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satorusugurugurl · 7 months

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Brat tamer and daddy kink with geto, gojo and toji please 🙏🔥

Brat Tamer’s

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, FAB!R

Word count: 4,982 (I got really into it)

Warning: unprotected sex, degrading, overstimulating, public sex, dirty talk!

A/N: I literally loved this, I got so excited. I stayed up late editing it when I need to be up in four and a half hours! Please enjoy!

Summary: JJK men and how they fuck the bratty attitude out of you! 🥵

Gojo Satoru:

Rage boiled in the pit of your stomach as your leg bounced. The foul mood you were in wasn't because you woke up early on a Saturday or due to you sleeping on the couch. No, your sour mood is sponsored by your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.

The bastard had been the biggest twat tease the previous day. All Friday long, he sent you the most provocative, smutty, thirsty texts the world had ever seen. Sexting, who the hell even sexted anymore?

Gojo Satoru did.

SATORU: damn, I'm thirsty. 😩

YOU: Buy a drink then? 🤨

SATORU: but they don't have what I want. .🥲

YOU: How could the vending machine be out of Cola?

SATORU: I don't want soda. I want that dripping pussy in my face. I wanna lap my tongue up and down, swirl it around your clit, and fuck you with my tongue until you cum on my mouth. Then I'll do it again, this time flattening my tongue over your cunt, encouraging you to use me how you want. In whatever way, Y/N, 🥵 I need you to sit on my face. I promise you the second you get home; I'm going to live between your thighs for the night. 😏❤️🌶

The conversation progressively got hotter and hotter until you found yourself clenching your thighs together to stop the insistent throbbing. God, it was so erotic. You loved reading his nasty words and were disappointed when they abruptly stopped. Maybe he’d taken pity on you, giving you a break to enjoy your dinner with Shoko and Utahime.

You were stripping the second you got home, kicking your shoes off, tossing your keys in the bowl by the door. If you knew how to teleport like Gojo, you would have been in the bedroom instantly. Alas, you had to run for it, sliding inside, hoping to find a naked Satoru with a rose between his teeth. Instead, you saw him snoring, drooling all over his pillow.

He had teased you all day, ruined a perfectly good pair of panties, to end up passing out on you!?

Sure, he was the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer of the modern age, and he needed to get all the rest he could. It didn’t help that he had been on a long mission two days beforehand. But he could have rested after he fulfilled his nasty promises. But no, the bastard fell asleep on you.

“Morning Sweetheart.” Gojo walked into the kitchen with a yawn, oblivious to your rage. “Man, I slept like a baby.” He glanced around, searching for you, as he scratched at his stomach.

“Aw,” he stiffened at the tone of your voice, “did my old man sleep well?” Gojo watched as you lifted your coffee cup to your mouth, taking a long sip and glaring daggers at him.

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Old man.” You snapped before taking another sip.

Gojo scoffed, grabbing his mug from the cabinet and filling it with hot coffee, fixing it with five cubes of sugar and sweet vanilla creamer. “Why the hell are you calling me that for?” There was only a two-year difference between you two. So he assumed that you woke up in a bad mood or you were being a brat at eight in the morning.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” Sarcasm laced your voice, “I assumed you turned into an old man last night. Seeing that you passed out at nine o'clock last night. After you were a twat tease all day! You know, promising to eat my pussy in Ultra 4K HD.”

Oooh, that's why you were so pissed off.

“First off, relax; I was so tired when I got home. I just intended to nap, but it turned into an eleven-hour nap. And, you know I'll make it up to you, princess.”

“No, you won't.”

Your blatant defiance had Satoru choking on his coffee. He sputtered and hacked into his elbow as tears flooded his eyes. The entire time he was fighting for his life, you watched with a smirk. Knowing you were the cause of that reaction.

“I'm sorry, I must have misheard you.” Gojo took a deep breath, clearing his throat. “It sounded a lot like you just told me no. As in, you don’t want me to eat your pussy.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pressing your breasts together. “You heard correctly.”

“Ha,” Satoru shook his head, leaning forward as he rested both hands on the kitchen counter. “Good one brat. You and I both know you’re lying. Keep it up. See what happens.”

“What.” You said, tilting your head. Assuming you hadn't heard him, Satoru opened his mouth to repeat himself. “Ever.” You finish with a smirk.

Now, that was annoying. Satoru’s blood was boiling as he realized you woke up and chose violence because he didn’t eat you out last night. Annoying as it was, he’d be lying if he said your attitude had his cock twitching inside his pajamas. Two could play in this game. He'd give you one last chance to behave before he taught you a lesson you would never forget.

“You’re going to listen to me carefully, baby.” You whined as he grabbed your face in his right hand, squeezing your cheeks gently, forcing a pout to form. “You’re going to be a good girl, and stop being a brat.”

Releasing his grip on your face, Satoru grinned, pleased with the pout that remained despite not forcing It. Now that you had been properly scolded, he could enjoy his coffee without choking to death. But before he could sip the sugary goodness, your pot twisted into a sly grin.

“Make me.”

Satoru’s eyes darkened before gently placing his cup down. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as he walked around the counter, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. He dragged you across the floor, which was easy, thanks to his curse technique. He whistled a cheerful tune as he entered your bedroom.

Which is where you had been for the last hour.

“S-Satoru!” You cried out, eyes wide as your back arched off the bed.

Satoru pushed your trembling thighs further apart. His tongue gently flickered at your abused and throbbing clit as his fingers curled inside of you. His cerulean eyes never once broke contact with your face in the hour he's been nestled between your thighs. Satoru was a man on a mission. A specific mission that was going to involve you crying from overstimulation by the time he was through with you.

“Too much!” You squeaked as his lips sealed around your clit, sucking on it. “Satoru! Satoru, please!”

He ignored you, promptly sucking harder as his fingers fastened their pace, curling against the spongy spot inside you. With a strangled yelp, you threw your head back, trembling hands reaching for his soft, snowy locks. You yanked him back. Away from your pussy with all the strength you could muster.

Satoru could have easily swatted you away, but he decided to be nice, allowing you to pull him away from your dripping sex. God, he looked as feral as you felt. Eyes narrowed, mouth dripping with your slick, pale cheeks flushed red.

“Oh, sorry, did you say something?” His talented tongue darted out, cleaning your slick off his lips. “Sorry, I’m an ‘old man,’ so I didn't hear you.” His tongue went back to work, swirling slowly around your clit as if it were his favorite candy.

“Mnnngh!” you yelled, gripping his hair tighter, “Toru!” He still paid you no mind, focused solely on making you cum for the sixth, seventh, eighth time? You'd lost count after four. “Toru!” Your legs trembled under his relentless attack. Satoru hummed, knowing you were close. He sped his fingers up, tongue flicking madly over your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck! Ahh!” You cried out as you squirted all over his face. But the man didn't stop; he kept the same speed going. Determined to make you cry from immense pleasure.

It was getting too much to handle. Spots were forming in your vision as you convulsed under him. There might be only one way to stop this never-ending orgasm loop. One that would most likely result in you getting fucked into the mattress, but at least that way, he would leave your poor clit alone for the time being.

“D-Daddy,” you whimpered, “Daddy, please.”

Just like you knew he would, Satoru lifted his head like a puppy being called for dinner. The damn bastard had a shit-eating grin plastered over his cum drenched face. “Oh, you called baby girl?~” His head rested against your thigh while slowly keeping his fingers moving inside of you.

“Nngh, oh fuck, I’m sorry, Daddy, please, I need your cock.” You cried out in relief, relaxing as he sat up, leaning back on the heels of his feet. “Daddy~ daddy, please.”

You knew he couldn’t take much more of this of the endless foreplay himself. His cock was straining against his pajama pants, a small wet spot forming against the gray fabric. Indeed, he was done punishing you. It had been a long, amazing, but still exhausting hour.

“Please, what? Use your words, beautiful.”

“Please fuck me.”

Tilting his head, Gojo rubbed at his slick chin, pondering thought. “Fuck you? You want your sweet daddy to fuck you?”

His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, making you jerk slightly. “Yes! Please, Daddy, I'm so sorry.” Satoru hummed in satisfaction before leaning down and kissing you deeply. You moaned, and he used the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. The taste of you flooded your mouth. He always kissed you like this before he fucked you.

Finally, the torture could stop.

He hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting your hips to rest over his own. But much to your horror, he pulled back, smirking as he lifted you high and higher until your legs were over his shoulders, and his lips trailed over your inner thighs with nips and hickeys.

“T-Toru! Wait, let's be reasonable!” A pitiful squeak escaped you as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. “I-I said I was sorry, Daddy!!” Terror plastered over your face as he dropped to his knees on the ground.

“Baby girl, I am being reasonable.” He pulled your hips closer to his mouth, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. “You were so hurt and distraught over me breaking my promise last night. So I have to make it up to you. I plan to fuck you all day.” Blue eyes glimmered, half-lidded, as he stuck his tongue out, dragging it slowly over your entrance. “With my tongue.”

Before you could utter another rushed, heartfelt apology, Satoru’s mouth sealed over you again, sucking you like you were his favorite treat. At this rate, he was going to suck the soul out of your body.

Geto Suguru:

“Sorry! Sorry!” You hummed out before stopping right in front of Suguru. You made it a point to bend over, your ass brushing against his crotch. “My shoe is untied!”

Suguru cleared his throat as you pretended to tie your non-existent shoelace. “No worries.” His throat was dry, and you looked over your shoulder to find him staring directly at your ass. This was going exactly as planned!

Last weekend Gojo had asked Suguru if he was a tit or ass man. Usually, your sweet boyfriend would say something along the lines that you as a whole, was his type. But between the shots of sake and the three beers he'd chugged, he eyes you carefully in thought. His dark gaze moved from your chest before he leaned back in his chair, trying to examine the ass you were sitting on. The whole scene had your friends whistling and clapping at the way he practically undressed you in front of them.

“Ya’ know, I was a tit guy in high school.” Suguru downed another shot before he draped his arm around you, pulling you firmly against his side. “But since Y/N and I started dating, I can confidently say that I am an ass man, Satoru.”

This discovery had your curiosity peaked. So there was only one logical thing for you to do. You needed to put his statement to the test. For science, of course. Nothing more than science.

Your first experiment was to see how he responded to you flashing him. When he had just gotten home from the gym, you welcomed him back by lifting your shirt showing him your breasts. In all of his sweaty glory, Suguru didn’t miss a beat. He dropped his gym bag, tossed you over his shoulder, and carried you to the bedroom, where he got his cool-down workout in.

That was the typical when he saw your boobs. Suguru loved your breasts. He loved to caress them, hold them, and bury his face in them after a long and stressful mission. In all of your previous relationships, no one enjoyed playing with your breasts as much attention as Suguru did. So to hear him say, with his own words, was a bit far-fetched.

Thus began your experiment to find out what he really was!

Throughout the day, you purposely dropped your pen, bent down to pick up your keys, and, of course, leaned over his desk in order to retrieve a paper that had mistakenly fallen into the ground. Each and every time you glanced back to look at him, to see an almost distant expression on his face as his eyes were glued to your ass.

His staring was hardly a reaction compared to you flashing him. Either he had been drunk when he answered Satoru, or you weren't putting in the effort needed to truly test him. He left you no choice but to step your antics up.

“Y/L/N-Sensei!” Itadori beamed as you carried a stack of papers into the classroom. “Do you need help with that?”

“No, I got it, Itadori!” You neatly placed the papers on the desk, grinning at Suguru, who was talking to Megumi about his stance in the earlier training. “I do need to borrow Geto, though. Sorry, guys.”

Hearing you call his name, your boyfriend turned, a soft smile gracing his gorgeous face. “Okay, class is dismissed for today. I'll see you all tomorrow.” The three first years left the opposite way that you led Suguru down.

“I needed to grab the box of paper talisman paper out of storage.” You opened the door to the storage closet. “But I can reach it.”

“So you're just using me for my height?” Suguru gasped dramatically. “Has our whole relationship been a lie, Y/N?”

With a giggle from you, Suguru stepped inside, reaching for the box on the highest shelf. Now was the perfect chance to see how he reacted to your ass. You stepped inside the closet with him. Your darling boyfriend is oblivious to your mischievous intentions.

“Oh!” Suguru turned to watch as you shut the door. He didn't get to ask what you were doing when he suddenly stiffened as you squeezed between him and the shelves. “I was wondering where they kept the extra pens!” You stood on your tiptoes, rubbing your ass on his crotch. Suguru hissed, and you could feel his cock twitch in his pants.

“Sorry! I just!” Standing on your tiptoes, you barely reached for the box of pens before dropping down. You repeated this action several times, practically dry-humping against him while attempting to maintain your innocence. “They're just so far away!”

When you reached your fingers again, grazing the box, Suguru’s hand clamped down on your wrist, squeezing it. His labored breathing hit the back of your neck as his cock throbbed hard against your ass. The air inside the closet was suddenly ten times hotter and stuffier than it had been seconds ago.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” Suguru snarled, his lips pressing against the back of your neck as her hands grabbed the hem of your pants. “You’ve been bending over in front of me all day on purpose. Are you seriously trying to test me?”

You were suddenly pushed against the shelves with one of his hands as the other yanked your pants and panties down, pooling them at your knees. “What are you talking about?” You attempt to come off as confused, but hearing the zip to his uniform being dragged down had you shivering.

“Oh, don't play dumb. You were testing to see if I was an ass man or not, weren't you?” He ends his question with a smack against your ass. “That's why you kept bending over, you know, like a brat.”

“Still don't know what you mean.” Your act is slipping up as you hear Suguru spit behind you. A second later, his hot, spit-slicked cock grinds perfectly over your ass. “Oh shit~”

Sugar kneads at your ass, thrusting his cock between your cheeks. “You can keep playing the innocent act, but we both know you're a terrible liar, Y/N.” He adjusts himself, allowing his cock to move further down, his tip teasing the entrance to your pussy.

“I am? Man, what gave me away?”

“Your shoes don't have laces.” With a sudden and sharp thrust, Suguru slams inside of you, his hand clamping down over your mouth, muffling your scream of pleasure. “Silly little brat, you wanted this as much as me, Your pussy is soaking wet for me, and I didn't even get a chance to touch your pretty cunt.”

You scream into his palm as he starts thrusting into you, the shelves shaking, dust flying around the two of you. As boxes and papers fall to the ground, Suguru picks up his pace. Your pussy is so tight and wet. It feels so good to be buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck~ fuck your pussy is the best,” Suguru whispers slowly in your ear, his dark hair falling over your shoulder as he leans fully against you. “This is like my own personal treat for being good and not fucking you in front of the entire school.”

His words, the tone of his gravely voice, and the mere force he was fucking you at. It had you hurdling to the edge so fast you felt like a teenager again. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you convulsed around his cock, cumming so hard you thought you might pass out. And Geto, he wasn't better off. You'd been rubbing up his cock off and on all day, the ultimate edging.

His teeth dug into your shoulder to silence his moans and whimpers as his cock throbbed inside of you, filling you with his seed. You breathed heavily against his palm, gasping for air as he dropped his hand from your mouth to your chin. He turned you to face him, kissing you ever so gently as he slowly pulled out of you.

“We need to go home.” With shaking hands, you tried to pull your clothes back up. “I’m going to fuck you for each time you ground that sweet ass against me today.” Suguru kindly decided to help you with your pants, pulling them up and fastening them secure. “Hope you're ready for a long night, Princess.” His hand slapped your ass as you both headed out of the closet. “Cause that ass is mine.”

In conclusion, you discovered the truth: Geto Suguru was, in fact, an ass man.

Toji Fushiguro:

“We’re having dinner with a potential client tonight. Make sure you wear something nice. Not like your usual t-shirts and shit.”

His words rang through your ears repeatedly as you eyed yourself in the bathroom mirror. You'd show him something nice. The asshole dared to tell you to wear something nice?! Mr. Sweatpants himself? What a dickhead!

After he took off for work, you made it your life's sole mission to get dolled up to a t. If he wanted to impress your potential client, you'd make their fucking jaws drop. You'd be so hot; they'd take the two of you on as clients just in the hopes of seeing you in all your fuckin’ glory!

“I assure you, my partner and I can immediately get the job done for you,” Toji said, sipping on the red wine his potential client so graciously bought.

“You both came highly recommended; I look for— my God.” the elderly man perked up. “What a stunning woman.”

Toji scoffed into his glass; he didn't care to look at other women. You were the only one he had eyes for. You were the only woman that mattered. He did, however, pay attention to the older man’s eyes. They were following whatever poor woman was walking about. Watching the man in his eighties undress them with their beady eyes was a sickening sight.

“Oh!” The man in front of Toji perked up, straightening his tie. “She's coming this way, Fushiguro.”

The sound of high- heels clicking against the tile didn't have Toji intrigued in the slightest. But the smell of your perfume and the sudden silence had him whirling around in his chair. “So sorry to keep you both waiting.” You stood there behind Toji’s chair.

Your makeup was done, and your Y/H/C hair was styled expertly. Toji had seen you dolled up countless times before. That wasn’t new. What was new was the super short red dress you were wearing. It clung to your curves, leaving hardly anything to the imagination. Your breasts bounced, threatening to pop out as you bowed at the elderly client. When you straightened your back, Toji felt the vein in his forehead throb as your dress, which went up to your mid-thigh, rode up slightly, showing off more of your smooth skin.

While you looked absolutely delicious, this was not what he had meant when he told you to dress nice.

“Please don't apologize, darling.” The soon-to-be-dead client motioned to the chair next to Toji. “Please sit. What would you like to drink?”

“Wine, please.” Toji gritted his teeth, eyes constantly darting from you to the client.

Throughout appetizers and drinks, you made sure to lean over, stretch, and emphasize your body in every way you could. In doing so, you caught the attention of passing patrons, the disgusting man in front of you, and your boyfriend, who was fuming with anger. Okay, yes, this was partially his fault. He put himself directly in this situation. Next time, he’ll know better than to tell you what to do.

When they brought out the main dishes, the elderly man licked his lips, holding a fork out to you, noodles expertly wrapped around it. “Have you ever tried the pesto pasta here? It's my absolute favorite. Give it a try, Y/N!~” Fighting back a grimace of disgust, you put on a smile. You leaned over the table, opening your mouth wide as you took the food directly off his fork.

While the act of being fed by a perverted old man was disgusting, the delicious flavor of chicken, pesto, and garlic made up for it. It was so decadent that you moaned as you swallowed the bite. Hearing a sound that was for his ears only made Toji stand up, his chair falling back from the speed of his actions. His face focused on you before he grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N! Pesto has pine nuts in it!” There was a tone of faux worry in his voice.

“Huh?” Cocking an eyebrow, you were about to tell him you knew that. When he scooped you up into his arms.

“You idiot! You're allergic to nuts!”

The clanking of silverware caught your attention, and your eyes peered back at the table. The pervert looks pale, terror painting his face. “I'm so sorry! Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No! I have an Epi-pen in my car. I’m sorry, but we need to leave right now.”

“N-No! Please don’t; we can reschedule for another day.”

The old man watched as Toji hurriedly carried you out of the dining area of the restaurant, not once hearing the “Not a damn chance we’re doing this again.” From your very pissed-off boyfriend.

Toji suddenly turned and carried you down a hall before B-lining it into a family restroom. He plopped you down on the counter before locking the door behind him. His worried expression melted away, replaced with a darkened, more devious, rageful stare. The sheer power of his stare had you tugging your dress down in an attempt to cover your thighs. Something you had refused to do throughout the dinner.

“Oh no, you don't,” Toji’s large hand smacked yours away, “you’re the one that dressed like a slut, you might as well embrace the look.”

A shuddering breath escaped you as his fingers slipped under the skin-tight fabric, pushing it up to rest above your hips. The whole time his fingers grazed over your skin, you could see the anger in his eyes turning from a simmer to a boil in real-time. You were suddenly regretting your choices.

“Toji, we’re in a family restroom. Someone could hear us.”

“Oh? Suddenly, you're taking note of people noticing you? You didn't seem to mind when that dirtbag was eyefucking you all night. You left very little to his imagination.”

“Well, you told me to wear something nice, so I did.”

“The only place this slutty outfit is good for is in my bed.” He forced your thighs open wide, his fingers curling under the lacey hem of your panties.

His fingers were warm and oh so close to your throbbing sex. “Toji, they’ll hear us.” You scolded in a hushed tone, eyes darting towards the door leading out to a full restaurant of people.

Toji hummed and ripped the flimsy fabric of your underwear in half, causing you to gasp. “Then I guess you’ll be needing a gag.” Grabbing the back of your neck, Toji slammed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

God, he tasted like rich wine as his tongue slid into your mouth. You followed his lead, massing your tongue against his as he worked at his belt and pants. He deepened the kiss before pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your dripping sex, coating your slick all over his shaft.

“Toji~” You hummed happily as the tip of his cock popped into you. Your hum slowly grew into a whine that worked its way up the back of your throat.

“I don't think so.” Your boyfriend pushed further into you. Using his free hand, Toji squeezed your cheeks in his hand, forcing your mouth open. “You were just saying someone could hear us.” He shoved your ruined panties in your mouth. “So shut the fuck up slut.”

Tasting yourself, combined with his cock slowly thrusting into you, made you cry out around your panties. Your hands shot up, gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. The sting of pain urged Toji on as he slammed into you harder.

“I know I told you to dress nice, but I take that back.” His fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer, pushing his dick firmly against your cervix. “You flaunting your body like that tonight made me realize I don't want anyone lookin’ at ya’ like that” His thrusts turned harder and fast, his cock pressing into your cervix over and over again. “You only dress like that for me, Y/N; you’re my slut.”

Rolling your eyes back, you mumbled some unintelligible response back to him. Hearing the lack of words coming from you had Toji smirking against your neck as he nipped and sucked at your sensitive skin. Bite marks and hickey’s littered your skin, marking you as his. If you even dared to wear something so revealing again, anyone who would dare look at you would know you were taken.

Taken and thoroughly fucked.

Being marked, having Toji fuck you into place. God, it was too much, way too much for you to handle. Your pussy started throbbing, clamping around his cock, as drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth. Wincing at the sting from your nails, Toji released himself from your neck. Tilting his head to the side, he chuckled.

“Awww~ is my little slut going to cum?~” Nodding your head, Toji licked his lips. “You gonna cum all over Daddy’s fat cock slut?” Another nod, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Then what the fuck are ya waitin’ for?” Snarling next to your ear Toji fucked you as hard as he could.

That sent you over the edge. You screamed around your panties cumming all over his perfect fat cock. “That’s it, that's a good fucking girl~ cum on my fat cock.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “Cum on my cock, cum on my cock. That's it~! Gonna fill you up, take it, take it slut.” Toji’s head tilted back as he roared, pumping rope after rope of hot cum into you.

He remained like that, holding you on the counter, buried inside of you. Once his cock softened, Toji pulled out of you. You dug your panties out of your mouth. You were holding the spit-coated fabric in your hands. You looked between them and your boyfriend, who was stuffing his dick back into his pants.

“Who knew me dressing up like this would end with mind-blowing sex?”

“End?” Your panties were snatched out of your palm. “Baby girl, we're just getting started.” he wadded up the fabric before sliding his hand between your legs. “So I'm just gonna—” you gasped as he pushed your panties inside your pussy, “keep you plugged up until I get you home.”

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pseudowho · 10 months

Text

Infiltration, Chapter Four: The Rumbling Shrine

Nanami Kento and the reader must pretend to be married to infiltrate a deadly Curse-user cult and take it down from the inside.

*SMUT/NSFW/18+ BEGINS HERE*

A slow-burn fic with fluff/comfort, angst, smut and heroics from our favourite salaryman.

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A rumble, as deep as the earth and centuries old, shook through the Shrine. The inhabitants of the Temple below treated the monstrous groan with casual indifference; a pair of caretakers barely paused in their conversation as they held wobbling effigies in place, and the cleaner grumbled as he fetched his dustpan and brush to collect the drifts of plaster tumbling from the ceiling.

Inside the Shrine, the man who had lost his wife to battle, fought the desperate fight of a man who had lost everything. Covered in blood and standing over the shattered body of a Shrine attendant, his Shikigami fled from him as an ancient roar shook his bones. Devastated by his abandonment, The Fathers restrained him once more as he cried out, thrashing, legs flailing in a mad dance.

A second man, whose wife had forsaken him, was paralysed with terror, sweating and shaking as he stared down the barrel of a gun, knowing he was next.

As the widower was dragged, still crying out for the ghost of his wife, the rumble grew deep, and hungry.

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It felt like you had cried into Kento's chest for hours. The smears and splatters of your blood in his shirt were now watered down by your tears, pale red and sickly-looking. Patiently, and needing to hold you as much as you needed to be held, Kento stroked your hair, his chest occasionally giving low, consonant words of reassurance that you drank in, soothed.

Eventually, with a shaky sigh, you sat up, and wiped your eyes with conviction.

"I'm fine. I'm okay. I'm just...angry. Annoyed. If I'd been able to fight properly, I might have been able to take her."

Kento's frown was deep and ominous, "You shouldn't have had to. These people are monsters and I...I should have stepped in sooner," his voice grew tight. You shook your head, conviction remaining.

"You made the safest choice. I made the safest choice. If I'd have fought with my abilities, if we'd refused the fight, if you had called for help or stepped in too soon...we'd have given ourselves away. Things could have been so much worse."

Kento hadn't yet let go of you, allowing you to sit up, but still holding you tightly between his parted thighs. He looked away from you, face grim, with a thousand-yard stare. You held his face gently between your hands, pulling him back to you.

"I mean to see this through, Kento. I have to. I need to." Kento's expression grew momentarily pained as he swallowed hard, nodding.

"Anything else like that, though," he urged, "and I will end this and call for help. Whether you agree to it or not." Pausing for thought, you nodded slowly. Kento squeezed your upper arms, but let go quickly as you winced.

"Shit, I'm sorry. We need to fix you up," Kento grumbled, heading to the kitchen and searching through cabinets. Not finding what he wanted, he continued grumbling while you watched him fondly, imagining him as an old man, smitten at the thought of his liver-spotted hands and comfortable cardigans.

You crawled gingerly to your suitcase, and, grabbing your keys, hacked through a fabric panel in the casing, revealing a host of first-aid and medical supply items.

"Kento," you beckoned. He stood over you, looking down at your suitcase. His eyes crinkled at you in a soft smile.

"Clever girl," he said, kneeling and rummaging as you blushed furiously. Kento surveyed you, crouched on his haunches, his thighs looking deliciously thick as the fabric of his tuxedo stretched around them. You gulped, his eyes burning holes through your dress; your wounds were still filled with dirt and gravel. Kento cleared his throat.

"Can you get cleaned up alone, or...?" You flapped your hands at him, blush deepening as the tips of his ears turned pink. Mumbling reassurances to him, you took yourself to the shower, washing your tender wounds to the best of your ability. Your arms and legs were laden with grazes, and a huge purple bruise blossomed over your ribcage and belly. You thanked your lucky stars that you didn't have anything worse.

Wrapping yourself in a towel, you peeked out of the bathroom door. Kento looked up, waiting for you with various antiseptics and bandages. He cleared his throat again, looking down at his arrangement while he held his hand out to you. Padding over to him, blushing at your state of undress, you took his hand and he helped you to sit in front of him.

Wordlessly, Kento glanced to you for permission before starting to dab your grazes with antiseptic. Unflinching, you were used to far worse than this. Kento worked on you while you rested your chin on your knees, deep in thought.

"I...never had a chance to thank you," you said, so quiet that Kento held his breath to hear you.

"For what?"

"For getting me out that-- that day." Kento blinked, surprised that you remembered. He remembered it well-- being the First-Grade called to go and manage the Curse that had killed one Second-Grade and wounded another. Being the one to find you, slumped on the cold concrete, bloodied, clutching your best friend's mangled body while you stared lifelessly into the darkness. Being the one (his heart breaking for you, the woman he was growing to love) who had eased your friend's body out of your cold, clutching fingers, and shielded your view as the body was zipped up into black plastic. Being the one to drive you home, the car silent, rain hammering down on the windows, as orange streetlights illuminated the tears streaking down your cheeks.

Kento gulped, blinking back tears, remembering how Suguru, his lost friend, had once done that for him. Remembering Suguru's soft words of reassurance and hands clasping his upper arms tightly. Remembering how he, too, was once so close to following Suguru down a similar path, not once blaming him, but blaming the system that saw fit to sacrifice so many.

"I--" Kento's voice cracked, "I wouldn't have left you alone like that. I just wish-- I wish you'd have called me...after." He kicked himself mentally, not wanting to blame you for your self-isolation, not wanting to put himself first, "I would have been there for you. If you had wanted. I hope...I hope you know that."

You shook your head, "No. I already feel bad enough making you relive your own...losing Haibara...it wasn't fair for me to put that on you."

Kento grumbled in disagreement, "I can honestly say I've had little in the way of friends since Yuu died. You're the best...the closest friend I've had since. I'd have wanted to be there for you. I--" Kento swallowed thickly, "I still want to be there for you. As a friend, or...or anything, really."

Heat crept down the back of your neck. Was that...did he just...? Your mind reeled at the near-confession. Am I just...imagining things? Your mind worked at a hundred miles per hour.

Kento cursed himself, taking your silence as awkwardness. He moved swiftly on, "I need to look at your ribs," he said, voice tight again, "So if you get under the covers and keep your towel over your chest I can check them for breaks."

You nodded, pink cheeked, and he turned while you lay down in the futon, lower half covered by blankets and breasts loosely concealed behind your towel. With your arm over your eyes, Kento turned to take you in, his breath catching at your body, just a few thin sheets of fabric away from total exposure, in your shared bed.

You jumped when Kento's broad, warm palms flattened softly against the bruise across your ribs. You could swear you felt every inch of skin individually as his deft hands worked over your ribs, feeling for fractures. You wished his hands would work higher, and lower, fingers rolling your nipples and slipping between your legs, feeling your pulse in your clit as you prayed Kento would make a move, fully open to being taken by him, then and there, in your futon.

Kento was meticulous, his focus split between wanting to take care of you, and wanting to take care of you. He wanted to make sure your ribs weren't broken. He wanted to remove your arm from your eyes. He wanted to rub ointment into the bruising. He wanted you to watch him as he kissed down your body, his tongue settling between your legs to finally taste you. He wanted you to sigh with relief as he tended to your pain. He wanted you to sigh and pull his hair as you called his name in pleasure.

Barely able to conceal the growing stretch in his trousers, he settled for checking for fractures and dabbing ointment, but your sighs of relief still went straight through him in a way he found distractingly arousing. He stood, turning his back to you, forcing out to you: "Go and get dressed. We should get some sleep."

The air was thick between you both as you prepared for bed. Lying down together, so many words unspoken in the dark, little sleep would be had that night.

A quiet voice spoke out; "Thank you."

A warm hand reached out, small fingers clasped against it, squeezing, sharing that nothing was owed and everything was yet to play for.

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Kento and you had been left, suspiciously undisturbed, for two full days. The morning after the welcome party, a basket of treats, medicines and an apology note had been delivered to the house by the Fathers' wives. Kento had invited them in, and they had wittered sympathetically about the bruised and injured state of you, as if they hadn't been completely party to the savage beating.

Kento had been the picture of an attentive husband-- you felt, surprisingly naturally, almost as if he wasn't even acting-- and so the wives had wittered about how kind and dutiful he was, how fortunate you were, and what a lovely father Kento would make. You had demurred, agreeing with everything, and Kento hid his face in the cupboards, pretending to look for more tea.

As the wives left, you and Kento spoke, Kento locking the basket away in a cabinet with a sour look on his face.

"They really want you in their little club, don't they?" you hummed, taking a bite of your toast.

"Don't be so sure that it's only about me," Kento mused, "I actually think we may have caused a little disagreement between the Fathers that night." You tilted your head sideways, a silent gesture for Kento to continue. "Father Shinzu likened you to the Cursed-technique users of the Inumaki clan. My guess is, Father Tatsu was prioritising growing the Cult's raw strength, while Father Shinzu was interested in the potential of your technique."

"I mean, Father Shinzu's right. If we had kids, my ability with your added power behind it? Oof." You continued to eat your toast thoughtfully, while Kento imagined being surrounded by your babies, daydreaming about tiny clothes and tiny footsteps.

Kento had kept up appearances over these two days, heading out to the shops for food, talking to the residents of the village, all of whom now seemed very interested in the new couple who were madly devoted to each other, even enough to risk their lives to defend each other within this community. Word seemed to have got out that you, as a couple, should be nurtured, lest you wish to leave.

As such, Kento had returned home that afternoon with matching new gloves from the knitting woman, a full bag of shopping ("on the house" the shopkeeper insisted with a wink), an invitation to visit the Shrine, and a lot of information.

"The gossip you overheard from the tea shop ladies was accurate," Kento assured, unpacking bags while you admired the matching gloves, secretly thrilled, "the librarian up at the Temple is responsible for records of members, current and present. I imagine that would include logs on their activities, in and out of the Community. And the library is actually open to residents."

"Perfect," you chirped, clapping your hands together, "So, if we can get out some information about those outside the Community, the other sorcerers can hunt them down, and we could handle inside."

"Exactly," Kento agreed, pressing a mug of tea to your hands. Doing this, with you, felt so...natural. He had taken untold amounts of pride in taking care of you. Even better, you had happily accepted his assistance. You seemed so much brighter than you had been, just a fortnight before, when you had been given this mission. That alone, thought Kento, makes this all worth it.

The truth was, Kento had long-since been your candle in the dark. You recalled long evenings in with your deceased friend, a pizza between you, as you had poured your feelings out about Nanami Kento, and she had smiled knowingly, excited by your blossoming love. She had joked about being your Maid of Honour, you recalled with a deep pang of pain. At this moment, you wanted nothing more than for this to be real-- not as Mrs.Tsuda, but as Mrs.Nanami instead. His. And he, yours.

"Tomorrow, then," Kento spoke, sitting with you and flipping open his book, "we go to the Shrine, as invited, and then to the Library."

"You flirt with the librarian, and I gather the intel. Right."

"The librarian's a man."

"So? You don't know his taste. Don't be so narrow-minded, Kento."

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"It needs more," a furious voiced hissed in the dark, fragrant heat of the Shrine, "it grows hungrier and it angers."

"Calm yourself," a measured voice urged, soft and slow, "it is not towards us that the anger is directed." A lantern was gestured towards a deep pit dug through the ground in the middle of the Shrine, within which something huge and shapeless writhed and whispered.

"The sacrifices are sufficient. One of the shopkeepers found their protective amulet missing yesterday, and the Goddess did not even rise to seek food amongst the villagers."

Father Tatsu sneered, but quietened, satisfied. "With the backing of the Goddess, in her new vessel, our numbers will grow soon. Their children will draw from her power should the women gestate close to her." Father Shinzu nodded, smiling, placating.

"Exactly so," he pressed, "and recruitment is going well. Many approached couples are accepting our offer. And the ones who don't, well..." Father Shinzu's lantern light seemed to dim as tendrils from the pit ebbed ever closer, "...she does need feeding, after all."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You were never not excited to visit a library, but saw fit to remind yourself that today you had a plan- get in, gather intelligence, get out. Kento would occupy the librarian to give you time.

But, to begin, hand in hand in your new matching gloves, you walked together past the houses and river, through the village centre, and up a steep, winding path towards the Shrine. Away from the vestiges of Cursed-energy of other inhabitants of the village, you and Kento felt an almost overwhelming pressure of older, darker Cursed-energy wash over you as you walked up the hill.

You pushed through, your steps growing heavier, like walking through treacle. The very trees seemed to bend away from the Shrine, leaning in desperate escape, unwillingly held by their roots. You continued up the steps, but stopped, realising Kento had fallen behind.

Kento was leaned backwards against the trunk of an old tree, eyes closed and breathing through his nose. You hurried back to him, your hand gentle on his arm.

"Kento? You look pale. Do you need to go back?"

Kento shook his head slowly, trying and failing to swallow his nausea, "You're not going up there alone. I just...I feel like I've felt Cursed-energy like this somewhere before. It's..."

"...it's vile," you finished for him. Looking up towards the Shrine, eyes narrowed, you felt something huge, something corrupted within. You had to know more. You reached out for Kento's hand, plaiting your fingers through his.

"Can you make it?" You urged, apologetic. Kento blew a long breath out through pursed lips, but nodded, standing again and moving to you.

"Wait! Mr and Mrs.Tsuda! Stop!" A panicked voice beckoned you back down the steps; it was the gardener you had spoken with before, and he hobbled up the steps as fast as his arthritic knees could carry him. He reached you, breathless, smiling wanly.

"I'm afraid the Shrine is closed for visitors today," he puffed, dabbing his brow with a slightly muddy cloth, "there's quite an important ceremony going on up there. I'm sure the Fathers will be filling you all in at the weekly gathering tomorrow."

Kento bowed, thanking the gardener, and you headed together past him on your descent, feeling his eyes burning into your backs the whole way down. Rounding the corner, you and Kento shared a sideways glance, uncertain but foreboding.

You sighed, in silent dread of things to come. From the way Kento squeezed your hand, his thumb stroking over the back of it occasionally, he felt the same. He seemed lost in deep thought. He was, in fact, deeply troubled, desperately hunting through memories to find where he had felt Cursed-energy like that before.

"To the library, then," you offered weakly as Kento hummed his assent. Distracted by a fresh aim, Kento nodded confidently, looking down at you.

Kento stopped walking as you approached the Temple doors; still holding your hand, and pulling you back to him, you bumped to a stop against his chest. He gently pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and your heart skipped a beat as his honeyed eyes crinkled at you.

"You've got this," he urged. Fingering the pen and notepad in your pocket, and nodding with a blush, your mind stuttered to a halt as Kento pressed a kiss to your forehead. You leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed, wondering how his lips would feel against your own. Unable to resist, and pulling him close, you squeezed him to ground yourself, and he chuckled, arms around you feeling so solid and warm.

The library was small, and friendly, round the back of the Temple. Shown to it by the same older woman in a kimono who had shown you to the waiting room on the first day, you greeted a few other couples who browsed the bookshelves. The librarian, a grizzled-looking elderly man with bushy eyebrows, was already lost in conversation with another couple. Holding you by the elbow, Kento pulled you behind bookshelves and leaned in to whisper.

"The librarian hasn't spotted us yet. The records room is at the back. We'll go together." Recognising that some of the other couples present were those at the spar, and leaking significant amounts of Cursed-energy, Kento felt sick with fear at the thought of you being isolated in the records room, away from him. You agreed, and, suppressing your Cursed-energy together, and stalking round the edges of the bookshelves, you approached the records room, the door slightly ajar.

"They obviously think they vet their recruits well enough," Kento murmured, slipping into the room behind you, leaving the door ajar as it had been. Kento stood at the edge of the doorway, keeping watch. The room was small, meticulously organised, with a small writing desk and a set of tin filing cabinets.

You set to work quickly, slipping the cabinets open, and ascertaining the systems in place- recruits, listed alphabetically by surname, coloured tabs attached to some, indicating a key of some kind. You flicked through, encountering a folder with a familiar name, the front of the folder now emblazoned with red stamped letters: DECEASED.

"Kento," you hissed, and he looked to you, "what was the name of that Cult member you and Gojo killed near that club?"

Kento's eyes flicked downwards for a moment, then back to you, "Matsumoto."

You nodded. The name matched. There was a yellow tab attached to the folder. Finding half a dozen other folders with yellow tabs attached, you opened them, reading neatly handwritten file notes one by one. Bingo, you thought.

Each yellow-tabbed file had notes describing where the individual had been sent for recruitment of new members. Location updates were neatly listed within the notes, most as recent as the day before. You pulled out your notebook and pen, copying the details, one by one, thorough and quick.

Kento called your name, hushed. You, distracted, didn't answer, lost in completing your note taking. Kento called your name again, hushed and frantic.

Looking up at him, you followed where he stared, alarmed and stock-still, at something small and brown on the floor. You frowned, leaning over the desk, looking closer.

"Is that...?"

"A rat," Kento finished, "A very...interested rat, with quite a lot of Cursed-energy...for a rat." Inquisitive, the rat looked at Kento, and then at you, before scurrying away out of the door of the records room.

"Shit," Kento hissed, "shit--" rushing over to you as you hurriedly packed away the files, everything in its rightful place, hiding your notebook and pen within your clothes. Kento grabbed you by the elbow, staring around the room and indecisive for a split second, before yanking you bodily into a narrow cupboard.

You squeaked as you pressed close against Kento, and the door closed with a resounding click. In the dark, the smell of stationery, paper and Kento filling your nose, your hands pressed to his chest and his knee between your legs, your heart pounded as you heard a voice start to approach the records room.

A weak band of light seeped in through a tiny window above your head, dust motes floating idly through, as you looked at Kento in alarm. Reaching out with your Cursed-technique, you felt the edge of the mind of the librarian, approaching alone, and tried to drop a thought into his mind; I'm sure it's nothing, I don't need to go and check, but the suggestion didn't take hold, slipping from the surface like oil off a hot pan, and you shook your head frantically at Kento. His eyes were wide, calculating options at a rapid pace.

"Someone in there, hmm?" The Librarian spoke to his rat, seemingly able to communicate with it in a way nobody else could, "Alright. Away with you. I'll sort it out." A small scurrying noise. Footsteps into the room, a door closing quietly.

"Oh god, I...I'm so sorry." Kento stared down at you in grim conviction, your bodies hot and pressed together. Hands hurried, Kento ran his hands through his own hair, messing it up. He loosened his tie to hang open, round his neck, and undid several buttons of his shirt, untucking it next and undoing the button and zipper of his trousers. You stared at him, mouth agape.

His hands rushed to you, sinking into your hair right to the roots and ruffling it, before reaching down and lifting your shirt as you squeaked in alarm, bra revealed and breasts almost falling free, and his hands dropped to your jeans to undo the button and unzip them, the lace of your underwear now peeking through.

Kento thrust his knee between your legs, lifting you bodily against the wall. You had a single flat second to stare into his eyes as you felt the librarian approach your door. Kento's hands gripped the sides of your face, fingers deep in your hair. He leaned in close, your hands clutching the front of his shirt now. His hot breaths mingled with your own.

Kento kissed you, hot and desperate, his tongue parting your lips, as the cupboard door clicked open.

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Chapter Five: Breaking Point, link HERE!

@angelofthorr @nn-hh192 @vxmethyst @moonmalice @daisynik7 @heyitsmirae @black-swan-blog27 @shamelessreaderthere @orikuu

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hismourningflower · 6 months

Text

YOU'RE NOT HER | genshin impact fanfiction. zhongli x gn!reader — heavy angst, hanahaki disease, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood & gagging (almost vomit), death, ‘unrequited’ love

idle chatter. this is a reupload from my old blog so if you want to argue that i'm stealing, i'm literally robbing myself <3 library waiting list. @lovingluxury @dumbificat @starryshinyskies @ryuryuryuyurboat @ainescribe @bfjax @soleillunne @sangoqueenkoko

aventurine's addition. "alexi, darling, don't forget to link 'you should have been her' for the readers. it is the infamous second part, after all."

oh that man, that gorgeous, benevolent man you’d fell in love with all those moons ago; with dark hair that fades into a glowing orange, resemblant of the sunset and his own geo vision. you had fell in love, yes - you thought he had too. the thought crosses your mind whenever he’s not by your side, not within your grasp like he usually is. typically, the man was serving his job at the wangsheng funeral parlour as a consultant.

you grimace when the tight feeling in your ribcage suffocates you. it’s getting stronger as time goes on, knocking the breath right out of your lungs and leaving you hacking up blood into a white handkerchief. zhongli had expressed no ends of concern about the situation when he’d find the bloodied handkerchiefs scattered around your shared home, ushering you to doctor baizhu as soon as possible.

you had begged baizhu not to utter a word of your condition to zhongli. he returned your pleads with a sorrowful look.

how could your love be so unrequited? had you been the only one true to your word this whole time? the mere thought stings at your eyes, tears threatening to spill as you shakily wash the dishes. zhongli isn’t home, not for a few more hours. he said he had business to attend to - that meant it wasn’t work related. was he cheating? you shake the sour thought away from your head, scowling.

you wonder if the oh-so-wise man could ever read the wrinkles appearing on your skin, aging you with every passing concern that you don’t voice aloud, with every day that goes by where you’re suffocating from the inside out. he never mentions it, perhaps he simply does not care. you feel the knot in your throat, sickening as you gag and splutter into the soapy water of the sink. you keep gagging, the knot doesn’t budge and you’re filled with an overwhelming sense of nausea.

your body grows tired. you slip down to your knees, banging elbows and other limp limbs against kitchen cabinets as you go down. finally, with one last cough, the knot exits your mouth. it falls to the wood floorboards beneath you, slimy and covered in blood but undoubtedly recognised as a glaze lily. its petals are shut, you understand that there is no music, no lullaby to be heard to lull the glaze lily to bloom. it’s an ancient flower, one you always used to admire before this curse laid upon you.

the front door to your house opens, keys jingling in a specific man’s gloved hands as he enters. you hurry to throw the glaze lily out of the kitchen window, submerging your hands in the sink once more as the metallic taste of blood and lingering aftermath of a floral tang swarms your mouth. you hold your breath, hoping you didn’t have the appearance of someone who had just coughed up a flower so violently.

a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, suddenly you’re hit with the faint smell of aged wine and familiar scent of freshly dug earth. you smile at the thought, leaning back into his chest despite the pain tearing at your lungs and the burning sensation left behind in your throat.

“you’ve been coughing again—” zhongli’s voice reverberates close to your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin and your eyes raise from the dirty water to your reflection in the kitchen window, where zhongli’s warm amber eyes are staring at you so deeply.

“it’s okay, my love, i promise,” you lie through your teeth, hoping the man sincerely couldn’t read through you the way he used to, “this time it was a smaller amount than the last…”

you try to sound cheerful in your approach to the topic, careful to maintain that personality he’d apparently fell in love with one day in liyue harbour. zhongli makes a noise - is he doubting you? you watch as a gloved hand raises, nearing your face before his thumb wipes gently at a trickle of blood leading from the corner of your lips.

“i’ll speak to doctor baizhu in the morning,” zhongli states firmly, you almost bite back the words that taste bitter about him ‘caring’ for you, “perhaps you need a higher dose of your medication.”

the medication in question surely had been a ruse to fool the man, though you did not expect it to have worked. changsheng had uttered that you could not leave the bubu pharmacy without some form of medication, it’d look absurd in the eyes of the wangsheng funeral parlour consultant. in agreement, baizhu had qiqi mix violetgrass powder with sugar - the instructions were simple, mix it into the hot tea you’d drink with zhongli every evening.

it was sweet, not at all bitter and the scent of violetgrass made it bearable. apparently the inclusion of herbal properties was enough to fool your dearest partner or so you thought.

—

it’s hard to understand the fine line between a lie and a truth when the past few months, you’d been dating a man for someone whomst he was not. it was a struggle to understand the situation but it kept you up for endless nights, counting stars and tending to the numerous flora you’d planted in the garden underneath the moonlight - courtesy of your friend the traveler for appearing with so many countless seeds of blooms from across teyvat.

yet as you sit on the grass, staring at the pile of dead - and dying - glaze lilies you had acquired, the stars twinkling endlessly above you, you understood why he’d done it. he was judicious, hoping to protect you from his past yet keep you as his future. the thought made that pain in your chest tighten. you let out a futile whimper into the quiet night.

as you ponder zhongli’s status as liyue’s archon - the geo archon of all people, you begin to question your previous doubts. your breaths become struggled, your chest heaving as you lay on your back for some relief. trembling fingertips brush amongst blades of grass, hoping for a distraction as tears spill down your cheeks.

liyue is a beautiful country with vast mountains and yellowed plains that seem to stretch endlessly. its civilisation had become fruitful at the expense of liyue harbor, bustling with trade and the thing your partner had appeared to love the most; contracts. he has every right to be proud of the nation liyue had built to this day, despite claiming that he’d ultimately retired - “the people can do without me, they’ve proved that much.”

blood trickles from your mouth but it’s not gentle, it’s a rush, like a waterfall as it spills down the sides of your face and pools on the grass below you. it’s littered in an array of blue and white petals, matching that of glaze lilies - a flower you’d grown to hate. you struggle to get oxygen into your lungs with the rising level of blood that doesn’t dissipate from your parted lips, suffocating you as you try to no ends to breathe through your nose.

that is, if there was room in your lungs for such oxygen. twists and turns of branches and roots that climb to the walls of your organs, painting them with glaze lilies and filling them with fallen petals every time a flower wilts from the unreasonable conditions inside your body.

you’re proud of liyue; the magnificent, beautiful nation of geo that you got to experience in all of its glory. zhongli often times referred to liyue with feminine pronouns and as the light dies from your eyes and your chest ceases to rise, you can only think one thing with your last dying breath.

you’re not her.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

#alexi writes 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 #zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli #zhongli angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin x reader

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quintinh43 · 6 months

Note

Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold.

With Nico hischier!!

Thank you for requesting 🥰 I know yall probably wanted to see nico taking care of reader, but as yall know I'm a slut for reader taking care of the boys and this just felt so perfect.

Nico was arguably the most stubborn mother fucker you had ever have the pleasure of meeting in your entire damn life. He was strong and kind and loving. He prioratized everyone before himself. Whether it be you, his family, his team, or a random fucking stranger on the street.

Which is how he ended up with the fucking plague. (It wasn't the plague, but your dramatics tended to get the better of you when you were mad at your boyfriend.)

"Nico Hischier, get your ass back in bed before I douse you with chloroform," you threatened, pushing his chest firmly back towards the bedroom.

"I'm fine, schatz-" he was cut off by a coughing fit that had him doubling over. Your demeanor did a complete 180° as you stood beside him, rubbing his back soothingly and muttering sweet words.

"Seriously nico, my love," you say, cupping his face between both hands after his coughing fit had passed, "you need rest,"

"But the team-"

"The team will be fine. They are in good hands. Plus, the faster you rest up, the faster you can get back to it." You say, stroking your thumbs over his cheekbones. He's burning up, and it makes your heart pang in your chest.

"But Schatz i- "

"Nico, please." You beg with a sigh, "if not for your sake, then for mine, so I'm not worried about you?"

Nico concedes with a sigh, walking back to the bedroom, "Let it be known this is to ease your worries and, not because I am sick,"

You roll your eyes fondly, tucking him into bed, "Of course, my love. Thank you for resting, for me" you plant a tender kiss on his forehead.

"Schatz! Dont kiss me, what if you my germs?" He says hoarsely, trying to fight off another coughing fit.

You cross your arms, staring down at him smugly, "I thought you weren't sick?" You tease.

He pales, realizing his admission. He opens his mouth to try and form an excuse but breaks out coughing again. You shake your head and brush his head back from his forehead. "I'm going to get you some cough medicine."

Nico tried to protest, but he's too busy hacking his lungs out. You wince and hurry to the kitchen, scrambling through the medicine cabinet for the cough syrup. You grab a bottle of water and Gatorade and go back to the bedroom, where, thankfully, Nico's coughing fit is over.

Setting everything on the night stand you pour the cough syrup into the spoon and feed it to him gently.

"Egh," he sticks out his tongue in disgust. You can't help but giggle.

"I'm gonna make some fresh ginger tea and some soup, and you'll be right as rain in no time, ok honey?" You say smoothing the crease between his eyebrows.

Nico has given up the tough guy act. He nuzzels his head against your hand, and you place another kiss on his forehead, much to his disdain. "Do you want me to turn on a movie?"

Nico shakes his head, "I just want you," he says tugging on your arm.

"I know, honey, I know," you coo, "As soon as I'm done making you soup, ok?"

"Ok, don't take too long," he flashes his infamous puppy dog eyes, and you're practically melting at the seams. "Keep drinking lots of liquids, ok?"

He nods, "And I'm right in the kitchen, so just shout if you need anything,"

He nods again, and you press one last kiss to his forehead before turning on 101 Dalmatians for him on the TV.

The soup doesn't take long. It's your mom's famous chicken noodle soup recipe. You ladle the soup into a bowl and grind fresh ginger, turmeric, cinnamon, and honey into a paste and fill the rest of the cup with hot water.

Nico looks worse than before. His skin is pale and clammy, There's a pile of tissues on the nightstand. His nose looks red and irritated, and he's sniffling consistently. He has the duvet pulled all the way up to his chin, and it's tucked around his shoulders to keep the cold out. Your poor Nico.

You set the soup on the nightstand, along with the tea, and gather his pile of tissues to throw them out. "Come on, Nico, sit up for me," you nudge gently.

"Can't Schatz," he murmurs "too cold,"

You pad to the closet with a sigh and pull out one of Nicos fleece hoodies. "Put this on, baby." You say handing it to him. He reluctantly removes himself from his blanket cocoon and pulls the hoodie over his head. He takes the bowl of soup gratefully, and you slip under the blankets beside him, curling against his side.

"Thank you, my love," he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

You wrinkle your nose, "Ew, I don't want your germs Neeks!" You squeak, dramatically rubbing his kiss off your forehead.

He chuckles and then coughs. After he finishes his soup and complains the entire time he drinks the tea, the two of you fall asleep curled into one another. And if a week a later Nico is the one spoon feeding you medicine, and disposing of your snotty tissues well...

That's what love is.

#guess who's still not doing her assignment 🤪#feeling silly goofy #its due in an hour!#and instead here i am!#nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nh13 #nhl imagines #nhl blurb #nico hischer blurb #nico hischer imagine #hes so precious

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https-furina · 1 year

Text

✎ you’re not her. ft. zhongli x fem!reader content. heavy angst, hanahaki disease, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood & gagging (almost vomit), death, ‘unrequited’ love. w.c. tba.

you should have been her — part two.

you had begged baizhu not to utter a word of your condition to zhongli. he returned your pleads with a sorrowful look.

“it’s okay, my love, i promise,” you lie through your teeth, hoping the man sincerely couldn’t read through you the way he used to, “this time it was a smaller amount than the last…”

it was sweet, not at all bitter and the scent of violetgrass made it bearable. apparently the inclusion of herbal properties was enough to fool your dearest partner or so you thought.

—

you’re not her.

#꒰꒰・♡ cold cases #https-furina #zhongli #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli angst #genshin #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact angst

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ninsletamain · 8 months

Text

Fluffbruary Day 6: tie | embarrassment | dessert

My contribution to RebelCaptain Fluffbruary PLUS @quarantineddreamer's super ultra amazing fic addition below the cut!!!

The lines of code on the screen were no longer making sense. Somewhere between coffees 4 and 5 of the day they had slipped from Jyn’s grasp, gone from familiar symbols to something more akin to ancient hieroglyphics–as sure a sign as any that it was long-past time for her to take a break from her assignment.

Reaching her arms skyward–tight knots in the muscles of her shoulders and along her spine protesting–Jyn glanced blearily at the alarm clock that perched neatly on the corner of the desk.

Shit. Was that really the time? She scrambled to her feet, socks slipping on the linoleum floor, and threw her hair quickly into a bun. (Or what she hoped would pass for one anyways.)

Pants. I need pants. Jyn cast about the room, throwing the covers of the bed back, checking over the back of the roller-chair she’d spent the day–no, longer than that apparently–glued to, but found nothing.

She could have sworn she had at least dropped a pair of sweatpants at the end of the bed at some point…

Cassian must have tidied up before he left (the neat freak); she hadn’t even noticed. That happened sometimes: the computer consuming her when she was locked onto a particular idea. But it shouldn’t have happened today. Today she had planned to wrap up her coursework early, surprise him…

Okay screw the pants, Jyn decided, marching from the room towards the kitchen with all the determination of a soldier approaching the battlefield.

(If a soldier’s uniform was your boyfriend’s oversized, university sweatshirt and the fight ahead was the arduous task of preparing a meal.)

It took her more than a few tries to find everything–despite how organized Cassian kept his kitchen cabinets–but before too long Jyn was staring down at the black, glinting surface of a flawlessly seasoned cast iron pan and the looming depths of a large pot, a box of spaghetti, its matching jar of sauce, and an assortment of meat and vegetables thrown on the counter beside them.

“I’ve got this,” Jyn muttered to herself, eyeing the recipe she’d taped to the fridge like it might grow fangs and snap at her. (Or catch fire and nearly burn the place down as had happened on her most recent foray into chefdom). “You’ve hacked into government systems before,” she continued. “This will be easy compared to that. A piece of cake, or a pot of pasta.” Hopefully anyways.

She checked the oven clock. If she stood any chance of getting this done before Cassian (Impossibly-Punctual) Andor came home she had to start now.

The empty apartment should have been quiet, peaceful. Instead, it suddenly seemed impossibly loud, noises swelling in her ears the longer she stood staring at the array of ingredients and tools––footsteps from the neighbor above, the distant rumble of a washing machine next door, the clicking of the fridge beside her, all clamoring in some insane harmony.

The longer she stood there waiting (for what, she had no idea) the more power the sounds seemed to hold, quick to dredge up each and every anxious thought she had been so diligently shoving to the furthest corners of her mind since Cassian had told her of his plans to travel to Yavin…

When he cooked, Cassian always had music playing. Maybe that would help. Drown out the worry and the fear.

Jyn pulled her phone from the pocket of the red hoodie and tapped a playlist at random. Something upbeat began playing, muffled through the fabric as she tucked the phone back into the pocket, rolled up the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt, and drew a deep breath. “Alright, here goes nothing…”

Turning down the hallway that led to his apartment, Cassian smelled something…interesting.

He tried to pin down what it was. Starch, yes. Tomatoes, yes. Onions and garlic, most likely. But then there were other unexpected notes, the heat of what might have been chili powder tickling at his nostrils, growing stronger with each step closer he got to his door, and maybe the cheese he was smelling was parmesan or pecorino? The combination wasn’t exactly bad, just off–out of balance.

He thought for sure it was one of the neighbors; maybe Mrs. McCleod experimenting again–after all, she had stopped him just last week to ask him about his favorite market for finding fresh produce.

But as he passed by Mrs. McCleod’s apartment, he noticed the crack under the door was dark, a small pile of mail collecting beneath her welcome mat. She was probably away visiting her niece again. Which meant that the smell was most likely emanating from the door at the end of the hall.

His door.

Cassian tugged his tie looser, a warmth kindling in his stomach, a smile slowly spreading across his face; Jyn.

He’d insisted she should stay at his apartment while he was gone–enjoy some solitude away from distracting roommates and loud neighbors–but he hadn’t been entirely certain she would take him up on it. She’d given him a strange look at the suggestion (despite the fact that after nearly a year of dating, she seemed to spend more time in his apartment than her own) and returned to her keyboard, completely absorbed in the endless numbers and symbols flashing wildly across the computer screen at her command.

The reaction hadn’t been a total shock to him. Jyn had been unusually quiet ever since he’d first mentioned his job interview in Yavin. He’d tried to tell himself she was just preoccupied with the workload associated with the final semester before she earned her degree, but deep down he knew that she was likely asking herself the same questions as he was: If I get this job, what happens to us?

Cassian reached into his suit pocket for his key, twisted it in the lock, and slowly opened the door, his eyes tearing up at the overwhelming burn of capsaicin in the air. Dropping his backpack by the door, he followed the sound of hissing steam, music, and occasional cursing into the kitchen.

It had been just over a day since he’d seen her, but even so, Cassian had spent the plane ride home longing for the moment when he could wrap his arms tight around her again, kiss her until they were both oxygen deprived and gasping for air.

He’d envisioned a quick, eager reunion. Unable to hold himself back from rushing towards her; clumsy, grabbing hands and awkward clashing of teeth.

But then he saw her: standing in his kitchen with her hair wild atop her head, dancing from the stovetop to a nearby drawer; humming along to the song playing faintly in the background as she poked uncertainly at a pan of sauteed vegetables and shot a quick glance at a boiling pot of water–and all he could think to do was lean his shoulder into the doorframe and stare, his breath catching in his chest with a fierce and sudden ache.

Cassian knew he was helplessly, hopelessly lost–had known it for a while–but it had never been more apparent to him than in that moment, hovering at the threshold. He was certain that if he did nothing else for the rest of life but watch her, he’d still die the happiest man on earth.

She’d decided to borrow his favorite sweatshirt while he was away–red, well-worn, with Ferrix University emblazoned across the front. As she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the spice cabinet, the bottom of the sweatshirt rose too, revealing the faintest glimpse of black panties, serving in sharp contrast to the perfect, pale curve of her ass.

The sight inspired a different kind of ache. Cassian made his way across the kitchen, and placed his hands on Jyn’s shoulders. Somehow, the only words he could seem to find were, “You’re cooking.”

A string of swear words fell out of her mouth in quick succession. “I could’ve stabbed you,” she grumbled, even as she set down the knife she was holding to lean backwards into him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m surprised I managed to.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall against him. “I was distracted.”

“I can see that,” he mused. “You’re cooking. You hate cooking.”

He could just make out the faint flush that rose in Jyn’s cheeks as she glanced back at him, her hair tickling his chin. “I do hate it,” she agreed, “but I figured you’d be hungry and…well, I don’t hate you.”

A soft laugh escaped him, “What a relief.”

“Shut up.”

“No really,” he said, pulling her closer. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Do you want food or not?” Her scowl was made significantly less believable by the smile catching quickly at the corners of her mouth.

Cassian gave a considerate hum. His stomach had been rumbling as he stepped off the plane, but now a different kind of hunger was taking hold. His skin was hot beneath his suit where Jyn’s body pressed against his own; all he could seem to think of was her in his sweatshirt–in only his sweatshirt.

But Jyn seized his brief lapse of silence as an opportunity to change subjects. “So…How’d the interview go?” she asked lightly, though her muscles went tight as she dipped a wooden spoon in the red liquid that bubbled on the stove in front of her.

He watched as she blew steam away from the spoon before bringing it to her mouth to taste and wincing. “The interview was fine,” he murmured, pressing (what he hoped she would as) a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

The smile had already vanished from Jyn’s face. “You think you got the job then?”

Cassian moved his hand slowly up and down her arm, earlier ideas already forgotten. “They made me an offer,” he admitted quietly.

“They did…” The energy seemed to have drained straight out of her–the dancing, humming, swearing woman from moments ago turned to shadow.

Like she didn’t know. Like she couldn’t feel the frantic stuttering of his heart where his chest pressed between her shoulders blades. Like she couldn’t sense him, standing right here beside her on the knife’s edge.

“I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet,” he told her. Of course I did. As though there had been anything else he could do…

“You did what?” Jyn twisted in his arms. “That is your dream job. You know you want to go, so just go. Why would you–”

“Jyn,” he cut in, and she went still–let him hold her in place for at least a moment longer while he continued. “I said yet. I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet.”

Her knuckles were white, wrapped tight around the wooden spoon. He reached past her and switched off the burners before anything could start smoking or boil over.

Cassian’s own nerves were starting to take hold. He gave a hard swallow, trying to clear the tightness from his throat. “I don’t want to go to Yavin. Not without you… I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come with me. After you graduate in the spring, come with me.”

“Cass…”

He was about to tell her she didn’t have to answer right now–to delay whatever pain he sensed was coming from inevitable rejection–when she closed her hand around his tie and tugged him closer, tilting her head back to press her lips to his.

Beneath his mouth, he could feel her smile forming, but it still took his breath away to see it when they broke apart. “Is that a yes, then?”

Jyn wound his tie tighter around her hand. “I like this suit,” she commented, eyes sweeping across the blue fabric and back to the black silk of the tie.

“I’m taking that as a yes…” Cassian told her, his attention splitting as she began to playfully undo the top buttons of his shirt.

“I cooked for you…” Her lips passed over his throat, her voice muffled.

Heat was racing up Cassian’s spine, his thoughts going increasingly hazy. “You did…” he replied, inhaling sharply as the hand not wrapped in his tie found the back of his head, fingers tugging lightly at his hair.

“I’m a terrible cook, but I cooked. For you.”

She still hadn’t answered him. Not really. He wanted an answer, a definitive answer. “What does this have to do with–”

“Are you still hungry?”

“Jyn–” he pleaded.

“Because I was thinking we should forget about the food,” she continued, her mouth brushing over his ear–words like sparks to his skin. “I changed my mind. There’s something else I want to do for you instead. Something I’m much, much better at…”

He relented slightly, instinct shoving reason aside as he tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt, her skin soft against his fingertips. “What did you have in mind?”

“You mean, aside from moving to Yavin?” she murmured with a teasing grin, pressing even closer, tips of their noses brushing, her breath warm against his cheeks.

“So that was a yes earlier…”

Jyn rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think?”

He lifted her off her feet, and she laughed, wrapping her legs tight around his torso. “I think you’re coming to Yavin with me,” he said, slightly breathless, not quite daring to believe it.

“I’m coming to Yavin with you,” she echoed, delivering a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome home, Cassian.”

#myworks #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #modern au

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covetyou · 6 months

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low hanging fruit

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: cock and balls and assholes (Dieter's), brief mention of waxing male genitalia, the word "perineum", allusion to past relations between Dieter and PA. word count: 1.9k summary: Dieter Bravo really wants a smoothie. What you want is for Dieter Bravo to put some fucking clothes on.

A/N: you have some thots and shenanigans in @dieterbravobrainrotclub to thank for this one. I cannot remember who first mentioned the assless chaps but here it is lads. here it is. (edit: I am reliably informed it was @bitchwitch1981 I hope you're proud of me bb)

Not for the first time in your employment for Dieter Bravo, you choke on your coffee, spitting the hot liquid down your chin as you round the corner into his kitchen.

"Dee!"

But, for once, he's not actually doing anything unusual. What he's doing is perfectly normal. Dieter Bravo is hinged at the waist, bending low with his head buried in a kitchen cabinet as he reaches for some old gadget he stashed there too long ago to really care about it. Normal.

No. This time, what Dieter is wearing is the thing that has you beating at your chest as you hack and cough up the droplets of coffee you inhaled in your shock.

He's topless - no surprises there - his tan, freckled shoulders shifting as he reaches and tries to balance himself with a hand pressing all his weight into the counter top.

His legs are covered in denim - a little unusual for a man who prefers a cool breeze running through his leg hair at all times, but not in any way shocking. Except, they're not pants. Not normal pants. Why would they be, this is Dieter fucking Bravo.

They're assless chaps.

And he's wearing nothing underneath.

The sight of Dieter Bravo's bare cock and balls dangling between his legs was the very first sight you took of him, mid-morning on a fucking Tuesday, and it damn near sent you into cardiac arrest. And he's shameless about it too, bending low, squatting a little with his legs as he rummages around, showing you absolutely everything he has to offer and not batting a single eye at the fact that you're stood there, right behind him, seeing it all.

Once the burn and rasp of liquid in your esophagus has eased off, you can finally take a few clear breaths. Ignoring the stain on your shirt - scalding coffee now rapidly cooling as it seeps further and further into the fibers of the formerly white fabric - you place what's left of your coffee down on the counter, slapping the mail you had tucked under your arm next to it, and hold on with both hands. What the fuck.

"Dieter, what the fuck."

"Oh, hey sweet cheeks," he shouts back to you, dangling his head between his legs so you have to look beyond the sway of his cock and balls to make eye contact with him. "You've got something on your shirt."

If not for the assless chaps, and the persistent view of Dieter Bravo's perineum, you would be rolling your eyes and stalking off to continue your day, letting him know you'd be throwing your shirt in with his dry cleaning for him to foot the bill as you turned your back on him. But you don't. You're dumb struck and speechless, stood stock still as you stare and repeat the same few words you've already said.

"What... the fuck?"

"I did put that smoothie thing in here, didn't I?" he asks in return, sticking his head back into the cabinet, and squatting even lower. The blood in your body has gone to your face. You can feel the heat of it as it floods your cheeks and rushes through your ears. You can feel it elsewhere too, superheating your body from inside out, burning you up as something stirs between your legs and in the pit of your stomach that you'd rather ignore. You try to tell yourself you've seen it all before, because you have. You've seen every inch of Dieter Bravo in a million different situations, most of which you wish you'd never seen at all, and some you wish you could see again, and again, and again...

Still, all you can do is stare at him. The curve of his spine and the soft globes of his ass cheeks framed by dark denim that climbs up his hips. That soft smattering of hair down his crack and across his balls, hair that you know he once had waxed off because you'd found him crying on the deck afterwards and he had shown you right there out in the sun.

"Have you seen it?"

You've certainly seen some things, you think. You're looking at something right now.

"Seen what..." you mumble, mustering the strength to tear your eyes away from him just as he rises with a groan, resting his hands on the belt at his hips with a frown. The last thing you want is to get caught staring - it'd do nothing but add to the ever growing list of things he'd never let you live down.

"The fucking smoothie thing."

"You have a blender, Dee. It does the same thing."

"It does?"

Pushing your thumbs into your eyes until sparks bloom behind you lids doesn't even make the image of him go away, bent over or stood upright as he is right now, so you release with a sigh and let your vision sparkle back to life.

"Yes. Now, what the fuck, Dee?"

"Fine, I'm an idiot, a blender can do the same shit as the smoothie thing I-"

"No, I mean what the fuck are you wearing?"

He stops, brain rebooting, flapping hands stopping midair and the frown falling from his face, before his eyes positively illuminate and he grins wolfishly at you.

"Do you like them?" he says looking down at himself. His cock is still out, hanging limply between his legs, the waistband around his waist and the fabric covering his legs doing nothing to give him any kind of modesty. In fact, it's doing the opposite, functioning more as a picture frame to highlight the appendage than to cover anything. "Took them from that movie I shot back in September, you remember that western? Found them again this morning."

"That's great, Dee, but I really don't think you're meant to wear them like tha-"

Dieter pads toward you, his feet soft on the kitchen tile, his usual socks and crocs combo ignored for the day, likely with the excitement of finding his new favorite item of clothing.

"It's like I'm covered, but free, y'know?" he explains, wafting his hands around again as if it'll churn the thoughts in the air for you to latch on and understand a little easier. And you do understand. Sort of. You love nothing more than lounging around in your apartment in nothing but your underwear - there is not joy greater than taking off shoes that pinch, or pants that are too tight after a big meal, or -

"And I can just see and touch my dick whenever I want. Do you know how amazing it is to use the bathroom like this?"

There he is. There's the Dieter Bravo you know and love - though you'd never tell him that. Sometimes one to think with his dick, but most often one to think of his dick.

"Dieter, that sounds great, I'm really happy for you, but -"

"Oh, wait!" he says again, before zipping back around to the cabinet and bending into a another low crouch. "Where is it..."

"Dee," you say, deadpan and monotonous as he rifles through the cabinet again. Whether Dieter chooses not to hear you, or he can't hear you over the chaotic whirl of his thoughts, you're not quite sure, but it doesn't matter because he bounces into a crouch your mind short circuits again. And when he raises his ass back in the air, you curse his new found love of yoga and his increased flexibility.

You don't know whether to laugh or throw yourself onto the floor with the spilled coffee, but when he clears his throat, head still in the cabinet, you swear it fucking winks at you and you can't handle it any more.

"Dieter, I can see your asshole."

Still bent over, Dieter stills. Of course, his asshole, cock, and balls are still bare for you to see, but at least now he's stopped waving the fucking things around. And then he's rising, twisting to look at you with a curious look on his face as if he's picking his next words very carefully. If years in Dieter Bravo's service has taught you anything, it's that you divert and distract him in these moments before he can jump to the strangest of conclusions.

"Just tell me the housekeeper hasn't seen your asshole too, Dee."

"Which one?"

"Dieter!"

"They were gone before I even got down here -"

"Dieter, you have to promise me right now that you won't wear those around the housekeeper. Or the gardener. Any of them. And if you do, you better be wearing underwear-"

"Why would I wear underwear with these -"

"You promise me. I'm serious, Dee, you don't need an indecent exposure or sexual harassment lawsuit on your hands. I don't need that on my hands."

You try to keep eye contact with him - something neither you or he particularly liked, but focusing on his face and his fluffy head of hair was the only thing keeping your eyes from wandering down to the perfectly framed picture of his dick. It's a battle of wills now. You know this, and so does Dieter. It's the reason why you'd manage to last so long as his assistant where others had failed. Dieter Bravo was a stubborn and persistent man, but you had him beat on both fronts. You occasionally gave in, to keep him sweet, but mostly you lived with him being grumpy with you until he moved on or you did something so incredible that he didn't care any more.

"Dieter..." you say once more, and you can see the cogs in his brain slowly click through until everything slots into place.

"Fine. I promise."

Letting out the breath you didn't know you were holding, you try to hold your gaze steady, and up, anywhere but down his bare chest - his fucking bare chest - to undoubtedly linger too long between his legs. You hope he doesn't see when you swallow thickly, muttering good with a small nod just as you pick up his mail and what's left of your coffee. If you turn quick enough you can probably get away with not seeing his dick again today.

"What about you," he calls to you just as you're about to make your maneuver. "Do I need to cover up in front of you? If I do that's not fair, you're here all the time, and you've seen it all before, you've even -"

"No." Fuck.

The word is out of your mouth before you even really think. It was a compulsion; your hind brain activating in a moment of desperation and giving you what you really wanted, and you could kick yourself. This is definitely going on the list, you just know it. Along with the ripped pants incident, that time you got far too drunk and ended up leaving a party with the model Dieter had his eye on all night, and whatever was going on with you two before you decided to - well. It was all on this list, and now it was going to be joined by this.

"No?"

"No, you don't need to cover up in front of me."

"Really? Amazing."

He's grinning. You don't even need to look at him to know he's grinning. You can hear the delight in his voice, borderline laughter in his chest as he scrubs a hand across his belly. You can't look anymore. You shouldn't look any more. "I'm gonna go sort this out."

"Because I know how much you like looking at my -"

"Shut up, Dieter."

And so it begins. Dieter bbs: @secretelephanttattoo @sp00kymulderr @schnarfer @freelancearsonist @fhatbhabie @chronically-ghosted

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x gn!reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #coveted fics

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0asisbliss · 3 months

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Parings: Shalnark x Fem!Reader

Reader doesn’t know how to use nen, Slight appearance from Uvogin, and Machi.

A/N: This was so fun making. I’ve been dragging this out for sooo long and I finally posted it. Sorry for any spelling errors.

It’s been months since shit went south in the world. It’s the same routine. You wake up to your boyfriend hacking into the light system of the place you used to pay your bills to. He keeps them on for you since you didn’t know how to work the system. You went over to him to give he a small kiss on the forehead. Which he always leaned into. Shalnark enjoyed your affection. You’re the one thing that keeps him going with all this shit going on.

Now with you it could be better.

Even though you’ve never left this place in almost a year you loved that Shalnark hasn’t left you behind. He’s strong. Really strong to you. You didn’t want to really admit it, but you kinda depended on him to protect you. He hasn’t gave you any weapons yet though he has taught you how to use a gun. He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself that was his reasoning with not letting you go out, and having any weapon. He was sticking with it too.

After you greeted Shalnark goodmorning you went to the kitchen to check in the cabinet what you could make for each other. Occasionally you would hear screams outside, groans, and sorrowful moans. It would pain your heart hearing those screams. As you get the cereal out the cabinet you hear the sound of a baby crying. The cries got audibly louder. You looked over at Shalnark at his desk, and he was still staring at his computer now doing something different. You saw a whole bunch of numbers and letters covering the screen. Did he not hear that?

You heard a knock on the door. You turned around to see who would enter when Shalnark opened the door. A big man with a tall statue came inside of you and Shalnark’s hideout. It was Uvogin you smiled at the sight of him you were glad he was still here.

You walked over to greet him.

“Hey Uvo.” You embraced Uvogin with a tiny hug which he returned.

“Hey (Reader) what have you guys been up to huh? He asked taking a seat on the couch.

“Nothing really trying to figure out these code boss gave me.”

“Still haven’t figured that out Shal.” Uvogin’s bell rumbled with his laugh.

They shared small talk after you went back to kitchen make cereal.

The cry. You can still hear it. It’s so loud. Do they not hear it.

You walked over to the window to look out of it you were about to hold up the blinds before Shalnark stopped you.

He grabbed your waist and guided your hand gently from the blinds.

“Lovely? What are you up to hm?”

“The baby Shal you hear it right?”

“No lovely I don’t hear anything at all. Actually come away from the window now.” Without giving you time to move Shalnark moved you away from the window.

“It’s a whisperer ain’t it Shal.” Uvogin boomed with a grin. Uvogin found it funny how caring you were.

On the other hand you were confused. What the hell did he mean by that?

“What’s a whisperer?”

“It’s a form of-.”

Uvogin was interrupted by Shalnark explaining what you thought you heard.

What you didn’t know that half of the things that were outside weren’t what you thought they were. There are categories to all of the “Zombies” that have cursed the world you live in and Shalnark was determined to keep you safe from it by any means necessary.

“Don’t worry about it lovely. How about you lay back down it’s probably just your imagination.” Shalnark mentioned with a soft tone. There was this gleam in his eye you couldn’t get out of your head when you went back in your room to lay back down like he said.

It wasn’t something you saw in Shalnark often. It wasn’t something new to see though. You mostly only saw it when he came back from “work.” You didn’t really want to lay down and rest. You needed to know whose baby that was, but by now they’re probably dead.

Yes, it wasn’t anything new to hear or even see. After all this time you still weren’t used to all of this happening around you, and the worst part about all of this is that Shalnark is treating this like it’s something that is very usual.

When actually you’ve be able to keep quiet on the situation for the longest. You’re still freaking the fuck out in your mind. All this is too much for you and at the same time Shalnark isn’t letting you out of this fucking apartment.

You had to get up and confront him. This was getting starting to be to much the pressure from hearing that poor baby cry has gotten to your mind. Maybe just asking to go with him to get resources will be enough to clear your mind.

As you get out of bed you feel tears well at your eyes. Why were you crying again? It was this empty painful feeling that was overwhelming you as you made your way to the your living room. It wasn’t even yours it was just empty when Shalnark brought you there. You stood at the doorframe of the living room and mistakenly heard Uvogin and Shalnark’s conversation.

“She has to leave this place at some point Shal.” Uvogin said with a slightest bit of concern in his voice.

“No. If I have to chain her down to that bed back there because her dumb curiosity gets the best of her I will.”

What the hell?!

You gasped as you heard Shalnark’s response. Shalnark eyed the doorframe at which you were standing at.

“Lovely? Uh. You okay?” Shalnark asked this trying play everything out.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Uvogin chuckled at your response watching this all unfold like a person watching a drama series.

“Lovely. Let’s discuss this later okay? How about you go back to the room. You should still get some rest-.”

“No what the fuck is going on Shalnark? I’m sick and tired of you hiding shit from me.”

“Okay. Sit.” The single word sent shivers down your spine. It was a cold command with no emotion behind it scared you how Shalnark could switch so fast.

You hesitated but sat down. Uvogin got up and patted Shalnark on the back nodding to him like he knew something that he didn’t. He left and closed the door behind him. Shalnark moved closer to you and kissed you on your forehead.

“How do you feel lovely hm? Scared? And if you are of what?”

You weren’t sure. Was it the situation you were in? The atmosphere? Him?

“I don’t know Shal.” You gulped hard when you felt his hand move to your thigh.

“Maybe we should go out yeah? You need fresh air. Let’s go now.”

You still had your pajamas on and you weren’t prepared to go out. You weren’t ready at all. You’ve been stuck in this apartment for months. There’s no way you can survive out there for a second.

“You have me.”

Almost like he was replying to your thoughts Shalnark reassured you that he was going to protect you.

The thing is you always wanted to know what Shalnark did. He knew what to protect you from, but you never did.

Shalnark grabbed the keys and took your hand to lead you out the door. You tripped over your bedroom shoes a little bit because of how he was pulling you. It was like a child trying to pull their mother show to something.

You two got outside and before you stepped out it the abandoned apartment building Shalnark checked around to make sure it was safe for you to come out.

He held his hand out for you to grab which you did. He lead you to a car.

“This is what Shalnark must take when he’s getting food.”

“Isn’t a car a little too loo d for a zombie apocalypse?” You try to joke and lighten the mood.

Shalnark laughs at your little joke.

“We’ll be fine. I promise.”

Shalnark starts to drive and you look out the window. You start reminisce about your past life with Shalnark. Yeah. it wasn’t the best, but it was little better than now. I mean you two had your own place your own jobs. Though according to Shalnark he still has his.

Shalnark parks in the parking lot where the mall is located. Shalnark gets out the car and you immediately follow him.

You two go into the mall and it was filled with zombies. They all looked weirdly different though. You mouth a gasp tears start to well at your eyes.

They all started to come towards you and Shalnark.

“Shalnark please help what the hell-!”

You had a gun in your back pack. You got it out and started to shoot at the zombies. You shot three of them before you ran out of bullets. You cussed yourself under your breath and looked and Shalnark.

He was gone. There was a empty feeling in you. It’s like the world was spinning slower and everything around you paused.

This what I’m talking about. Do you understand this situation? How dead you would be if you didn’t have me?

A woman with pink hair popped out the corner and the zombie all stop in their tracks, and are dismembered. Shalnark jumps down, and grabs you.

“See? This is what could happen if you ever think of leaving me. Without me you don’t have protection.”

Shalnark wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you he gives you small kisses on your forehead, while you mumble out little I love you’s and sorry’s. You didn’t know why you were saying sorry you just were. You look up and the pink haired woman was gone.

“Let’s go home yeah?”

He was right.

You would die if you didn’t have him.

#hxh x reader #phantom troupe x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh 1999 #hxh 2011 #hxh imagines #hxh shalnark #hxh #yandere shalnark x reader #yandere shalnark #shalnark #shalnark x reader

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coffeeghoulie · 4 months

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Mushy May Day 14: "Shut Up, I'm Taking Care Of You"

Mountain makes Cumulus tea when she's coming down with a bug.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and thank you to @ghuleh-recs for making dividers for us <3

Another bonus prompt today!

It's early, sky starting to shift from black to blue, the promise of a new day. Mountain pads into the kitchen, having already been up for a while, still. There's a basket of vegetables fresh harvested from the greenhouse tucked under his arm. He heads to the sink, washing them before setting them aside to dry.

Mountain whips to face the door when he hears a hacking, wet cough behind him. He thought he was the only ghoul awake, sun just barely beginning to peek out from over the horizon, but he was wrong. As he turns, he finds Cumulus, hair tied back and deep circles under her eyes.

"Hey, hummingbird," he says cautiously, shutting off the sink. "What're you doing up so early?"

She shrugs with one shoulder, rubbing her eyes under her glasses. "Couldn't sleep." Her voice is stuffy, and she sounds miserable.

Mountain hums, taking the kettle off of its element and filling it with water. "You don't sound so good, Cue. I know you don't like tea that much, but it might make you feel better."

She mumbles something under her breath, coughing again, before sitting at the kitchen table, covering her face with her hands.

"What was that?" Mountain asks, not turning to face her as he sets the kettle to boil, digging through one of the cabinets for a specific jar of loose leaf tea, one of his own blends.

"Said you don't need to stop what you're doing to make tea, Mount. You know I prefer-" She freezes as Mountain peers over his shoulder, an emerald green eye meeting hers, eyebrow raised

"Maybe I wanted tea," he teases, grabbing mugs and the diffusers he likes to use. "No, but seriously, hummingbird, I love you. You sound like shit. Let me make you a cup."

"Mount-"

"Cumulus, shut up, I'm taking care of you," Mountain interjects, firmly but kindly. "Let me make you tea, it sounds like your throat hurts something awful."

"It does," Cumulus sighs, slumping exhausted into the kitchen chair. "I think it's why I couldn't sleep." She coughs with a wince. Mountain nods, reaching for one of the honey jars.

"I'd imagine," Mountain says, humming low in his throat in sympathy as he spoons the tea leaves and herbs into one of the diffusers. The kettle whistles, and Cumulus jolts in her chair, laughing weakly at herself for startling. Mountain takes it off of the element, pouring the boiling water into Cumulus's favorite mug and leaving it to steep.

"Now, I'm no Aether," he says, bringing the mug over to the kitchen table, setting it in front of her. "But I think breathing in the steam while it steeps might help some."

"Thank you, Mounty." Cumulus carefully takes the mug, the long sleeves of her sleep shirt pulled up over her hands as a makeshift potholder. She takes as deep a breath through her nose that her sinuses will allow, eyes flickering shut as she smells the ginger and peppermint of this particular blend.

He pours water into his own mug, his preferred green tea in his. He lets it steep, watching Cumulus fondly as she sticks her face closer to the steam. "Of course, hummingbird. Once that steeps, I'll put some honey in it. Know you like it sweet." He hipchecks her chair gently, boyishly grinning ear to ear.

"Mount," she whines, still stuffy but she's laughing, and that's all Mountain could ask for.

"Is the steam helping?" Mountain says, eyes glancing at the clock on the stove, keeping track of how long their teas have been steeping. He rummages through one of the drawers for a spoon, opening the jar of honey.

"Think so," Cumulus says. "Though it's fogging up my glasses something awful."

"Yeah, makes you look real dorky," he says, carefully taking the mug from her and pulling out the diffuser. He stirs in a large spoonful of honey and passes her the mug back.

"Mount." She laughs, blowing softly at the mug, and Mountain can feel the tingle in the base of his skull that means she's using her magick to cool it. Cumulus takes a long sip, shutting her eyes. "Thank you."

Mountain smiles a little wider as he takes a sip from his own mug. "Any time, hummingbird."

#i've officially caught up with the headstart i gave myself #which is kind of insane bc i *have* been writing every day lol #anyways i imagine mountain's a bit of a tea snob /pos #has a blend for every occasion #dot's writing #mushy may 2024 #mountain ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction

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aesethewitch · 10 months

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Learning to Cook like a Witch: Beyond the Spice Cabinet

One of the greatest witchcraft life hacks known to magickind is the kitchen spice cabinet. You can make a thousand spells just using the same herbs and spices you use for cooking. Yeah, sometimes, you need something a little more difficult to get your hands on, but often, you can find a substitution within the confines of your kitchen.

This is really common advice: Work with what you have. I see more advanced practitioners pointing to the spice aisle all the time.

But I find that we're neglecting something else equally important and useful: the rest of the kitchen.

Why stop at the spice cabinet? Everything in your kitchen, from the tools you cook with to the utensils you eat with to the non-spice/non-herb ingredients in your cabinets and fridge, all of it has purpose. Expand your thinking beyond herbs to food in general. Look to your other shelves, open up your fridge. What do you find, and what can it be used for?

The full version of this post is available on my Ko-Fi for supporters! Tip as low as $1 and get access to early, extended, and exclusive content from me every week. Plus, every bit helps me keep making content regularly!

#aese speaks #witchcraft #witchblr #hearth witchcraft #hearth witch #kitchen witchcraft #kitchen witch #food magic #food witchcraft #simple magic #witch #everyday magic #witchcraft 101 #beginner witch tips #witch community

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piedpiperart · 1 year

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Phantom of Gotham 22

Chapter 21

The three (and a half) of them managed to get to Jason’s apartment without any issues. Since Tim had hacked the GIW systems, he’d come across an invention that allowed them to track ghostly energy. He figured that was how they’d caught Phantom in the first place. On their way out of the facility, Tim downloaded their files and uploaded a virus that would destroy all of their systems and anything connected to it. He hoped that would keep them from being able to track Phantom but they figured it was a necessary precaution to keep him away from the batcave or the manor for now.

As for Jason, he was able to coax Phantom out of the car and up to his apartment. He worried about being seen by neighbors, but not a lot of people were out. Tim and his blob friend made it to the apartment first, able to open the door for Jason, who was now half-carrying the ghost after his flight stopped working on the way.

Phantom chirped, following the blob’s movements with wide eyes as the little green thing floated around Tim like a jellyfish. Jason smiled in amusement when he caught the little guy bumping into Tim accidentally when he moved too fast and bounced off harmlessly before slowly floating back. Tim looked apologetic every time it happened, but the blob kept doing it, so he seemed to accept it.

“So what’s on the agenda?”Jason called from the couch. He was stripping off his gear while trying to keep Phantom from floating too far away. The ghost seemed keen on exploring, and was currently half-phased through the couch while he examined the empty mug and succulent on the coffee table.

“For now? Looking after Phantom and RB,”Tim said while stripping out of his uniform and pulling on some of Jason’s old sweats and a Wonder Woman t-shirt. “The rest of the team is busy with Scarecrow and Riddler, but they said they could handle it while we got Phantom settled. We don’t know what side effects the collar will have on him, but once we’re sure they can’t track us we can get him to the cave for a checkup.”

“Hold on, Arby?” Jason raised an eyebrow, causing Tim to startle. Jason squinted at Tim’s embarrassed look as the kid started up the coffee machine.

“Uh, the blob?” Tim offered sheepishly, gesturing to the little guy, who had settled itself into a round cushion atop Tim’s head. Like a Beret, Jason thought absently. “I named him Red Blobin. RB for short. Or just Blobin.”

Jason gave Tim a look that managed to get across all his feelings about the name to Tim, who shrugged. “I found them, I think I should get to name them. Besides, he likes me the most.” And Jason couldn’t argue with that. He found it kind of cute actually, and couldn’t help but picture the little blob in its own tiny robin suit.

“Blobin,”Jason deadpanned. This was Jarro all over again, he sighed. Actually, Blobin might get along with Jarro, he thought.

“He’s my robin now,”Tim defended, taking a mug out of the cabinets. It was one of Jason’s favorites, with a gun shape as the handle. He looked over to the coffee table, where his other mug was sitting, only for him to find it gone. Jason squinted, looking around and finding Phantom underneath the table, chewing on the succulent absently. Bright green eyes flickered to Jason and back.

While Jason was happy the ghost was relaxing, he was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be eating house plants. Sighing, he stood up. “Can you watch Phantom? I’m gonna make food,”He said, rolling up his sleeves and making his way to the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure,”Tim responded, bringing his gun mug of coffee over to the couch with a laptop under his arm. From the kitchen, he could hear Tim talking to Phantom quietly. He was no doubt trying to coax him into responding, trying to judge how much brain power the ghost had at the moment. He glanced over to see Phantom slither up to Tim curiously before turning back to the stove.

Jason busied himself with cooking something easy for Phantom to eat with his hands, but enough so they wouldn’t have to bother with cooking for a while. He settled on chicken tenders and chopped vegetables. He made rice too for him and Tim, but figured Phantom would make a mess of it. Halfway done, he heard a yelp from the living room.

“Tim?” Jason called, a bit worried. He heard what sounded like a struggle and darted to the living room, leaving the vegetables to the pan.

“I’m fi- ne!”Tim called, a little strained, but Jason was already on his way. He skidded to a stop in the entryway, looking upon the scene.

Tim’s mug was on the coffee table, frozen solid and covered in ice. Tim himself was standing up on the arm of the couch, holding his hands closed and away from his body while Phantom floated lazily in the air, turning invisible for a few seconds and then back to normal. His tail was writhing behind him, and his gaze was focused on whatever was in Tim’s hand. “Everythings fine,”Tim reassured Jason, moving his hands when Phantom made to dart forward and ended up floating in a little flip before drifting back to Tim. “He just- He keeps trying to eat Blobin,”Tim said a bit hysterically. Jason wanted to laugh, but he saw how attached Tim was to the little guy. “And he froze my coffee,” Tim added sadly.

“Alright then, Phantom,”Jason shook his head, approaching the ghost boy. Phantom perked up at the sight of Jason, chirping. He made to float to him, but abruptly lost control of his flight and dipped dangerously, but Jason swiftly scooped him up before he hit the ground. “What am I gonna do with you,”Jason scolded lightly. Phantom just latched onto his shirt and chirped before scoping him out for pockets that might have treats.

Tim sighed in relief, letting the blob float out of his hands as he jumped to the ground. Jason gave Tim an amused smirk while the kid looked to him and Phantom in exasperation. “I think he’s just hungry. Kind of a menace when he wants to be. Do you think ghosts regularly eat blobs like him?” Tim questioned sadly, grasping his blob and pulling it close to his chest.

”Also where’s your remote?” Tim asked, trying to pick up his mug only to find it frozen to the coffee table. He sighed.

“Was on the couch,”Jason said before grinning down at the ghost in his arms climbing to peer over his shoulder. The ghost barely weighed anything. “And you, mister, are coming with me.”

Phantom chirped, settling in Jason’s arms as he meandered back to the kitchen. He was hoping the vegetables weren’t burnt. Back at the stove, he shifted the ghost to hang over his shoulders like a cat so he could use both arms. Phantom seemed content to watch him cook, especially when Jason reached up to feed him snacks every few minutes. He caught Tim sneaking past with Blobin peeking out of the hood of his hoodie and grabbing more coffee before retreating back to the couch. Because of the snack thief, cooking took twice as long, but Jason found he didn’t mind. Especially when Phantom started purring, settling on his shoulder like a satisfied cat while munching on a snack. Phantom’s tail curled around Jason's arm, but didn’t restrict any of his movements. Soon, he was plating the food for the three of them, figuring Tim would try to feed the Blob with food from his own plate anyways so he didn’t bother with a fourth.

As he was bending over carefully to get the silverware, he caught Phantoms clawed hand reaching out for the salt shaker. Before Jason could stop him from eating it, the ghost surprised Jason by phasing it into his chest. The vigilante paused, staring for a moment before he was brought out of it by Phantom chirping at him. “Alright, whatever,”Jason muttered. At least he was pretty sure where the other mug and remote went now.

They ate on the couch, Tim coming up with theories on how long it would take Phantom to recover and pondering why he was collecting random items. So far, they figured out that as long as Phantom had food or something else keeping his attention, he wouldn’t try to eat Blobin. It didn’t stop him from begging for some of Jason’s food, however. Tim looked at him smugly when he caught Jason giving in and handing the ghost a chicken tender. He glared at his little brother, but kept an eye on Phantom.

“Is he okay?” Tim fretted, now noticing the sluggish movements of the ghost. He seemed unable to float for the time being, and had taken to scurrying underneath the coffee table or the couch. Which, Jason wasn’t sure if Phantom actually fit under there or if he was intangible. He really hoped the boy wouldn’t get stuck.

“Yeah,”Jason huffed, reaching down to scoop up the ghost and plop him on his lap as he leaned back against the couch. Phantom grumbled sleepily and pressed his face into Jason’s shirt, wrapping his tail around Jason’s legs as he brought them up onto the couch. Tim scooted away to give them room. “He’s just tired. Aren’t you?”Jason cooed at the boy, receiving a small chirp in response. Tim gave him a smirk, but absently petted the Blob ghost resting in a puddle on his lap. “Yeah, it’s naptime.”

Tim huffed a laugh but started to get up. “Where are you going?” Jason raised a brow at him. He couldn’t move now with Phantom purring a storm on his chest. Tim halted in his movements, still halfway on the couch.

“Um-”Tim started, confused, when Jason meandered his socked feet to the kids lap, trapping him to the couch. Tim had Blobin in his arms now, cradled like a baby. “Jason-?”

“You’re taking a nap too,”Jaosn squinted. He reached over the back of the couch to get a blanket and chucked it at Tim, who squawked in protest as it draped over his head. “I know you hardly slept the past few days. Stay or I’ll have to get up and tie you to the couch.”

“O-kay?” Tim squinted, but settled down anyway. He spread the blanket over himself and Jason’s legs, glancing over at Jason a few times. Distracted by Phantom purring, he petted the flowy white hair that was surprisingly soft as the ghost drifted off. The purring was really luring him to sleep though, and before he could blink, he was asleep.

“Psst! Jason!”

Jason grumbled, for once actually having a good sleep. He wrapped his arms tighter around whoever was snuggled on his chest- Phantom- his brain supplied, before trying to go back to sleep. Until the voice from before spoke again in a hushed, but hurried whisper.

“Jason! Wake up!” Tim hissed, now very close to Jason’s head. He grunted, cracking open an eye and glancing around for his annoying little brother. When he did catch sight of Tim, he saw a panicked look on Tim’s face that instantly had him on alert. “Don’t move,” Tim added, glancing from Jason to Phantom.

“What?” Jason questioned, about to get up anyways if he didn’t have a sleeping teenager pinning him down. Tim glanced between the two again, and Jason caught sight of Blobin slumped in Tim’s hood again.

“Before you say anything, I was totally right and I told you so,”Tim said quickly, and Jason had no idea what he was talking about. “But uh, I ended up falling asleep and was woken up by this bright flash of light surrounding you and D- Phantom. When I looked over- uh, well, just look at him,”Tim gestured. He was still a bit harried, like his brain was running 20 miles per hour over this. Jason looked at the window behind him and saw the light was nonexistent. They must have slept the rest of the day and into most of the night.

Jason heaved a sigh and turned to look at- Danny. His eyes widened as he took in the black hair and what was left of his school uniform from that day. Gently, he brushed away the kids bangs and felt his forehead. It was definitely warmer than Phantom’s skin, but that still didn’t really explain why Danny was here now. Unless- Jason gently maneuvered Danny so he could sit up without waking the teen, gesturing for Tim to sit down and stop staring at him like a maniac.

“Okay, so Phantom is Danny then?” Jason questioned. He was completely out of ideas of how that could even happen. “How the fuck does that even work?”

“I don’t know!” Tim exclaimed quietly, exasperated. “Phantom’s a ghost- a king!- How does a ghost king also have a living human body??”

“Okay, we know Danny, it’s not like Phantom’s controlling a corpses body or anything. They’re both good kids,”Jason reasoned, hoping to quiet some of Tim’s panic. “Danny’s a halfa right? Half ghost? Half human?”

Tim ran a hand through his messy black hair. “Right. Right, maybe he has a way to switch forms? And he did say the king was chosen by right of conquest, so it is a logical reason to how a half-ghost-human might’ve gotten the throne, just… why didn’t he tell us?” Tim frowned, picking at his fingernails absently.

Jason smacked his hands lightly. “He probably didn’t tell us the truth because he wanted to have a way to escape if it turned out we were bad guys after all,”Jason reasoned. “It makes sense. He’s one of three, an apparently powerful and rare species. It makes sense that he wouldn’t trust us with the full extent of what that means.”

“I mean, yeah, but,”Tim bit his lip in thought before replying, his gaze on Danny. “We could’ve helped.”

“Yeah. We could’ve,”Jason sighed. “But he was scared. And we can help him now.”

Tim nodded. “Okay. Alright, uh. I’m gonna update B on the situation. They’re still rounding up with the whole Arkham thing, but everyones back where they’re supposed to be. Good news, we can probably assume Danny knows our identities, but either way, he might be safer at the manor in case the GIW actually can track him. They wouldn’t dare break into the manor,”Tim scoffed.

“Right,”Jason nodded, shifting so he could grab the discarded blanket and drape it over Danny. “Think he’ll be alright?”

Tim shrugged. “Guess we’ll know when he wakes up if he’s back to normal. The collar was on him for hours, but food and sleep are probably the best remedy.” With that, Tim got up and left for the kitchen, probably to get updates on the rest of the bats and give their report about Danny. Jason rolled his eyes when he heard the coffee machine beep.

“Holy shit-” Jason heard Tim exclaim from the kitchen. “Danny Fenton is Danny Phantom. His whole name is a fucking pun!”

Jason snorted, running a hand over Danny’s hair. He knew Dick and Danny got along, but if Dick knew this he’d probably fight B over the adoption.

Chapter 23

#Phantom of Gotham #dcxdp #dpxdc

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