#can’t wait for them to rot what remains of my brain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

proxima-writes · 6 months

Text

pairing: cult leader!joel miller x virgin!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 8.6k

summary:

You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears.

His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

author's note: a huge thank you to my fellow cultist @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about this. without them, we'd probably be on version 5 of this story. and to everyone who has been excited about this, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: DARK CONTENT - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub-con: power dynamics, dub-con: cult mentality, age difference - 60M and 27F, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, post-outbreak, canon divergence, canon typical violence (knife wounds, gun shot wounds, numerous mentions of blood), minor character death(s), blood cult ceremonies, religious themes, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, loss of virginity, oral sex - f receiving, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, dirty talk, pet names, praise, joel really has a loose screw ok? if there are any tags missing, please let me know!

“I don’t think you should go out there by yourself,” you say, watching as your dad inspects his gun. He looks up at you with a pained expression.

“I gotta see where we should head next. I don’t want to lead you out in the wrong direction, accidentally get you in a bad spot,” he says. “I’ll be fine, buttercup.”

There’s a heaviness that settles in your stomach at his words. He sounds confident enough, but his eyes tell a different story, expose his fear. He stands with a sigh, a wince of pain washing over his face.

“Maybe I should—“

“No,” he interrupts. “I’m going. I won’t be gone long, okay? We can’t stay here forever. Who knows what’s out there in the forest.”

That’s exactly what you’re afraid of. At least inside the rotted cabin you stumbled across you could pretend you were safe. The forest is alive in a way you’ve never experienced growing up in a QZ surrounded with barbed wire and steel. You hear the snap of twigs and the howl of wolves, or the flutter of wings and the call of birds, and sometimes you think you feel the weight of eyes watching you if you venture out too far in your exploration.

“We’ve made it this far. We got out of Denver and that was half the battle,” your dad says. “You got your knife, right? And enough rations.”

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He kisses your forehead, dry lips lingering on your skin. You have an aching feeling this is a goodbye, some sinking intuition that he’s making a mistake that you can’t correct.

“Be back soon. I love you.”

Joel’s been keeping an eye on the people in the woods for the last three days. There was chatter on one of the radio stations that the Denver QZ was facing an uprising and he knows that once those walls come down, the survivors that venture out are bound to stumble across his town.

The cabin door opens and the man steps out, venturing into the forest. Joel waits to see if his female companion follows, but the door remains shut. He longs to see you, the girl who’s image has been burned into his brain since his first glimpse, but he has a duty to fulfill first.

He walks quickly and quietly through the forest, sure feet catching up with the man less than a mile from where he’d started. Joel clears his throat.

The man turns, fumbling with a gun that he clearly has no experience using, pointing it at Joel with shaking hands and shouting, “Move and I’ll shoot!”

“You lost?” Joel asks, holding his hands up and keeping his face trained in a mask of concern. “Lookin’ for somethin’?”

After a pause, the man seeming to have concluded that Joel isn't a threat, he says, “My daughter and I…we escaped the Denver QZ."

"That must've been difficult."

"We....we're running out of food," he continues, dropping his arms, limbs hanging heavy at his sides. "I-I don't know what else to do, man."

Gun no longer pointed at his face, Joel approaches the man, stopping when he's within arms reach. Up close, he can see the dismal state the guy is in -- sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tattered clothing hanging on a thin frame. Joel places a hand on his bony shoulder.

"I can help you," he says. The man looks up, a brief glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Joel watches the slow realization, the way his brain catches up to what's just happened, a choked noise spilling from his dry lips.

Joel tugs his knife from the man's gut and steps back, watching as he collapses to the ground. Desperate hands smear the blooming red stain across his abdomen. Joel circles the man, positioning himself at his back, and pulls him close with a hand slapped over his mouth.

"I'll take good care of her," he whispers before dragging his knife across his neck in one clean slice. The man twitches once before growing limp and Joel releases him, body hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. Not one to waste, Joel gathers anything of use from his person.

Something catches the light against his neck. Curious, Joel tugs the bloodstained neck of his t-shirt to the side, finding a silver chain. He pulls, revealing the length of it.

A cross.

The clasp snaps with a sharp tug and Joel stuffs it in his pocket. Standing and shouldering his bag once more, he begins his walk back towards the cabin.

You're running as fast as your legs will carry you, lungs and limbs burning with the effort. You made the mistake of not listening to your dad when he'd told you stay where you were, to stay hidden, that he'd come back. Your nerves had gotten the best of you and you decided that you would catch up with him, but you didn't know which direction he'd gone. You figured you would travel a little ways and see if you could find him and if you didn't do so quickly, you'd rush back to the cabin and wait, just as he told you.

That's when the men saw you, two large figures with rifles that reminded you of FEDRA soldiers slung across their backs.

You duck behind a thick tree to catch your breath. You can hear voices calling out through the forest above the rush of blood in your ears, taunting tones carrying through the air.

"C'mon out, pretty girl!"

You chance a peek out from your hiding spot, only catching a brief glimpse of one man through the trees.

"Where ya hidin', sweet thing?"

His voice sounds far away and that gives you the courage to move forward, a tentative dash for another tree.

“I might be nicer to ya if you just come on out, but if I have to hunt ya down…well…you know what a hunter does to its prey, don’tcha?”

You press your hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that claws its way up your throat. You start to run again, faster, not caring if he can hear you so long as you're able to maintain that distance, hoping that if you can outrun them for long enough, he'll just give up and then maybe you can find your--

You crash into something, the world sliding out from under you and the breath rushing from your lungs as you land on your back with a pained shout. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you across the rough ground before you have the chance to recover.

"Gotcha," a man says, the voice different from the one that had been taunting you before. A figure stands over you, a foot on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a sinister smile. "Pretty little prize, huh?"

You twist your body, scrambling away from him. He laughs, following after you with unhurried strides.

“Now, don’t play hard to get,” he admonishes. A hand wraps around your ankle and he drags you toward him, kicking and screaming. Your foot connects with some fleshy part of him and he curses.

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he hisses, dropping your foot. He kicks you, heavy boot colliding with soft flesh and bone, a sharp pain blossoming in your side, shooting down to your very marrow. You curl in on yourself, wounded prey trying to protect its most vulnerable parts.

A shot rings out, the sound startling in the relative quiet of the forest. You sit up, sudden movement making you light headed, and it takes you a long moment to register the scene before you.

The man that had been chasing you, the one that had caught you, the one that had hurt you on the surface but planned to do far worse, lies on the ground, eyes wide open but unseeing. Above him stands your savior, an older man with gray streaked dark curls and tan skin, broad shoulders and hard brown eyes. He reminds you of a painting you saw once in a book your dad owned, long before the outbreak.

“Death On A Pale Horse,” he explained when you showed him the painting that caught your eye. “Based on the Book of Revelations. You remember that one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This one,” — he pointed to the central figure, a dark creature on a white horse — “is Death. And this one” — he pointed to a figure on the right that rides a dark brown horse, the dark colors making him blend among the horrors breaking from the sky behind him — “would be famine. You can see the emaciated man below him.”

“What about the other two?” You asked.

“The one of the red horse would be war.”

You pointed to the remaining figure, a man with dark curls and a determined expression. “And the white horse?”

Your dad paused. “Conquest. Pestilence. The Antichrist. The first horseman of the apocalypse.”

The man before you today looks like that figure on the white horse and despite his choice to rescue you from one horror, you fear he may be something far worse.

The man kneels and you flinch away from him. He sighs and says, “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” You ask, voice weak, throat on fire.

“My name is Joel,” he says. “I want to help you.”

“How do I know you weren’t with those other guys?” Your eyes grow wide and you rush to stand on shaky legs. “Wait, there’s another—“

“He won’t be an issue,” Joel assures you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. “C’mon.”

“I can’t—“

“Men like those two ain’t the only things in the forest to worry about, and I’m afraid we can’t sit around and find out. That gun shot could send a horde runnin’.”

“Wait!” You snap, pulling out of his grasp. He holds his hands up, as if in surrender, or maybe like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not sure which. “My dad is out there. H-he went to figure out where to go from here. We were in a cabin…” Your voice trails off. “I told him I would wait for him.”

Joel’s eyes are soft as he says, “We need to get ourselves to safety. I can send someone out to look for your dad first thing in the mornin’.”

“Send someone?”

“There’s a group of us, down in the valley. Survivors, like you.”

“Really?” Relief washes over you, eclipsing even the ache in your belly and the burn in your throat and the pain in your muscles. “How far?”

“With the state you’re in, probably about a two hour hike.”

You don’t have much choice but to go with him, do you?

“Okay.”

“Where’re you comin’ from?” Joel asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. You’ve been following quietly behind him, head down and eyes fixed on the ground.

“Denver,” is all you offer in response. He knew that much already. He wants to know more.

Maybe he has to give more first.

“‘M from Texas, originally. Was in a QZ in Boston for a while before makin’ my way out here.”

“Why’d you come out here?” You ask.

“Had a friend once tell me, ‘Save who you can save’,” he says.

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“You’ll see.”

Joel had mentioned survivors, but you're shocked to discover that just past a wooden sign proclaiming WELCOME TO CRESTONE in chipped yellow paint, a whole town is tucked away, surrounded by a wooden gate that opens for you as you approach. You feel the weight of curious eyes as you walk through a town square, Joel's palm between your shoulder blades steering you towards a more residential area until you reach a two story adobe home.

Once inside, you’re led upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom, a large bed in the center with a faded quilt tucked around the mattress with precision and a dresser against one wall covered in yellowed wallpaper. Joel gestures for you to sit, kneeling on the wood floor in front of you to work on the laces of your sneakers.

“What—“

“You need rest,” he says, removing your shoes. He looks up at you, brown eyes full of concern. Your stomach flips.

“But—“

“No,” he says sternly. He stands and walks to the side of the bed, tugging the quilt free and folding it down. “I have duties to return to, but you’ll be safe here.”

You don’t have it in you to continue arguing. You haven’t seen a comfortable bed in more than two days and the exhaustion catches up to you in one fell swoop, eyes halfway to shut as you crawl into the space Joel’s made for you between the sheets. He pulls the covers over you, the warmth of a hand smoothing across your cheek the last thing you feel before falling asleep.

You wake to the sun high in the sky, streaming through the open window of a room that you don't recognize. You push yourself to sitting, your ribs protesting the movement and your head pulsing just behind your eyes. Your mouth is unbearably dry, so much so that you start coughing, further aggravating your bruised ribs.

"There's water on the nightstand," a voice says, startling you.

You look to your left, finding a young girl sitting in a wooden chair by your bed. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, wayward pieces falling across pale skin. Her sharp brown eyes watch you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m Ellie,” she says. You mumble your own name.

“Did Joel save you?” Ellie asks.

“Uh—“

“He must have. That’s what he does,” she continues, cutting you off.

“Ellie!” A familiar deep voice calls out. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles from her seat, rushing for the door. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, Joel appearing in the open doorway. He looks at her with a stern expression, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Thought I told you not to come up here.”

The look on her face isn’t fear, like her reaction would have led you to believe. No, she looks up at Joel with reverence as she says, “Sorry. Wanted to see her.”

Joel nods. “Head to the mess hall. I’ll bring her down shortly.”

Ellie casts a lingering look in your direction before disappearing through the doorway.

“Sorry about her,” Joel says. He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Could be better,” you say honestly. “How long was I asleep for?”

“A little more than a day.”

Your eyes go wide. “My dad—“

“We’ve sent out a search party. No luck yet, I’m afraid,” he says. You curl into yourself a bit at the news, shoulders tight with worry. He reaches forward and places a hand on top of your own where it rests on the sheets. “You should get some food. I brought you some new clothes, too. I’ll let you get dressed and we can go down to the mess hall.“

He leaves the room before you respond and you drag the pile of clothes closer to you, finding a neatly folded t-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks. It takes you a long moment to work your way out of your dirty clothes, your movements slow to not aggravate your injuries. You keep your bra on, pulling the clean shirt over your head, followed by the jeans. You're thrilled to be wearing something that's not caked with dirt and sweat.

You're working on putting your socks on when there's a knock at the door, Joel entering when you call out for him to come in. He smiles at you.

"There, that's better," he says. "C'mon. Let's get down to dinner."

You follow him out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor of the home has a kitchen that opens up to a living and dining area, the space filled with worn mismatched furniture. The walls are wood paneled and there's a massive stone fireplace with elk antlers mounted above it.

The sun is setting as you step outside and get your first real look at the town as its bathed in gold. Narrow residential streets give way to wider roads once you reach the town center, where commercial buildings are pressed together advertising long forgotten businesses, their windows dark.

"That's the butcher up there," Joel says, pointing to one of the wooden buildings. "He gets the meat from the traps prepped for us." He points to another building with a sign that says RESTAURANT. "That's the bakery."

"A butcher and a bakery?" You ask. "Do you have electricity here?"

"Sure do. Solar panels, just outside the gate."

You continue walking through the town until you come up on a large white building, people entering and exiting through a set of thick double doors. The shadow of a cross remains above the door, perhaps scorched by the sun where a crucifix once sat. People welcome Joel as he enters, heads turning in their curiosity. You press a little closer to Joel's side.

The large room is bursting with noise and activity -- a flurry of conversations, the clink of cutlery, and laughter. You've not seen anything like it before, the mentality in the QZ not conducive to camaraderie. You can count on one hand the number of people you would have considered friends within those walls, and even that was a stretch. You and Joel join a line of people retrieving plates of food from a single window.

"How long has all of this been here?" You ask, gesturing to the room. He looks around proudly.

"Ellie and I came across this town on accident after we went through hell leavin' Boston. The folks here set up their own quarantine zone and with bigger fish to fry, FEDRA sort of left ‘em alone. They were kind enough to take us in," he says. "After that, more people started showin' up lookin' for safety. Lots of people who escaped the QZs or had been on their own for a while and were tired of runnin'."

"Ellie says you save people," you comment, taking a step forward as the line moves. "What's that mean?"

"Every flock needs a shepherd."

You’re at the front of the line now, standing in front of the window. A woman appears, her face lighting up when she sees Joel.

“Joel! How are you?” She asks, leaning onto the ledge. Behind her you can see people moving quickly and efficiently around a stainless steel kitchen, large pots of food simmering on the stovetop.

“Well enough,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “We have a new guest. Make her plate nice and full for me?”

“Of course.”

She gathers a plate from a precarious stack, loading it with a heaping pile of food ranging from mashed potatoes and stew to colorful vegetables that you haven’t seen in ages, not since before the outbreak when you were seven and your dad would make dinner rather than pass you a ration package. You’re speechless as she hands you the plate with a kind smile, a mumbled thank you the best you can manage to show your gratitude.

Joel is handed a plate as well and you follow him to a table where Ellie sits next to a man with white hair, her plate already empty in front of her. The man looks up at Joel as you approach, his expression closed off and wary.

“Michael,” Joel says in greeting, jaw ticking. You take a seat beside Ellie, who to your surprise moves closer to you, arm brushing yours. “You botherin’ Ellie?”

The man, Michael, shakes his head. “No, sir. We were just having a little talk.”

“What about?” Joel sits on the opposite side of the table. He rips his bread roll in half.

“Just some concerns I was having.”

“You bring your concerns to me. Not to her.”

The two men stare at each other, the tension thick and impossible to ignore. Finally, Michael gets up, leaving the table without another word. Ellie’s shoulder’s lose their tension and Joel catches her eye, the two of them seeming to have an entire conversation in just a look.

The moment passes and Joel’s features relax, a smile tilting the corners of his lips as he returns his attention to you and gestures to your plate.

“Dig in,” he says.

Joel walks you back to his home after dinner, the sky now dark. Ellie’s already closed herself in her room by the time the two of you return, having left the mess hall before you had finished eating.

“Tired again?” Joel asks when you yawn, mouth open wide as you stretch your arms above your head.

Your expression is sheepish as you say, “A little bit.”

“That’s to be expected,” he assures you. “You fought a hard fight. It’s okay to relax now. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tangle in the hem of the t-shirt he’d given you earlier. “I don’t know if I’ve said that already.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. You can use the shower and get to bed.”

“Oh my god, a shower sounds amazing.”

He shows you the bathroom and helps you get the water running. Once he shows you where to find a towel, you smile gratefully before shutting the door on him.

Dismissed, Joel makes his way to Ellie’s room, knocking on the door. She answers quickly, opening up only enough for him to see her face.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Can I come in?”

She rolls her eyes but opens the door further, allowing him inside. Her room is smaller than his but far more decorated, pages ripped out of old magazines and comic books tacked to the wall. She takes a seat on her single bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“What did Michael talk to you about?” He asks. She shrugs her shoulders. Joel bites back a sigh. Sometimes he forgets what it was like to reason with a teenage girl. “Ellie.”

“He said” — she pauses, scratching at her wrist in the way that she will when she’s anxious — “he said that you were full of shit. That your fucked up ceremony isn’t helping any of them.”

Joel’s teeth grind together. “That all?”

“Called me a stupid kid for following what you say,” she mumbles. “Said everyone in town was stupid for believing you.”

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says. Rage burns in his veins as he turns to leave.

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie asks as he reaches the door.

“I’m goin’ to teach him a lesson.”

He pulls the door shut behind him, tilting his head against the wood with a sigh. The click of a latch down the hall precedes your quiet, “Joel?”

Joel turns to face you, surprised to find you standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel tucked around your body. Water glistens on your skin in the low light, drawing his eyes down your neck and across your chest. He clears his throat.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you murmur. “I…could I get some new clothes?”

“Of course, should’a given you some before you showered. Sorry about that.”

Joel walks past you, entering his bedroom and approaching the dresser. He tugs the top drawer open, full of clothing he’d gathered while you’d been asleep for more than a day. He piles together another t-shirt, sleep pants, and underwear, setting them on the bed for you.

You’re standing in the doorway when he finishes and he fights the urge to go to you, to pull you close, to run his wretched hands over your body like he’s wanted to since he first saw you in the forest.

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. You still have much to learn.

“Here you go,” he says. “Some more stuff in the drawers for you if you need it.”

Joel leaves you to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind him. He heads downstairs to grab what he’ll need, essentials shoved in a bag thrown over his shoulder before venturing off into the night.

Only a few lights continue to illuminate windows as Joel walks through the residential area. The house he approaches at the end of a street is already dark, quiet beyond the wood door that he knocks on three times. The door opens slowly, Michael appearing in the small space.

“What?” He grunts.

“Come take a walk,” Joel says. Michael rolls his eyes, moving to shut the door but Joel’s boot blocks his effort. “I ain’t askin’, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?” He challenges. Joel throws his weight against the door, catching Michael by surprise enough for him to step into the house.

Joel throws an elbow into the man’s gut, making him double over with a groan. He circles behind him, kicking the back of his knee to send him to the ground. He pulls a length of chain from his pocket, looping it around Michael’s neck and pulling the ends.

Michael struggles, clawing at the garotte and thrashing wildly, but Joel holds strong. He tightens his grip further until Michael’s fight becomes sluggish, lack of oxygen finally causing him to go limp.

Joel releases the chain and Michael’s body slumps to the ground. He removes his backpack, digging through the contents until he finds a rusted pair of handcuffs that he uses to bind Michael’s arms behind his back. Next, he places a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

When he wakes, Joel will lead him out past the gate. He will find an unassuming home that rests outside the boundary of Crestone. He will open the hidden doors of the cellar, the ones covered in a layer of leaves and grass. From the darkness he will hear the echo of desperate groans and the rattle of chains and the angry attempts to break free from bindings. He will lead Michael down the dirt steps, the smell of rot and fear and death clawing at his olfactory nerves.

He will place a burlap bag over a struggling Michael’s head and the man will beg and plead in words muffled by tape. Then, Joel will offer him for judgment.

A hand on you shoulder shakes you awake, the room still mostly dark when you manage to open your eyes. You groan, pulling the quilt up over your head.

“C’mon, we gotta get to breakfast,” Ellie says. The cover gets yanked down and she gives you a mischievous grin.

“Where’s Joel?” You ask, sitting up slowly. She shrugs.

“Probably there already.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching your arms up. You grab the same jeans and socks from the day before, changing into them quickly and sitting down on the floor to pull your sneakers on. Ellie watches you, her foot tapping impatiently.

“You can go without me if you’re in a rush,” you offer. She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

You follow her out of the house, her clipped pace difficult to keep up with due to your lingering pain. As the sun starts to rise and you pass by more of the houses, you notice something peculiar about some of them.

“What’s that?” You ask, pausing in front of one the houses. There’s a streak of what looks like dark red paint across the top of the door. Ellie doubles back and stands beside you.

“Protection,” she says.

“From what?”

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with your line of questioning. Rather than answer, she walks away, leaving you to catch up to her or be left behind.

As the two of you start to walk through the square, there’s a rush of people around you. Shouting can be heard up ahead as a crowd comes into view, gathered around the front of the mess hall building. People press in close together, craning their necks to see over each other and catch a glimpse of whatever spectacle has their attention.

Ellie pushes through the crowd and you follow close on her heels until she manages to break through the other side of the wall of people. You catch glimpses of something writhing on the ground, something animal but not quite, something failed and fetid and foul. Another peek affords you a view of an arm littered with bite marks shaped by blunt teeth, deep gouges into their skin that shine red with blood and fester with disease.

Joel appears, stepping around the side of the building. The whispers cease, the crunch of Joel’s boots and pained groans the only noise to be heard in the stale air.

His dark eyes scan the crowd. People shrink back from his gaze, pressing closer to each other for relief. He reaches down, curling his fingers into the burlap material and yanking it off to reveal a man, familiar and yet not recognizable. Unseeing eyes, ashen skin, and dark red veins now the hallmark characteristics of the man you now remember as the one who had been talking to Ellie in the dining hall.

Joel draws a gun from his back, aiming it at Michael’s head. “Let this be a lesson,” he says, pulling the trigger.

The shot rings out, making you jump. The agonized sounds come to abrupt halt and his body goes limp, eyes still open as blood blooms on the ground around him.

“No blood spilled. No blood saved,” Joel says. You look up from the horrible scene and meet his hard gaze. You step back, turning and shoving your way through the crowd.

Then, you run.

You’re frantically shoving clothing into your bag when a door slams downstairs and heavy footsteps climb the stairs at a quick pace. You can feel the burn of Joel's eyes on your back, his presence in the room thick and cloying as you refuse to turn around, even when he murmurs your name.

He moves closer, a hand on your shoulder prompting you to turn to break the connection. He holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back as he says, "Let me explain."

"Explain? Explain?! How the fuck do you explain that?!" You snap.

"If you'll just listen--"

"There's nothing you could possibly say that will--"

"Ellie is immune!" He shouts. Your words die on the tip of your tongue, lost to ether as you stare at Joel.

"W-what do you mean? Immune?" You ask.

He takes a deep breath. "I told you what my friend said. 'Save who you can save'. The first person I saved was Ellie."

"I helped her out of Boston, kept her safe, nearly lost my life if it meant keepin' her alive," He continues. "That's what I offer here."

"So you think you're....what? Some kind of god? That you can grant immunity?"

He huffs a laugh, the noise devoid of any humor. "God abandoned his worst experiment in their time of need. There is no god anymore, just the poor creatures he left behind. Someone had to take up the mantle."

"But how?"

"The ceremony," he says.

"That’s not a fucking answer, Joel!” You shout. “What fucking ceremony?!”

“Blood spilled for blood saved. You can’t make it in this world without givin’ your everythin’ first.” He lifts the bottom of his shirt, just enough to reveal a jagged scar to the right of his belly button, shiny scar tissue disrupting smooth tan skin. “I did this for Ellie. Now everyone else has to do it for themselves.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You take a small step closer to inspect the wound, raising your hand and reaching out with a tentative touch. Joel inhales sharply as you run your fingers across the puckered flesh.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your hand up and holding it against his chest. “It’ll be easier to show you, okay? There’s a ceremony in a couple days.”

“I don’t—“

“You’re just afraid because this is somethin’ new, but I promise you that you got nothin’ to be scared of. I’ll take care of you.” He lifts a hand to your face, tilting your chin with his thumb. “I just need you to trust me.”

His eyes are honest, earnest, pleading with you to believe him and the longer you search them, the more truth you seem to find. He will take care of you. You just know it.

“Okay.”

Dinner is served early on the day of the ceremony, the room buzzing with excited conversation. You haven’t seen Joel much the last few days, just passing glimpses, and Ellie says it’s because he has a lot to prepare for. Tonight there’s a woman at his side wearing a white dress that flows to the floor, black hair braided down her back. She smiles at Joel, hanging on every word you can’t hear. It makes your stomach clench in a weird way when her hand curls around his bicep and her head leans against his shoulder.

“That’s Marcy. She’s volunteered for the ceremony,” Ellie says. She’s sitting across from you, a smirk on her lips. “S’why she’s been hanging around Joel the last few days. Joel’s gotta prepare her.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply, picking at the vegetables on your plate. “What does…what does he do? To prepare her.”

She shrugs. “Dunno.”

You glance at the pair. Joel leans in close to the woman, whispering into her ear. Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm, your hands curled into tight fists beneath the table. He stands, a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he calls the people to attention, voices fading until silence envelops the room.

“Tonight,” Joel says, “another is to be saved. And we will all bear witness to the gift of deliverance that only self-sacrifice can grant.”

It’s only a few words, but the power in them is palpable as you glance around the room at the entire town watching him with rapt attention. His eyes meet yours.

“Save who you can save,” he intones. A chill runs down your spine.

“Save who you can save,” the town echoes back.

The sun is already low on the horizon, twilight casting a soft glow on the scene. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as Joel leads Marcy onto a raised wooden platform. Another man joins them, passing something wrapped in cloth into Joel’s outstretched hands.

“The thing about the world today,” Joel says, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a large knife, “is that there ain’t a single guarantee.” He looks out over the crowd. “Except here, within these walls. Why? Because here you’ll make the greatest sacrifice and earn the greatest reward.”

He begins to pace the length of the platform, knife in hand. “Givin’ your blood in exchange for your safety? That doesn’t sound so bad, right?” The people around you nod their heads in agreement. “You’ve seen what that sacrifice can do. I did it for Ellie. I did it for myself. And tonight—“ he places a hand on Marcy’s shoulder “—another has made the choice to earn that gift of protection.”

A cheer erupts, spreading through the crowd through shouts and applause. You find yourself joining them, clapping your hands together as you continue to watch Joel.

“Marcy,” Joel says. “What brings you here today?”

“No blood spilled, no blood saved,” she recites dutifully.

“Are you afraid?” He asks.

“No,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because I trust in your protection.”

Joel smiles at her, beaming with pride, and that knot in your stomach from earlier returns with a vengeance. You want him to look at you like that.

He stands in front of her, blocking her from view with his body. A hush falls over the crowd and from the silence erupts an anguished scream. You flinch, the sound piercing and painful and petrifying, though it seems to have taken nobody else by surprise.

Another scream as he jerks his arm back, the knife in his hand now stained with red that slides down the blade, dripping to the wood beneath his feet. He steps to the side and you can see the woman now, her hands pressed to her belly. Crimson blooms beneath her hands, marring her pretty white dress and leaching the color and vitality from her face. She drops to her knees and so does Joel, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her until she’s lying on her back. He holds her hand and smooths her hair from her face as she just repeats, “Thank you.”

Slowly, the strength in her voice fades. Her arm goes limp in his grasp, dropping to the floor with a dull thud as her eyes flutter shut. Joel whistles sharply, three men rushing up the platform and lifting the girl into their arms, careful not to jostle her too much. Joel remains kneeling, his head turning to scan the crowd.

“We are born covered in blood,” he says. “It gives you protection from the outside world when you’re wrenched from the womb. And it will protect you now as it is wrenched from you.”

He steps off the platform and walks past the crowd, heading for the residential street. Everyone shuffles forward, moving en masse like sheep following their shepherd or cattle to the slaughter. You’re led to one of the smaller homes and you watch as Joel smooths the flat of the blade across his hand, gathering blood in his palm.

He places his palm on the door, smearing the blood across the faded blue paint. When he’s done, he turns to face the crowd.

“Marcy has earned her protection. Those of you among us that have not yet made your sacrifice, may you return home this evenin’ and realize that each passin’ day is a wasted opportunity for your salvation.” His serious expression softens as he smiles. “No blood spilled.”

“No blood saved,” the crowd says.

To your surprise, the words fall easily from your lips.

Joel shuts the door quietly behind him. He’s just finished checking on Marcy and was pleased to find that her wound has been dressed and she’s recovering well. At the kitchen sink he runs the water as hot as he can tolerate and scrubs his hands clean.

He can hear faint footsteps upstairs, the sound of your pacing back and forth in his bedroom. He’s pleased that you stayed through the entire ceremony, didn’t run away filled with fear or disgust like you had watching him make an example out of Michael.

There’s hope for you yet.

Joel dries his hands on a towel and heads upstairs. He glances at Ellie’s room out of habit, though he knows it’s empty. She likes to help out after the ceremony, usually sticking beside the town nurse, Shelly, as she monitors the person who participated in the ceremony over night.

The door to his bedroom is shut but he can see that the light is on, the glow of it seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He knocks, three sharp raps of his knuckles, and waits.

You pull the door open, and Joel is once again struck by how much he wants you, how much he’s craved you since the first time he saw you. You look up at him with wide eyes but he doesn’t sense any fear as you pull the door open further and step back to let him enter.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. You’re standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, nodding quietly. Joel moves closer, tentatively reaching out to tilt your chin up so that he’s looking into your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I….,” your voice trails off. You take a breath. “I want that protection.”

He was hoping you would say that. Relief floods through him.

“I can’t do that,” he says. Your brows pinch together, hurt flashing across your features. “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“But—“

“Listen to me—“ his hands frame your face, thumbs smoothing over the high points of your cheeks “—you’re meant for somethin’ different here.”

“Something different?” You repeat. You shake your head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you lose a drop,” he whispers. “You don’t need to bleed, sweetheart. Not like them. I’ll protect you myself.”

Your mouth drops open the slightest bit, drawing Joel’s gaze. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness of it. There’s not much about his life the last twenty or so years that he would call soft.

There was his brother, Tommy, even though they couldn’t see eye to eye and had to part ways. His daughter, Sarah, before the outbreak. She took care of him, made sure he took his vitamins and packed his lunch and didn’t miss a parent-teacher conference. She was light and joy, his heart outside of his body, and she was ripped from his grasp.

There was Tess, who was not a soft person but was a soft place to land among the carnage. Bill, ornery though he was, and Frank, arguably his better half. They were a breath of normalcy, even when Bill had a gun trained on him. Ellie, once she quit being a pain in the ass and wormed her way into his heart with her promise to follow him wherever he went.

And now there was you.

“Will you let me do that?” Joel asks. “Protect you?”

You lift your hands, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. He wonders if you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse pounding beneath your grip. Finally, after a long moment, you whisper, “Yes.”

Joel captures your lips with his, swallowing your gasp of surprise. You’re tentative, a bit clumsy with your movements as you kiss back and he pulls away, leaning his forehead to yours.

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’ve never—“

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

While his words don’t stop your pulse from racing, they do calm your nerves the slightest bit. It’s not that you’ve never been interested in sex, there was just never a good opportunity. Going through puberty in an apocalypse where a militant government faction monitors your every move in exchange for basic necessities wasn’t exactly conducive to forming intimate relationships.

While you’re lost in your thoughts, Joel moves you backwards until your legs hit the mattress and he urges you to sit down. He kneels in front of you, working on the laces of your sneakers, removing them and setting them to the side. He looks up at you as he removes your socks and you’re not sure if you're supposed to find the sight of him kneeling at your feet as sexy as you do, but a rush of warmth rolls through you all the same.

He runs his palms up your legs, across your thighs, until his fingertips find the waist of your jeans, popping the button of the fly and pulling the zipper down.

“Lift your hips a bit, sweetheart,” he says, working the denim down and off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands return to your thighs, goosebumps erupting along their path to your hips.

“No one’s touched you here?” He asks, here being the soft skin of your inner thigh that his thumbs sweep across. You shake your head. He moves higher, a featherlight touch over the elastic of your underwear that makes you gasp. “What about here?”

“N-no,” you manage to whisper. He smiles at you, the same proud smile he’d given Marcy that you were so desperate to have for yourself.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He kisses the inside of your knee quickly before sitting up higher, reaching up to lift your shirt up, tugging it over your head and dropping it onto the growing pile of your clothing.

“Lie back for me,” Joel commands. You shift up the mattress and follow his instruction, bringing your arms up to cover your exposed breasts. He makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue, pulling your arms away as he crawls up the mattress to settle between your legs.

“None of that,” he admonishes, planting your hands by your head. He kisses your lips again, butterflies erupting in your stomach when his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding. He palms one of your breasts, hands rough on the delicate skin. “This is mine, do you understand?”

Joel brings his mouth to your breast, tongue swirling over your stiff nipple. You cry out, the foreign sensation making more heat rush through you, leaving you throbbing between your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes as he sucks your nipple between his lips, releasing it with a lewd pop.

“Mine to touch,” he says, leaning on one arm to trail his fingers down your stomach. “Mine to kiss.” His lips trace the same heated path. “Mine to protect.”

When he reaches your underwear, he pulls back. “Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing across the gusset, making you whimper and squirm. “You’ve soaked your panties, sweetheart.”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry? Ain’t nothin’ you need to be sorry about,” he says with a chuckle. He sits up, working your only remaining barrier between you down your legs. He spreads your legs with his hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you look so pretty, baby.”

“Really?” You ask. His answering grin is wolfish.

“So pretty,” he repeats. He settles on his belly, face so close to your pussy you can feel the warmth of his breath against your heated flesh. “Gotta get you ready.”

Your response to the question is cut off with a high pitched moan as Joel runs his tongue through your folds, circling your clit with broad strokes. You try to close your legs against the sensation but his strong hands keep your thighs pinned down near the mattress.

He groans as he sets a slow and measured pace, alternating attention to your clit with dipping his tongue inside of you, dragging your essence from the source. Your hands clench in the sheets, chasing and retreating from the overwhelming sensation in equal measure.

There’s a blunt pressure that turns into a slight pinch as Joel slips a finger into your tight heat. Your head tilts back with a high keening noise and you’re panting, desperate for breath as he moves his hand in tandem with his tongue.

One finger becomes two that thrust and curl and part inside of you, stretching you in unfamiliar ways. It feels good, and all you want is more, more, more.

Joel’s hand moves quickly and he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves until that flood of relief that you’ve only accomplished a handful of times on your own washes over you, your back arching sharply off the mattress as you shout his name like a prayer to the heavens.

His motions slow to a stop and he leaves the bed. You hear the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothing being removed before his weight returns between your legs, a new heat to be felt against your flushed skin with his clothes no longer in the way. With shaky hands you reach up to touch him, starting at his shoulders.

You trail your hands across his warm tan skin, down his hard chest and softer belly. That scar, the one that frightened you before, leaves you breathless as you run your fingers over it now. He’s so strong, so powerful, and he wants you. Wants to protect you so that you don’t know that same pain.

“Joel,” you whisper. He leans forward, hands on the mattress beside your head. He kisses you, slow and all encompassing. You can feel the hard length of his sliding through the mess he’s made of you and you gasp.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, face serious, “there ain’t any goin’ back from this. You’re mine. You got that?”

“I trust you,” you reply. Your response earns you a deep groan from the man, a kiss to your forehead that precedes the blunt head of his cock pressing to your soaked entrance.

His cock is thicker, much thicker, than his fingers were and you whine at the intrusion. His shushes you, peppering your face with soothing kisses.

“I don’t think—“

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart, I know you can handle it,” Joel says. “Take a deep breath, just a little more.”

Tension gives way, a sharp pinch that turns into an ache as Joel presses his hips firmly against yours. He kisses your neck and trails his nose across your sweat damp skin, holding still as you adjust to his girth.

You shift your hips the slightest bit and Joel’s moan echoes your gasp. “Tell me I can move,” he begs, another desperate kiss pressed to your lips. “Please, baby.”

There’s something heady about the power you have in this brief moment, a man like Joel begging you for something when he’s used to having everything. You nod and that’s all the encouragement he needs to draw back slowly, that fullness leaving you inch by inch, before thrusting sharply.

It’s unlike any experience you’ve had before — the way his body moves with yours, the flex of his muscles above you, the intense look in his eyes each time he presses inside of you.

“Made for me,” he murmurs. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, moaning as each drag of his cock presses against a tender spot inside of you that has your stomach tightening rapidly.

His effort doubles, hips slamming hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. You dig your nails into his back, watch the clench of his jaw against the sting, and moan his name as you succumb to the feeling of free falling into bliss, clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” he growls, hips stilling against yours as warmth pulses inside of you, his mouth dropped open on a groan of your name.

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before withdrawing from you. He reaches his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers into your swollen pussy as you gasp.

He holds those fingers up, the light catching on the red staining them.

Perhaps you’d spilled blood for your safety after all.

You wake to the early morning light filtering through the window, a noticeable ache between your legs as you begin to stir. You’re naked, having fallen asleep in Joel’s arms last night, his lips caressing your neck until you’d drifted off and dreamt of blood and wolves. You stretch your limbs, encountering only cold sheets as you do.

As you sit up, you realize the sound of rushing water is the shower and surmise that Joel must be in there. With stiff movements you leave the warmth of the bed and approach the dresser, tugging open the top drawer to find clothing for the day.

You’re reaching for underwear when your fingers catch on something cold, metal in a sea of fabric. You pull on the object, unearthing it from its hiding spot and holding it up for inspection.

A cross, hanging from a silver chain. A chain you would tangle your fingers in as a child, a cross that a thumb would rub across as a deep, familiar voice muttered prayers.

The shower turns off and you take one last look at the crucifix before setting it back into the dark corner you’d unearthed it from.

Then, you shut the drawer.

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #dark content #cult leader!joel miller #cw age gap #cw dubcon #cw age difference #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark joel miller

1K notes · View notes

mywillt0live · 9 months

Text

im not a good writer but I have a lot of brainrots about sagau and imposter sagau

so here’s a little uh.. dramatic brain rot idea of mine

N O W L O A D I N G . . .

I’ve always found it unrealistic how quick-to-assume the acolytes are

ex. the first person they see that looks like you is the definitely the “creator” (stupid to assume)

anybody who looks like them is definitely an imposter (like what?? it should be blessing-)

so instead, when the imposter first arrived, the acolytes were in doubt but still hopeful

using celestia’s power, the imposter proved themselves in other ways than gold blood and gained a following

although a very good imitation, something was just the slightest bit off. those small mistakes started to build up, and the acolytes couldn’t help but feel something was wrong.. yet they’re loyalty remained

you, the creator, pull up to the crib and nobody really believes you. kinda just thinking man they look a lot like the creator.. that’s crazy 😧

you go around and see the imposter all acting like you, spreading their influence to gain total power

so instead of going around like a door to door salesman and convince the acolytes that you’re the real creator, you decide to get to the root of problem: the imposter

however taking the throne by force would be stupid, I mean it’s not impossible to kill the imposter, but combined with the acolytes and millions of followers- yeah no thanks.

you could easily do it by showing your blood, but you wanna see who is truly loyal to you

and let’s be honest

where’s the fun in that?

you’re definitely not a sadist

so you infiltrate the palace spy style and at the big throne doors you blast them open all cool n stuff

the acolytes immediately detain you and you kneel before the imposter

“My liege, excuse my impudence, but you seem rather uncomfortable..”

the imposter flinches as you smirk at them

“D-Dispose of them at once! I wish to see their face no longer..”

“Hah.. you really like to humor me. Don’t you? Celestia.”

you’re met with astonished glares thinking how arrogant you are, well not until..

in a display of divine power, you break free of the acolytes grasp with ease

you grin wildly as everyone looks at you in a stupor with one collective thought:

“What if..”

you smirk.

this’ll be fun.

some of the archons yell for you to wait but you take a dramatic bow and disappear in a blink.

the whole room is enveloped in soft murmurs and speculative chaos as the imposter bites their lip in anger- no, rage.

the situation is thrown into turmoil and for weeks the acolytes watch as the imposter starts to become more paranoid, aggressive, and more off.

their paranoia leads to a new order, and the witch-hunt begins. anyone caught worshiping you or helping you are executed on the spot.

dried blood lines the cobblestone streets of mondstat. in liyue, rather than good food and hearty laughter wafting through the air, all that remains is the vague stench of dead bodies. inazuma’s streets are quiet and cold, as soldiers loom over the area.

the situation with the acolytes aren’t much better. some slipped away early to find you, others of utmost loyalty to the imposter are furious because of your little “act”

but even they can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong

most acolytes become doubtful and eventually turn neutral, unknowing what side is the true creator.

the battle has begun as you and the imposter fight for their trust, love, and power.

lets see who gets their head chopped off first.

(i guess this could be a prologue to imposter sagau?)

#sagau #genshin impact #genshin sagau #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau creator #sagau brainrot #brainrot #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #Spotify

165 notes · View notes

strangelittlestories · 16 days

Text

Eos emerged from the pool and stretched and his spine cracked with a hundred years of spent tension.

“Sounds like you needed that.” Said Nyssa, who had been sitting by the pool, waiting.

Eos took in their surroundings for the first time. The two of them were in a cave, lit by a seam of glowing mushrooms overhead. The water reached up to Eos’s waist; the pool was black as space and just as cold. Strangely, they didn’t shiver. The cold was just a curiosity.

The water did not rippled as Eos walked towards its edge. Reflected in the pool’s perfect obsidian surface were Eos, Nyssa, and the fungal bioluminescence which turned the dark water into a cosmos.

“I’m sorry … who are you?” Asked Eos, as they clambered up onto the rough rock floor. “For that matter, who am I?”

“You’re Eos. I’m Nyssa.” She smiled and her smile told a story of grief and mischief. “And this is Stinger.”

For the first time, Eos noticed the creature sitting in Nyssa’s lap. It was somewhere between a hedgehog, a badger, a wolverine and patch of weeds, with green leaves and barbs sticking up like fur.

“How did I get here?”

“We came in together. We were in a bit of a state, apparently. Your soul must have been more ragged than mine, as I crawled out a couple of days ago.”

“I remember fire like old rot. The face of a god carved in the wind.” Eos winced at the memory, like picking at scars on their brain. “And pain. Lots of pain.”

“Yeah, whatever did this to us tore our bodies to shredded hell. Nearly took our spirits with us.”

“You remember?”

“No. Stinger told me.” Nyssa stroked the creature, careful to only touch the soft underside of her leaves. “She’s a nettle possum. My familiar. It pays to keep some of your memories on the outside, apparently. The pool wipes them clean, otherwise.”

Eos started walking towards the tunnel at the back of the cave. Their legs wobbled like a drunken heron.

“We have to get back…”

Nyssa reached over to grab one of Eos’s ankles and they teetered for a moment, before grabbing onto the cave wall.

“Nothing to go back to. It’s been, oh, at least a full generation for the pool to restore us.”

The remaining strength in their legs gave out and Eos sat down hard on the floor.

“Then…”

“The world outside is what it is.” Nyssa shrugged and the shrug was the whole world. “For now, we have one job.”

“What’s that?”

“We teach each other who we are. Again.”

“How? My head feels ... unmapped. All my memories just roads leading I don't know where.”

“Well, they say the past is foreign country.” Nyssa smiled that sad menace smile again. “But there is no border a witch can’t hop if she really needs to…”

#writing #microfiction #flash fiction #short story #writeblr #wtwcommunity #rebirth #friendship #tabula rasa

30 notes · View notes

book-pirate · 6 months

Text

Astarion x Tav, because the Baldur's Gate brain rot is real. Sorry to my beloved mutuals who have no idea what I'm on about!!! I don't know either!!!!!!

tripping over my own heart AO3

“I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more.”

Tav is maybe not the best judge of when people are trying to flirt with her. It’s funny, really, because she can sniff out bullshit from a mile away, and her gut hasn’t been wrong once on their absolutely insane journey. There are a million excuses she could use, to try and explain why in this one facet of social interaction she fails, but the simple truth is it just doesn’t occur to her that someone might be in to her.

Especially Halsin.

Without thinking, she blurts out, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested,” realizes how that sounds, and then continues with a cringe, “but I’m already in a relationship.”

Which should not be news to you! she stops herself from saying.

Part of her expects it to end the conversation, but he keeps talking, about bonds and souls and gardens and nature. She has to actively fight herself to remain calm, have her face stay open and friendly instead of running to Shadowheart and asking how she might voluntarily give up the memory of this interaction ever happening.

There’s a snicker in her head that sounds suspiciously like her friend’s as she finally extracts herself from the conversation with a polite, “I’m sorry, Halsin.”

He seems to understand and doesn’t hold it against her, maintaining his smile, even if it’s a touch bittersweet as she walks away. Her gait is steady and casual as she walks to the edge of the camp, avoiding eye contact as she focuses on her footing on the path towards the small river they’d managed to find. After all, she had been on the way to wash up when Halsin had asked to chat. Something she is very much Not Thinking About It.

Until she dips her toes in the river, peeling off her clothing with care. She can’t wait to do laundry in the city, and have a proper bath in something that isn’t a natural body of water. As a druid, she loves being outdoors, but a hot bath is incomparable. Even Halsin -

The thought of him stops her cold, and suddenly she finds herself giggling, grabbing at her soap as she wades further into the river. That makes what, five of her eight traveling companions that have blatantly come on to her? The girls back home would never believe it. Homely little Tav, suddenly finds herself with a string of suitors. All it took was a tadpole eating away at her brain.

The general lack of attention she’d received her entire life are probably why it always takes her by surprise when someone admits to wanting her. She’s no blushing virgin, but rarely has she ever been so desired. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t surprised when Astarion admitted his plan, felt something like sick acceptance in her stomach. No, the surprise came after, when he told her he genuinely cared for her.

She’d been prepared to take her own feelings to the grave, accepting that she’d share Astarion’s bedroll, or grassy clearing, until he decided he was done. The man flirted with everyone, and she’d assumed it’d been lack of choice that lead him to her. Instead, they’d fallen into something deeper, scaring both of them.

It’s not easy, by any means, but by pushing sex off the table and getting more comfortable with platonic touches, they’re growing into something she feels like might be big. Even rest-of-her-life big. Which is another shock, in and of itself.

“And what has you so lost in thought, my dear?”

She stifles a shriek as she whirls around, inadvertently splashing an amused-looking Astarion as he wades closer. “You startled me!”

He grins as he pries the bar of soap from her pruney fingers. “Apologies, my love, but I did say hello. It’s hardly my fault you were miles away and didn’t hear me.”

“I don’t believe I was done with that.”

“No?” he asks, all faux innocence as he scrubs at his torso. “You’ve been in the water for nearly a quarter of an hour now, so I merely assumed you were just -”

“Relaxing?” She hums as she takes the soap from him and starts to scrub at his back, mindful of the scars. Part of her feels like she should be attempting to cover her nudity, but another, much larger part, reveled in the intimacy born of just simply being with him. “I meant for just a quick wash, since we’re going to be in the city proper tomorrow. I don’t want to show up looking like we’ve just spent the last tenday hiking.”

“I cannot agree more, darling. Mustn’t have the locals mistaking us for goblins, covered in muck and grime and speaking in mono-syllables.”

She laughs at the image he paints. “As if anyone could mistake you for such a creature.”

Preening, he says, “Yes, well, unfortunately for our little group not everyone can be as blessed as I. In fact, our first order of business should be getting Gale to a barber, as soon as possible.”

The chatter about being in the city again occupies them while they finish cleaning up, and Tav doesn’t think about anything other than the excitement of the new day until Astarion gives the braid he just finished helping her put her hair into a little tug. “You never answered my question, you know.”

She tips her head back to lean on his chest, blinking up into his face. “What question?”

A perfectly manicured eyebrow arches up. “Why you were so lost in thought, my dear.”

“Oh. Oh,” she says, scooting forward just enough to turn around to look at him properly, knelt in the grass with a curious look on his face. “You wouldn’t believe the conversation I had with Halsin on my way here -”

To her surprise, he erupts in laughter, interrupting her. “I was wondering when we were going to talk about this.”

Her eyes go wide as she feels her face heat. “How could you tell?”

“I guessed. The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of Nature’s gifts’.” She can’t help but laugh at his Halsin impression as he continues, “I bet he’d outlaw clothing if he could.”

The mental image has her covering her face with a groan. “Astarion!”

“It’s perfectly natural, after all, darling, no need to be shy.” His long, slender fingers gently pry her hands away so he can meet her gaze. “So, what did you say?”

The question has her freezing, mind stopping and restarting. “I’m sorry, what?”

“What did you say?” he asks again, somewhat impatiently. “I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“What?” she splutters, “I said no, of course! I’m with you, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Strangely enough, I had,” he says, drily. “I would be more than happy to let you have as much Halsin as you want, you know. Don’t stop yourself on my account.”

Something in the air has changed, she thinks, his fingers still wrapped around her wrists as her hands hang between them. His face is open, and she doesn’t think he’s lying, but -

“If I’m understanding you correctly,” she tells him, slowly, “you don’t mind if Halsin and I have a tumble.”

She thinks annoyance flashes across his face before he can smooth it out again, but his voice is still even as he answers, “Far be it from me to deny you such pleasures. I would just, that is…”

The silence stretches long enough that she feels comfortable breaking it. Shifting so she’s closer to him, she prods him, “Yes?”

“It’s not because, you know, we haven’t, in a while?”

And there it is, the missing piece she was searching for. He’s worried.

She sighs, and gently tugs her hands out of his grip. His expression only shifts to concern for a moment before she slides into his lap, pushing him more securely onto his bottom so she can wrap her legs around his waist without fear of knocking him off-balance. “Astarion,” she murmurs, into his collarbone, “my silly goose.”

He’s somewhat stiff in her hold, but he hesitatingly brings his arms around her. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to be insulted, my love. Perhaps you can explain.”

Pressing a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw, she leans back far enough to meet his eyes, those wonderfully dark eyes that she wants to sink and drown in. “It’s a term of endearment, you silly man. I think there’s been some confusion here.”

Some of the worry leaves his face, but not all. “Pray tell, then, what the confusion is, for I admit to being lost.”

“I don’t want Halsin. I was flattered by his offer, in all honesty, but I don’t want him. I want you.”

His brow wrinkles. “You would still have me.”

“I’m a selfish creature, at heart, you know. For all of the grief and whinging you gave me about wanting to help people, there are certain things I cannot share. You are one of them.”

“But Halsin wasn’t asking about me he was asking -”

It's crude, but she doesn't know how else to get through to him, so she risks saying, “And you’re telling me that you would be completely fine with his hands on my skin? His mouth on me? His fingers and cock inside of me?”

A shudder passes through him that has her clutching him tightly. Caught out in his half-lie, he buries his face in her hair, finally squeezing her back. They’re quiet for a moment, and she strokes his curls the way she knows he likes, waiting for him, always waiting for him to be ready. She would wait forever if it meant waiting like this, wrapped up in him.

“No,” he finally says, voice rough, “no, I couldn’t stand it. But I don’t want you to regret being with me when I can’t, that is, I’m not capable of giving you all you need. If someone else is willing -”

“You are all I need, my love.” She smiles up at him, willing him to see the truth in her eyes. “It’s true, I miss being close to you, skin-to-skin with nothing separating us. But that ache is nothing compared to the joy and happiness I gain holding you through the night, holding your hand when we think nobody is watching, or even if they are. The kisses you greet me with and send me off with, our conversations, the way I can just be around you. That’s what I need. What I don’t need is someone else’s arms to help me find pleasure I’m perfectly capable of finding on my own.”

“You,” his voice is emotional, and he has to clear his throat before continuing, “you really mean that, don’t you?”

“When we agreed that this would be real, whatever it is between us, we agreed we would be honest, truly honest. I know it’s difficult at times, but it’s necessary, for this to work. I need you to be honest with me about how you feel, so we can talk about it. I might just surprise you.”

“Oh, that I know for certain,” he murmurs, tipping her onto her back so he can press soft kisses to her face. “You are so full of them.”

She hums moving her face gently so he doesn’t miss a single inch, a wide smile stretching her lips. “So, no Halsin.”

“No Halsin,” he agrees, before leaning down and capturing her lips for a slow and dirty kiss. The way his tongue slips past hers, flicks at it, draws a moan out of her throat. The sound must satisfy him, because he leans back with a wicked grin. “Now, darling, I just have one more bone to pick with you.”

She snorts. “And what might that be?”

“You naughty little thing, pleasuring yourself without me. I want to hear all about it.”

It’s not really a joke, but it makes her laugh anyway, hands covering her face once more. “Astarion!”

“But maybe not tonight, hmm?” he continues, gently prying her hands away so she can see the hungry smile on his face. “After all, we are very close to having privacy again, with four walls, a roof…”

“A bed,” she finishes for him, but she has a worried frown on her face. “Whatever you want, my love. If you want to hear about my solitary adventures, I will be more than happy to share. As long as you’re comfortable.”

The smile sharpens. “Oh, my dear, I think a step like this is exactly what I want.”

Later, when they’re tucked into what’s become their bedroll, with her curled up on his chest after a few stolen kisses, all she can do is hope the Emperor has the good sense to leave her alone this night. She has a feeling her dreams will be full of Astarion, and she doesn’t want to be interrupted.

Or share.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #sofiewritesthings #fanfiction #fanfic

52 notes · View notes

versaphile · 10 months

Text

Rewatching Trigun Stampede and rotating it in my brain, and something something about how Vash’s bounty is the same as the cost of a new Plant, how both Vash and the Jenora rock Plants are repeatedly pursued and captured/stolen in those first three episodes, how Vash and the Plants are treated as interchangeable. How Nai treats them as interchangeable, as things he has to save from humans and from themselves. How Vash and the Plants are coded as female visually, narratively.

How it’s implied that Nai set the bounty, and specifically requires that Vash be brought in alive, to JuLai, where he’s waiting. How Tristamp Vash is continually watched and observed by the spy Worms, and therefore by Nai, for who knows how long, even though it’s not until Jenora that Nai reveals himself to Vash. He says he’s been running from Nai for some time but what happened between him losing his arm and Jenora? He knows Nai is stealing Plants, and Vash is basically going around tending to Plants, how close have they been to meeting?

Something about how the biggest gap between Vash and Nai isn’t humans so much as Vash’s human-like needs. Nai is self contained and invulnerable. He needs no food, he is outside of the process of life and is thus incapable of understanding how life is a continuous nutrient cycle, life and death feeding into each other at every level. He cannot understand that rot is also compost, is fertility. That the opposite of life is not death but sterile stasis.

Meanwhile Vash needs food and sleep and social belonging and he feels everything, he is marked by everything, he is alive in a way that Nai cannot fathom, which also brings Vash into the real business of death in a way Nai cannot fathom. Nai craves everything Vash is despite all that distance between them. But Nai takes and takes and refuses to give back, he refuses the necessity of exchange to all life, all living systems.

Vash remains caught in between the worlds, his human-like needs can only be met with humans, despite all they take from him and his sisters, he needs this exchange. Nai can’t understand that. He can’t and on some level Vash knows that and feels like every reason Nai gives for hating humans is also a reason why Nai hates Vash, no matter how much they love each other.

#Trigun #trigun meta #trugun stampede #millions knives #vash the stampede

75 notes · View notes

thewolfprince · 7 months

Text

Zorua!Desmond AU

(Based off of this post between myself and @teecupangel ! This will definitely have more parts to it, as I’ll be using Codextober as an inspiration for the chapters so I’m not flying totally blind like with my Sylveon!Desmond AU.)

————————————————————————

At this point in life, Desmond only cared for two things: his Pokémon companion and his ancestors. He was going to sacrifice himself for the world anyways, so why should he care about his father? Or Shaun and Rebecca?

No matter what Desmond tried to tell himself, he knew it was hopeless. He cared for them. So he sent them away before activating the Eye. So they didn’t have to watch his death.

He ordered Shaun to bring Sneak with him. Sneak being the one Pokémon companion Desmond kept from his early days at The Farm. The other Pokémon his father forced him to train had been freed when he ran away, or more likely given to other novices.

Desmond refused to use his Pokémon to fight solely on his behalf like other “trainers” in the modern day did. He preferred to use his fists alongside his Pokémon. He and Sneak were two sides of a coin, true partners to the end.

But Sneak deserved to live a long, healthy life. Tears started to pool in Desmond’s eyes as he approached the Eye and raised his hand. Taking a slow breath, he touched the Eye just as a black and red blur ran past him to also touch the Isu device.

Pain engulfed Desmond’s arm and he screamed as hot molten lava flowed through his veins. Something registered in his mind, a series of words that didn’t make sense as the pain scrambled his brain.

No! I need to be with him, I can’t let Desmond be alone again! I promised him!

A sickly boy lay in bed, coughing harshly while his mother hovered over him with a wet cloth and the foul-tasting medicine the dottore had prescribed. Struck with fever in the night, the boy had remained ill for two days. This day, his mother hovered yet again, and while the boy dearly loved his mother he was getting sick of being bed bound.

One of his elder brothers promised to return with something fun for the boy and the boy waited to see what his brother would bring him, entertaining himself by trying to guess what the young lad would bring.

“Oh Petrucco!” Sang his elder brother, holding his bag in his arms. “I have brought you a present, fratello!” He barged into the room and Petrucco’s eyes immediately fell upon the bag in his older brother’s arms.

“I… liberated him from the Pazzi cazzo that tried to attack me on my way to the church.” Petrucco giggled at the blatant lie his brother tried to give him.

“Oh Ezio…” Their mother sighed and shook her head fondly. “Now, I must go run an errand. Ezio, look after your little brother please.” She gave Ezio a knowing look that Ezio simply grinned cheekily at.

“Goodbye Mama!” Petrucco called as Ezio waved. When she shut the door behind her, Petrucco bounced in impatience. “What did you get me, Ezio? Show me, show me!”

A muffled yip came from the bag and Petrucco gasped as a fluffy white and red head poked out of Ezio’s satchel. It’s front paw was completely blackened, almost as if it had rotted but not fallen off. And without the smell.

“What is it?” Petrucco asked softly, crawling to the edge of his bed for a better look.

“I thought you were the aspiring Trainer, piccolo uccello.” Ezio teased, sitting himself and the bag with the Pokémon onto Petrucco’s bed. The Pokémon sniffed the air before hesitantly hopping out of the bag to sniff Petrucco.

Petrucco held his hand still for the Pokémon to sniff. It chirped and looked up at him.

“Now,” Ezio grinned, brandishing a small bag in front of himself, “time to find what this little guy will eat.” He handed the bag over to Petrucco who put his hand inside and pulled out a handful of Berries.

A long-standing tradition, even longer than the Auditore name, gaining a Pokémon’s trust by showing that you’d care for it and treat it well. Not everyone followed the tradition, in fact the Auditores were put under scrutiny several times for it. People these days prefer to just catch Pokémon with Pokeballs and simply use their Pokémon for battle.

But Petrucco knew that to have a Pokémon was a sign of responsibility. Ezio trusted he could take care of another living creature, as sickly as he was most days. His heart warmed for his older brother’s love.

The Pokémon sniffed at the Berries, looked at Petrucco, then back down at the Berries. It hesitantly took a red Berry and slowly ate it. Its eyes lit up and it nuzzled Petrucco’s hand with a happy yip.

Petrucco yawned, suddenly feeling all his excitement give way to exhaustion. He put the rest of the Berries in the bag before handing it back to his older brother. The Pokémon on his lap chirped before circling on Petrucco’s lap, laying down.

Ezio smiled. “I’ll leave you two be.” He said softly, standing up and quietly easing his way out of Petrucco’s room. Petrucco smiled as he quickly fell into slumber. He’d have to figure out a way to properly thank Ezio for this amazing gift.

Every Auditore could see how Petrucco’s life improved with his new companion at his side. After pouring through the family library, Petrucco learned his companion was a Zorua. He promptly named the Zorua Desmond and the two were inseparable. Desmond and Petrucco were a common sight together, getting into mischief on the days Petrucco felt strong enough to leave bed. On the days he was bed-ridden, Petrucco enjoyed Desmond’s company as the Pokémon entertained his Trainer the best he could.

Sometimes Federico and Ezio would stop by and teach Petrucco things about battling, using their own Pokémon to train both boy and companion. Federico’s Farfetch’d and Ezio’s Eevee started out easy on the inexperienced duo, stepping up the pace as Petrucco took to battling like a Magikarp to water. Soon, Petrucco and Desmond wiped the floor with the elders, even if Petrucco suspected they were making it easier for him to win by not using their full strength.

While Petrucco’s mind grew sharper and his bond with Desmond grew deeper, ultimately it wasn’t enough as he was awoken by gruff guards and brought alongside his Father and eldest brother to the gallows. The only thing on Petrucco’s mind was Desmond as the executioner placed the noose around his tiny neck.

Please, Lord. Don’t leave him alone. Make sure he’s safe. Let Desmond live.

#Codextober #Day 1: Ancestor #Desmond Miles #Ezio Auditore #Petrucco Auditore #Assassin’s Creed #Pokémon AU #Assassin’s Creed X Pokémon #tw noose #tw hanging #Poor Desmond is so tired

23 notes · View notes

thefamilyeldritchabomination · 6 months

Text

Chapter Nineteen: Scarborough Fair Pt. 3

With a foolhardy grin on his face, Greed made his way back into the cabin bag in hand as he barged in to see an angry Edward, a concerned Alphonse, and a very flustered Lust. The plan discussion had clearly not gone as it was intended to as Edward got up and made his way out the door to take a breather with Alphonse following closely behind. Greed remained silent as he let the Elric brothers have some time to themselves as he glanced over to Lust who was collecting herself once more. Carefully, Greed let himself back into the cabin and placed the massive bag of red stones as well as the ransom letter in front of Lust. Lust, having had a hard time with the Elrics, lightened up a little bit upon seeing that her need for red stones had been successfully met by Greed. As she went to check on the red stones, the ransom letter came into view as well, Lust not really thrilled that it came with a letter. There was a silent pause between Greed and Lust as she carefully opened up the letter to read the damned thing over before breaking out into a laughing fit over it.

“Is Dante kidding me right now? Really? After all the lies she fed us about making us human, she has the nerve to lie about freeing Envy after trading Dolly off to her with Timmy. She truly has a rotted brain problem.” Lust started to catch her breath after reading such a ridiculous letter with an equally ridiculous set of demands. “I know, right? Even Sloth was getting pissed when I saw her at the tavern.” Greed couldn’t help but agree after reading the contents of the letter with Lust. “You saw Sloth here?” Lust’s voice shifted from a tone of humor to one of concern upon learning Sloth was here.

“I did, though I don’t think we should be all too worried about her. Sloth was more or less on her own solo betraying Dante with whatever plan that nightmare of a homunculus has in mind.” Greed reassured Lust, though he did shutter a bit at recalling how Sloth explained why she wouldn’t join the resistance.

“That sounds about right with Sloth, she was more of a silent killer than any of us combined.” Lust sighed a bit after hearing that, relieved that Sloth’s homicidal rage was directed towards Dante now rather than them.

“Now, what do we do about the ransom letter?” Greed asked as he redirected the conversation towards the letter. “I think once we have Envy here safely with us, I suppose we could consider making a plan with this one.” Lust glanced at the letter one last time before placing it aside for the time being.

“That sounds good to me, now I have some good news. I’ve managed to procure some corpses that’ll be delivered here in a few hours. My proprietor will even have the corpses cut up like you would at a butcher shop for easy storage in the freezer or fridge. Gluttony should be good with that for the time being.” Greed said, smiling at the excellent job he has done with such a difficult order.

“I’d kiss you if you weren’t such a repulsive asshole, thank you for getting Gluttony his meal for the next few days.” Lust was relieved that the food was acquired for Gluttony as Greed’s face deepened into a frown at being called ‘repulsive’.

“Well aren’t you just a pleasure to work with. By the way, what happened with the Elrics?” Greed asked, wanting to get back a little at Lust.

“Let’s just say I am very certain the Elrics and Envy are related, they’re all stubborn as I can get out of it. Edward definitely wants to locate Envy at once rather than wait, citing he doesn’t want any more people to die like this. I am strongly considering having Hughes going out and having a chat with them.” Lust heaved a mighty sigh at the trouble the Elrics were bringing into this, then again, both Elrics were still children and very impulsive ones at that.

“It seriously can’t be helped, those two haven’t seen Envy like this before, so I’m guessing they’re thinking it’d be like the usual encounters they’ve had before. It’s probably for the best that you do have Hughes have a nice heart to heart with the Elrics, hopefully the Elrics will understand.” Greed couldn’t help but feel sorry for Lust as he too had to wrangle his chimeras from time to time before the touching moment was interrupted by the slamming of the back door.

“Guys! Guys! Holy fuck, did you know that there’s a murder shed in the backyard!?” Freddy suddenly appeared from the outdoors after having to hide from Ernest and Dorian.

“....We’re definitely going to have to lure the police into that shed now with Gluttony inside.” Greed smirked a bit at Lust as the murder shed was mentioned.

“Goddamn it…” Was all Lust could say as she went outside to look at the supposed murder shed in the backyard.

Sure enough, as Freddy had described, there was in fact a ramshackled shed out in the backyard that had clearly seen some awful things in its years. There were some questionable brownish red stains splashed against the aging wood and a suspicious dead fish smell that emanated from inside. Lust couldn’t help but wonder if the entire Mancer Family that Dolly came from were attracted to homicide scenes by pure nature. It was such a disgusting little wood construct, Lust wouldn’t even dare make Gluttony dine in such a terrible place. Gluttony, on the other hand, decided to investigate the questionable shed of possible ill reputation. The door to the shed fell right off after a gentle nudge from Gluttony to reveal that the shed had been in fact one for cleaning up wild game after a hunt, old skulls, long decayed organic wastes, and most importantly, weapons, a lot of weapons. There was a bit of relief from both Lust and Fredd that the shed hadn’t been used for murder, though it was still rather disgusting inside. The only one not completely disgusted by what was inside of the shed was good ol’ Greed as he carefully eyed the weapons on the wall.

“These might come in handy.” Greed hummed to himself as he eyed an elephant rifle in the weapons collection.

“....Are you thinking of selling these off in the black market?” Lust was annoyed at Greed, reasonably believing he was back to wanting to make more money once more. “Nah, guns like these are a dime a dozen down there, not a lot of profit to be made from it. No, I’m more or less thinking if the time thing is still an issue for the Elrics, we should consider using these as a deterrent.” Greed explained his idea as he checked carefully for ammunition for the elephant rifle.

“Oh right, yeah let’s totally shoot the angry gremlin dragon, it sure won’t make them angry or anything….fuck does Envy rage eats when pissed off enough?” Freddy sarcastically said before freaking out at the possibility of Envy eating him even more now out of anger.

“Quit your squeaking little mouse, the adults are speaking to one another. Greed, as much as Envy likes to test my patiences at times, I don’t think I’m alright with shooting them with a gun…” Lust had to break up the Freddy drama before turning her attention back on Greed who finished collecting everything needed for that rifle.

“They shouldn’t even feel a thing, it’d be more of an annoyance like having small pebbles hitting their hind. What do you say, Lust? We can do it now and get Envy back here sooner without having to wait on Dolly to recover.” Greed reasoned, especially since Envy was at the moment a massive serpentine dragon from hell.

“We’ll hold a vote then, I’m not happy about this, but if that’s the choice we have right now, then so be it.” Lust relented as she looked ready to deal with the future bitching fit from Envy once they’ve recovered.

“That’s fair, just expect Edward to be fully on board with doing it right now.” Greed warned since Edward may very well be pro on shooting Envy for all the grievances they’ve done in the past towards him and Alphonse.

“Oh trust me, I will, I obviously will.” Lust was grinding her teeth a bit at that little reminder.

“Don’t say a thing, I’ll get the others, but promise me, if we do this now, shoot Envy in the eyes for me. That’ll be my only request at this point.” Freddy said dejectedly as he went about rounding up the Elrics and Hughes, knowing well his days on earth were numbered.

With everything said and done around the ramshackled shed of clearly awful origins, the group gathered back together to have a new discussion. The elephant rifle sat ominously on the table for everyone to see including Dolly who was concerned with such an awful thing nearby. It was also very evident with Winry that like Dolly, she wasn’t very thrilled with the direction this was going when Lust opened up the option. The table was hushed as the plan of going now to look for Envy, using the rifle as a time buying item should Envy get too close to the hearse. There were murmurs amongst the unlikely group for rescue Envy the Jackass team as they processed what was brought before them. Lust kept an eye on the entire reaction from the group as Edward, oh Edward, opened his mouth.

2 notes · View notes

feelin-woozy · 3 years

Text

Title: Stoke The Fire

Word Count: 1984

Pairing: Bo Sinclair x female!reader

Warnings: Daddy kink, breeding, degradation, dumbification

Thanks @slasherrabbitmadness for the inspiration and the absolute brain rot that she has given me with the idea of dilf!Bo :) go check out her dilf Bo stuff because it's,,, chefs kiss.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend time over at Bo’s house; it became almost like a second home over the years. Your father and Bo have a relationship that bloomed from the moment they entered business together a few years back. It wasn’t easy to imagine what life was like before Bo became so close to your family.

A warm summer breeze blows past you, ruffling the soft saffron colored cotton of your dress against your thighs. Of course, you don’t miss the way Bo’s blue eyes dart to the newly exposed flesh of your thigh, but beyond that, he doesn’t make a move, just sips the beer in his hand and takes another easy drag off the cigarette.

Your dad is prattling on about this and that, talking about some jackoff who tried to rip him off the other day at work claiming that his rate was ludacris and that there were a dozen other mechanics that could do it for cheaper. And sure, that may have been true, but the quality wasn’t there. It wasn’t biased, perhaps a little, but it was still a well known fact that your dad and Bo ran the best mechanic shop in town; it’s why they got away with the rates they charged. And there was always a sense of taking care of the community, their community, that had the townsfolk whipped and willing to shell out the money.

The lively strumming of guitars swirled around you, and you bounced your leg to the steady beat of the Seether song that played over the speakers. It was heavier than the usual stuff that your dad played around the house, but then there were many things about Bo that were heavier. Perhaps that’s why they worked so well together.

Your attention is drawn away from the melodic beat and easy going conversation between Bo and your dad when a small hand tugs at the hem of your dress. You turn your head to look down at the young girl, blue eyes staring up at you with a smile that lacked a few teeth. You return the smile to her, waiting for her to speak and voice whatever thoughts swirled around in that head of hers.

You had nearly forgotten that Oliva was here with the three of you. Bo’s time with her split with his ex-girlfriend, who he had some choice words about every time she was brought up. The young girl was undeniably Bo’s child through unruly brown hair bouncing with every shift she made and blue eyes that were carbon copies of her father’s. You couldn’t help but wonder what she got from her mother; Bo didn’t have any photos of her around the house.

“Will you come play with me?” She reaches for your hands, her skin slightly sticky from God knows what, but you don’t pull away; you just give her hand a small squeeze in return.

“Olive, sweetie, don’t bug her. Go play by yourself okay?” Bo says softly, a sort of sternness shining through his words. You lift your gaze to look at Bo, and you catch a glimpse of fondness that softens the lines of his face. Olivia whines, eyebrows furrowing as if she’s about to pitch a fit at Bo’s words.

“It’s okay Bo,” You smile at him, wide and radiant as you get to your feet without letting go of Olivia’s hand. “I don’t mind.”

Bo just nods his head with a bit of a shrug before turning his attention to your dad again. However, you don’t miss the way his eyes surveil you as Olivia drags you to the small backyard park that Bo and your dad had built together the previous summer.

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

It’s almost two weeks later when you find yourself bent over the laminate countertop, hands scrambling for purchase as you’re pushed forward again and again. You hadn’t even been here for five minutes, coming by only to grab some tools for your dad to borrow, wearing that same saffron dyed dress you had worn last time that you were over here. Bo’s worn trucker hat lost to the linoleum, jeans pushed only half way down his thighs, leaving his belt to jangle incessantly with every movement. The edge of the countertop digs into your hip bones saved only for the dress that’s bunched up over the curve of your ass. It does little to pad and protect you against the vicious rocking of Bo’s hips, but it’s better than nothing.

“Been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy every fuckin’ day,” Bo groans, grimey fingers curling into your hips and dragging you back against himself. He stays put for a moment, keeping your bodies pressed flushed together. “Been thinkin’ about knocking you up.”

The way your pussy flutters around his length is indecorous, the whimper you let out even more so. But it can’t be helped; hearing the filth that dripped from Bo’s lips always had that effect on you, but there was something about the way he said it that made your insides churn. The serious edge to his words that wasn’t there the times you had fucked prior, the way his words turned from a pipe dream to something that could be a reality.

“Does my baby like that idea?” Bo titters, the noise breathless and broken. A testament to the effect that this was having on him as well. “Like the thought of me fuckin’ a baby into you?”

“Fuck, Bo.” Your head drops, cheeks pressing into the chilled countertop. You don’t even pretend like this wasn’t doing it for you, hips rocking back against his to tempt him into staying true to your word. “Yeah, yeah fuck.”

He leans over you, the thin cotton t-shirt dragging along your sweat-slicked back as he pressed his lips to your neck, teeth catching the rosy skin. For a moment, you think that he was about to leave a mark to bloom against your skin, a small sign over ownership that would have you avoiding your parents’ home till the skin healed, and you could look them in the eyes once more.

“Gunna have to get you off that birth control of yours,” Bo murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before he pulls away again, looming over you and admiring the way he has you splayed out like a wrecked mess in his kitchen. The windows open, and the back sliding door cracked so neighbors would be able to hear every little indecent noise that passed your lips like a mantra. You were glad for the arborvitae that lined the fence. It gave you some privacy, even if it wasn’t much, and it did ease your nerves considerably. “After that, maybe I’ll just keep you on my cock day ‘n night till I know it took.”

Your hands curl into fists at the thought, knuckles blanching under the force. The idea has your mind melting; nothing has ever sounded so perfect to you. It was almost insane how easily Bo got you cockdrunk, how easily he bent you to every whim that crossed his mind. But there was something about his smile, his scent, the way he could play you as if the two of you were made for each other that left you a strung out fanatic.

“Tell me how badly you want it,” Bo growls, nails cutting crescent shaped moons into your hips. If he wasn’t dragging you so perfectly through the trenches of pleasures, the pain might have brought you from the lust addled fog, but instead, it only shoves you down further. It made you feel like you were drowning, drowning in his words, the scent of sex that hung headily around you, the obscene noises that sounded like your own but were so far away, the way skin slapped against each other and the wet noises of your pussy dripping around his thick cock. It was all too much, and you knew it would only be a matter of time before your orgasm swept you pitilessly under the current. “Come on baby, if you wanna cum you gotta tell Daddy how badly you want it.”

A sob tears through your chest, thighs shaking as you’re forced onto the points of your toes with each thrust. Bo laughs above you cruelly, not once slowing down and allowing you a moment of reprieve to find your words. There was a satisfaction in seeing the way he strung you along, bringing you so close to the edge, and you knew that if you didn’t give in, give him what he wanted, he would pull away.

It wouldn’t have been the first time. There had been many times he’d pull out only to jerk himself off to completion and paint your pussy, or your panties, only to force you to wear his cum as a reminder. So you try with a renewed desperation, to try and formulate anything of sense before Bo had the chance to pull out of you.

“I-I fuck,” You stutter, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Every time the words were cocked and loaded on your tongue, the way he brushed against that spot within you had them rolling off your tongue in the form of drool. If it didn’t feel so fucking good, it would’ve been beyond humiliating.

“You look fuckin’ pathetic like this,” Bo sneers, hips stuttering. You knew he was close, his words coming out a sharp rasp as each thrust was punctuated with a guttural growl. “Just an empty headed slut made to be knocked up. S’okay baby, Daddy will take care of you.”

That’s what sends you over the edge, cunt clenching down like a vice around the cock plowing into you. It must have been good because you’re distantly aware of the sound of Bo choking on a noise within his throat. And God, do you wish that you were more aware and not floating listlessly through the waves of pleasure so you could see just how wrecked Bo was. You wanted to acknowledge the way graying brown hair clung to his forehead, cheeks flushed as he gritted his teeth. It was always one of your favorite sights. A low moan tumbles from the two of you at the feeling of warmth filling you, the gentle pulsing of his cock as he empties himself within you.

The two of you remained like that for a moment, and you silently wished it would never end as you tried to quell your racing heart and the rapid movement of your chest. Then, when Bo begins to pull out, you whine, but he only snickers, fingers moving from your hips to dance along your folds, running through the slick and cum that dripped out.

“Ya mean it?” You whine softly, pressing back as he pushes cum back inside of you.

“Mean what, baby?” Bo muses, fingers moving at a taunting pace. You crane your neck a bit to stare up at Bo, catching the post sex bliss that overlays his face, the smug look that only makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching.

“Are you going to knock me up?” Your tongue flicks out over your lower lip, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thick fingers stretching you open once more. Bo groans low in his throat at the thought, and you peek your eye open to catch sight of the twisted grin on his face and the dark intent that swirled within blue eyes.

“Course I am,” Bo says matter of factly as he pulls his fingers out of you, reaching down to grab the lace panties you wore and pull them back up over you. With a pat on your ass, he begins to tuck himself back into his pants, walking over to the fridge. “Would be a shame to let that pretty pussy a’ yours to go to waste.”

#Bo Sinclair x Reader #Bo Sinclair x You #Bo Sinclair #House of Wax #House of Wax 2005 #Slasher x You #Slasher x Reader #my writing #daddy kink tw

219 notes · View notes

lexosaurus · 3 years

Text

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

---

some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

---

“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny’s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #my writing #morge #invisobang #invisobang 2021

173 notes · View notes

bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

And Tomorrow, Too.

I'm back!

Much love and many thanks to @stinastar @hailhailsatan @newnamesamecharlotte and @veritasrose for helping me yank this thing out of my brain!

Please enjoy this hurt/comfort that ends with glorious, glorious fluff.

TW: Blood, canon typical injury, infection

Jaskier was having a very rough day, objectively speaking.

He’d just finished dressing after a dip in the river when a lone bandit surprised him, shoving him to the dirt and kicking him in the ribs to keep him down. Having dealt with a gut-punch from a Witcher, Jaskier had recovered faster than anticipated and tackled the stranger to the ground.

“Foolish troubadour,” the bandit snarled. There was the quick flash of something silver and a sudden white-hot pain shot up the bard’s side from his hip to his ribcage.

“Shit,” Jaskier gasped, clutching desperately at his slashed doublet. The panicked bandit scooped up the largest of the bard’s travel bags and darted into the woods, leaving his bloodied weapon lying atop a pile of leaves beside his victim. When Jaskier pulled his hand away from the wound on his ribcage he grimaced; that was more blood than he’d been hoping to see. “Fucking cock.”

After he stripped to the waist and rinsed off in the river a second time, Jaskier took inventory of himself. The cut started at his left hip and slid up his ribcage to just beneath his left shoulder, and it was practically impossible to bandage; any attempt to wrap the upper half of his injury made him bite his lip to keep from screaming in anguish.

It was agony to move more than a few inches in either direction, since the twisting motion pulled at his torn skin and stung like hellfire. All he could really do was apply a loose poultice of chewed mint leaves to ward against infection and tie his shirt around his torso in lieu of a bandage. His cloak would have to work even harder than usual to keep him warm until Geralt arrived.

“Alright, well,” he muttered to no one as he accounted for the rest of his scattered clothing and supplies. “I need to find somewhere to rest and gather what wits I still possess… somewhere that’s still close enough for Geralt to find me. Shit, this isn’t good.”

The bard thanked every god he knew when he managed to find a small cave less than a hundred yards from the enormous oak tree where he met Geralt every year. He limped his remaining belongings into the slightly cramped space and deposited them against the left wall.

---

Fortunately for Jaskier, the idiot bandit had declared his beautiful elven lute “too bulky and annoying to carry”, and had left Sexy well enough alone. Unfortunately, the ruffian had still made off with all the bard’s coin from at least two months’ worth of contracted performances, most of his medical supplies, and most of his rations, as well.

But Jaskier had spent years at Geralt’s side and the Witcher had taught him how to deal with emergencies of every variety. Jaskier wasn’t about to disappoint his companion by flailing about ineffectively like some noble-born dunce at a time like this. No, Jaskier was determined to be healthy and ready to travel again by the time Geralt arrived in Kaedwen to find him. They only had a week or two together before they separated again for the winter and he wasn’t going to lose a single precious second in Geralt’s presence due to some silly highwayman.

Lovelorn fool that he was.

The bard used his remaining strength to gather a few armfuls of firewood and light some dried leaves with his flint and steel. He laid out his bedroll against the back wall so that he could see clearly if anyone approached from outside and wrapped his arms around Sexy to keep her safe. He re-wrapped his wound with more crushed mint and laid down to try and get some sleep.

Hopefully Geralt would arrive soon with his medical supplies and more water.

Hopefully.

---

After two long days spent huddled in a miserable lump at the back of the cave, anxiously scanning the horizon for any sign of another bandit (or Geralt) and unable to gather food or kindling, Jaskier was exhausted from lack of sleep. The wound in his side ached and burned far worse than it had on that first afternoon, aggravated by sweat and debris that had crept through his makeshift bandages.

Any added pressure around the edges of the cut made the skin nearly creak with the building strain of infection. He whimpered involuntarily every time he took a breath and trembled at any shift in the autumn breeze. It seemed as if his very bones were aching as his body flashed between the white-hot and freezing cold of a raging fever.

Slowly, and with a great effort on the part of his illness, Jaskier succumbed to the injury and sank into the quiet warmth of unconsciousness.

---

“Jaskier?” Geralt called, guiding Roach around another circuit of the old oak tree. “Are you there, Jaskier? We need to make it to the fork in the Pontar before the harvest ends and I’m in no mood for practical jokes.”

Nothing.

All his Witcher hearing picked up on were leaves twitching in the wind and a few rabbits foraging off to his left. Not even Jaskier could stay so still, even for a joke; his heartbeat and the uptick in his breathing would give him dead away.

“Well, I’m going to town.”

Geralt was about to wheel Roach back toward the road in search of a nearby inn when he caught a whiff of something on the wind - something that sent his heart plummeting into his boots.

Blood.

Jaskier’s blood. And it wasn’t fresh.

He dropped silently from the saddle and gave the signal for Roach to stay put. After a few careful breaths and some shuffling through the autumn leaves, Geralt discovered the bandit’s discarded dagger, still rusty-red around the tip and left edge.

“Fuck! Jaskier!” Geralt called, glancing around the small copse in the woods. “Jaskier, where are you!?”

The Witcher closed his eyes and tilted his head back to better clear his airways. He took a deep breath in through his nose and focused every one of his heightened senses on locating the bard. There it was again to his right, but slightly stronger. “Fucking hells.”

Geralt did his best to follow the trail without panicking. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he lost his head while the bard was in mortal danger. If the bard was in mortal danger, he tried to reassure himself.

But if Jaskier had recovered he would have been waiting at the oak. Geralt knew that. He knew it with every fiber of his being, though he wouldn’t admit anything aloud. Jaskier’s long autumn absence had already set him on edge when he’d caught the blood-smell. “Gods-dammit, bard. Please be alive. Please, Jaskier, I can’t-”

Geralt bit his tongue and continued to follow the bard’s weak scent into the woods. After too many minutes - perhaps five or six at the speed Geralt was moving - the Witcher reached a small cave. The mouth of said cave was nearly covered-over with dry leaves and Geralt could tell, even from this distance, that Jaskier was not faring well at all. The whole area smelled like rot. Like decay. If it weren’t for the bard’s fluttering heartbeat echoing faintly from within the tiny cavern, the Witcher would have fallen to his knees and wept with despair at his untimely death.

When Geralt ducked inside and reached to pull Jaskier into his arms, the bard struggled weakly. “No, please,” he rasped. “D-Don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Jaskier,” Geralt replied softly. He shifted the thick leather strap of Sexy’s case over his shoulder and hefted the bard into his arms in one swift movement. Those usually brilliant blue eyes looked up at him in utter confusion. The irises were dull and foggy with sickness; the Witcher’s heart lurched in his chest and he turned back to the path, doubling his speed in his hurry to reach Roach. “You don’t have to worry any more, sweet Julek. I’m going to get you to safety.”

“If you must kill me-” Jaskier continued, muttering frantically as if Geralt hadn’t said anything at all “-then p-please do me one last f-favor. I need you to p-please find a Witcher. F-Find the White Wolf. Tell h-him… Tell him that I…”

Then the weight in Geralt’s arms seemed to increase by a fraction and the bard went silent. The Witcher shook the sweating, shaking bundle in his arms but Jaskier remained quiet.

“What do you want to tell him, Jaskier?” Geralt glanced down. His eyebrows furrowed deeply when he realized the human had fallen unconscious. The hummingbird pace of Jaskier’s fluttering heartbeat began to hammer even faster and his breaths were far too shallow. The Witcher rumbled out a determined, desperate plea the universe to save his darling songbird, followed by a quiet but emphatic, “Fuck.”

---

“Eskel!” Geralt kicked down the door to the kitchen of Kaer Morhen with one solid boot. He hadn't slept in two days and his body ached from sprinting up the path with a full-grown man in his arms. “Eskel, Vesemir, please!”

“Fuck, is that Geralt!?” Eskel came whipping around one corner at a sprint. Lambert and Vesemir were close behind, Lambert with a sword drawn and a scowl on his face. He lowered it when he saw that Geralt wasn't being pursued.

“Please, Ves, Eskel, please, help him to survive because I can’t- I can’t-” the White Wolf, for all his bravado and stoicism, was panting furiously. His kinsmen knew that he'd be crying if he had the capability to do so and crowded closer to help. Geralt immediately handed a warm, damp bundle to his Eskel with incredible gentleness and care. He looked up at the slightly taller Witcher and begged with all the strength he had left: “Please. I can't let him die.”

---

Jaskier woke up with a sharp gasp. His side radiated a dull, persistent kind of agony and he felt sick to his stomach. With a low groan he turned to retch off the side of the bed, into a conveniently placed bucket. He shouted when the movement made his wound ache all the more. “Fuck!”

The bard heard a heavy thud from his left followed by some clattering and a quietly whispered, “Shit.”

“G’ralt?”

“Jaskier!” the Witcher appeared at his side in a flash. Geralt leaned over him with a damp cloth in hand and wiped at the corners of his mouth. “You’re alive! Melitele be thanked. Do you need to be sick again? Would you like some water?”

“You’re o-oddly verbose,” Jaskier managed to half-smile.

“Was worried.”

“There’s my monosyllabic Witcher,” the bard grinned through his blinding pain. “It hurts, Geralt. Rather terribly.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t- We’re all Witchers so it’s not…” Geralt sighed and turned away to rinse the cloth in a bowl of cool water that had been resting on the sill. “We didn’t know which kind of herbs were safe for humans and which weren’t.”

“We?”

“How’s the patient?”

Jaskier's snapped to the doorway and his body automatically jerked in surprise. He whimpered at the reaction it elicited from his injury, his ribs blooming with a sharp sting. “Shit!”

“Fuck!” the red-headed man in the door replied, slamming his hands over his face. “I’m so sorry. Shit in the fucking nine hells.”

“Uh…”

“Jaskier, this is my brother Lambert. Lambert… This is Jaskier.”

“Ah yes,” the shorter Witcher smirked. “I’ve heard so much about you, Master Jaskier.”

“That I’m a royal pain in the ass?”

“Quite the opposite, really. In fact, when the two of you arrived, Geralt was nearly-”

Lambert’s statement was interrupted by a small wooden bowl to the side of the head, chucked across the room by a grim-faced Geralt.

“Nevermind. Anyway, glad to see you’re awake. I’ll let the others know that he's no longer going hand-to-hand with Death.”

“Others?” Jaskier glanced between Geralt and Lambert with wide, confused eyes. “Am I… Am I in Kaer Morhen!?”

“Aye,” Lambert winked. “And you slept through the first two days of snowfall, so I’m afraid to inform you that you’re stuck at Kaer Morhen for the rest of this season. I’ll let you and Geralt hash the rest of the details out in private. Tootles, Buttercup.”

And just as suddenly as Lambert had appeared, he was gone.

The bard turned to make eye contact with the White Wolf and blinked owlishly. “Wh-What did he mean about being here all winter?”

“I’m afraid he wasn’t lying,” Geralt returned to the stool beside Jaskier’s bed and sat down slowly, as if waiting for Jaskier to order him out of the room entirely. “Your injury was heavily infected and you were close to death when I found you in that cave at the base of the mountains. I ran the Killer in two days instead of one and brought you to Eskel and Vesemir for healing; they were the closest people I could think of who knew what to do to save you. I’m so sorry for trapping you here for the season when you should be teaching and composing in Oxenfurt. If you’d like, I can try to contact Yen or Triss and have them portal you back to the University before Yule.”

“Nobody would want to inconvenience a sorceress on their behalf,” Jaskier answered. "Myself included."

“So you don’t mind staying?”

Jaskier glanced up through his lashes, more self-conscious than Geralt had ever seen him before. “Were you really worried about me dying? Did you really carry me up the path all by yourself? In two days?”

“...Yes.”

“Why?”

Geralt felt his heart shatter to pieces in his chest. All these years spent thinking that if he was too obvious about his feelings he’d hurt Jaskier... and Jaskier had simply been waiting for any confirmation of his affections, friendly or otherwise.

"Because I..." the Witcher stood again and started to pace. "Because, Julek, I love you. I can't bear the thought of being parted from you. It's even worse because I know, I know that you're human and that I'm going to lose you too soon no matter what happens. Illness, age, injury... No matter how many years we have together they will never be enough."

Jaskier sniffled and Geralt turned on his heel to face the bard, hands already outstretched to offer comfort. "You enormous fucking idiot."

"Huh?"

"I have loved you since the moment I saw you sitting in the corner, brooding away," Jaskier grinned. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks and dripped onto the blanket. "Why didn't you tell me? You couldn't even look me in the eyes and call me your friend..."

"Witchers aren't very good at romance, if you haven't noticed," Geralt laughed humorlessly. "I knew I was going to hurt you eventually. It was only a matter of time."

"Well now we have all winter to figure things out," Jaskier offered, sliding his hand across the mattress to twine his fingers with Geralt's. The Witcher's skin was cool against his own and it felt glorious.

"Hmm."

"No! No going silent on me now, you fucker!"

"Get some rest," Geralt smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to Jaskier's sweaty fringe. "I will be here when you wake."

"And tomorrow, too?"

Geralt smiled oh-so-softly and kissed him again, on the lips.

"And tomorrow, too."

192 notes · View notes

bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

What happens when the bakusquad babysits Katsuki’s daughter? (Dad! Katsuki Bakugo x Mom! Reader) Headcanons + One-shot

ೃ pairing: (dad! katsuki bakugo x mom! reader)

ೃ warnings: none

ೃ genre: fluff overload, parent fic/hcs

ೃ word count: 5,141 words

ೃ 1/4 of @bukojuiice’s 800 followers special!

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ A sequel in the form of headcanons + one-shot to my dad! Bakugo fic “like the soul of honey” I recommend reading that first before going through this! Don’t worry if you don’t want to though! Both are standalone and not really connected with each other.

ೃ This was originally just going to be headcanons, but I didn’t want to keep writing it in hcs style halfway through so be treated to both headcanons + a one-shot instead! as you can tell already, this was so so much fun to write and i felt so soft after writing this uwu

ೃ shoutout to two of my loves @sparkykatsuki for coming up with this idea! I just knew i had to do it bc i love bakusquad sm!! they give me such a serotonin boost and I find it really fun writing about them!! Thank you for having such big brain energy and for conspiring this concept franz! And to @chibishae34 bc i know she loves baby fics as much as I do HSHSHSH

ೃ your daughter’s name is hikari which means light. bakugo thought of that name because light is essentially a part of his quirk and hikari is a part of him.

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!) ♡

— Hikari is blessed with the best uncles and aunts she could ever ask for!!

— Both Bakusquad and Dekusquad take turns in helping you and Katsuki get your well deserved rest and relaxation at least once a month ever since Hikari turned 6 as... she became quite the feisty girl. Too feisty to handle actually.

— She was energetic and playful 24/7. And so, it was hard to keep up with her energy most of the time.

— She still remained kind and obedient yet she was also an absolute bundle of joy who would just run around the house, play with her toys, and go on roleplaying adventures with you and Katsuki. She had absolutely no idea how much she would tire you and Katsuki, however, and sometimes she would go on for hours and hours just running around the house and interacting with everything she sees.

— She had an inquisitive mind, and although you always encourage her to be smart and be intrigued with everything, she tends to question almost everything she lays her eyes on and you end up having to come up with a witty and a very childlike answer for her to understand.

— A good example of this is when she asked you ever so innocently about where babies come from and your husband was ABOUT TO TAKE HER QUESTION LITERALLY and give her the science talk about sexual reproduction. When the two of you agreed to only give her that talk when she turns 8 as she might not even entirely understand it in the first place.

— “Mommy, Daddy, where do babies come from?”

— “I guess it’s time for the talk.” Bakugo shrugs, remarking sternly. He takes his daughter’s little hand in his and bringing her to the living room. “You see, Hikari, babies come from the wo-”

— “Storks!” You cut Bakugo off before he could say another word, nudging him on the elbow. “Hikari-chan, the babies are brought down to this world by the white and strong birds in the sky!” You whisper the last bits of information to her ear. “The storks told me that once you get older, they’ll tell you the secret of where they actually pick up the babies.”

— “Really!?” She says in disbelief, her eyes gleaming in excitement. “YAY! YAY! YAY! I can’t wait!” She goes back to running around the house looking for even more things to ask about and you breathe a sigh of relief as soon as she leaves.

— Although it was nice that you are able to bond as a family, it does get pretty tiring sometimes. Of course your weariness is worth the risk if it’s just to see Hikari smile.

— Especially since you and Bakugo were both pro-heroes (although you mostly do stand by pro hero work meaning you work from home almost all the time.) You found it much more enriching if both you and bakugo are guiding her and working together to create a loving and supportive family for Hikari.

— Both of your respective friend groups, whomst you remained close to ever since high school, noticed how the both of you looked tremendously exhausted and looked like you were in dire need to have 9 cups of coffee every time you would meet up with each other in between your pro hero duties.

— And so both squads came into an agreement, that they would help the two of you out by giving you a 48 hour day off every month to do whatever the heck married couples do as they would babysit Hikari and have fun.

— This was also a great way to get closer with their niece even if they dote on her so much already. As you and Bakugo are the first persons in your friend groups who got married and have a child together.

— This month, the Bakusquad is in charge of taking care of Hikari and just from the fact that Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina and Sero are going to babysit your daughter alone, you know it’s going to be chaotic.

— Things didn’t go swimmingly last time (literally), as only Kirisihima and Kaminari were the only ones available the last time they came to babysit. They took Hikari to a community pool, and she came back with a missing tooth and some scratches on her legs from playing too much. Katsuki was NOT pleased and you had to restrain your husband from trying to obliterate his best friends even if Hikari had little to no injuries and it was normal for kids her age to have these things happens to them at least once in their childhood.

— With your assurance and the look that was on Hikari’s face and how she would not shut up about how she loved spending time with Uncle Eijiro and Uncle Denki, Katsuki eventually let it slide and just gave his friends the usual “Katsuki Bakugo treatment” where he acts cold and angry at them, paired with his easily irritated and idgaf attitude.

— This month however, was going to be different because Mina and Sero are finally joining along and making sure that Hikari has the best weekend since they weren’t able to babysit last time.

— Hikari loved her Aunt Mina because she would braid her hair and style her with different cute outfits that only Mina, with her love for fashion and all things girly and pink could attempt to do and end up doing perfectly. She also taught Hikari all the dances to disney songs and nursery rhymes she knows how to do so far. Hikari affectionately refers to her Aunt Pinkie whenever Mina isn’t around.

— Kirishima, who was the most frequent to visit the 3 of you, out of all of the Bakusquad, considers Hikari as his new #1 best friend. Dethroning and kicking her very own father from that spot. Hikari is a much more gentle and sweet version of her explosive father, and so Eijiro is able to interact and play with Hikari because he already knows Bakugo and his mannerisms very well. Hikari calls him Uncle Sharkie and she always asks her dad about how he and Kirishima became such good friends. To which Katsuki would reply with, “It’s a long story princess.”

— Kaminari was the fun uncle. He always gave off those vibes ever since high school anyway. Giving Hikari candy behind Katsuki’s back (although you made sure Kaminari didn’t give her any that were tooth rotting sweet ones) Buying her ice cream whenever he came to drop by, and bringing her to the nearby playground amongst many other things. He spoils her a lot (in a good way) and Hikari calls her the fun “sparkie” uncle.

— Then, there was Sero. He retained his love for Spiderman since he was a kid, and he was able to pass that on to Hikari. His way of playing with her was cute since Sero is super tall, he would let Hikari ride on his shoulders, trying to imitate airplane noises as they would “fly” around the house. He gifted Hikari some child-friendly comic books for you and Katsuki to read to her before. bed. Although she never fails to say that the best heroes are her mommy and daddy. She calls Sero her Uncle Spidey.

— Uncle Sharkie, Uncle Sparkie, Aunt Pinkie, and Uncle Spidey. The Holy Quaternity.

(One-shot starts below this!)

“AUNT MINA! UNCLE EIJIRO! UNCLE DENKI! UNCLE SEROOO!” Hikari rushes to the door as soon as she hears the doorbell ring, she jumps into Eijiro’s arms and the red-haired pro hero twirls her around. The rest of the Bakusquad forms a circle around her, and can’t help but look at her adoringly.

“How’s my little ball of sunshine!?” Mina squeezes Hikari’s cheekies, earning giggles from the little girl. “I’m fine Aunt Mina! I mished chu!” She begins to talk in a cute accent as she just can’t contain her excitement.

“Hikari-chan! Do you still remember our little handshake?” Sero kneels down to the little girl’s height, offering her his hand. The little girl nods, shakes it and their thumbs twiddle together, as if they were thumb wrestling. They do a few more quirky hand shakes and then end it with a bang by saying “BOOM!” Sparks suddenly fly out from Hikari’s hands, her aunt and uncles coo since noticing how much her quirk has developed ever since they started babysitting.

“Okay you two!” Mina turns to you and Katsuki, as she had noticed you had some distinct luggage packed for a quick hot spring getaway, she practically pushes the two of you out of the door when Katsuki stops in his tracks, turning to his friends.

He glares at them and points his fingers to his eyes in a “I’m watching you” type of gesture. “Not one single scratch on her or all of you are dead to me.”

Kaminari laughs, patting his friend on the back, “We gotchu buddy. Your little ball of sunshine is safe in our hands. She’ll have the best time with us!”

Hikari quickly runs to you and Katsuki, giving you both a tight hug. “We love you Hikari. We’ll just be gone for two days oki? Your uncles and your aunt here will keep you safe this weekend alright? We love you!” You peck her lightly on the cheek, a pout forming on your daughter’s face.

“I’ll miss you Mommy. Daddy.” She doesn’t let go, hugging the two of you even tighter. “I loaf you! See you soon!”

“Be a good girl okay Hikari?” Katsuki kneels down to meet his daughter’s eyes, orbs that were as passionate as his, planting a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll miss you kiddo.”

You could hear Kaminari and Sero silently snicker in the background since they still can’t wrap their head around the fact that their friend could become so soft when in front of his child as opposed to his usual rough demeanor he shows to everyone else.

Katsuki wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tightly, with you dragging along the luggage that the two of you were going to bring on this trip. You bid your final goodbyes with ease and relief, knowing that your daughter will be in “safe hands” the entire weekend.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Mina squeezes Hikari and the rest of the Bakusquad into a hug. “What do you want to do first Hikari-chan?”

“Oh! Um! I don’t know if I should ask this b-but..” The blonde little girl hides her hands in her pockets, her feet tapping the floor. “I actually want to know how Mommy and Daddy met! Not the marry or the lovey thing! Just how they met and fell in love!”

“Hikari-chan!! You’re so cuteeeeeeee!” Kaminari begins to weep crocodile tears, pulling Hikari into another hug. “If that’s what you want to do for today, then we’ll gladly tell the story of how your mom and dad met!”

The Bakusquad formed and sat in a circle on the floor. Hikari was sitting on Mina’s lap as the latter braided her hair into what was called a Fishtail braid. Kirishima, with the help of Sato, baked some chocolate chip cookies a few days ago for all of them to snack on while they babysit Hikari.

Sero clears his voice and begins the story. “Your mom and your dad met each other in High School. Along with all of us and your Uncle Izuku, Uncle Tenya, Uncle Shoto, Aunt Ochaco, Aunt Tsuyu-” He continues to recall the names of all the other people Hikari know and love. “They were total opposites actually.”

“O-opposithes?” Hikari tilts her head, a puzzled look on her face as she tries to process what her Uncle Sero had just said. “D-does that mean that Daddy didn’t like Mommy?”

“It’s not like that Hikari-chan. Don’t worry.” Kirishima saves Sero from making the little girl misinterpret what he had just said, nudging his raven-haired friend in the arm. “It’s just that your dad was hot-headed and angry all the time, but he fell in love with your mom because she was sweet, patient and understanding!” Kirishima reiterates, a soft look on his face, looking back on the sweet sentimental memories of high school. “They were perfect for each other!”

“Oh! So daddy was angy all the time? Since mommy is really nice she told Daddy to be nice and they fell in love!?”

Mina giggles, continuing to style Hikari’s hair. “Yes Hikari-chan. That’s exactly what happened! You’re so good!”

“I am!?” Yay!” She claps her hands together, a wide smile present on her face, she was becoming more and more intrigued. “Tell me more please!”

“Well...” Kaminari continued where Kirishima had left off, “Your mom and dad got closer because they got teamed up to fight our pro hero teacher for our exam! They fought and they had a hard time talking to each other but they passed the exam in the end! It was hard at first. Your dad kept on telling us that he didn’t like your mom in a lovey way but we kept on pushing him until he accidentally said that he liked her! Your mommy heard what he said and then she told him that she liked him too!”

“F-fight? I thought Daddy only fights bad guys...” Her voice begins to crack as if she was about to cry. The Bakusquad were about to speak up and explain but failed to because as soon as Mina was done braiding her hair, Hikari immediately stands up and bows politely to the four adults. “I’m going to play with Mr. Rilakkuma for a while. See you later!” She grabs a cookie from the plate and rushes into her room, locking the door behind her.

“See you later Hikari-chan!” Kaminari waves cluelessly, not realizing what he had just said that prompted Hikari to leave the room in the first place. Mina stands up on her knees, shooting him a glare and flicking his forehead, “Did you not realize what you just did!?”

“Ahh what did I do!?” He rubs the spot on his forehead that Mina had just hit, and looks at his two other friends for a clue as to why they were ganging up with him.

“I guess Chargedolt will always be Chargedolt.” Sero shrugs, shaking his head in disappointment.. “Hikari misinterpreted what you said. She thinks that Bakubro used to fight (Y/N) like she’s a villain or something back when we were in High School.”

“WAIT! OBJECTION! SHE MISINTERPRETED YOUR STORY FIRST-”

“Guys. Guys. There’s nothing we can do about it. Both of you slipped, so let’s give Hikari-chan some space first then talk to her later.” Kirishima cuts Kaminari off before he and Sero would start an argument, which would prompt Hikari to further think more negative thoughts.

“(Y/N) said that Hikari-chan’s been liking Tonkotsu Ramen recently, so I think it’s best if all of us help out in cooking her favorite comfort food to cheer her up.” Mina sighs deeply, crossing her arms. She heads straight to the kitchen without uttering another word, the three other guys follow suit.

After several hours, it was finally night time and time for dinner! At the orders of Mina, Sero and Kaminari came to pick up Hikari from her room.

Sero knocked softly. “Hikari-chan? It’s time for dinner!”

“We cooked your favoriteee Tonkatsu Ramen!” Kaminari added in a playful voice.

No reply.

“Hikari-chan?” Sero knocks again, a bit louder this time. He then turns to Denki and whispers, “Maybe she’s asleep?”

Before the two men were to retreat and go back to the living room, the door to the little girl’s room was unlocked with a long click, as if there was hesitance..

Denki quickly turns the knob to be surprised at the sight of Hikari... packing her clothes into a cute backpack?

“Hikari-chan! W-what are you doing?” Kaminari runs to her, trying to stop her from folding her clothes.

“I’m going to go see Mommy and Daddy! I’ll go take a bus and find them!” She wipes the tears streaking down her cheeks, sniffing her nose while attempting to stuff her teddy bear inside her backpack. “Daddy took Mommy so that they’re going to fight aren’t they!? I don’t want that!”

“No no no no no Hikari. It’s not like that!” Kaminari wipes the little girl’s tears with a handkerchief, he gestures Sero to call Kirishima and Mina whilst he tries to comfort the girl. “Your dad took your mom out because today is their lovey anniversary! It wasn’t because they were going to fight!”

“Ah! Owkay!” Hikari suddenly raises her head, taking the handkerchief from Denki and wiping her tears. “Can I visit Daddy and Mommy then!?”

“O-oh well...”

“Of course we can go Hikari-chan!” Kirishima barges in, Sero and Mina close behind him. “Let’s surprise them!”

“Yay! Surprising them! I love surprises!” The little girl jumps up and down in her place. “What time do we go!? What time do we goooo!?”

“After dinner you little cutie.” Mina smiles at the younger Bakugo’s sudden shift in mood. “We cooked your favorite Tonkotsu Ramen!”

“AH! TONKOTSU RAMEN TONKOTSU RAMEN!” Hikari wiggles her arms, slightly pushing the adults out of the way and runs out of her room, Sero catches up to her, only to find her sitting properly on the dining table. “I’m ready to eat now! Just waiting for all of you!” She shouts from outside.

“She’s absolutely fricking adorable.” Kaminari remarks. “But Kiri.. are you serious? We’re actually going all the way to a prefecture and bring her to her parents? Isn’t our job supposed to be keeping her here while they rest and relax in the onsen?”

“W-well... It’s not like we can do anything about it right?” Eijiro shrugs off Denki’s concern, holding on to a stress ball that Hikari had in her room. “She’ll be moping around and going back to overthinking about what her parents are doing right now. We’ll take her there and besides, once we do get there, (Y/N) and Bakugo already had a day’s worth of rest. And I think it’s time for us to take Hikari on a road trip and have fun with her!”

“Uncle Eijiro.. Aunt Mina... Uncle Denki... what’s taking you so long?” Hikari yawns and rubs her eyes, still holding on to her chopsticks. “The ramen is going to get cold...”

“Oh no! It is!?” Mina reacts quickly, taking Hikari’s hand and leading her to the table. “Let’s get there before Elsa makes it even colder!”

“NOOOOOO!! Elsa’s going to do that!? Whyyyyyy!?”

“Let’s just hope that this isn’t a repeat of what happened when we took her to the community pool.” Kaminari shakes his head, recalling the past event. “Bakugo almost killed us if it weren’t for (Y/N).”

“I don’t think it will. Besides, Sero and Mina will be with us, so the more the merrier!”

Oh and the merrier it was.

“HAKUNA MATATA! WHAT A WONDERFUL PHRASE!” Bakusquad along with Hikari, sing in unison. Bopping along to the iconic song from Lion King.

“IT MEANS NO WORRIES! FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS!” Hikari belts out, the others clapping along to her singing, doing their best to hype her up

Kirishima was singing Timone’s lines, Kaminari was singing Pumba’s, Sero and Mina were the background vocals and and Hikari was singing Simba’s lines.

It was 6 am in the morning and they were finally on the road and on the way to a Hot Springs Resort in Chiba Prefecture, where you and Bakugo were staying in for the weekend.

Kirishima was driving the SUV that he immediately bought when he got his first Pro Hero paycheck, Denki was riding shotgun, and Hikari was seated at the middle squeezed in by both Mina and Sero.

Disney Songs were set to be played for the entire morning to tire out Hikari and so that she can sleep peacefully and rid Bakusquad of the slight annoyance they will receive when she asks “Are we there yet?” every 2 minutes.

Denki had unfortunately messed up the spotify playlist that Jiro had given him, and the piano opening of A Thousand Miles begins to play.

“OMG IT’S OUR SQUAD SONG!” Mina’s eyes lit up as soon as the well-known piano keys blared out from the speakers. “MAKING MY WAY DOWNTOWN, WALKING FAST, FACES PASS AND I’M HOMEBOUND!”

The iconic part before the chorus begins to play and the boys sing along, “AND I NEED YOU! AND I MISS YOUUU!” They shake their shoulders to the beat, and Hikari giggles along.

“CAUSE YOU KNOW I’D WALK A THOUSAND MILES IF I CAN JUST SEE YOU TONIGHTTTTT.” Bakusquad sings dramatically in unison, raising their hands up high and just vibing to the beat.

“Hikari-chan! You should totally hear your dad sing this! He loves this song!” Mina turns to the little girl who continued to laugh at how chaotic her aunt and uncles were being. “Really!? I want to learn it then so that Mommy and Daddy would know that I can be a singer too!”

The song ends and yet everyone else was still vibing. After the current song, the hype and the energy has died down and Hikari is fast asleep on Mina’s lap and her feet were lying on a pillow that was placed on Sero’s lap.

“She really is a spitting image of both (Y/N) and Bakugo. They’re really great parents.” said Sero, who wanted to break the silence and keep the atmosphere lively.

“My mind is still shook over the fact that Bakubro would turn so soft every time he’s in the same room as his daughter. It’s a complete 180 on his personality, and I really wanna tease him about it when we finally get the chance.” Kaminari interjects. “Do you think Bakugo would get mad when we arrive there?”

“Trust me on this guys.” Kirishima says casually, stepping on the gas pedal, as they go up the highway. “Bakugo won’t. In fact, I think both he and (Y/N) would be delighted to see their daughter travel for 180 miles just because of a misunderstanding.”

♡

“Suki-kun... do you think I should call up Mina to ask how Hikari’s doing?” You reach for your phone on the bedside table. “It’s 6 AM maybe Hikari forgot to drink her gummmy vitamins-”

“She’s going to be fine.” Katsuki murmurs in his bedhead voice, turning to your side of the bed to spoon you and nestle his head on your neck. “I trust Kirishima and the others.”

“This is surprising. You’re very casual about this now. What happened to your skepticism? Weren’t you too worried about how they were going to babysit Hikari after the pool incident?”

“To hell with that. If Hikari loves them, and they love her back just as much, might as well just roll with it. They’re my friends anyway and it’s better than Ilda scolding her for eating 4 M&Ms at 9 in the evening.”

You chuckle, holding his hands that were wrapped around your waist. “That’s harsh but you got a point. Although Hikari loves my friends and yours equally, they do think of Hikari as a little Bakugo so, they’re able to connect with her more.”

“What time do the private mixed gender hot springs open up again?” He grumbles suggestively and you giggle. “They open at 9 am. Should I reserve that time slot?”

“You should.” He growls but before you could even reply, he falls back to sleep.

♡

“WE’RE HERE!” Kirishima announces, waking Kaminari, Mina and Sero up from their sleep.

“W-what if this isn’t the right onsen?” Denki yawns, looking around to take in the view.

“I asked (Y/N) last night where they were staying. This is the place! She even gave me their room number for some reason.” Mina stretches her arms then pats Hikari on the forehead lightly. “Hikari we’re here...”

The little girl slowly opens her eyes, sitting up, then looks out the window.

“HOT SPRINGS! ONSEN!” She hastily tidies up her backpack and gets down the car as soon as Sero opens the door.

“Hikari-chan! Wait for us first!” Sero runs after her, making sure she doesn’t get too far.

“It’s 9 AM... I wonder if those two lovebirds are awake already.” Kaminari looks at the watch on his wrist, as he brings down their stuff from the trunk of the car.

“I looked this place up last night. It’s a family friendly hot springs resort, but it’s famed for it’s private mixed gender onsen. I wonder why though...” Mina mused, helping Denki out with bringing their stuff down.

Kirishima gets out of the car and bobs his head up as soon as he heard what Mina had said. He looks at Kaminari trying to tell him something through his stare. The mustard-haired man’s eyes widened when he realized why Kirishima was looking at him, then he turns to Mina who finally realizes what the mixed gender onsen meant.

“Oh.”

They enter the beautiful and lush resort, spotting Sero and Hikari who were sitting near the reception area, waiting for their reservation and for the rooms to be confirmed.

“Can’t believe we had to pay double the price for a standard room.” Kaminari pouts, whispering to Kirishima as the red-haired man hands him over the credit cards of each of his friends and then he hands it over to the concierge. He notices how excited Hikari looked and couldn’t help but smile.

As soon as the reservation was confirmed, Bakusquad and Hikari were able to check in immediately. Mina takes Hikari to her room while the three other boys were sharing their room with each other.

“Hikari before you can surprise your parents, you have to wear this Yukata first okay?” Mina helps fasten the bath robe on Hikari, but the little girl can’t help but be energetic and start dancing in her place. “Have you memorized the A Thousand Miles chorus already to sing to your mommy and daddy?”

“I have!”

Mina takes Hikari outside, the other boys were already out too and were wearing their bath robes.

“I saw (Y/N) enter this onsen. Maybe that’s where she and Bakugo are in? Should we take Hikari there?” Kaminari asks his three other friends, sipping on a fruit-flavored ramune, and handing one to Hikari.

“Yes please! I want to see Mommy and Daddy as soon as possible and then surprise them!” She sips on her ramune, looking at her aunt and uncles pleadingly, begging them to bring her there.

♡

“I could have sworn I heard Kaminari-kun’s voice outside.” You tell Katsuki, closing the screen door to the open air bath. You were holding a plate full of sliced Watermelon. Your robe was still on and you wanted to eat something first before getting in.

“Tch. Probably just your imagination.” Bakugo breathes a sigh of relief, slipping in further in the hot water. “I could get used to something like this every month.”

“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow, and lick your lips. “Could you get used to-”

“If I could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass us ByYYY?”

You jolt up at the sweet and all too familiar voice that was echoing from the outside. Before you could even react properly, someone knocks on the door to reveal...

“Mommy! Daddy!”

“Hikari!?”

She jumps to you and pulls you into a tight hug. “I missed you so much! I thought you and Daddy were fighting that’s why you left!”

“Fighting!?” You look back and forth to Bakusquad then to your daughter. “Of course not! Why would we-”

“Uncle Sewo and Uncle Denki told me that you guys would always fight when you were in school! That’s why I thought that-”

“They did... what?” Bakugo’s tone becomes slightly irritated at the mention of Kaminari and Hanta’s name. The Bakusquad were about to face death and the consequences until...

“Oh! But! They also taught me a song today! It’s called A Thousand Miles! They said it was Daddy’s favorite!” She then turns to her father with such admiration in her eyes as she begins to sing the chorus. “Cause you know I’d walk a thousand miles just to see youuu~”

“Nice one sunshine. Did you learn that for me?” He gestures Hikari to approach him, ruffling her hair as she kneels down to peck him on the cheek. “I did!”

“It’s your favorite song! So, I also traveled a thousand miles to see you and Mommy!”

“Not necessarily a thousand miles, dear. But you’re close enough! You still traveled to see us! Yay!” You clap at the genius remark your daughter had made. You turn to the Bakusquad, nodding your head at them and smile. “Thank you for taking care of Hikari and bringing her here just because she wanted to. We’ll see you later at lunch?”

“Of course! Of course!” Mina waves goodbye, a tired but loving smile formed on her face. “We had a fun time with Hikari and we just couldn’t help but bring her here. But, you have Kiri to thank for all of this though!”

“No, I shouldn’t get all of the credit. This is a Bakusquad group effort, if Kaminari and Sero didn’t slip and if Hikari didn’t misunderstand their words, then we wouldn’t be here in the first place.” Kirishima cuts Mina off in a respectful way. He claps his hands together and pulls your other friends out of the room. “See ya guys later!”

“Thanks guys.” Bakugo nods generously to his friends. It was something he didn’t always do, but when he does, well, it’s worth seeing.

“Bye Uncle Sharkie, Aunt Pinkie, Uncle Sparkie and Uncle Spidey!” Hikari waves goodbye jovially, not realizing that she just called them the affectionate nicknames that she’s too embarrassed to say in front of them.

The four laugh at the little girl’s slip-up and they leave the hot springs in good spirits.

After that wonderful weekend, you explained to Hikari about why you’re taking a rest every month in the first place. She didn’t quite get the concept at first but after a little bit more of explaining, she came up with the idea that the two of you get four rest days in a month. One weekend just for you and Katsuki then the other weekend is for the three of you and if any of the Bakusquad or Dekusquad would want to come along.

It was the perfect agreement and if Hikari was going to grow up in an environment where she had the best aunts and uncles in the universe, then she’s going to grow up to be a great kid. Just like the adults in her life once were.

The End.

538 notes · View notes

samkiszkasrealgf · 3 years

Text

electric love.

request: none

paring: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: y/n and jj have been best friends ever since the fourth grade. after creating a tiktok account as a dare, y/n decides to recreate the trend where you try to kiss your best friend/crush and see what they do.

warnings: TEETH ROTTING FLUFF. probably the cutest thing i’ve ever written <3 i’m hoping to GOD no one has done this with jj yet lmao

it had been nearing 8 pm. the pogues: jj, john b., kiara, pope, and y/n had decided they wanted to lay low after the events of earlier that day (finding the grady-white & sneaking into the motel) by hosting yet another kegger out on the beach. so, there they were; at the beach surrounded by the usual crowd of kooks, other pogues, and tourons.

however, y/n, who was almost always the life of the party, wasn’t really feeling it that particular night. she assumed she might’ve just been jittery from the crazy day her and her friends just had. after her first two solo cups of beer, y/n had decided to separate herself from the rest of her fellow partygoers & friends, making her way to the water just to get some air for a few minutes.

as the waves crashed against the shore, y/n tugged her ripped jean shorts off of her waist and let them drop to her ankles, leaving her in just a bikini top and bottoms. setting them down in the sand where they were guaranteed to stay dry, she placed her cellphone right on top of them. her hair, tied into a very messy bun on the top of her head, was let down immediately after. her hair spilled onto her shoulders and down her back in loose waves & curls. the sun has just begun to set, painting the sky with beautiful shades of orange, yellow, pink, red, and a bit of purple.

moments later, y/n was able to drown out the sound of drunken laughter and talkative teenagers as she focused on watching her feet as the waves pushed against them. after at least five minutes, y/n reached back to grab her phone that had been resting on top of her shorts. hesitantly, she clicked on tiktok, an app she’d downloaded just two days ago. scrolling through her “for you page”, y/n stumbled across a video captioned, “i tried kissing my best friend, this is how it turned out”, using the song elecric love by borns. the corners of her mouth turned upwards into a crooked grin. although she’d thought it was quite cheesy, y/n had to admit that it melted her heart. it was so romantic; the way they held each other, the way kissed each other like it was the last time they’d ever see each other again ... for some reason, y/n could only think about one person: jj maybank.

ahh, jj maybank. one of y/n’s best friends, and her secret crush, since the fourth grade. something about those blonde locks, those crystal blue eyes, the indentations in his cheeks when he smiled — not to mention his insanely perfect, greek-god like smile — and his charismatic personality struck her interest right from the start. it was hopeless, y/n continuously convinced herself. jj would flirt with her, but he flirts with everyone. no matter how many times she would feel that burning twang of jealousy in the depths of her stomach whenever jj would philander with other girls, nothing would change. jj wanted only to be friends, y/n was sure of it. though she had absolutely no issue with remaining jj’s closest female friend, it hurts knowing the one that which you most desire will never be yours.

“hey you!,” a voice suddenly sounded from behind her.

y/n glanced over her left shoulder, only to lock eyes with lover-boy himself. her stomach flipped.

she grinned. “what’s up?”

jj sat beside her with a grunt. “man, y/n, are you feeling okay? you’re usually the center of attention at our keggers — wait, are you on tiktok?”

y/n’s eyes widened slightly, realizing that the electric love sound, along with the same video, had been playing on repeat for at least five minutes. nervously, she clicked her phone off, setting it beside her in the sand as jj chuckled at her forgetfulness.

“i thought you were gonna delete it right after kie dared you to download it the other night!,” jj taunted as y/n grinned, thinking back to a few nights ago to the drunken game of “truth or dare” she played with the pogues on the boat. “i think someone’s addicted...”

y/n gasped playfully. “i am not addicted!”

jj shot her a look, and y/n caved.

“okay, okay. fine. i’m a little addicted, but i can’t help it! the people on here have really...interesting humor.”

jj chucked warmly, taking a sip from his beer.

as the two sat in silence for a moment, y/n began to think. what if she made a move on jj by recreating that tiktok?

no, absolutely not. the alcohol must be getting to her brain. if she were to kiss him and weird him out, that could ruin their entire friendship, and that’s the last thing she wanted. but what if that didn’t happen? he could react in the exact opposite way. anything was possible...why not take the chance?

y/n could not believe she was doing this at all, but after contemplating it for a few minutes, she gathered up the courage to ask: “wanna make a tiktok with me?”

jj looked over at her, cocking an eyebrow with a grin.

“are you being serious?”

“yes!”

“...i-i guess!”

y/n stood up, laughing. she offered her jittery hand to jj, who accepted it and used it to haul himself off of the sandy ground.

“what am i even supposed to do?,” he questioned, scratching the back of his neck.

y/n smiled. “just follow my lead.”

once the sound was ready, y/n grabbed ahold of jj’s hand and tugged him into the shallow saltwater, that stopped just about at their waists. with her phone propped up against jj’s halfway-full bottle of beer, she clicked the timer button and started the countdown for filming to start.

with each beep of the timer, y/n’s heartbeat thumped harder and harder against the inside of her chest.

with that, the song started.

baby, you’re like lightning in a bottle.

y/n stared into his eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat. hesitantly, she grabbed hold of jj’s biceps and pulled him towards her, softly. she pressed her lips against his.

i can’t let you go now that i got it.

jj pulled away from her, shocked. with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, all he could seem to do was stare back at her.

y/n’s heart sank. this was a failure. he looked incredibly uncomfortable, and this was certainly going to make things awkward in the long run.

and all i need is to be struck...

however, the corners of jj’s lips turned upwards into a cheeky smile. suddenly, he grabbed her lower back with one hand and her jawline with the other, pulling her back in towards him.

...by your electric love.

at the beautiful climax of the sound, jj’s lips found y/n’s again. her arms made their way around the back of his neck, her hands beginning to cascade through the golden blond tufts of hair. the entire world seemed to melt around her as a long-lasting dream had come true at last. all of a sudden, y/n’s feet left the plushy ground of the ocean as jj sent both of them tumbling into the cool blueness of the water, tangled up in each other’s arms.

#jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #outer banks #fandom #fanfic #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj x y/n #obx cast #obx x reader #obx jj

300 notes · View notes

wrightaboutthat · 3 years

Text

Proposing a Duel ~A Narumitsu One-Shot~

Summary: Finally, after years of pining, years of waiting, is Phoenix prepared to propose to the love of his life. But with someone he parallels so intensely, nothing can ever be straightforward.

Tags: Marriage Proposal, Idiots in Love, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Arguing, Childhood Memories, they're so dumb, and bickering 5ever, but they're so incredibly in love your honor, and deserve intense happiness like this, also this is probably set in the aa5-6 timeline somewhere but Who's Counting

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! Finally managed to tackle and finish one of my 20+ Narumitsu drafts lol. I recognize that this is quite the common trope/plot with these two, but I'm of course shooting for a "yay, two cakes" situation! We simply cannot have enough proposal fics, and these two deserve all the happiness/sweetness in the world quite honestly. They're tired- let them REST.

Anyway, super excited to share this with you all, and I hope you enjoy!

You can also read the work on AO3 here [x]

It felt different. He felt different. There was a certain and light sweetness that seemed to be lingering in the air. There was a tender warmth that seemed to be burning between two forms. There was a magnetic tug that seemed to be pulling harder than usual.

Perhaps it was finally pulling towards the inevitable.

Phoenix’s breath caught in his throat at the very consideration. It had been so long after all. The entirety of his life had slowly led up to such a thing. But even still, he doubted his readiness, doubted his ability to proceed.

Though, looking at the man beside him easily dampened such doubts. Fear melted away into giddy nervousness, and worry softened into warm tingles.

Because it was Miles.

Miles.

A man who had evaded him for years. A man who had changed him for the better. A man who had beautifully fought for betterment all for his sake. A man who he’d do anything for.

A man he wanted to marry.

The direct utterance within his mind manifested a flushed smile, his head going woozy with adoration. Inevitable indeed; it felt so right to consider, so...perfect. He of course hoped his proposal would follow suit, that it would declare such deep admiration to the receiver. He wanted it to be just as wonderful as the very man-

“What is it?”

The murmured baritone snapped Phoenix from his honeyed thoughts, startling as he returned to the present.

“Huh?”

Though Miles’ stare remained trained ahead, Phoenix could still pick up on the tenderness that washed over his facial expression.

“You were staring quite intently, darling.”

The term of endearment, the tonality of his boyfriend’s voice, and the ginger facial expression did nothing to help his blush. The defense attorney’s cheeks were fiery, though his growing smile aided in the distribution of heat.

“Is that anything new? I always struggle to take my eyes off you.”

He watched with amusement as color struck Miles’ face to match, his expression crinkling into something of embarrassment.

“Nngh...” he quietly groaned, earning a chuckle from Phoenix before he continued, “Well, at least I’m the one driving then.”

“Thank God for that.”

They ventured back into comfortable silence, but affections were still reciprocated. Miles slipped a hand off the steering wheel and laid it palm-up on the console, an invitation that Phoenix immediately took. He gave his boyfriend’s hand a soft squeeze, contentedly sighing as his thoughts began to wander once more.

Hand holding wouldn’t feel the same for very long after all. There would be an even deeper connection with it, a deeper unity. Soft skin and sturdy fingers would be bordered with precious metal, a glistening reminder of their utmost promise to each other...

“Phoenix.”

The tanner man jerked back to the present once again, though not as harshly as before.

“Yeah?”

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

“Are you saying I’m normally loud, baby?”

The slight rise of his boyfriend’s brow was enough to draw forth a laugh, the deeper implications plenty visible in such a mere gesture.

“More talkative than I, yes,” Miles huffed, though he quickly ventured back towards a more solemn air. “Is something on your mind?”

“Ahh...no.” A lie. And it was very dangerous to offer a lie to the man who sought nothing but the truth in every regard. So Phoenix very quickly covered with a genuine statement, a true explanation indeed. “I just...get lost in how much I love you sometimes.”

Heterochromatic eyes had averted with such a statement, and his other hand had taken purchase upon his neck. The silence that followed however, drew his gaze back towards his partner. But, following the pattern of comfort, any and all apprehension was doused by the prosecutor; the intense blush and bashful furrow on his counterpart’s face triggered giggles.

“Darling...” Miles muttered in disdain.

“It’s true!”

Silver eyes briefly flitted sideways, before the opposing man heaved a large sigh. Years ago, such a statement would likely earn some manner of reluctance or coldness. In the present though, and to Phoenix’s delight, it slowly drew forth a gentle smile once more.

“If I wasn’t speeding down a highway, I would perhaps have to kiss you,” Miles eventually murmured.

“Just perhaps?” Phoenix laughed.

“Mm...”

The prosecutor readjusted their conjoined hands, and better gripped Phoenix’s, gently bringing it to his awaiting mouth.

“Assuredly,” he said, sealing the word with a tender kiss.

It was the defense’s turn to be bashful, flushing and giggling and crumpling in on himself. It was without fail; close to proposing, and yet rendered so useless by his beloved. He doubted that would change, even well into their marriage. It hadn’t for years and years after all.

When Miles lowered their hands back to the console, Phoenix heaved a breath, easing into conversation before thoughts hoisted him away again.

“Where are we going anyway?”

There was an odd pause, coupled with what sounded like a shaky inhalation. The prosecutor did indeed answer, but through vagueness only.

“You’ll see.”

“Are we close? Because I perhaps have to kiss you too.” Just as Miles has done, he brought their hands upward, gripping the prosecutor’s just so and returning the gesture with warm lips. “Hands don’t really cut it.”

“Yes, dear. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Phoenix grinned, and pressed a plethora of short kisses to the other man’s hand- so much so that he earned a soft whap of disdain to the face. He broke into giggles then and freed the prosecutor from his onslaught, simply opting to sit and wait for their arrival, albeit anxiously. He hoped it was a proper location. He hoped it was someplace fitting. He hoped it would be a date worth turning into something more. He wasn’t sure if he could stand the idea of having to push things back any longer; the ring had already been in his possession for one day too many.

The car finally slowing down brought him from his thoughts, and he blinked as he attempted to process where they were. It didn’t seem to be a fancy restaurant or anything typical of Miles; in fact, it seemed like they were just in some random part of the city. And yet, there seemed to exist an odd sort of...familiarity to it all, a sense of dejavu gnawing on his mind.

Regardless of the swirling thoughts, he snapped to action the moment they stopped. The second Miles parked the car, he was leaning across the center console, following through with his previous statements and tugging them both into a proper kiss. The pair sighed and melted against each other’s mouths, sucking and gliding and caressing.

When Phoenix attempted to slide his tongue betwixt his partner’s lips however, did the prosecutor lean back and break their connection.

“Not so fast, Wright,” he tutted, though his brow was playfully cocked, “Can’t have you sullying this date.”

“Me? You’re the one who’s irresistibly gorgeous.”

Miles rolled his eyes, causing the tanner man to chuckle, before he poised himself to depart the vehicle.

“I rest my case.”

Phoenix continued with his mirth, but had no further objections; no, he didn’t need to sully their date at all. There would be plenty of time for intimacy, but only one chance to present such a momentous inquiry. So he exited after his boyfriend, and walked around the car to be by his side.

Gazes were soft once more upon meeting, and the prosecutor offered a hand for Phoenix to take. He did so happily, and allowed his partner to lead. In doing so however, perplexity joined the mix, his wavy brows furrowing as he continued to try and place...where exactly they were. It wasn’t exactly a park, or a restaurant, or any discernible destination at all. It merely seemed like Miles was leading him down a sidewalk- and was his hand...trembling?

His face scrunched with further confusion, the two of them continuing to wind through buildings. Soon however, buildings opened up to a very particular scene. Rounding a corner stopped him dead in his tracks. Gazing upon the openness before him smacked his brain with a plethora of memories. He saw many a picture, heard swaths of innocent laughter, and felt rushes of old warmth...

“Remember this spot?”

Miles’ murmur managed to reach him, but his composure still swayed. Tears almost pricked his heterochromatic eyes, his nose tickling with the threat of their manifestation. Because yes, he absolutely did. The small canal, the grassy hill, the surrounding quaint homes, the sunset...

It was a scene from their youth. It was a place they had frequented together as grade schoolers. It was a place where dreams had been discussed, and bonds had been formed.

And God, was it perfect for taking said bonds even further.

Phoenix had to keep a hand over his mouth for a few beats, attempting to keep his composure at bay. Breaking down in front of Miles wouldn’t be anything new necessarily, but it would produce suspicion.

Thankfully, the prosecutor didn’t seem to notice- at least, not yet. For he simply snickered and tugged, softly beckoning with their conjoined hands.

“I take that as a yes. Come on then.”

He led them both down the old path, strolling in the golden light of the setting sun. Phoenix could almost see flashes of their grade school selves as they happened along, laughing and shoving and playing. And, through the sparkles in his vision, could he also picture the glistens of precious metal, of gemstones shining with promise and love.

He had to bite his cheek to keep himself in check. When would be the proper time to ask anyway? It felt so close, but so very far. It felt so perfect, but so out of reach. Maybe it would just come to him. Maybe the stars would align. And if Miles’ hand was still oddly trembling, he could no longer tell; his was too.

The prosecutor slowing down pulled him from his running thoughts, but made the situation all the more real. He allowed Miles to lead him into the grass, onto one of the slopes neighboring the sidewalk. Mismatched eyes rapidly blinked to shoo away tears; it was such the perfect parallel. It was such a beautiful nod to their roots.

“Love, I didn’t think you remembered this!” he strained out, beginning to beam immensely, “It was so long ago.”

“Well of course I do. You were the better part of those years after all.”

“Miles...” Phoenix heaved a breath, his smile beginning to rival the light shining upon them. “You’re such a sweetheart, you know that? This was so thoughtful.”

He watched with delight as the opposing man flushed something terrible, his silver eyes averting and his grasp retracting.

“Ngh...” he softly groaned, before dismissively waving a hand and moving to sit, “It’s merely a trip down memory lane, that’s all.”

“Yeah but...” Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh, latching on to some teasing for a bit of emotional respite, “Esteemed Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth sitting in the grass for me?”

Miles seemed to stiffen a bit, coupled with another crawl of red across his visage.

“Is that really such an oddity?”

“A bit, yeah! It’s different than what we normally do.” Phoenix snickered a bit more, before he lowered himself to the ground as well, sitting flush against his partner. The mirth departed his voice then, his tone traveling back towards a more earnest warmth. “So it’s just...It’s really sweet. And meaningful.”

And utterly perfect for what he had planned.

He watched as Miles’ face immensely softened, though silver eyes averted once more. Phoenix took the opportunity to press a quick kiss to the offered cheek, before moving to nestle his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. He sighed a contented breath upon doing so- particularly when he eventually felt Miles’ head snuggle against his.

Part of him was anxious, what with a brewing proposal swirling around in his depths. But another part hushed him, and told him to simply enjoy the scene for a moment. It was a lovely contrast against their usual life; just getting to take a few moments of calm hush with his beloved, in a place that meant so much to them. The sunlight was warming, his partner’s body was soothing, and the air was enticing.

Mismatched eyes half-lidded, and he hummed amidst the quiet. He wanted it to continue. He wanted to stay in the moment forever. But the other half of him began to cry out for attention. The other half drove him to speak, to drive the peace towards partnership.

“God, Miles...How did we even get here?”

“It’s been a long road, hmm?” the prosecutor murmured after a few beats.

“Yeah. Crazy to think I’m here with you like this. It was always a dream of mine.”

“I concur.”

“So proper,” Phoenix snickered, moving to press another kiss to the opposing man’s cheek.

“Hush,” he huffed. Before Phoenix could nestle back downwards however, Miles turned his head and captured their mouths for a proper kiss. And just as soon as the kiss started was he rising to stand, stoically and handsomely staring out towards the departing sun. He seemed to let out a shaky breath, before he continued in solemn tones. “As children, when I sat with you here, I...couldn’t help but look to the future, and imagine what could be. To think that it’s realized now, and far more than I ever pictured...”

He heaved again, and seemed to look downward at his feet.

“And to think that it could continue...”

Phoenix’s heart leapt into his throat; how was it that Miles was perfectly setting him up? How was it that he was meticulously laying the puzzle pieces out? It was almost like he knew, like he was aware of the ring burning brightly in his pocket.

“Phoenix...”

It was time. Oh God, it was time. It was like some divine forces yanked him upward, piloting him towards the start of a new beginning. He no longer questioned it. He no longer felt apprehensive. He only felt entirely driven to begin.

“-Miles, I adore you,” he blurted, butting in and rambling without much control, “I love you so much. I can’t imagine being with anyone else but you. You’re gorgeous, and amazing, and so important to me, and...”

He could feel his partner’s eyes on him. He could feel the burn of their bodies. He could feel the very question hanging in the air between them. His chest tightened, his eyes watered, and his extremities quivered...Yet he still managed to reach for the life changing box in his pocket, and poised himself to get down on one knee.

“And so I have to do something I’ve thought about since I met-“

“-Hold it!”

The sudden objection from his boyfriend startled him, causing him to crash down upon his knee as opposed to a gentle descent. He winced a bit at the impact, but physical pain was quickly replaced by emotional; Miles looked...appalled. Phoenix felt his chest squeeze immensely, coupled with a croaked utterance of the prosecutor’s name.

“Wh- Miles?”

He watched with further horror as his counterpart backed away, heaving and wringing his fists a plenty. Miles even went so far as to pinch the bridge of his nose with a hand, sighing and straining a cursed sentence.

“I cannot believe this...”

The defense lawyer trembled, the words piercing a crack in his heart. He had been wrong. He had been overzealous. He had pushed Miles too far. He had backed himself into an unlovable corner yet again.

He opened his mouth to speak, to question, to beg for answers, but all that escaped was a quivering breath. Oddly enough, the sound still managed to reach the prosecutor, because he looked back before...miraculously softening?

“-Wait wait, no. Apologies. I...” he said with a raised hand, before pulling it back in and freezing.

They both were silent for several beats then, the air immensely tense and thick. Though Phoenix felt slightly better that his beloved no longer appeared...disgusted, his heart still ached something terrible. He was confused, and downtrodden, watching his boyfriend closely for any further reactions.

React he did; he shifted more into the typical tense nervousness, pulling at his shirt and avoiding eye contact. Numerous deep breaths also heaved from the prosecutor, the exhalations sounding surprisingly shaky. Though it was likely only seconds, the quiet felt like hours, Phoenix clambering for any sign he hadn’t just made the worst mistake of his life.

And it was a wonder he doubted his partner so. It was crazy that his anxiety still got to him. The traumatic scars really did run immensely deep. But regardless, Miles finally provided, looking back and turning the situation around.

“My darling,” he began, his silver eyes interlocking with heterochromatic, “I am...so sorry for startling you. I just...have no idea how we possibly managed...”

With that, the prosecutor reached into his own pocket, and presented something that connected all the glittering puzzle pieces together.

Oh.

Every ounce of apprehension washed away. Every bit of discomfort fizzled into nothingness. Every drop of sadness evaporated into thin air. And all was replaced by the most dazzling, incredible warmth Phoenix had ever experienced.

Because it was a box, much like the one he still had in his own hand.

Suddenly, everything made sense. He had brought him out here with identical intentions. He had sweetened his tongue with the same question. He had been preparing to go down the same road, and was startled by the abrupt change in plans.

They had both tried to propose to each other. They had both tried to ask for each other’s hand.

Phoenix wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sob, and subsequently settled for a mixture of both. His free hand clapped over his mouth, and he quivered from tears and mirth alike.

“Miles? Miles?!”

Through the glaze, he could see the prosecutor shaking his head. And over his trembling vocalizations, he could hear the strained quality his boyfriend’s voice had taken.

“Always throwing me for a loop, Wright.”

“Oh my God!” Phoenix laughed, rubbing at his eyes with a hand as he attempted to compose himself. He was overwhelmed, so delightfully overwhelmed. Because two opposing rings meant they were on the exact same page. Two pieces of beautiful metal signaled each other’s answer.

His laugh choked off with more of a sob, and he peered through his fingers to get a look at his boyfriend. Miles had his head turned away, a hand grasping his face once more. Was he crying as well? Or trying not to? Whatever the case, the very consideration sent further tears down the tanner man’s cheeks.

“I...I love you,” he rasped.

“I...” Normally smooth and cool vocals were shaky and taut, the prosecutor clearing his throat before attempting again. “I love you too, dearest.”

The situation beautifully plateaued, the two men taking numerous beats to compose themselves. Neither moved. Neither said anything. Neither made any sort of advance with such a dear connection woven between them.

Phoenix continued wiping his tears and blowing out cleansing breaths. He slowly became aware of the fact that he was still on one knee, still poised to officially pop the question. Though, how was he to go about it? And with an opposing ring in the playing field? He felt inclined to inquire.

“Love?”

He watched as the prosecutor straightened, smoothing out his dress shirt and composing himself something proper. It looked very much like how he recovered in court after a sudden blow, scrambling back from an emotional edge and easing back into stoicism.

“Yes?” he answered after a few beats, though his voice was still thickened.

“What...what do we even do now?!” Phoenix laughed, his free hand traveling to rest upon his neck.

“Well,” Miles began after heaving another cleansing breath, “If we’re getting into technicalities, I’ve had this planned for months.”

The sheen in Phoenix’s eyes flashed with a new spark, the tears glistening with fire. No, not just an opposing ring- a rival ring. It seemed that old habits died hard.

“So? I’m the one on one knee right now! I beat you to it.”

“And? I don’t believe you had any sort of plan regarding this.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m trying to marry you, Phoenix,” Miles said matter-of-factly, tapping his bicep in the normal way, “Ergo, I know you better than perhaps the back of my own hand.”

The tanner man wanted to laugh at the courtroom persona his partner had suddenly adopted, argue with the points being brought to the table, and melt at the fact that Miles Edgeworth wanted to marry him. Unfortunately, he was incapable of anything of the sort; the truth was a little too on the nose.

“Ahh...” was all he sheepishly managed, his free hand grasping his neck harder.

He watched as Miles cocked a brow and gave him a knowing look, furthering the blush that gripped his cheeks.

“Out with it then.”

“Okay...Maybe I was about to start winging it...”

“Mm, as always.”

“But so what?” Phoenix exclaimed, “I’m always ready to get into how much I adore you, and why I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else, and-“

“-You are not about to advantageously segue, Phoenix Wright.”

The defense attorney burst out laughing, finally standing back up and closing the distance between them.

“Miles!” he comedically whined, giving his boyfriend’s chest a gentle shove, “Dammit, you do know me a little too well.”

“Indeed. Which is why I feel more than apt to be the first one to proceed.”

“No! I was ramping myself up towards a big speech and everything.”

“As was I. I’ve dreamed of this since I was young.”

“And you think I haven’t?!”

The prosecutor’s face devolved into more of his usual scowl, his arms lacing across his chest. It was quite the sight really, what with his eyes still containing wisps of moisture. Still, the strange contrast didn’t cease the pair’s argument.

“We seem to be at quite the impasse then.”

“A bit!” Phoenix snorted.

“Is your stubbornness really going to stop us from getting engaged?”

“Is yours?”

Miles let out a harsh sigh, his annoyance becoming more and more noticeable.

“You’re being ridiculous. Why does it matter who proposes to whom anyway?”

“If it didn’t matter so much, you would have let me go for it!” the tanner man pointed out.

“You’re incredibly obstinate.”

“Haven’t you always admired that?”

“Phoenix,” Miles hissed.

“Besides, so are you!”

“Tell me, do you have a better comeback besides mirroring what I’ve just said?”

“I could always tell you to shut up and let me get on with it.”

“Oh, so romantic and well spoken,” the prosecutor snapped, throwing his hands with exasperation, “Truly makes for the sweetest memories.”

“Says you! You’re the one who started all of this. I could have proposed already!”

It was then that Phoenix’s eyes glinted once more, this time with a spark of mischievous stubbornness. In knowing him so well, Miles appeared to pick up on it, his body twitching and his brow furrowing.

“Don’t you dare-“

The prosecutor’s snarl cut off as they both leapt for the same conclusion. Knees crashed to the ground together, and boxes were hastily grappled for, the two racing for that beautiful spot.

And then something tickled Phoenix once more.

Maybe it was the way the love of his life was kneeling and fuming before him, holding a precious box in such a seething manner. Or maybe it was the way they were both treating their rings as weapons, like they were drawing them for a duel. Or maybe, it was the way they were arguing over a damn proposal.

Regardless, the tanner man was powerless, and began laughing again without much control. The sudden mirth seemed to slap the prosecutor; out of the corner of Phoenix’s eye, he could see his partner stiffen something terrible. It was likely striking even more of a nerve, but he couldn’t help it. It was so...stupidly them, and so amusing as a result.

He bent over from the force of his giggles, instinctively placing a hand on Miles’ bent knee to steady himself. The voice of reason in the very back of his head screamed danger, as an angry prosecutor could easily shove it off. But just as the situation continued to unfold in an odd manner, as did motivations. For Phoenix felt a gentle hand come to rest upon his own, squeezing as opposed to throwing.

“What’s...so funny?” he barely heard his boyfriend ask, his hesitant voice drowned out by the seamless mirth. He had to take numerous beats to sharply inhale, to attempt to get some air, before he could even consider replying.

“...This!” he gasped, wiping building tears with his free hand, “Us!”

To both his surprise and amusement, he heard what sounded like a cheerful huff from the prosecutor. Maybe he was being pulled down into the fun as well? The thought tickled the tanner man even more, and he rode another wave of giggles before fighting for further conversation.

“Miles...Miles...What the hell are we even doing?”

Yes, the prosecutor was definitely laughing now; Phoenix could hear the chuckles blending in so well with his own. It sent him into another fit, made worse by what Miles said next.

“Being...Imbecilic I suppose.”

The pair took a few moments to laugh together then, completely replacing the annoyance in Phoenix’s system with honeyed warmth once more. How typical of them. How beautiful of them. Riding an emotional rollercoaster was something of wonderful normalcy, even in what was supposed to be a special moment. Though, perhaps it actually made the moment all the more meaningful, all the more memorable.

“God! We’re so stupid...We’re so damn stupid...” the defense eventually wheezed, continuing to wipe at his eyes.

“Speak for yourself,” Miles huffed, slowly standing back up and brushing himself off.

“We’re- hey!” Phoenix laughed, erecting to give his boyfriend’s chest yet another push, “You’re an ass.”

“Oh, will the loving talk ever cease?” the prosecutor sighed with a roll of his eyes.

The tanner man continued to giggle, before he stepped even closer, nuzzling his nose tenderly against Miles’. The pair softened immensely, and the defense attorney took advantage by offering yet another kiss.

“I love you so much,” he whispered when their mouths parted.

“I love you too.”

The pair took a few beats of tender silence then, stepping down from the nonsensical energy that had been their argument. It was Miles’ turn to take advantage then; he reached with a hand to brush black hairs back into place before gently framing a damp cheek.

“I do still intend to go through with this, you know,” he murmured, before mildly cocking a brow, “Even though the mood has been thoroughly soiled now.”

“I do too. I-“ Heterochromatic eyes widened slightly, the tanner man starting like he had reached a brilliant conclusion in court. “Hey, actually...”

“Hmm?”

“Hear me out on this, okay? Going back and forth is totally our thing, right? We kinda just proved that.”

A huff and eye roll from the prosecutor drew another shaky laugh from the defense. Still, he continued.

“So what if we...propose together? Back and forth?”

He watched as a strong swath of red spread across his boyfriend’s cheeks, coupled with a furrow of his brow. Silver eyes flitted off to the side as well, a sign he was either flustered or objecting.

“That’s...”

In fearing the latter, Phoenix quickly interjected. “-I know, I know, it’s weird. And not exactly traditional. But it’s...us, you know?”

“I suppose that would indeed solve our problem after all.”

“Okay...”

The tanner man heaved a multitude of cleansing breaths, attempting to pull his composure back to the proper place. But with the element of surprise gone, with two rings in the vicinity, and with the love of his life staring through sparkles of unshed tears...He couldn’t help but shakily laugh, intense emotions swaying all over the place.

“Whew, I...Dammit! I can’t focus now-“

“-Shh,” Miles cut in, suddenly leaning closer and nestling their foreheads together, “Come here then, dearest. I believe we need to...take a moment.”

The defense’s breath caught at the proximity, but he nodded, allowing himself to get ushered away by the man before him. Nestled so close, aggressively ricocheting emotions had no choice but to settle; for there was nothing quite as soothing as snuggling up to his beloved. His mind whited out with the gentle, floral scent of the prosecutor, and the soft warmth his being provided. Though his heart was still pounding, and his eyes were still watering, it did indeed effectively walk him back to a more composed mentality. Perhaps because it reminded him just how much he adored the opposing man, and just how much he wanted to marry him.

“Better?” Miles eventually whispered.

“Yeah...” Phoenix replied, before blowing out a few more cleansing breaths. This was it. This was really it. “Okay. Okay okay...”

He leaned back then, intertwining both stares and fingers. The two shared a look of love, of reverence, of happiness, before stepping fully into the light.

“Phoenix Wright...”

“Miles Edgeworth...”

The tanner man watched as his beloved opened his mouth, but stiffened when no words followed. The tender visage furrowed back into a scowl, but thankfully, Phoenix wasn’t left in apprehension for too long.

“Curses. I had been so ready!”

Phoenix found himself laughing once again; composure was still a beast, it seemed. But somehow, by some damn graces, were words poised on his own tongue. So he gripped his love’s hand a bit tighter, and allowed them to fall.

“Well here- I knew I wanted to marry you from the moment I met you.”

The furrow on Miles’ face didn’t ease- it only turned incredulous. Naturally, Phoenix laughed even harder, and gave the prosecutor’s hand another squeeze.

“I’m serious! Even at nine years old, I could recognize my soulmate.”

Miles seemed to consider the statement, or allow the words to blanket over him. Either way, after a few beats, did he find his stride as well, steering them both towards a more solemn air.

“From the beginning, you enraptured me,” he murmured, silver eyes trained off to the side, “I felt safe around you, happy around you. And there was a deeper sort of calling that I recognized too- something brilliant and pure that I haven’t experienced with anyone else.”

“I think it was so strong and beautiful that I didn’t know what to do with myself,” Phoenix admitted.

“Indeed. It frightened me, and you know this. I denied its call initially. Or perhaps I didn’t deem myself worthy of standing hand in hand with such an incredible, intelligent, wonderful man.”

“Miles...” Phoenix murmured, his voice and face coated with disdain.

“Especially after all I’d done. So, I of course stepped away from that gorgeous light you cast.”

“But I had no intention of losing you. Still don’t.”

The two squeezed hands, before monochrome eyes slowly crept upwards to find mismatched once more.

“Nor I you,” Miles whispered, “When your hand was presented, I could only avoid its reach for so long. There was only so much running before that warmth enveloped me. No longer could I deny the deep and complex feelings you evoked within.”

“I didn’t know how to go about it, you know. Once I had your hand, I didn’t know what to do. I stumbled a bit trying to figure it all out.” Phoenix looked downward at their connection then, a warm, tearful smile overtaking his face. “All I did know was that I was so incredibly in love with you.”

He heard Miles’ breath catch, and subsequently offered a few caresses with his thumb. The prosecutor softly cleared his throat, before he managed to tenderly continue.

“I...knew I was in love with you too. The second you found me, the second you reached me, I could feel it.”

“Yet somehow we danced circles around each other,” Phoenix shakily snickered.

“I just couldn’t comprehend it. I struggled to find mutuality. Because, I of course just wanted to see you happy. I wanted nothing but the best for you. And I wasn’t sure I fit that bill.”

“You did. You do.” Phoenix softly broke their connection for the purpose of framing his partner’s face, tenderly holding and intently staring. “God, Miles, you do. I don’t think I could love someone as much as I love you. Maybe I couldn’t even wrap my head around it either.”

“And we both experienced hardships of course.”

“Yeah. But you were there for me. You took my hand as well. You guided me and made me a stronger, better person. I wouldn’t be who I am today if not for you.”

“I of course can say the same about you. You are...” Miles heaved a shaky breath himself, before reaching to mirror the touch. “...the dearest thing in my life, Phoenix. You are my light, my guidance, my foundation, and my truth. You are so incredibly important to me, and I love you more than I ever deemed possible.”

Phoenix had heard his partner speak soft sentiments before. He had experienced the deeper, more vulnerable side of the prosecutor a handful of times. But whispered in a spot from their childhood, proclaimed as they sought to strengthen their bond...

It amplified his tears tenfold, his bottom lip wobbling as awed cascades poured forth.

“I...M-Miles...Dammit...” he croaked, leading to a playful eye roll from his partner.

“Mm, so eloquent,” Miles softly huffed.

“Shh! I...” Phoenix hesitated, overwhelmed and overflowing with adoration. He felt there wasn’t much to say to top what had just been murmured- and he also knew he dangerously close to falling apart. Consequently, he softly tugged his partner closer, and locked them in a tender kiss. He couldn’t help but whimper against the prosecutor’s lips, but he hoped to instill every bit of honeyed warmth he could manage- at least until he could properly vocalize.

“You’re my home, my warmth, my dream, my everything,” he eventually murmured, his mouth ghosting against his partner’s, “I love you more than humanely possible. You make me so so happy. There is no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. So you’re kinda...stuck with me forever.”

“I would have it no other way. You have me, always.”

“Always. I’m yours.”

The two men stared at each other for numerous beats, glassy eyes peering deeply into each other’s souls. Tears ran down Phoenix’s cheeks, whereas Miles remained unshed and unbroken. But regardless, the intense emotion was palpable, the next step dangling right there for both to grab.

“So then...” Miles whispered.

“So then...” Phoenix quietly returned.

In mirroring each other, in being on the same plane, the two simultaneously lowered to one knee, far slower and less chaotic than the previous time. Instead, it was purposeful, devout, the pair entirely interlocked as they continued. They both presented their respective boxes once more, and shakily prepared for the final step.

“Phoenix Wright?”

“Miles Edgeworth?”

“Would...would you do me the extraordinary honor...and privilege...” Miles started.

“...of becoming my husband?” Phoenix finished.

It was then that he opened his box, with Miles following closely behind. And again, did he come incredibly close to breaking. Again, did he nearly lose hold on reality.

Because of course he and Miles continued to parallel. Of course they both ran with the same idea: The ring the prosecutor was presenting glistened with blue, just as the ring he presented glistened with red. They were gifting each other’s aesthetics. They deeply recognized each other, nodded to each other, and such an element would likely switch the next time they gifted rings.

The next time they gifted rings...

“I’ve waited so long to marry you, Miles...” Phoenix managed to gasp.

“I’ve pictured no one else...”

Phoenix was barely breathing, barely thinking. But still, did the words roll off his tongue, like they had been poised to do for eternity.

“So...yes.”

The preciousness finally broke the nigh impenetrable glass, a single tear rolling down the prosecutor’s cheek as he returned the deepest sentiment.

“Yes.”

Phoenix choked out a pitiful sob, and couldn’t help but tug them both upwards, his mouth finding Miles’ the second they were standing. And it was a wonder how their kiss almost immediately felt different, tasted different. It was sweeter, purer, and more profound. It was like their lips connected in a way they hadn’t before. It was something gorgeous, something new.

Perhaps it was because they were engaged. They were engaged.

Miles Edgeworth was his fiancé.

Another heaving sob from the defense attorney forced the kiss apart, and he opted to simply bury himself against Miles’ neck, beaming and crying all the while. He snuggled as close as he could possibly manage, and relished in the feeling of hands embracing him tightly. There, he attempted to compose himself, but naturally, the opposing man didn’t make things easy.

“Pull yourself together, Wright,” Miles softly jested, his voice thick with moisture, “You’re yanking me down with you.”

“I c-can’t,” he half-laughed half-sobbed.

“Mm...Perhaps I should take advantage and christen your finger with a ring first then...”

Sobs leant more towards laughter then, the defense attorney tightly hugging the prosecutor before leaning back in the embrace.

“N-nice try! We’re still doing this together.”

“We need both hands, silly,” Miles huffed before cocking an amused brow at his partner, “Though, judging by our differing composure, I relinquish my previous statement and deem it appropriate that you go first. Before you collapse on me, that is.”

“God, I love you...” Phoenix laughed, “And yeah, no promises...”

They both snickered, before turning their attention downward. Eyeing the two rings almost choked Phoenix up something terrible, but he managed to hang on by a mere thread. He focused on the band he intended to gift, the essence of his partner, fixating on completing the beautiful tradition. With a hand, he removed the precious ring from its box. And then shakily, softly, reverently, did he grab Miles’ hand with one of his own, and slip the band onto his finger with the other.

He shivered at the sight, at the ring finally resting in its proper place. But he barely had time to process before Miles began to mirror, slipping the opposing ring onto his tanner finger in return.

And then red truly danced with blue. Blue completely intertwined with red. Two colors dazzled and sparkled beside each other- just as they had for years, and would continue to do so for the rest of their days.

Phoenix could do nothing but stare for what seemed like an eternity, his trance only broken by Miles bringing their hands upward. Once more did he press soft kisses to Phoenix’s fingers, the weight of which was far greater now. The defense had no choice but to articulate.

“I’m...I’m going to marry you.”

Phoenix let out another round of gasping breaths, and was sure his smile was going to split his cheeks as he uttered the dreamlike phrase once more.

“Oh my God...I’m going to...marry you, Miles...We’re engaged.”

“We are...” the prosecutor quietly reaffirmed.

Shivering laughs trembled both bodies, before Phoenix gently pried his hands free. He immediately reached to frame Miles’ face, and the new glisten to his finger forced further cascades down his cheeks.

“We did it...” he laughed.

And the expression that had washed over his fiancé’s face was like nothing he had ever seen. It seemed to carry a level of adoration he didn’t even know existed. It seemed to be comprised of more warmth than that of the sun on the horizon. It seemed to be an expression entirely reserved for him.

All of which told Phoenix that he had, in fact, made the best decision of his life. Though, the following murmured word from his beloved hammered it in, cemented them fully on the unified plane.

“Finally...”

61 notes · View notes