was, but his eyes betrayed the conflicted emotions he hid behind his mask.

“I’m sorry you guys had to witness that. I should have waited until we got home. My bad.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, but it felt like forced nonchalance.

“That was sure something.” Dick commented after clearing his throat.

“I apologize but I need to ask,” Bruce leaned in. “Jasmine seemed pretty adamant her time here was limited, that she would sooner or later have to leave everything here. What changed?”

“Did she tell you that?” Danny made an incredulous face and scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t even need to ask. I don’t know why I keep being surprised by her antics.”

“So it’s not true?”

What else had she been lying about? A tiny voice said in the back of Bruce’s head. He tried to ignore it, but given the drastic differences between Danny’s and Jazz’s behavior, he was wondering what was the actual picture and what was the siblings’ casual omission of truth.

“It was true, but only because she herself sets those limits. Jazz is…,” he sighed, deflating on his seat, looking at the sky, “I love my sister, and a lot, but she takes everything too seriously.”

Or you don’t take things seriously enough, Bruce thought, but chose not to say it.

“I never said she had a time limit, or that she had to turn her back on the living world for the rest of her life. We sent her ass to the Arkham internship because she doesn’t know how to take a break.”

“Arkham is a break?” Tim asked what had been lingering in everyone’s heads. The siblings kept referring to working at the worst psychiatric criminal facility, a vacation and a break.

Danny scoffed again, turning his eyes towards the young man. His smile wasn’t kind. “You guys haven’t put it together? The kind of role Jazz has in the Realm. The kind of person she… The kind of person I asked her to become.”

There was deep guilt in his voice, and in the way he couldn’t hold his gaze. Danny fidgeted with his napkin, letting the birds sing the tension of his silence away. They were waiting on him to elaborate, and he knew that, but was building the courage to speak.

“Do you guys know how powerful I am? No, you don’t,” he answered himself with a shrug, “because there’s no one like me. I could— If I wanted to, I could bring this city, the whole city, into the Infinite Realms. Just like that.

If I wanted to I could end the war with a snap of my fingers. I could Order every ghost-adjacent being to follow my every command and bring peace via total domination. Or,” he stopped his fingers, sighing, “I could just rip their cores with a thought and crush them with another and be done with Vlad and with every stubborn ghost that thinks I don’t deserve to be King.”

He finally glanced up at Bruce, as if he knew all these scenarios passed though the man’s head as he spoke. “Imagine that — Every conflict, every war, I could wish it away in seconds.”

The older man nodded, following his speech. “And yet you are here.”

Danny’s vulnerable smile reminded him so much of Clark’s. “I can’t. I can’t do that. If I— If I just eliminate every little thing in my way, what kind of person would I be? I’ve seen it happen, Bruce. I know what I could be if I lose perspective of who I really want to be.”

Cass lifted her hand like she was in a classroom. “Jazz. She’s your anchor.”

Danny went back to looking at his hands, shoulders sagging. In shame? In defeat? “All of them keep me grounded, even when I feel like I’m drifting away from who I used to be. But Jazz? She knows what needs to be done, what I’m scared to do. She knows she can handle the guilt and the nightmares and the horror.”

He took a long breath to calm himself. “Jazz is what I can’t— what I won’t be, and she took that burden like it was nothing. She has always done that, taking the bad things and dealing with them for me. It’s just… This time, the ‘bad things’ are a little bit more permanent.”

It made sense now. How she avoided talking about it, how Jazz tensed when she was asked what her role was. How she was so comfortable at Arkham.

“She’s your Executioner.”

Danny flinched at Bruce’s words. “She’s that and more. She became a counterpart for me, a shadow, so I could shine in the spotlight. A symbol.” He said the word like it was a curse. Bruce didn’t miss the twitch in his eyebrow. “Do you know why her armor is bright red?” His smile wasn’t kind when he looked up. “The Infinite Realms are green. She stands out and attracts all the attention in battle so the rest of us can be the heroes of the hour.” He chuckled. “She never wanted any of this. She didn’t defeat the previous King, she wasn’t even there. I know my childhood could have been way worse if she wasn’t in my life, and I’m grateful, but I kept asking more and more from her and now—”

“Do you really think I didn’t want this?” Jazz’s voice cut through Danny’s rambles. “I chose to stay, Danny.”

He didn’t react when he saw her walk in, her face puffy and her eyes still wet. Did he know she was listening? Of course he did — from what the vigilantes could gather so far, Danny’s abilities were up there with Superman’s. Maybe even more.

“Don’t.” He frowned. “I can see right through your bullshit, Jazz. There wasn’t that much of a choice and you know it.”

She bit her lips, but didn’t deny it. Instead, she pulled on her joined hands with Jason’s so they approached the table and sat down.

After settling in her seat, she breathed in, breathed out and smiled. “You are making me sound like some kind of demon or something.” Nobody bought the lightness of her tone.

Danny caught her deflection and chose to follow. He scoffed. “And you are not?” He made a gesture with his hands, placing them on the sides of his head with his pointer fingers up, imitating his sister’s headpiece.

She rolled her eyes. “I am not—”

“Jazzy, fear incarnate is in love with you. He let you ride his horse!” He smirked at Jason. “Not an euphemism.”

He caught on what the siblings were trying to do and turned towards his girlfriend. “You never told me about any horse, darling.”

“Nightmare was a strategic move. Frighty knows I can’t fly like the rest of you and it could give me an advantage during battle.”

“Nightmare? Seriously?” Jason asked.

“Big black horse with wings.” She quickly explained with a shrug. “Breathes fire.”

“Are you serious? Fright Knight doesn’t let me even touch his horse and I’m the King!” He threw his hands up in the air. “That being said, he doesn’t challenge me as much as he does with you, and thanks the Ancients for that.”

“Wait. Wait a second. Are you saying—”

Danny’s smile grew like a Cheshire Cat’s. “Ooohhhh. You didn’t know? Did you forget the one basic fact about ghost nature, Jazzy-pants? Ghost’s love language is fighting.” He said the last part imitating her voice, like she was giving a lecture of some kind.

“Oh? Tell me more?” Jason leaned towards Danny, head leaning on one hand, completely enraptured by the information his girlfriend’s brother shared so easily.

“And he wasn’t pulling any punches either. Before I learned he was formally courting her, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight her to death or marry her!”

“He could do both if he’s not a coward.” Jason shared the smile with Danny, ignoring Jazz’s hands pushing his shoulder away from her.

“Hey!” Jazz protested, but there was a small smile on her lips. “Don’t encourage him!”

“Wait until I tell you about The Ballad of the Red Demon.” Danny also ignored his sister, and the eyes of the rest of the Waynes, as he summoned a notebook with more green flames. He cleared his throat, opened the notebook and started reading:

“The fire in her eyes burned brighter than any sun, as the sharp edge of her blade pierced your chest to meet your untimely end.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her burning fury will consume you in a blaze hotter than the Realm’s Core.

There she rides the winged Dark Horse as her cries call for the blood of her enemies, bright green eyes already searching for the next target.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her siren’s call will be the last thing you hear before you draw your last breath.”

“What in the Ancients is that?” Realization came to the young woman. She slapped the table and stood up. “Ghost Writer?”

Danny nodded. “He gave me the first draft to approve before getting into editing.” He shook the notebook closer to his sister. “There’s a chapter for each of us, don’t think it’s just about you.”

He rolled his eyes and reopened the notebook, getting ready to continue reading, but Jazz jumped and reached across the table trying to snatch the notebook before he continued. He managed to float away just in time to prevent her from taking it from him, and quickly flew high enough that she couldn’t reach him, but close enough that he was almost within reach.

“Awww, you don’t want our new friends to know about your feats during the last siege? About—” he glanced at the text, quickly murmuring words under his breath, “‘Her fiery hair glows like a damned halo’ and ‘sharp blade like a gentle kiss of death’ something something ‘crushing enemies under her foot’.”

Jazz was trying to jump high enough so she could catch her brother, her face crimson red as the others chuckled at the scene.

Finally, taking pity on her, Jason reached for the book as Danny was distracted reading the next stanza and seized it away from the floating Fenton.

“Thank you.” She breathed in relief, extending her hand so he could give her the notebook.

With a tiny smile, he opened it and tried to read too, but it was written in symbols he felt he recognized but couldn’t read.

“Do you have an official translation yet or do I have to wait?”

---

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ravengards-rogue · 4 months

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✧ tags : gn reader, sparring, making out lol, ex-mercenary!reader, suggestive, 18+

Wyll barely manages to dodge the swing of your fist.

He can identify the movement at least, a right hook sharp enough that it brushes his cheek even without making the full mark. His skin pulses with nerves as your knuckles brush him, stumbling backwards to not get nicked.

He pulls away and tries to take inventory - predict your next movement before you can make it.

You return to a starting stance, giving him some room. He swings first this time. With your body spread apart shoulder width and turned to one side to make you angular, you duck and put up your arms to guard from his next punch.

He lands against the front of your forearm and the shock gives recoil in his shoulders. He's gotten faster if you didn't dodge him at least. He nearly bites through his cheek, gritting as he looks at you carefully. Tries to examine your moves with the same swiftness you've taught him. On a functional level he understands it, but his body hasn't sharpened enough to use it.

He shakes his head to work off the nerve and regain his focus.

Your expression is firm and calm. A brief feeling of inspiration fuels his next move. He tries again, to aim the punch a little cleaner, land it in a way you can't dodge but you snake out of it a third time putting significant distance behind you.

Unable to predict what you'll do next, Wyll stops. The split second between deciding his next move is enough of an opening for you to strike, a swift spin kick landing on his side and abdomen.

He knocks over with a thud, on his side then on his back so he can push himself up. You join him on the ground before he gets that chance, grappling with him. The mats underneath you are soft enough to make it comfortable, but hard enough for him to feel his loss.

You wrestle on the floor like that, but your obvious strength outclasses Wyll quickly. You lock his arms and legs with your own until he can't move, your forearm under his neck. His chest heaves up and down as your cold, expressionless face looks down at him. Silent and imposing, Wyll lets out a long breath.

"Shit," He takes a deep breath in through his nose, looking up at you. You're close to him. "Mercy,"

"Are you giving up?"

Wyll gives one attempt to wiggle away to no avail.

"Seems like you've bested me. Mercy,"

When Wyll affirms his loss, you let go of him and sit up on his lap. You wipe your brown bone of sweat as he regains control of his limbs, his abdomen still heavy with your weight.

There's a long pause of silence as you collect yourselves. Wyll looks up at the ceiling, bright overhead lights painting you both in stark shades of yellow-white.

After some time, your expression breaks. You smile softly. The contrast never fails to be novel. Laying a hand on Wyll's chest, you pat lightly like you might pat someone to sleep. The touch soothes the pounding of his heart from the physical activity.

"You've improved in the short time we've sparred today. You're quick by nature, huh?"

He laughs to himself. Both at your sudden change in your demeanor and the way you're completely comfortable when held up to his utter exhaustion.

"I'm glad to hear it. I don't know if I could handle going another round with you," Wyll says, then adds with a crinkled nose. "Ah, that's not what I intended."

You tilt your head, eyes glimmering with mischief.

"You can't really keep up with me in that instance either, can you? We're working on your stamina after all."

Your reply gets a chuckle out of him. He lets one hand go onto your waist, the other taking yours into his. His lips brush up against your knuckles, kissing them as he looks up at you. Affection bleeds through his touch, eyes lidded with adoration.

"You wound me, my love. Have I ever not pleased you?"

"Flirt. You please me plenty. I guess being married has made me greedy,"

Wyll grins at you. "That's entirely my fault, isn't it?"

"Don't look so happy about it,

"Sorry, sorry." Wyll apologizes without any sincerity, opening your palm up with his hand to kiss the inside, down to your wrist. "But...I've earned being a little happy about it, I think."

Your expression changes, from faux annoyance to something else.

Wyll can feel the subtle of the mood shift, the breathy quality to your laugh. He slides his hand down to your hip, squeezing firm as you start to lean forward - balancing on one hand to keep you upright.

He'd welcome you falling into his chest, in any case, though he doesn't ask that of you.

Little moments like these still make Wyll feel like he's sneaking around. He should be more used to it by now, he's a married man - and he's been around debauchery even longer than that.

Yet, the hand sneaking up underneath your loose blouse, feeling the skin against his palms seems like something forbidden. Wyll doesn't dislike acting on that feeling, that this is something he's sneaking around to do. Unknown energy courses through him, making his skin warm.

He puts his hand on top of yours, the one on his chest - the one with the ring on it, letting pointer smooth over it. The proximity between your closes, noses brushing. With an innocent blink, you press your lips against Wyll's.

The gesture is chaste at first, enough to feel lovey-dovey and innocent. He's the one to deepen it, his hands sliding lower. You make a pleasant sound as he squeezes your ass, firm. His tongue slips against yours as you kiss, subtle slides as your incisors press into the plush of his lower lip and pull.

Half-way through kissing, you grind down on his lap. It's only then that Wyll pulls away from you. Eyes half-lidded with a less than favorable feeling stirring in his pants. There's a little line of spit connecting you that he feels especially embarrassed by.

Gods you make him lose so much control of himself. He'd have fucked you so thoughtlessly if he took even a second longer to pull of.

You pout when he pulls away, batting your lashes at him. "It was just getting good you know?"

Wyll smiles apologetically.

"Other people use these mats for training." He reminds you.

"They can be cleaned," You retort just as quickly. He has to pause to take in how fast you've said. Wyll laughs at you.

He brushes the tip of your nose with his again.

"Do you know you're rather hard to negotiate with?"

You pretend to think on it.

"Oh, I'm well aware. Me being hard to refuse is half the reason we're married, I think."

Wyll laughs against your lips, "I suppose that makes me a luckier man than I thought."

"Does this count as you relenting to my wishes?"

He feels the stirring in his pants and nods his head against better judgement. You giggle.

Wyll sighs. "Are the doors locked?"

"Mm. I locked them when we came in."

He looks at you with suspicion.

"Was this premeditated?"

"Maybe," You say, challenging and enthusiastic. "Does that warrant punishment, Duke Ravengard?"

In a swift motion, he pulls you up and flips you onto your back. You squeal delighted by the gesture, arms wrapping around his neck with a grin. He presses his forehead to yours as your legs wrap around his waist. He locks eyes with you, eyes filled with both mirth and desire.

"I think it does my love. I hope you're ready to endure it."

#wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #bg3 x reader #d.rogues love letters #first piece of writing on here ... it is so short im so sorry ehsdjkfsdj

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voidcat · 2 years

Text

— what the cat dragged in

characters: papa emeritus iii/you, cardinal copia, nameless ghouls, sister imperator

wc & genre/notes: 8.1k – strangers to friends/lovers, fluff, suggestive content (minor discussion of kinks and terzo being terzo during mummy dust. That part starts with “I’d say you’re deflecting,” and ends with the divider.) neighbors au, reader has a cat… I’ll b honest idk what else to say

a/n: this is My blog and I get to choose how cringe I want to be. Yes I said I’d not write for ghost and did it anyways after one (1) bad day. Yes this file is titled “hatehatehatemyself” on Google drive. The part after the burgundy divider is an optional ending. You can read the entire thing as platonic or slowly growing into something romantic. have fun x

Head turned left and right, looking around, no sign around.

The neighborhood is rather quiet today, the sun up and everyone out, at work or else. Rustling of grass with each breeze reaches your ears, and each time you whip your head toward the direction with hope.

In a breath, you cross the road and walk and walk and walk. It’s a long one, not unbearably so but still a little unnerving. You don’t recall many people going this way after all.

Now standing before the grand door, the little mailbox a few meters away awfully standing out, you raise your fist and knock.

And wait.

And waiting you do for almost a minute, if it weren’t for the noises you hear, a clutter of something, a shatter there and finally footsteps.

The door swings open– though it looks too heavy to be opened just like that and the man stands tall before you, forearm resting against the frame, leaning his entire weight to it, eyes barely open and you don’t need to see the barely filled bottle he holds to tell he is drunk.

The scent of alcohol reeks off him just enough.

Your nose scrunches up at the smell.

Squinting his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light coming from the sun, he doesn’t acknowledge you right away.

You doubt he has noticed you.

Isn’t it a bit too early to be drinking like this already? He looks trashed, to say the least.

Then he seems to notice you, though he makes so little movement to fix his posture, the belt tied around his waist barely doing its job to hold the robe together.

Decent on the eyes, you’d have thought for the guy, if it wasn’t for the weird face paint.

Getting too far and a little too early on the halloween spirit?

“Ah…” you clear your throat and try again. “So you see, my cat was lost and–”

“Oh perfect! That’s just lovely now.” he cuts you off, quite loud too. Head thrown back, he holds a sneer. “And what, little one ? Decided to come here and accuse us?” bottle dropped on the floor, rolls off to the side, hitting to an end by the door frame.

With both hands free, he throws them up in mockery, mimicking what you can only think to be a kid’s voice: “‘ Oh no the big bad mean satanists stole my cat and used it for their sick rituals. ’” hands dropped to his sides immediately as he is done with his imitation, he glares down at you: “Well guess what? Buzz off! As if I don’t have enough bullshit to deal with right now. Go find a more creative way to get in sherlock.”

So they were satanists after all…

Good to know you suppose, not that you care in all honesty. The whole church-like air of the building only gets more confusing for you though.

Before he can close the door to your face, you place your palm against it to stop him. “Hey!”

The force behind the door comes to a pause, probably didn’t expect you to fight back.

“Listen, Mr. Halloween or whatever poor Jack Skellington look you were going for.” you begin speaking, ignoring the way his face morphs into pure confusion. “How about you listen to people before barking assumptions at them?”

A moment of breath, the resistance behind the door ends completely and he opens it full again, waiting for you to continue but doesn’t seem all too happy.

“My cat likes to go outdoors and one of my neighbors said to me once that he often visits this place. So can I please come in?”

Seeing it written clear that you won’t be leaving any time soon, the guy sighs and steps aside. “Don’t touch anything and don’t leave my sight.”

Footsteps echoing in the hallways, you ‘pspsps’ here and there in hopes of your cat turning around but to no avail.

It’s only when passing a door that the guy pauses and curses to himself, you can hear the hints of an accent.

Turning to face him, he takes in your raised brow as a question.

“Copia has rats– pet rats. Your cat better be a vegan because I will not deal with his whole…” he gestures with his hand at nothing, “mourning or Sister Imperator’s reprimanding if a single one of them is missing.”

“Mr. Whiskers is a well behaving, domesticated cat with manners, thank you very much.” you say and turn your head with a huff.

Copia? Imperator? You have no idea who these guys are but you’re sure you can handle a couple of …dorky satanists, if the rest of them are just like this man baby at least.

You can always leave town before night too, if it comes down to it.

Only few steps away and the man watches as you disappear, yelling after you about ‘what did he say’ and all that bullshit but you couldn’t care any less because there he is, your precious baby!

All pulled up into a cozy little furry ball by the corner under a window, in what appears to be someone’s bedroom.

Pretty messy too.

The man seems to catch sight of you and say something he thinks is amusing, or sleek, from the tone he uses, though you pay no attention to his words or how they suddenly run dry. (‘ well if your eye on me the whole time, you didn’t need to make up an excuse about a lost c –’)

Picking up your cat despite his protests, you turn and thank him with a nod. His words register in your mind with a small delay.

“Maybe consider tidying up your room, what are you, twelve?” and with that, you exit his warzone of a room and walk back the path you took, with Mr. Whiskers purring in your arms the entire walk home.

The second time your cat goes missing while you’re home, you know better.

Instead of wasting hours searching around, you hike up all the way to that dreaded place and knock on the door with force and impatience.

It is a woman who answers instead.

A woman who does not seem to be the slightest bit impressed.

Staring at her bored face, you take notice of her clothes you can deem as formal for the place, the sound of fabric brushing as she crosses her arms, you snap out of it, trying to formulate the words regarding your cat and and all.

Whatever thought seems to pass her mind, you conclude that she doesnt care and watch as she leaves the door open, walking back inside. So you hurriedly follow.

“Sleek, black hair you said?” she asks, still walking ahead as you nod– shit, satanist or not, she can’t have an eye at the back of her head now; letting out a hum of affirmation you fasten your steps and try to walk by her side.

Steps come to a halt before a closed door, she knocks firmly, once.

Upon receiving no answer whatsoever, she rolls her eyes and opens the door.

They must have quite the savings you think, to have a place with soundproof walls and doors. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy moans and all, you wonder to yourself, couldn’t your cat have picked somewhere …normal to take his afternoon naps.

Paying the scene before her eyes no mind, the woman steps in– is that who the man referred to as Sister Imperator?, and you catch her words about grabbing the darn cat now and continuing his pity party later.

The sounds of sex stop and you can hear someone walking around all the while mumbling something.

Before you can thank the woman however, she turns and walks away.

Less than a minute later the same man from before peeks out his head through the door.

Wearing a different robe this time and doing a poor job of holding your cat, though Mr. Whiskers doesn’t seem to mind, the traitor, he watches as you take the cat from his arms.

As you turn to leave and call it a day, maybe open a bottle of wine and see where the night takes you, a ‘hey!’ catches up to you from behind.

Leaning against the door frame like he did the first time, he waits for you to face him.

“Just let me know next time your cat comes over. I doubt neither you nor Sister would like to become frequent acquaintances.”

You eye him with a suspicious look. Sure the woman does seem like if she sees you 3 times a week or more for your cat, she might sacrifice you and Mr. Whiskers to Lucifer with her bare hands but hey, you cannot control who answers the door now.

As if sensing your train of thought, or, a part of it, he lets out a sigh, “My windows are pretty wide. Pretend they’re doors or something.”

“...right.” Sounds more and more reassuring with each word for sure, great , thank you Mr. Whiskers.

Then an after thought seems to follow as a whine can be heard from inside his room, “ Just – maybe let me know ahead before you come through the window, yeah ?”

“And I should do that, how?” you ask, wishing the whole encounter to be over “I don’t want you charging me if a stone happens to find its way in.”

From how he mumbles the words ‘charging’ and ‘stone’ confused, it seems to be taking him a while to register your words.

The implication of your words seem to dawn in as his face goes down “Last I checked, cellphones exist.” he states, not sounding too happy about the possible danger his precious windows may face.

“And how should I know this isn’t some weird excuse to get my number?” you sound skeptical, on the edge, probably finger hovering over that dial button to the police if it wasn’t for the cat in your arms.

At your words though, he chuckles. “I do have a girl in my bed right now, you know?”

“And my question remains unchanged.” staring at him with a dead serious expression, you watch as his amused face falls, his eyes rolling and he shoves a hand down one of his pockets, taking out a pen.

Expectant eyes on you– wait, what is up with his eyes? , he pushes off the cap, shaking his left arm so the robe’s arm can slide off, revealing his skin, waiting. Waiting for you.

“You better not send me any weird crap or call-” you state then say out your phone number.

Well, worst comes to worst, you know a good lawyer.

Third time's the charm is how the saying goes. You have your doubts but perhaps there is truth to it as the man’s ridiculous window idea works.

It takes no time to figure out Mr. Whiskers spends his afternoons there because the rays of sunlight hit just right, and right next to where he sleeps is a comfortable armchair with black and white hair decorating its surface a little.

Few steps ahead of his windows, the view of a wonderful garden has attracted your attention but you know better than to ask, or enter without permission. The amount of times you’ve dropped by increases at record speed, yet the air between you both is still tight.

He lets out a warm laugh when he gets a good look at him once, but when you ask, you get no reply. Surely this cannot be the first tuxedo cat he has ever seen in his life.

One silence after another, he must've sensed how tense and awkward it feels too, as a little after he tries to make conversation and apologize.

So they are a satanic organization, that’s fine.

You’ve always wondered as a kid about the gatherings you’d see within a distance but never bothered to check for yourself.

A rock band to spread their word and message however, now that is odd. You’re starting to think their anti church might be the most normal thing to them.

Yet you remain your silence and let him speak, listen, and try to make as much sense of them as you can because god knows you won’t be leaving this place any time soon.

He says he is– was the frontman of the band, and their beloved antipope , but was dethroned , or so he claims, few days prior to your arrival.

You can understand frustration over something you have dedicated your time and effort into, and for you to be pulled off it without a logical explanation. That explains drinking until the brain shuts down despite that scent of alcohol still stings your senses.

Nodding to his words, you take his apology and leave with Mr. Whiskers that day. He asks if you’d like to see the garden the next time your legs are dangling off the windowsill.

You accept in a heartbeat.

With the weather warming up and all, your cat seems to enjoy the garden as much as you do.

Trees and flowers of all kinds tended to with care and love, you can tell. Each arranged with care, the entire place paints a beautiful picture before your eyes, and endless too.

Same as the window, this becomes a habit too. To stroll in the garden and sit on one of the stone benches, talking or staying like this in silence.

He seems fond of Mr Whiskers for reasons unknown to you, until he pulls out a photograph of someone in what you make out to be a tuxedo of sorts, on a stage no less.

The photograph is of small scale, you cannot make out much of the details, so he takes it upon himself to explain that it is indeed him in the photo and the looks of your cat caught him by surprise because of his looks.

Without waiting for a reaction, he offers to show you the outfit he wore back then, though he sounds a little melancholic about the whole thing still.

Sure , you agree, but keep it to yourself that the regency shirt and black pants look just fine on him.

It blurs at one point you begin visiting even without Mr. Whisker’s presence in his room.

Bursting out into laughter, he looks almost offended at your reaction. “I’m sorry-” your giggles break through as you wipe off a tear, “what did you say it was again?”

“Emeritus.” he says flatly.

“Emeritus.” you repeat, this time doing a better job at containing the giggling.

“Yes, Emeritus,” he says again and adds, “The third.”

If your laughter before was loud, this is something beyond, enough to make him go deaf in comparison.

“Okay no, I’m not calling you-” you bring your hands up to finger quote, “Emeritus The Third.” you say in a serious tone. “And I’m certainly not calling you ‘papa’ or some bullshit title.” you cut in before he can get a word out.

“We’re going to need a nickname, what about ‘em’?”

“Em.” his tone asking ‘are you for real?’, his turn to repeat now.

“Okay no, that’s just as bad, give me some time to th-” hand covering his face, he just shakes his head with a sigh.

“Just call me Terzo , caro mio.”

Seeing as to no reply from you comes, he removes his hand and looks up. “It means ‘ the third ’ in Italian.”

“Oh,” you manage to say, though you do sound a little different now, perhaps you thought from his reactions you hurt him and now feel sorry about that?

“Yeah, I can do that, Terzo.” speaking with more confidence now, testing the name on your tongue, you talk more to yourself and nod your head than to him– he finds watching you act like this, how you operate and think as you talk endearing.

You find yourself liking spending time with Terzo more than you’ve realized.

Work is work, adulting is the same and sometimes relationships with friends feel dull or far away.

To say the least, he is interesting. Usually something to catch you off guard or wondering, it is guaranteed your time with him is never one to fall victim to boredom.

So he speaks of his life, of things he has done on the road and whatnot, even going as far to recreate when he tried to kick off a beach ball only to fall, basking in the waves of your laughter, even complaining to him by nighttime that your face hurts from laughing so much.

In return you feel you don’t have as exciting stories but he listens as if they’re the most wonderful things he has ever heard.

You deem them mundane and every time without a beat, he says only to you.

It comes down to, more like remembering, those scenes from when you were a kid.

He is awfully quiet that day, when you speak of seeing figures in black walking in tow, a kid or two that seemed to be your peers but how their estate in the eyes of some were off limits, and it was always at an odd time for you to be walking up there and talk with the kids.

A shame, the two of you could’ve met much earlier, yet he doesn’t voice it and you do not realize it.

Of all the things he has experienced recently, entering his room, to a bed unmade, finding you wrapped in the covers and sound asleep, would score high on Terzo’s list of things he wouldn’t expect– that is, if his brain could even muster up such a scene.

He doesn't need to, though, as it becomes real before his eyes and he makes way for the loveseat that night.

He doesn’t pry about it and all you say under your breath is that you felt lonely.

‘What about Wh-’ before he can ask, you open the covers partly to reveal that Mr. Whiskers is indeed with you, in his bed.

He just hopes the cat won’t switch his usual spot for his bed when he comes next time.

The nightly visits from you start to occur more, by the third time he knows it’ll become another constant, though not as frequent.

You do appear upset that he has to sleep on the couch, yet he waves his hand dismissively, that he doesn’t mind– he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or cross any unnamed boundaries. Which is a little outside the usual for him, he is known for being bold, for holding and kissing hands and doing much more when he can even smell from a kilometer away the slightest of interest the other party has in him.

The next time it repeats, he is startled by a sudden noise as he makes for the couch as always. Turning on his heel only to see you patting the spot next to you in his bed.

Sure, it is a spacious bed, more than enough space for the both of you, and Mr. Whiskers, yet he still feels tense about the whole situation.

What if he wraps an arm around you or something in his sleep and you wake up angry, that he jumped into conclusions, that this wasn’t what you wanted at all and that you’ll never visit again and file a restra–

“You think too much.”

You draw him out of his pocket sized crisis with few words and a flock on his forehead. “Keep doing that and you’ll end up with wrinkles in no time.”

What else can he do but chuckle at that and sink into sleep, safe and sound?

Wine is a skillful loosener, as the two of you rediscover together.

On days you stick around for longer, he makes his offer– though you refuse it as much as you can.

Despite dropping by unannounced after a while, you haven't walked into any intimate moments. And against your initial claim, your phone does get bombarded, usually photos of Mr. Whiskers when Terzo catches a glimpse of him, or when he thinks he is being adorable.

The latter is worse, because Terzo always finds him adorable once he warms up to the cat. The way he acts through text makes you picture him lying on the floor, hands supporting his chin, legs behind him dangling in the air, watching the unknowing cat as he sleeps or does the most mundane cat thing anyone can think of.

Neither of you are aware just how fascinating mundane is to him.

You can sense his pout from meters away.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” you put down the stacked papers. “What is it?”

Crossing his arms, he turns away partially, grumbling under his breath, “I don’t know what youre talking about.”

Getting closer to Terzo means many things, witnessing the absolute manchild that resides in him included.

Picking up your phone to turn the volume down, your eyes find his figure again– either he resembles Mr. Whiskers more than you gave them credit for or your time spent with him making you delusional. “Out with it already,” his form shrinks only further, “or no more visits from me or Mr. Whiskers.”

Now that , gets his attention.

Eyes focused somewhere near your face intentionally, he almost appears reluctant to say the words.

“How come you never listen to any of my songs?”

It takes you few seconds longer to register his words.

Before you can answer, he begins rambling, so rushed and in a whisper, all you can hear is few words in italian, which you’re sure are curses slipping his tongue and terms of endearment.

“I just… forgot?” you offer with a shrug.

Okay, maybe not the best response as this gets him to throw his arms into air, “ mio satana , you are unbelievable.” a finger pokes into your side, you haven't even realized he already crossed the distance between you both.

So he gets jealous when you listen to other musicians, huh , you save the information for future use.

As you begin laughing, he chuckles, muttering under his breath. “I guess, I’ll have to bring a ritual to your feet.”

It goes unknown to you that Terzo semi-regularly orders cat food for Mr. Whiskers, not that the cat ever seemed to be hungry when he was there, but hey, cannot hurt to try. If the cat only decides to visit him, with you in cue, more often, now there is no harm in that.

Another thing unbeknownst to you, is that, despite the distance between their estate and your house, Terzo can spot your lights without much effort.

If he were to dramatize the entire thing between you both and more, he’d refer to it as a beacon of light. But he doesn’t need to, because there is nothing more to what it is between the two of you, even if unnamed, even when he cannot help wondering “ what if …”, wondering if he is misinterpreting things.

So when he doesn’t see the lights turn on by the night time one evening, he doesn’t care, maybe the power went out, maybe you just want to try something different for a change. He certainly doesn’t care in the morning when he sees a second figure come out of the door, or when you drop by later that evening, a throbbing headache and ‘ long day at work’ you just murmur as you fall asleep on his shoulder.

You accept the wine when you're taking another stroll in the gardens.

With the weather beginning to cool down, you welcome its warmth to your very bones.

Booze loosens your tongue first, and soon your senses, your train of thought. Whether it’s a good thing or not that you’re not the only victim… you don't know.

“Was it worth it at least?” he muses as you’re seated on the same bench, glasses sat on the ground.

You twist your face, trying to recall, “Once I tuned his voice out, yeah I guess?” he snorts at your words, “Isn’t this the usual case?”

“Nah,” you drag the word as you reach for your glass, “He could also suck in bed. So the entire night wasn’t a waste I suppose. Never going back to that place though, I’m picky for a reason.”

You say the words more to yourself as a mantra than anything, Terzo watching you with a giggle hanging on his lips.

“Bad drinks as well?”

“It’d be charity to call them as such, ugh,” with a sigh, you drink down the remaining half of your wine, tipping the empty glass to his direction.

Taking your glass, he switches it with his and you take no time to bring it back to your lips.

“But this?” you raise the glass, “now that is a quality product.”

With another chuckle, he reaches for the bottle and fills the empty glass in his hand.

The topic of your recent and unfortunate endeavors morph into complaining about work, people in the streets, weird posts on the internet and whatnot.

“Okay, okay,” you try to speak inbetween laughter, “so what about weird preferences when it comes to sex?”

He just gives you a teasing smirk as you place your finger on his lips as a means to shush him “we already know weird shit and food combinations the other likes, consider this a slight change of topic.”

“I’d say you’re deflecting, but alright, I’ll buy.” he shrugs, throwing his head back to drink from the bottle– the glasses cast aside an hour or so ago.

“Any kink you can think of, I’m most likely into already, so just ask me yourself.”

You bring a finger to your chin, contemplating what to say for a moment, “Socks stay on or?..” you let your voice trail off, gazing at him from the side with a smile.

Bringing a hand over his heart and another against his forehead, he faces you fully and lets out a loud gasp. “Caro mio! You wound me. I might be the antipope but I am not a lunatic!”

He opens one eye to seize your reaction, and when your gazes meet, both of you burst into laughter.

“But the face paint stays on, no?” you gesture to your face once you stop clutching your stomach.

“Everyone has a preference, tesero.” he shrugs.

Considering his position and the closest people he can find to fuck, it does add up, you suppose.

“Now enough about me, what about you ?” He leans in to you, flashing his teeth. Not letting him get to him, you snatch the bottle from his hand.

“What about me, indeed huh? Just your basic, vanilla bullshit.” you close your eyes as you gulp down the wine.

Your comment only ignites him further, with another chuckle, he scoots closer, “You? Vanilla? I’d beg to differ,” and again, with the poking to your sides, he pleads “Don’t keep your papa waiting now.” “Okay first of all–”

You snap your head to him, only to be nose to nose, “ Not the ‘p’ word, we went over that ages ago, not calling you that.”

“Only because you’re being such a tease,” he sing-songs, his head thrown back.

“You are such a child,” you mumble as you place the bottle between your legs, hands gripping its neck.

“Biting, I suppose.” You can hear him open an eye and look your way, “Nothing extreme as I said, but people aren’t exactly dying to be covered in red and purple, you know?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” he answers, “their loss.”

You can sense he wants to pry further but keeps himself, and hell , the wine is good, there is another bottle waiting by his foot, and compared to the amount of black mail-level footage of him you've got, this feels like nothing.

“Taking risks.” you say in a whisper, partially hoping he doesn’t hear.

“Now, this falls vague, bella.” he says. “Risks of conceiving, catching STDS–” he begins counting with a finger,

“ No ! I said risks , not being an idiot.” You cut in, a hand covering your face.

You know he is waiting with that smug smirk, “risks of getting caught, like, dunno , semi public spaces and the likes?” you ask more than speak, meeting his gaze as you finish speaking.

“So that’s where the biting comes,” he speaks in a knowing tone, “leaving telltale marks blooming everywhere?” he muses as his hand begins to move, finger grazing against your skin.

“Like this?” he asks, hand going up and drawing patterns on your thigh, slowly going up, his eyes gauging your expression.

“...yeah” you say in a breath, letting his hand reach the inner side of your thigh. A finger flicks against the bottle, drawing out a trembling note, making your eyes flash though all your times here, you never saw anyone else in the gardens.

The bottle has long gone warm but his hand feels cold against your leg, you’re aware of his eyes locked on your face yet make no haste to draw yours away from the plants up ahead.

His hand begins to travel upwards, making way to fiddle with the hem, going under and his skin meeting yours.

Before he can do anything further however, you both jolt with the sudden noise coming from behind, between the windows.

“Cazzo!” he mutters and gets up, making way to enter his room through the windows.

While waiting for him, you go for the other bottle, pouring yourself some more wine, at least with a glass, you can keep count.

Pausing to listen around, you hear the commotion has died down.

Picking up the other glass and hoisting the empty bottle under your arm, you make way for the stained glass windows you’ve grown familiar with over the course of time.

Terzo doesn't seem to pay much mind to the interruption though, the conversation picks up from where it left, now talking in a more general sense.

“You give off vibes of someone who’d make a sex playlist,” you begin as he listens with a nod, “ and add your songs to it.”

“As I said gioia, everyone has their preferences.” he reaches to take the bottle from you, not expecting your arm to draw back, “yet I cannot help but be upset,” he sheds a nonexistent tear, “that you think my thrust game is so weak.”

Seeing as you freeze at his words, he takes a step to you, grabbing the bottle from your hand with a smile and places it down, not stepping back afterwards. “If you want a demonstration though, I am always happy to help.”

As if your silence was anything to go by, now it is deafening, the warmth and flush of your skin; you’re unsure if the cause is alcohol or him .

“And I did promise a demonstration of my songs to you before, didn’t I?” he says as he takes another step your way.

“So you see, we got this fan favorite song, Mummy Dust,” he speaks while pretending to be interested in the ceiling, gesturing with a hand in the air, “but not because of the lyrics.” he remarks with a smug expression, redirecting his gaze to you as he takes another step, barely any space left separating the two of you.

You’re unsure what to say or do, when left alone in a room with a bunch of people wearing identical masks.

You think, Terzo must’ve pulled a rope here and there, or acted in secrecy considering his sudden drop of position in the band, to have gotten into this studio– and bringing you no less.

The people he referred to as Nameless Ghouls stare at you, and you back at them. You can imagine the confusion they must be going through.

Then the man of the hour reappears with a clap of hands, dressed up in an outfit resembling a suit, and his previous remark at Mr. Whiskers suddenly comes back to you, finally making sense.

A concert– or a ritual, as he put it, he promised and one he delivers.

A ghoul begins playing his guitar in sync with the drums, as two of them walk to stand at their both sides and with a sudden stomp of foot, they all play in, in a fashion you can describe as ‘ knocking the wind out of your lungs .’

Only when Terzo’s singing, and soon the instruments coming to a stop that you realize you've been holding your breath the whole time. And quickly find out you may as well die due to lack of oxygen by the time the day comes to an end if they only keep up this momentum.

One song after another, they captivate you gradually. Be it the way the ghouls play or the way Terzo moves as he sings, radiating with energy. Walking around and messing up with one another, bothering each other at times– it all creates the illusion of a found family.

Briefly moving his hand, the ghouls pick acoustic guitars once another song comes to an end.

After each song he tells its name and some information– or funny memories he finds important you know.

With a signal of his hand, the ghouls switch to acoustic guitars and Terzo begins humming: “a one, a two, three, and four.“

With a move of his hand, they all enter the song.

One hand in a fist, resting against his hip and the other in front of him, he sways his hips softly as he sings.

It doesn’t miss your attention how some of his moves arent as innocent or random as they seem– when he brings his other hand to join the stray one, hoisting them up in the air as if holding something, or how after he holds the microphone with one hand and violates the poor stand with his fingers. Hands thrown into the air and shaking in the air as a ta-da once in a while, he takes a step back to point at one of the ghouls’ playing.

The song comes to an end and you think you’ve done good so far– then he decides to announce that the song is called Jigolo Har Meggido and you burst into laughter, leaving the men in the room utterly confused.

It takes several minutes for you to gather yourself, wipe away the tears all the while ignoring Terzo hovering over you with concern, unsure whether to approach you or leave you be in your violent laughter.

“I’m sorry-” your words die in your throat as another wave of laughter takes over again, “it’s just-” hand clutching over your stomach, you do your best to look up, “you do re-”, meeting his face only makes you laugh again.

A tap on your shoulder distracts you a little. Taking the water bottle one of the ghouls have brought to you, in your frenzy you didn’t even realize him leaving, you take a few sips to calm your nerves.

“I know you’re flirty and all, but witnessing you calling yourself a manwhore caught me off guard.”

Definitely not something worth laughing to that extent over, Terzo doesn’t say a word and instead flashes you a toothy grin.

“You’d be surprised to hear it was his brother who wrote this song.” you hear someone say, the same ghoul from before.

“Ah!” Terzo waves a hand dismissively in the air, “enough talk of that geezer. Now , what do you say to a grammy winning original?”

The ghouls slowly begin as Terzo walks back, their eyes on him and his hands, watching every move and tilt, following his guidance. Compared to the other songs they’ve played so far, this one comes off much softer, gentler, making you wonder what will come next.

Raising both hands in the air as if in praise, the ghouls all stop and silence takes over, waiting, and with his signal, they enter the song, picking up stronger than where they left off.

The melody matches the lyrics somewhat, the impression of a thunder, it builds up and carries smoothly.

He begins singing what you assume to be the second verse, drawing closer to you at a steady pace. His voice becomes the only thing you hear as the instruments falter and die out, quietening one by one. The microphone now held in his left, his right hand reaches out to hold yours, bringing it up near his face as he keeps singing: “ Can't you see that you're lost without me?”

And with it, they all reenter the song with a bang, your hand still in his, Terzo kisses the back of it in between lyrics and steps back to his initial position.

Drumming his fingers in the air, swaying them at the direction of either of the ghouls, they all circle around the keyboard playing ghoul as the song shifts into an instrumental part.

Eyes never leaving theirs, especially not his, not when he makes sure to lock his with you, you watch the entire performance almost in a trance, mind going blank.

When the song ends, you can see his expectant looks on you, already beaming with whatever compliment he’s positive you’ll be giving him.

So you decide to pick the teasing route.

“It was nice.” he stares at you, his face clearly showing he wasn’t waiting to hear that. “Nice?..”

Humming in affirmation, you nod your head. “Yeah, nice.” tilting your head to the side, you speak up, “ Say , this helps you get some?”

The man stands there, blinking at you for what feels like eternity.

The ghouls in a similar stance, though you’re sure you’ve heard one of them snort, and another snicker.

The eternity ends with a shake of his head and a faint smile on his face. “Yes, sorella , it helps me …get plenty actually.” he uses your phrase.

“Well,” he clicks his tongue as he places the microphone back to its place, “if it’s a …meretricious song you desire, how about I give you,” his pace of speaking slows down, as if holding his breath, waiting for imaginary drum rolls: “Mummy Dust!” He drags the words in a low grumble, shaking his hands in the air once again.

From how he starts swaying and moving his hips, you immediately recognize the song.

As Terzo begins singing, the sound of a door opening and clicking close reach your ears and when you twist halfway in your seat, you see a man with pencil stache dressed up in black, his hat partially resembling a bat, same painted eyes and upper lip like Terzo yet lacking the rest of the face paint.

The man stills in place when he sees you, only gets his feet to move again when you pat the vacant spot near you.

Whispering greetings back and forth, you immediately remember his name.

“Ah you’re the Cardinal!” Your voice comes out a tad more excited than expected. The man on the other hand seems confused as to how you know him already.

“How are your rats? Happy, I hope. I am so sorry, I never got the chance to apologize to you or to them because of Mr. Whiskers.” The words leave your lips in a breath, leaving the man dumbfounded, repeating your cat’s name in confusion and unaware,

“ah, I-, my most sincere apologies, who?..”

“Mr. Whiskers, my cat, didn't Terzo t- oh.” Unfortunately the mention of a cat before you can stop makes his eyes go wide, and you try your best to assure him that your cat didnt even set foot into his room, somewhat calming the anxious man down.

The music on the other hand, as well as the singing, gets louder and a tad more aggressive.

Probably unhappy with how your attention was led somewhere other than him. So needy and grumpy, spoiled like a cat.

“Uh, we can save our discussing for after the song?” Cardinal suggests, to which you nod. “I'd hate to impose on this- uh, special performance his excellency was displaying for you.” He says, coughing on his words at the way Terzo moves.

“Its alright Cardinal. I was given a demonstration of this song already, I am not missing out on anything.”

Again, you must’ve said something wrong, because instead of relaxing, the Cardinal’s face tenses up and goes bright red.

“ Oh !” You wince, “poor choice of words on my behalf. That's not what I meant.” You try to offer an explanation with a sheepish smile, but to no avail.

At least Terzo looks quite pleased with the interaction, as clear from the smug expression taking over his face.

The previous incident– goes unaddressed between the two of you but the air between doesnt waver.

Still, it must have triggered some sort of change, you conclude, as Terzo’s texting habits only evolve into a different stage.

Sure, it went for quite a while that the initial purpose of exchanging numbers was abandoned yet he still possessed control, a sense of self restraint, when texting you.

Definitely the absolute opposite of whatever it is going on as of now.

Maybe you’ve spoiled him too much, your brain reaches another conclusion as the lips on your skin snap that thought in the middle, pulling you back into reality.

You still don’t visit him as regular as to say daily, or even biweekly– so you hold onto the benefit of doubt that he has absolutely no way of knowing youre busy trying to have a nice night, focused on pleasure and the feeling of euphoria–

Another vibrating sound against your nightstand cuts into the air, your sceeen lightning up right after.

You ignore it only so far until you find yourself scrolling and typing up a reply, the light coming from the screen reflecting against you and the man you’ve forgotten about already.

As you smile at his newest text, hearing that stupid whining of his voice and the pout, someone next to you clears his throat, snapping you back.

“Anything I should know about?” He only asks and in all honesty , you cannot blame the guy. You’d have reaches into equally ugly assumptions, were this to happen to you.

But it didnt, and it isn’t right now, so its only a little too late that you put yourself in his shoes.

“Nope.” You say, walking up to your bookshelf and placing the phone screen down, “just a friend.”

The guy hums, sounding skeptical but doesn't pry.

You give him the benefit of the doubt but few too many repeats and you know it's intentional.

You did spoil him too much it seems.

Another afternoon by his side, you're sitting on the window sill, one leg tucked under yourself, he is busy on the other side of the room, who knows what he is preparing this time.

“Wine?” he turns on his heel, holding a glass and the bottle’s neck tilted slightly already.

“None for me, thank you.”

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, a scheming expression takes over. “Ooh? Any plans for tonight?” He inquires. You don’t need to know that he is dreading the confirmation that'll leave your lips.

“I guess,” you shrug, turning to look outside the window, “promised Steve we’d spend the night together.”

Heavy silence spreads from your words and takes over the room.

The teasing remarks signature to his natural charm never comes and you turn your head to see if he even heard you in the first place… or left the room before you spoke… or somehow passed out in silence as you spoke.

Your worries ease upon seeing him standing there, still, not even a muscle moved from his last position, unreadable eyes staring at you.

Only when you tilt your head towards, asking ‘what’s wrong?’ and only then he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, coughs and tried to laugh it off with a ‘ have fun’ , pouring himself a glass.

Unbelievable.

Discreetly taking a sip from his wine to distract himself doesn't do much to ease him and the now unimpressed look you're giving him makes even the wine taste bitter on his tongue.

“Wh-“ “you are unbelievable.”

Okay, you don't just seem pissed, disappointed?, something definitely negative; you sound like it too.

“For wishing my friend a fun night?” And with a guy he has never heard you mention before– the word friend stings to say. “I’m sure Steve is a good gu-“ “ Again,” you dont let him finish, “you are unbelievable, absolutely childish and overall a great idiot.”

Okay now you're just being mean. A scowl makes its way to his face before he can even notice, making you shake your head in disbelief like a mother scolding her kids with a smile.

“If youre done with the insults cara,” he says and raises his glass, appearing pissed and upset as he downs the glass.

“Terzo, you met Steve.” His head snaps up at your words. “Steve?“ you repeat in question, “Steve Whiskers?” ‘ ring any bells? ’ He can hear you say in following–

The faint smile of yours slowly evolve in a giggle as you watch the gears turn in his head and finally connect the two and two together.

“The cat?!” His voice comes out louder than he meant to, suddenly straightening up and wiping invisible dust off his clothes, he clears his throat.

“Excuse me for my sudden input of volume.” You reply with a smile, “Send my best regards to Mr. Whiskers.”

You see the ghouls around few more times you're in the perimeter, as well as the scary woman from before.

Sitting in the gardens with Terzo again one warm afternoon and she passes in the distance, her eye catching sight of you no doubt.

Jumping in your stead, you rush to where she is. Terzo watches as you speak with more animatic gestures, Sister remaining stoic as always. You bring a hand up to scratch your head in unease, then holding out a box of sorts. As you are about to turn, he sees your body beam , most likely at something Sister has said as she walks away.

You pattle back to where he waits, trying to contain a big smile and pulling out few cookies from behind in surprise. Just as he does with anything else you offer, he devours the cookies, making sure to express his gratitude and worship before and after.

You settle back next to him, laughing at the way he acts as he ignores the crumbs on his thighs, resting your head against his shoulder and relaxing.

Yet you never tell him what it was Sister Imperator has said to you that got you in high spirits; not then, not later.

When you wake up with the sunlight grazing your face from the wrong direction, your first instinct is to return to sleep.

Having falling asleep by Terzo's side a reasonable amount of times now, it feels just as comfortable as your room. Despite his chest not being as soft as your pillow, the comfort of his mattress easily beating yours makes up for the loss.

Just as a content smile makes its way to your lips and you, more than eager to return to sleep, the situation of now sinks in and you can feel the warmth drain from your entire body.

Sure, this is not the first time you've found yourself falling asleep here, even in his arms, limbs tangled up no less; but all those instances contain one huge difference from the predicament you find yourself in now and it is last night.

Maybe you should pretend to stay asleep until he is summoned for anything, but the chances of this are dangerously slim. The light coming from between the curtains doesn't burn into your eyes just yet so it must still be fairly early, maybe you can sneak out before he can return from the land of dreaming. But that'd would leave bigger problems for future you and frankly? future you has gotten sick of your 'dancing around with nothing acknowledged' bullshit.

You take a deep breath, and shut your eyes further– hey perhaps they'll glue themselves together from how tight your muscles are contracting and with your sudden admittance to the hospital and the emergencu of the entire situation, it'll all get forgo–

A sudden noise stops your entire thought process crashing. A trainwreck, yes that's what this is.

Sucking a sharp breathe in, you think 'now or never', suck it up once and face on with courage.

Creaking one eye open and meeting Terzo's eyes on yours, every single muscle in his face loosened and his expression what you can only describe as to be 'at peace', all your anxiety from bare seconds ago gets washed down the drain.

And for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to relax, fully, and bask in whatever the future– and he, along with it, will offer you.

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heelanat · 10 months

Note

k so i was thinking about best friend!hao x u doing anatomy homework. imagine hin asking you for some random body part and if you got it right he WOULD KISS THAT PART hwheh

-💌

tiger stripes | zhang hao

pairing| bff!hao x chubbyfem!reader

cw| fluff!, slightly suggestive?, kissing body parts, mentions of abuse, common fem insecurities (you're beautiful and worthy, don't let anyone tell you any different ilysm <3)

wc| 1.1K words

prolouge| ever since the zhang family moved next door, little you and little hao have always been the best of friends, doing anything and everything together being only children and neighbors. your favorite game was pretend doctor where you would take turns being the patient. this ignited a spark, encouraging the both of you to take medical courses in the future. similar as you are, both of you grew up differently as he was raised in a loving an encouraging household, while you were being beaten up by your step father every day until you turned 16 when your mom finally caught him in the act and forced him to move out.

playlist| all of me by john legend "love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections"

ask from 💌 anon| "k so i was thinking about best friend! hao x u doing anatomy homework. imagine hin asking you for some random body part and if you got it right he WOULD KISS THAT PART hwheh"

a/n: the way this ask was so convenient because im a nursing major and were about to learn muscle anatomy next month? ilysm 💌 anon <3

one warm summer evening, as the sun dipped behind the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, you and hao found yourselves alone sitting on the floor of your bedroom. it was finals week and you decided to procrastinate the whole two months now you're stressing over how you're gonna do in the exam. you knew how careless you were and you knew you should've had that mindset months ago to scare yourself but we can't turn back time now can we? in complete utter desperation with no other choice, you decided to phone a friend and he arrived at your doorstep in a jiffy — literally, he was just next door.

fifteen minutes after you sent your text, the doorbell rang making you rush down the stairs but your mom got to it first. she opened the door to hao, grinning from ear to ear while holding out a container. even in a casual shirt and baggy pants, he still looked very presentable. "good afternoon, mrs ln! my mother baked these cupcakes earlier, they're still warm!" he handed it to her using both hands. "oh why thank you, hao. come, come in, ill get you something to drink" your mom gestured for him to come in as she made her way to the kitchen. upon entering, he noticed you from the flight of stairs and smiled wider.

and that's how you ended up gossiping and laughing on the floor while eating the cupcakes and drinking milk. you caught a glimpse of your beside clock while trying to catch your breath. "holy fuck it's 8:57 already?!" your eyes widened while wiping away the crumbs and icing from your lips. "guess we spilt too much tea" hao chuckled. you took out the cue cards you had prepared and gave it to him. "okay, no more mucking around. let's get some work done!" you dust the crumbs from your hands together before sitting down in a more comfortable position.

twenty minutes have passed and you made zero progress so far. hao even tried repeating the same question after every other one but you still couldn't get it through your thick skull. "it's hopeless, im never gonna be a nurse. guess you'll have to find someone else to be your assistant" you bent your knees up to your chest as you buried your face in them. "hey, hey, don't say that" hao scooted closer and hugged you while rubbing your back soothingly. "i wouldn't dream of having anyone else helping out dr. zhang, hm?" he lifted your cheeks to make you face him, smiling in reassurance.

"i'll tell you what, for every muscle you get right, i'll kiss you right there" he brushed a strand of hair from your face behind your ear. you felt your face heat up as his words echoed through your ears. "w-what?" he snickered. "well, maybe you're having trouble learning about the body because you're not giving enough love to this one. so, i will be doing it instead" he took her hand and kissed it. at that moment, you came to the realization that you started to see hao differently over the years since puberty so this was all coming to a surprise — but you liked it.

renered speechless, you gave a small nod as a response as he scooted backwards and took out the questionnaires once again. "let's start with an easy one, where are the biceps located?" you flexed your arm and pointed at it with a smug face, making both of you laugh right after. "that's right, good job yn" hao leaned forward and gently pulled your arm towards him before kissing your bicep, fulfilling his promise from earlier. you pouted and puffed your cheeks as you tried reverting the blood rushing to your face. "cutie" hao cooed at you and pinched your cheek before sitting back up.

"next, can you tell me where's the tendinous inscription?" you thought for a few seconds before finally pointing at it, poking your belly in the process. "good job, princess" hao liked giving you those nicknames since neither of you were dating anyone, no one was going to be jealous about it. he lifted your tank top ever so slightly and planted a soft kiss just above the belly button. "that tickles" you giggled in response. you should have kept that to yourself, tho. after saying that, hao kept on kissing, even moving around, painting your belly with his lips. "hao, stop!" you whined in between your laughter while trying to push his head away. hao finally declared defeat and stood back up, drinking some milk to rehydrate his palette.

"now, where were we?" he hummed as he was looking for a harder question. "ah, yes, the sternohyoid!" he gave a cheeky grin. you shifted your gaze to the side, trying your hardest to remember what it could be. giving up, you took the chances and pointed on your forehead. "hmm, are you sure?" hao asked in a teasing manner however he has been using thag to play mind games on you and thought you weren't gonna fall to his tricks again. "positive" you smirked to yourself, almost tasting the sweet victory. "aww, you're wrong, sorry" hao pouted while crossing his arms to form an x for incorrect. "oh, dang! i actually forgot that one, where is it again?" you innocently asked.

hao smirked and took this opportunity to lean towards you and kiss your neck. "here" he looked back at you, smiling feeling proud of himself as you froze in your position. "hey, you said you would only kiss me if i got the answers right" you smacked his arm playfully. "yeah but, i was really hoping you would get that one" he bit his bottom lip and winked at you. you rolled your eyes as he only snickered in response. he shuffled all the cards and pulled a random one from the deck.

"ooh, the gracilis!" hao widened his eyes while reading the question. "ah, i know this one because my step father used to always complain about it - its somewhere here" you encircled your inner thigh. "thats correct!" hao clapped and cheered making you also clap in response. hao carefully spread your legs apart and started lifting up one of the leg openings before you grabbed his fist, stopping him. "hm? what's wrong?" hao looked up at you in between your thighs. "y-you'll see my stretch marks..." you looked away while hiding half of your face with your hand. "so? if tigers can proudly flaunt their stripes in the wild then so can you" he continued exposing your thigh before kissing it. "that's where the gracilis is" you bit your lip as your face flushed pink, looking at where he just kissed you. not only that, that comparison made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. maybe hao is right, this body isn't so bad after all. you're just a fluffy cat in this world full of strays — with tiger stripes.

#zb1 #zhang hao #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #zhang hao imagines #zhanghao #zhanghao imagines #zb1 smut #zhang hao smut #zhanghao smut #body posititivity #💌anon <3

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sissificationblogpost1 · 20 days

Text

SISSY TRAINING PROGRAM FOR NEWBIES AND EXPERIENCED SISSY

WHO are struggling with their Gurly side and fantasy

Sissy Training: A Complete Beginner’s Guide

Unlock confidence and self-expression with our comprehensive beginner’s guide to sissy training.

Introduction

What’s sissy training, you ask? Well, if you’re here, you might have some ideas about it. But let’s clear up any confusion anyhow.

Sissy training is a transformative process that involves highlighting an ultra-feminine, drastically submissive persona.

For sissies, it’s a channel to locate, accept, and show off their authentic selves.

It’s not easy to find mediums for sissy training though.

Not when society is still, shall we say, narrow-minded. But just imagine it— just how liberating will it be to express your sissified self?

Many folks out there mistakenly think that sissy training is just about humiliation.

Absolutely not! It’s about finding power in being able to act without any inhibitions. Read on to learn more!

Understanding The Term “Sissy”

Some people might flinch at the term “sissy,” — a reaction we get thanks to society’s tendency to paint it in the wrong light.

But here’s the thing: we’re not society. We’re the redefiners, and so we must call out this misconception.

Today, “sissy” isn’t a smear or an insult. It’s a badge of honor, a sign of courage and self-acceptance.

“Sissy,” in its purest form, refers to a man who drowns himself immense femininity. Why would a man want this?

Think of it like a man’s breather in a world that expects him to do manly things. Such include being strong in every situation possible.

And pretending to be strong is very draining and exhausting.

It’s a man’s way to just let go. To be more intuned with his feminine persona and to heal.

To discover aspects of himself without shame and fear. A sissy can even adopt alter egos to explore more.

Does it involve submission? Sure, it can. But it’s not a one-size-fits-all label. It’s varied and rare for every practitioner.

The Basics of Sissy Training

Right off the bat, let’s address the elephant in the room: starting isn’t easy.

Heck, even I, with all my years of experience, look back on those initial, nerve-wracking steps. But guess what?

Nothing worth achieving comes easy.

Sissy training involves every feminine thing you can imagine. Femme behaviors?

Check. Femme clothes? Check. Femme thinking? Check!

The essence of sissy training lies in understanding that femininity isn’t a monolith— it’s a spectrum.

When you choose to be a sissy, you welcome the vulnerability and softness that comes with it.

But do not ever get this wrong— this “mellowness” also develops distinct strengths.

Such involves resilience and courage. They always go hand in hand, a part of the package.

Here’s a rundown of the absolute basics you must master first before progressing your sissy training:

Immerse yourself completely in your new sissy identity to commemorate your progress!

I’m talking head-to-toe transformation. And so, here are some practical advice I’ve picked up from my very own sissy education:

Dress the Part

What’s the best and easiest way to welcome your femme side?

A closet filled with your favorite women’s clothes, of course! But don’t just get everything!

Get those that fit you perfectly. Only give space in your wardrobe for those that complement your body type.

Your garb should also reflect your femme personality.

To help you get started, I suggest starting with the basics: a nice pair of stockings, a classy little black dress, and, of course, a pair of shoes that make you feel like a queen.

If you don’t have money to splurge, invest time rummaging through thrift stores, online sales, and hand-me-downs! Adopt Feminine Mannerisms

Do you want to look like a sailor dared by his unfunny friends to wear a dress for laughs?

Of course not! Your clothes make up about 50% of your presentation, but your gestures and poise, oh— they will take that up to 100%!

How can you “adopt” these mannerisms? Simple! By observing and engaging with the women around you!

Research indicates that you subconsciously mimic those you interact with, so take full advantage of this science!

Take note of how your graceful lady friend speaks, moves, and expresses their thoughts and feelings.

Who is involved in sissy training? It includes you— a male-to-female crossdresser (aka sissy).

You’ll go through various practices to make you an ultra-fem, subservient to another party in sissy training, your dom.

Other participants are your support system. It can include your fellow sissies, mentors, and allies.

How do I start my journey with sissy training?

Acceptance is first. Then, identify your motivations and objectives. Doing so will make your journey smoother since you have a map you follow. FOR QUESTIONS AND MORE INFORMATION ON HOW TO SIGN UP FOR THE TRAINING PROGRAM EMAIL : [email protected]

Telegram @mistressforsubmissive1

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devildom-moss · 5 months

Note

Hey! Happy one year anniversary 🥂 Can I request SFW first date with Barbatos and MC if your requests are still open? Thank you!

Thank you for the request, hope you enjoy~

1 year anniversary flash request event - SFW

(Barbatos x gn!MC)

Prompt 9 - First date

“I didn’t expect to see you out at the market today,” Barbatos admitted, holding both yours and his own shopping bag on one arm. “I never imagined shopping with you would make the experience so much more enjoyable.”

“I liked shopping with you too, but you really don’t have to carry my stuff. It’s not that heavy. I can hold it.”

“Precisely: it’s not heavy. I want to carry it for you. Consider it a small thank you for keeping me company.” Barbatos’s smile widened slightly, and you could swear you felt your heart jump.

“Then how can I thank you for keeping me company?”

Barbatos hummed thoughtfully. “Well, nothing we bought needs to be refrigerated right now, and I have some time before I need to get back and prepare lunch. If you have the time to spare, why don’t you come to a café with me? We could grab a drink – maybe something to eat if you’re hungry. I’ll buy.”

“What, like a date?” You asked him cautiously. He had never asked you out before, and although he seemed to express some affection for you, even going so far as to kiss your cheek before, you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“I’d like it to be, if you don’t mind,” he responded nonchalantly – a complete contrast with the gentle smile and faint blush on his cheeks.

“I’d love to!” you insisted before adding, “Although, if you’re paying, I would hardly call that me thanking you.”

“Nonsense. Your company is more than enough of a reward.”

Barbatos took you to a quiet café that seemed ordinary enough from the outside. However, once you stepped inside, you noticed that the center of the café contained an open-air courtyard, complete with outdoor seating, a garden, and a pond with a bridge. The rest of the café and intimate indoor seating option surrounded the courtyard with full-length windows providing a clear view of the garden. There were a few customers chatting quietly and enjoying their drinks, but it didn’t affect the peaceful atmosphere.

“Wow. This place is beautiful.” You looked around, awe-struck. “I never would have guessed it looked like this just from walking by.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Barbatos brought his free hand up to his mouth and chuckled, clearly pleased that he had impressed you. He walked you up to the counter and told you, “Order whatever you’d like.”

He waited patiently for you to make a decision before he added his own choices – including a hot gloom chocolate chai and an assortment of macarons. Barbatos even allowed you to pick the seating, although he gently suggested that the weather was pleasant enough that not sitting outside would be a shame.

With your food and drinks, you sat down across from each other at a quiet table near one of the trees in the courtyard. Suddenly, you felt self-conscious. You were on a date with Barbatos, butler to the prince of the Devildom, in the middle of the day, in a gorgeous café. What would people say?

And yet, Barbatos didn’t show a single sign of concern. Even in such a beautiful location, his eyes were fixed on you affectionately as he sipped his drink. Somehow, he looked lovelier in this setting.

“Thank you for bringing me here. You’re so kind,” you spoke up shyly. Barbatos’s eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to thank him nor praise him. A blush – albeit a light one – painted his face. He dropped his eyes to the table briefly with a timid smile.

“Try this. It’s a blood raspberry macaron. I ordered flavors I thought would suit your tastes.” Barbatos held the macaron up to your lips, intent to hand feed you. Your lips grazed his cool, gloved hand as you leaned in to take a bite. His eyes softened at your look of delight.

“That’s delicious.” Barbatos fed you the other half of the macaron, letting his fingers linger against you for a second longer than they needed to.

“You know,” Barbatos started, “I used to think nothing would be as pleasant as serving you tea and sweets when you visited the castle, but being on a date with you might be equally enjoyable.”

A/N: requests are still open for the rest of today if anyone else wants to enter. (rules here)

#moss 1 year event #moss 1 year event sfw #anon #requests #barbatos #gn!mc #obey me #obey me barbatos #barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader

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panickingpansexuality · 1 year

Text

He's Back

Alex x GN Farmer

Alex is finally going pro so a deadbeat has decided to make themselves known.

It was a warm fall day, Alex, his grandparents, and you were outside fixing up the house for winter.

The gutters needed cleaned and there was a side of the house that could use a fresh coat of paint, and of course the leaves were everywhere.

You four were enjoying this time because this time by next year Alex would be going pro and instead of being by your side he'd be on the television.

Kent and Elliott had stopped by not too long after the work began and felt obligated to help out. Elliott was talking with Evelyn stuffing the leaves into garbage bags that looked like jack-o-lanterns.

Alex climbed down the ladder that Kent was holding and stopped to watch for a second as you painted the side of the house, he let out a low whistle.

"Think I'm refreshed."

You looked over at him and laughed, he hopped down the ladder and came up behind you and held you close.

"Five minutes break!" He called out.

"No way." You said trying to squirm away, "I'm almost done."

While you squirmed the brush slipped from your hands causing it to swing and smear some paint into Alexs' hand, you both looked at it for a moment before Alex wiped the paint on your cheek.

You gasped and he let you go just in time for you to chase him around the house with the brush.

Evelyn watched you two fondly as George yelled out to you both;

"Don't go spilling all that paint!"

The fun was cut short when a man stepped towards the house recognizing the two elders.

"Alex?" A voice called out.

Alex froze as he came around the house, he put his hand out to stop you from going further as if it was going to protect you from the sight unfolding in front of you.

A man stepped into view, he looked completely unfamiliar the only few things that may have looked somewhat familiar to you was maybe his nose and hair.

You gripped Alex's dark skinned hand and he squeezed yours in return.

"Who are you?" Kent questioned crossing his arms.

"Alex?" The man called again completely ignoring Kent. Evelyn placed a hand on her heart and went to stand beside her grandson. Elliott stood in front of you both to stop the man from getting any closer.

"Get the Hell out of this town!" George growled out. "Yer not welcomed here!"

"I have a right to see my son Mullner." The man growled out.

"I'm not your son." Alex said barley above a whisper.

"Look at you!" The man said standing just foot back from punching distance. "I saw your name in the Grid Ball line up and then when I looked it up to make sure it was you I saw you got married!"

Alex pushed you behind him like it was going to hide you. Gently you push Alexs' hand away and step forward.

"Your Alex's sperm donor?" You ask sweetly.

The man is taken aback by the term it give you time to continue.

"I didn't know it was national deadbeat day? Who knew that you folk like to show up out of nowhere and spread your bullshit? Now I've got three bombs on me (freshly made), and Kent and I both are armed so get off of the Mullners property before I bust them out."

Kent lets out a snort behind the man who is starring at you completely offended.

"Are-Are you going to let them talk to me like this?!" The man says starring at Alex. "Your own father?!"

"Alex is more of any man's son here than yours." Elliott said sharply. "Now from what I'm guessing you're only here because Alex is finally accomplishing his dreams, no thanks to you, so you're here to mooch off of his success. If you wanted to become his father you would've called long before this."

"Who the fuck is this dweeb?!" The man said to Elliott.

"This dweeb is one of the men who's had the privilege of being a father figure to Alex! Who's gotten to see him graduate, help him with homework, and each and everyone of us in this town showed up for at least one of his games! Now I suggest you go find one of your many other children thst you may have accidentally drunkenly conceived before we pull out our weapons."

Alex's biological father looked like he was going to explode with rage;

"IM HIS FATHER YOU FA-"

"You're not my fucking father!" Alex yells stepping beside you. "You left my mom and didn't even bother to show up for her fucking funeral! You're nothing but a trashy deadbeat and I know my partner's waiting for me to give the word to drop kick you to China. So what the hell do you want?"

"Son-" the man begins but stops when he sees Alex's stare. "Alex. I...I'm sorry I figured we should get to know each other. You're going pro now and you're gonna need your family behind you."

You and Alex look at each other with a knowing look before you pull out your sword from it's sheath.

"Get out." Kent says, the sound of a gun loading is all the man needs before high-tailing it away back to the bus stop.

You turn to your in-laws and promise to finish up tomorrow, Kent and Elliott nod and start to clean up for you while you take Alex home.

He's quiet for a while, until he gets back to the house and uses your axe, mumbling something about trees needing to be cleared.

You fix the both of you a cold drink before going outside to sit with him.

His shirt's off now, thrown on the bench, he's cursing as he shows the pine tree he's cutting down absolutely no mercy. It doesn't take long for it to fall and when it does Alex stands there panting, carefully you wrap your arms around him.

Alex releases a shuddering breath and turns to you, burying his head into your neck and starts to cry. Gut wrenching sons that sound so quiet it's most likely he's used to making them that small. Your arms wrap around him tighter as continues to cry, when he's finished you two sit on the bench and he drinks what you've brought out to him.

"You know," you say softly. "I think if Kent and I worked together, we could make a rocket to actually send him to China."

Alex laughs and interlocks your fingers together, he brings your hand to his lips.

"I love you." He says in a dry voice. "I swear when we have kids I'll never do that to you, I'll never leave I swear."

"Aw man that means I'm stuck with you for life?" You say in a sarcastic voice.

Alex looks over and sees your face split into a smile. He pulls you over into a fight hug and says; "Yup."

Looking up at him you place a peck on his lips.

"For life." He says.

"Promise?" You ask.

"Promise." He says.

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astrowaffles · 7 months

Text

Here's To Never Growing Up

“My favourite story about Megumi as a kid is about when we were painting his bedroom,” Satoru began, laughing a little at his memory. “We were going with a dinosaur theme, so the walls were gonna be light green. Megumi takes one look at the colour he picked, yells ‘it looks like puke!’, throws up on the floor, and storms out. He got a pink bedroom the next week, and loved it.”

“You always tell that story,” Megumi complained. “It makes me sound like a spoiled brat.”

Gojo looked at him pointedly. “What happened when I tried to get you to bake cookies with me?”

“…..”

“You threw flour all over the kitchen, didn’t you?”

“I was five!”

“What about when I accidentally played Justin Bieber at your eighth birthday party?”

“I think crawling under the table to cry was justified. It was a horrible song.”

“And when Toge borrowed your wooden toy car?”

“…Yeah, alright, I guess I didn’t need to hit him over the head with it. Still, even if I was spoiled, isn’t that your fault?”

“Eh, I think you turned out alright in the end.”

------------

OR: let's talk about Gojo & Megumi.

“So, you’ve got a TV dad in season two,” the interviewer ventured. He crossed his legs. “How does that work for you? I mean, considering your legal dad is in the same show…”

“Have you seen season one?” Megumi enquired. “Like, did you follow the plot at all?”

“Um, are you referring to anything in particular?” The interviewer uncrossed his legs.

“Yeah, I am.”

“And what would that be…?” Crossed legs again.

“How about the scene where kid-me says ‘I don’t care about my dad, he’s an asshole’?”

Gojo hid a snicker behind his hand, trying (and failing) to pass it off as a cough. He cleared his throat. “Alright, Megs, let’s not get snappy-“

“No, no, it’s alright,” the interviewer hurried to assure him. “I quite understand why it would be a sensitive subject… I do apologise.”

Megumi nodded. “Alright, then. The character of my biological dad in the show is completely irrelevant to my character, as you would know if you’d seen JJK.”

Gojo nodded in agreement. “He literally abandons him, man. And then my character swoops in! So, in a way, I’m his TV dad after all.”

“Definitely more than the biological guy,” Megumi agreed. Gojo beamed at him.

The interviewer was nodding along. “Oh, totally, I do remember that episode. I just meant, how is it to have a real dad on TV, when in real life-“

Gojo slapped him.

“Yeah, it wasn’t my finest moment,” Gojo laughed. He was sprawled across the couch, taking up as much space as possible. His arm was around Megumi, who was sat in the remaining corner, legs curled around himself like a cat. “I stand by it though.”

“What’s worse was that Satoru was trying so hard to be nice to the guy,” Megumi sighed. “He was trying to stop me from being mean to him, but the questions just kept going…”

“Pretty much. Megumi tends to get very heated very fast with interviewers who mention the dad character, because he thinks they’re always leading him down Trauma Lane. He was getting better at staying calm, and then that interview came along. We blacklisted the question after that.” Gojo pushed his sunglasses up his nose, and stretched his legs out in front of him. Megumi rolled his eyes.

“Stop stretching out like that, Toru. You’re kicking the table, look.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Gojo grinned at the camera. “See, he’s always keeping me in line. Imagine how bad things have to be before he starts being rude!”

“Haters will say it’s an overreaction,” Shoko commented, taking a sip of her coffee. “But I’m not a hater.”

“And that’s saying something, because she hates everything else Satoru does,” Geto observed. “But I agree with her. To suggest that Megumi doesn’t have a ‘real’ dad, right in front of his dad’s face … there are so many things wrong with that, on so many levels.”

“See, he’s ever the voice of reason,” Shoko shrugged, jabbing her thumb towards Geto. “I literally don’t care. I’ve known that kid since he was three. I think Satoru should’ve just killed the interviewer.”

“I don’t know Megumi very well,” Geto clarified, “but I’m all for murdering the interviewer.”

Shoko stared at him. “Like, just on principle?”

“Just on principle.”

Silence.

“Well, I never expected that from Suguru, he always seemed so nice, but I did say it first, so-“

“Not that there’s anything wrong with not having a dad,” Yuji clarified. “I don’t. I live with my grandpa. But there’s a lot wrong with telling someone sat right next to their dad that they don’t have one.”

“Like, the moment he said ‘legal dad’, I thought, someone should slap him,” Nobara confessed. “You could tell right from the start that he was going somewhere he shouldn’t, and Megumi knew it too.”

“And the thing is, Megumi and Mr. Gojo have always been so obviously family. We’ve known since day one, even though they didn’t tell us until… day three?”

“Mr. Gojo totally just blurted it out,” Nobara giggled. “Megumi would’ve kept it a secret forever, but Mr Gojo was so proud…”

Itadori smiled at the memory. “Have you guys ever heard the story of how Megumi started acting?”

“What? No! Why haven’t I heard this before?” Nobara turned towards Yuji, giving the story her full attention. Yuji laughed.

“Don’t know, but I’m sure he won’t mind me telling you. Alright, so, before Mr. Gojo adopted him, he was his babysitter, right? Like, this was before Megumi’s dad- well, anyway. Mr. Gojo took him on set with him, because he had to be there and couldn’t leave Megumi by himself… Megumi was probably, uh, two or three. Mr. Gojo would be fifteen or something. And basically, Megumi thought Mr Gojo was so cool that he insisted on becoming an actor too. Mr. Gojo thought, why not, because he could give a helping hand if Megumi needed it. So, Megumi got signed up for an agency, and he got cast in his first show when he was four. And the rest is history.”

“Wait, so, Megumi’s an actor because he wanted to be like Mr. Gojo???”

“Yeah.”

“And he was just … naturally talented? No stage school or anything?”

“Yeah. The same as Mr. Gojo.”

“Shut up, is that true??? Oh my god-“ Nobara turned to the camera. “You heard it here first, guys. Megumi’s whole life trajectory was decided because he idolised his dad-to-be as a toddler- are you crying, Yuji?”

Yuji sniffed. “No. Only a little.”

“It was your story!"

“It’s just so beautiful!! They were meant to be!! Destined family! Doesn’t that make you want to cry too?!”

Nobara paused. “Yeah, actually. It kinda does.”

“A long time ago, when I’d just been adopted, Satoru sat me down at the table and said, ‘You don’t need to call me Dad. You don’t need to see me as your father. I just want to look after you.’ And, yeah, I still don’t call him Dad. But that’s who he is. He’s my dad. He has been for … as long as I can remember.” Megumi looked across at Gojo. “I owe him everything.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” said Gojo, fiercely. “You owe me nothing. You could spend all my money and kill my cousins and you’d still not owe me anything."

Megumi smiled. “You want me to kill your cousins, though.”

“True. Please kill my cousins, Gumi, I literally can’t stand another family reunion-“

“My character’s leopard print tie is inspired by Megumi,” Nanami informed the camera, a nostalgic smile on his face. “When he was younger – maybe ten? – he was obsessed with animals. I was transitioning out of a ridiculous phase at the time, and came to visit him wearing leopard print … he demanded to know if it was made of real leopard. He was absolutely incandescent. I’ll never forget it. He wouldn’t speak to me for weeks, even when I showed him the label to prove it was nylon.”

“You’ve known him for a long time, then?” someone behind the camera asked.

“A while, yeah. Since he was seven. Satoru used to say I was the only one he trusted to make sure the kid was fed while Satoru went to work. What he meant was, he didn’t want Shoko and her twenty cigarettes a day to go near a small child. She ended up quitting just so she could keep hanging out with her nephew. Megumi’s absolutely changed lives – and he’s such a talented man now. You have to give Satoru some major credit, he raised a good kid.”

“You always tell that story,” Megumi complained. “It makes me sound like a spoiled brat.”

Gojo looked at him pointedly. “What happened when I tried to get you to bake cookies with me?”

“…..”

“You threw flour all over the kitchen, didn’t you?”

“I was five!”

“What about when I accidentally played Justin Bieber at your eighth birthday party?”

“I think crawling under the table to cry was justified. It was a horrible song.”

“And when Toge borrowed your wooden toy car?”

“…Yeah, alright, I guess I didn’t need to hit him over the head with it. Still, even if I was spoiled, isn’t that your fault?”

“Eh, I think you turned out alright in the end.”

“It was a total take-a-guess-and-hope-it’s-right situation,” Shoko reminisced.

“For fifteen years?”

“Well, more like thirteen, but yeah. No-one tells you how to raise a kid, especially when you’re fifteen yourself. At first, we’d be giving Megumi back to his dad at the end of the day – but then again, all he did at home was go to bed, you know? Everything he learnt, he learnt from us or school. Completely insane.”

“I do have a very vivid memory of the first day of filming,” Geto said, mentally connecting a few dots. “Satoru and Megumi walked in together. Satoru was in a feather boa and pineapple shaped sunglasses, chattering away, and Megumi looked like a glitter factory had exploded in his face. He looked like he was having the worst day of his life, and he had noise-cancelling headphones on. The moment he spotted Yuji, he made a beeline for him – but then Satoru made a super offended noise, and Megumi literally froze in place. He immediately did a complete 180, and went and hugged Satoru, who patted his head and whispered something to him. That’s when I thought, these guys are the real thing. These are the people you want to model your family on.”

“They just understand each other on a different level,” Shoko agreed. “Megumi could be completely overstimulated and about to kill Satoru, but he’ll still hug him goodbye. I don’t know how he does it. If Satoru ever tried to hug me after talking my ear off for an entire car ride, I’d flip him off and go hang out with Yuji instead.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, he went straight back to Yuji,” Geto nodded. “I just thought their connection was so lovely.”

“Once, I was idly complaining about something- oh, yeah, it was that Nobara was getting a modelling gig,” Megumi began. “It wasn’t serious, it was just along the lines of ‘I’m not earning anything out of this except my actual pay, what the heck, this is unfair’, yada yada. But then this idiot goes, ‘Do you want a modelling contract? I’ll get you a modelling contract-‘”

“Listen, you were complaining about not having one, I could get you one,” Gojo said defensively. “What do you want me to say? ‘Sucks for you, shut up’?”

“No, but you knew I wasn’t serious! He literally picked up the phone and starts calling his agent-“

“Shoutout to Agatha, you’re a star-“

“He’s just so intent on me getting everything I want-“

“What am I for, otherwise??”

“And then he has the audacity to call me spoiled-“

“I think you’d make a good model, though!”

“I did actually end up getting a contract. Not through Toru, though. Through my own hard work-“

“And your pretty eyelashes.”

“-And my pretty eyelashes.”

“Oh, man, my favourite Gojo and Megumi memory? Probably when we went out for boba,” Yuji mused.

“Oh, yeah.” Nobara started scrolling through her phone. “I have pictures, hang on.”

“I mean, I’m used to parents coming to hangouts with us. They’re useful, because they drive us places and pay for stuff and all that. So I didn’t have a problem with Mr. Gojo coming with us, although I was surprised because I thought Megumi wouldn’t like spending time with his dad."

“Oh, how wrong you were,” Nobara sighed. She held up her phone to the camera. “They get along so well it’s ridiculous. We felt like third wheels to a father-son date, rather than Mr. Gojo being a third wheel to a group hangout.”

The camera zoomed in on the photo; it showed Megumi, Gojo, Yuji, and Nobara in a restaurant. Megumi and Gojo were on one side of the booth, Gojo’s arm over Megumi’s shoulders. Yuji and Nobara were opposite them. All four were smiling at the camera, though Megumi’s small smile stood out in contrast from the others’ beams.

“They’re a lot of fun to hang out with,” Yuji said. “Like, a lot. They’re ridiculous. Megumi would trip Mr. Gojo up in the street, and just keep walking, but if he reached the next bench and Mr. Gojo still hadn’t caught up, he’d turn round and wait for him. Mr. Gojo would stop halfway through a conversation just to make sure Megumi was doing something social, and not just ignoring us-”

“Sometimes he’d purposefully walk ahead with me, to force Megumi to talk to Yuji,” Nobara snickered.

Yuji nodded in agreement, cheeks tinged with pink. “He talks plenty if you can get him started. But anyway, Mr. Gojo bought us boba and let us do our thing, because I think he was super excited that Megumi had friends. It was kinda sweet.”

“That was probably the day we realised that they were father and son,” Nobara observed. “Like, logically, we knew. Like Yuji said, we knew from day one, it’s obvious. But you just don’t get it until you watch Gojo steal Megumi’s boba, or you see Megumi pull a pen out of his pocket because Gojo is always being struck with ideas that he has to write down immediately, or you see them walk in perfect sync, even when they’re not next to each other…”

“You’d genuinely think they shared DNA,” said Yuji, seriously. “And not even halves. You’d think they were clones, sometimes.”

“Uh, I think that’s a bit far,” Nobara disagreed. “They have different personalities.”

“Just wait until you Mr. Gojo do his feral scenes this season. You’ll see what I mean.”

“We make new favourite memories every day,” Gojo said. Megumi rolled his eyes and slapped Gojo’s shoulder. “What? It’s true! Just yesterday, you used a cookie cutter to make my carrots into different shapes because I complained about eating vegetables. I love that memory, just the same as I love remembering me doing that for you ten years ago.”

“He’s a sappy little shit,” Megumi told the camera. “He can’t help it.”

“It’s true, I can’t.”

“His actual answer is that he’s indecisive.”

“It’s true, I am.”

“He also apparently can’t answer for himself.”

“It’s true, I can’t."

“Do you ever STOP BEING ANNOYING-“

“If we’re talking favourite memories of all time, it’s got to be Megumi’s adoption,” Shoko decided. “Satoru cried. Megumi didn’t. Megumi was absolutely overjoyed, you could see it on his little face. I’d never seen such a big smile. I thought his face would split in half. And he’s never done it again; he went right back to being his grumpy self the day after.”

“I genuinely can’t imagine that,” Geto confessed. “Satoru crying or Megumi smiling, I just can’t see it.”

“Neither could I, until I did. You know what people say, about such-and-such having changed their brain chemistry? For me, it wasn’t a song or a book. It was watching my little nephew be able to fling his arms around Satoru, and call him Dad. That’s another thing he never did again, but he did then. It was the best day of all of our lives.”

“I don’t believe in destiny, but I do think it was inevitable,” Nanami pondered. “I mean, if there are infinite alternate universes, like scientists say, I don’t think there’s a universe where they aren’t father and son. Maybe sometimes they swap roles. Maybe there’s a universe where it’s biological, although imagining Satoru with a girl is …. unfathomable…”

“So you think it was written in the stars?”

“In a way. I think Satoru and Megumi are two incredibly stubborn, caring people, and they wouldn’t let something as small as an alternate universe stop them. In this universe, they were born and raised in the same area by people who were friends, and they came together naturally. In the next universe, maybe they find each other through Craigslist. We’ll never know.”

“I’m glad to have met Megumi, yeah,” Gojo said, like it was obvious. “After all, with him around, I get to play with Toast and Maple- ow, Gumi!”

“He actually only looks after me for the dogs,” Megumi told the camera, hand resting on Gojo’s shoulder, where he’d hit him moments before. “It’s a sad truth.”

Gojo sighed. “Alright, I see where we’re going. What do I have to bribe you with this time?”

“Airpods.”

“You already have airpods, you donut.”

“New ones. I want blue ones.”

“What, seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“And if I don’t buy them?”

“……….”

“Oh my god, fine.”

Megumi grinned. “Thanks, Toru!” He turned to the camera. “My dad is the best dad ever. He looks after me, feeds me, combs my hair, supports me emotionally, threatens interviewers for me-“

“And buys you Airpods.”

“And buys me Airpods. Everyone needs a Satoru. Thank you, and goodnight.”

A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions

#astro speaks wonders #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk megumi #jjk actor au #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro

119 notes · View notes

bobbasmultiverse · 4 months

Text

strawberries & cigarettes

9. if we never try...

warnings: this is kinda from minghao's pov, profanity, teeth rotting fluff and someone being disgustingly in love that you'd want to puke for a brief moment, angst, smoking, suggestive themes

word count: 2189

song recs:

“you…you shouldn't be here.” you said, a bit timid at the sudden appearance of the wrong man in front of you.

minghao sighed, pursing his lips. “i know.”

“why are you here?”

“because soonyoung can't come.”

you were taken aback by that, blinking multiple times at the man before his mouth opened and closed. “what?”

“soonyoung can’t come. something came up for him and he…i don't know how to word this, but he forgot to tell you? seokmin said that, i don't know honestly.” he sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “listen, y/n. i know i'm, like, probably the last person you'd want sitting in front of you, but i'm a gentleman, okay? and i can't just let a pretty girl get stood up on her first date back home."

you stared at him, unknowing of where he got all that info from. "well, um, thank you, i guess. but you didn't really have to come all the way here so i wouldn't get stood up. you could've just called mingyu and he would've picked me up, no biggie." you chuckled slightly, staring at the unused utensils in front of you.

minghao was baffled, staring at you like you grew two heads. had his words completely flown over your head? did he say the words wrong and you didn't understand his intentions? probably.

"no, listen. this date is still a date, just with a different dude. and it can be a onetime thing, no pressure. but the date is still dating." he smiled proudly, as if one of his paintings were hung in the louvre, but he was far from that, and you were still not on the same page. "don't-don't say a thing. just enjoy the time. i'm pretty fun when i'm not hiking, i promise. just order whatever food you want, okay? i might look like a broke college student, but i promise i'm not."

"you never look broke, though." you pointed out in a murmur, grabbing the menu without protesting and sifting through it. "you actually look like a prince. with all the long coats and expensive glasses and accessory."

now, minghao was taken aback. he felt his face heat up as well, but he blamed it on the not broken airco, in the five star restaurant that he is still baffled about how soonyoung was going to afford it, at the start of spring were it was still chilly outside. definitely the not broken airco.

you think he looks like a prince, when you look like a whole angel sitting in front of him, a small pout on your lips as you rummaged through the menu, with your hair done so beautifully and your make-up finished perfectly.

was seokmin right? no, no, he can't be. these are just a bunch of random thoughts passing through his mind. they're just passing through his mind and going away with no return.

your phone suddenly started vibrating out of nowhere, snapping the man out of his thoughts as you put the menu down and picked up the phone instead, a small smile taking over your features that had the corners of your mouth dipping in, a new set of dimples that minghao was yet to see, but is now blessed with.

"hey, hoon."

hoon? did you mean jihoon? the jihoon you were at pledis cafe with? probably. you seemed a little too happy to be talking to him though.

"yeah, but soonyoung was a no-show."

he couldn't hear the other half of the conversation, but he could decipher some through your reactions and your hushed replies.

"no, minghao came instead...yeah."

minghao squinted his eyes, leaning more onto the table and abandoning the menu. now, why were you giggling on the phone?

you glanced over minghao's face before your face heated up out of nowhere. "can you-can you not?" now, minghao could hear a very loud laugh escaping through the phone.

then, you were quiet for a bit, humming every once in a while at whatever that jihoon was telling you before you nodded to yourself. "okay, i'll see if gyu can drop a change of clothes for me so i can crash at yours ... yeah, okay, see you then. bye."

minghao straightened right away once you lowered the phone from your ear, clearing his throat and pretending like he hadn't been eavesdropping on your phone call. "did you decide what you're gonna have?"

you hummed, nodding. "buldak, but cut down on the hot chilli and bibimpap, zero spice. and if you want to add fries, that'd be okay." never once did you meet the man's eyes as you told him that. you didn't know if he was gonna order for you, but you hoped that he would.

minghao only frowned at you for a moment before he was shaking his head and turning to his own menu. he heard that you were a picky eater, from mingyu, of course, and that you'd give the man hell sometimes with cutting out the essential part of the meal, but minghao never knew he'd get to experience it first hand.

so minghao ordered for you, adding the fries and ignoring the weird look from the waiter before he turned back to you as you waited for the food. you'd just put your phone down, texting mingyu the address where he would leave your things for jihoon to get and fiddling with your fingers instead.

"so," he started, leaning on his elbows. "how was it like in LA? away from your family and all that."

your eyes sparked at that, finally meeting his eyes for maybe the second-no, third time tonight, and minghao felt as if he was tracing a whole constellation in your orbs. "it was good, actually. some people think that it would've been really bad, but it wasn't at all. it only made me appreciate my family more and have an extra brother and a second mother. taught me to appreciate lots of things here, too."

you were smiling while speaking, your gaze dropping from minghao's mid-talk, but he was satisfied with the cute dimples dipping in your cheeks and right above the corners of your lips when you spoke. and he wanted to see them more.

"what, exactly?"

you hummed for a moment, leaning forward on your elbows. you'd decided that minghao was harmless a while ago, deciding to spend a good time instead of dwelling on something too stupid for you to remember. "my language, my family, wonwoo and his stupid 'did you know's," you paused, giggling, and minghao couldn't help the smile making its way onto his lips. "my korean friends, too...yoon and ryu, they're the best, could never compare to the ones in LA, to be honest. oh! mingyu's cooking, too. it would feel heavenly whenever i'd visit with josh. and...that's it." you finished off with a full grin, directed at the man sitting across from you. "what about you? you came from china to here, so you must have a reason and things that you miss from home."

minghao's mouth opened and closed, eyes flitting between your own before a soft smile graced his face. "well, actually me getting into fine arts was never on my list, to be honest. it just happened and i found myself in it during my senior year, then i got a scholarship and came here." he shrugged with a sigh. "i'm chasing the dream, you know? i still miss my parents, though. and my hometown, hai cheng. but, that's only it i guess. i obviously miss the culture and all that, but...i can always hit the chinese restaurant at the end of the street."

that elicited a laugh from you, and minghao felt pride and glee fill his chest at that.

"it's not the same, though. i mean, i always hit the korean restaurants in LA, but it's not like here, still. it can never be like home." you mumbled, a soft, almost sad, smile appearing on your lips just as the waiter came with the food.

"so, see you later?" you started, shoving your hands in your puffer as you turned towards the taller man.

he frowned, pursing his lips. "why? the date's not over yet."

you frowned as well. "it's not."

he shook his head, putting his hand out for you to take. "i still got some things up my sleeve, you know?"

you stared at his face for a little while, trying to get the intentions behind those eyes, but minghao was a wise man, smart as well, always showing what he wants the others to see, and right now, it was the challenge in his eyes.

why is he taking it as a challenge? not that he and you were competing over something? unless...

"i think you one-upped soonyoung quite enough, don't you think?" it was rhetorical, hands sticking by your side while minghao's was still welcome to you for the taking.

"it isn't really about soonyoung anymore, don't you think?"

your defeated sigh had his smile widen, as he felt your hand slip into his, cold and gentle, and he held tightly onto it as he started guiding you towards his car. but, good things never last do they?

"y/n!"

minghao's face scrunched up as he let out a deep sigh, your hand slipping from his as you turned around to face the other man.

seokmin, you caused this.

"and minghao."

"soonyoung, hey." minghao greeted, turning to face the man with a wave and a tight smile. "didn't think you were gonna show up," minghao paused, raising his wrist up tauntingly and looking at his watch with his head tilted. "two hours and thirteen minutes late."

soonyoung gaped at the foreigner before he turned to you, looking like a deer caught in headlights with your eyes wide and face flushed from the chill of the night.

soonyoung knew that minghao was definitely not supposed to be there, but he also knew that what he did to you was not cool at all, and it was the last thing he wanted to do to you, yet he did it, and there he is, standing on the side walk, many feet away from you with another man by your side.

"y/n, i-i'm sorry. i...something came up and i tried to go and come back as soon as i could, i'm really sorry." soonyoung said, taking multiple steps towards you to maybe try and convince you, show you his sincerity.

meanwhile, minghao leaned on the wall next to him, watching soonyoung as he tried to reach out for your hand and you pulling back before he grabbed his phone to text his friend and cuss him out, the smirk never dropping from his plump lips.

"you could've texted, you know. i wouldn't mind, but knowing would've been good." you mumbled, taking a step back from the man in front of you who looked helpless, like a sad little hamster.

soonyoung sighed, looking down at his feet and pursing his lips. "i know my actions aren't justified, but-"

"you should know that another woman would've thrown something at you and told you to 'fuck off', soonyoung. but, you're my brothers friend, and maybe i shouldn't have agreed to this, so-"

"stop, please." he took in a deep breath, clenching his eyes and fists shut before he met your gaze. "next friday, 6 p.m. and if i'm late or something you don't like happens, you can do all that, and you won't ever see me again. i promise."

you frowned at the man. he looked really sincere with a fire burning in his eyes. he's a good guy, you can tell that much...and a date with him wouldn't be so bad.

it's not like you and minghao were a thing, anyways.

"okay."

"what?" you heard from behind you, turning briefly to look at the baffled minghao before turning to soonyoung. "next friday, 6 p.m. and if you're a no-show again, i promise i'll make sure your remaining days in uni are a living hell, soonyoung...or at least until i forgive you."

now the two men were taken aback by your words, so sweetly said yet so disturbing. minghao liked it, soonyoung didn't.

you turned to the chinese, who only smiled sweetly at you and gesturing for you to take the lead as you started walking and he just had to briefly wave at the stumped soonyoung as he turned to follow behind you.

and he led you to his car, only for you to stare at it in awe. "this definitely screams broke college student." you mumbled sarcastically, looking over the BMW8 before you.

the man chuckled, opening the door to the convertible for you to get in like a gentleman. "i forgot to mention that i'm kind of a big shot back home." he stated, shutting the door gently as you settled into your seat before he was by your side.

"i'd like to drive it someday, if you may." you sighed, relaxing into the seat.

he only smiled to himself. "you bet."

"this is really good."

you hummed in agreement, too busy with your own ice cream, and so you missed the way minghao was looking at you when he spoke.

you were back here, in that same parking lot where you first saw the man, but instead of sitting on the pavement like last time, you were resting back on his car's hood, enjoying the city lights of seoul, closer to midnight now.

as you chewed down on the end of your cone, you rummaged in your jacket's pockets until you fished out the kurumi themed cigarette pack, putting a stick in your mouth once you swallowed down the food.

"i remember telling you i'm not a smoking enthusiast."

you glanced at him briefly, cigarette now lit as you hummed before tucking it between your fingers and pulling it away from your mouth. "i remember, too. yet you still got me a lighter."

he sighed, crossing his arms. "cause you looked upset, and it didn't suit you, even though you looked kind of cute."

you chuckled, turning towards him. "was the wine too much for you? are you drunk right now?"

he frowned, pouting slightly at you. "why'd you think that?"

"cause you just called me cute, and you shouldn't be doing that." you pointed out, blowing the smoke into the open night, only for minghao's face to scrunch up for a split second at that before turning to you.

"why?"

you shut your eyes, enjoying the breeze hitting your skin with a content smile on your face. "cause you know that soonyoung likes me."

"but do you like him?"

"why are your questions always like this?" you whined, turning away only for him to laugh at you and lean back more on the hood.

"no, but i'm serious, though. do you like him?"

humans are curious creatures, and minghao was no exception.

he watched you take a deep breath, look around for a bit before your gaze settled on your shoes. "i don't know, honestly. he's a nice guy, funny, kinda hot, too. but, i don't know. i guess i was gonna know if the date went through with him, but now i'll know next friday."

your shoes seemed to be the most interesting thing in the world now as you and minghao stared at it.

a million thoughts running through both your minds in the quiet of midnight, two kidults maneuvering through life, trying to take the best decisions you could manage, avoiding risks as best as you could, but...minghao was a risker.

"you know," he paused turning to you so he looked into your eyes, a surge of confidence going through his veins as the veil hiding his emotions dropped and minghao felt naked before you. "i'm a nice guy, i can be funny, too, if you want. and i'm definitely hot, don't you think?"

the shock was visible in your eyes as the smoke rose from the deadly stick while you stared at the man. a smile slowly rose on your lips, and minghao felt hope fill his chest. "but, you're kinda mysterious. a little emo, maybe? definitely hot, though." a giggle escaped your lips at the mock offence on the man's face as he crossed his arms across his chest like a little child.

maybe this was you rejecting him, declaring that he wasn't your type and that he should know that this is a one time thing. but, maybe you were correcting him, and that he was your type and not soonyoung, but also you could only be joking around, not serious about the matter and not planning on-

"don't work your pretty mind too hard, you can spend it on more important things."

he blinked at you, looking so ethereal with the moon lighting up your face and the smoke surrounding you. minghao didn't know whether you lit up another one, or if it was the same, but he thought that was enough smoking for the night.

"you're important, though."

and that small questioning hum, that small split second that you took to face him, that gentle touch of his hands on your cheeks, and that blissful feeling of his lips landing on yours, it was all so...beautiful.

the tobacco on minghao's tongue wasn't his taste, he didn't prefer it, but it was still coating your lips. your cherry tinted, heavenly and soft lips that minghao was currently lavishing as if it was his last meal.

he'd managed to throw the stick away from your hands without burning himself, promising that he'd pick it up later and discard it properly, but he was a bit caught up at the moment.

your hands were supporting you on the hood of his car, taking a second too long to process it that minghao had already pulled away from, eyes flitting between yours as the ghost of his touch remained on your lips.

"go with soonyoung on the date, but fuck it if i don't want you to come back to me, baby." he took heavy breaths as he said those words, gaze so intense you felt like crumbling at his command. "i know it's too early for this, too early for anything really...and too soon. but...i think i like you, y/n."

and then you were kissing him.

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pairing: kwon soonyoung x wonwoo's sister!oc, xu minghao x wonwoo's sister!oc (ft. SVT)

genre: college au, love triangle, brother's bestfriend, angst, fluff

synopsis: two minor, what you'd call, incidents, lead up to the craziest few months of your life, where you make friendships and break some and you end with having to make the craziest choices of your life; to be young and free forever, or to have the best love of all time.

bobba talks | this was initially a very fluffy chapter that it'd hurt my stomach from the butterflies, but it turned out like this cuz my profession is angst and drama, i'm not sorry

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