#he forgets he has a first name. someone calls him it and he's just
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I can’t stop thinking about Ukrainian!Simon and Gaelic!Johnny
like what if Simon and Tommy are traveling in between hostiles and they end up in the UK? And what if Soap and his friend Gaz are also traveling / backpacking and end up in the UK as like thier first stop.
What if Simon and Tommy get separated and Soap and Gaz get separated and somehow, with each others help, Simon and Johnny reunite! Simon gets to show off his English and Johnny gets to try some Ukrainian but it’s sounds awful with his thick Scottish accent, but Simon doesn’t mind. It’s cute in an endearing way :(((
sorry if this is long I. Just can’t get them out of my brain
ukrainian ghost my beloved. also riley brothers my beloved
quickly i'd like to apologize because i just changed it a little bit to be tommy&gaz, ghost&soap instead since i misread the prompt and finished writing this before i realized 🗿 i hope that is ok. also this got so much longer than i intended
(other language dialogue will just be in bold italics. this takes place between ghost and soap's first meeting and soap's trip to ukraine)
-
For as long as Johnny has been travelling in his adult life, every trip he's made thus far has been solo—mostly. Beyond pit stop visits with friends living in other countries and that one incredible experience with Simon the Ukrainian (Johnny had, unfortunately, never learned his surname), his backpacking travels have always been taken by his lonesome.
It was always easier that way—it was cheaper, easier to keep track of only himself and one schedule, and he was more than sociable enough to find companionship in the locals.
However, that isn't to say he's entirely against organizing something with a friend—hence why he has Kyle along with him.
Or, had.
Being that the trip they were soon to be properly embarking on was the kind of thing Kyle wasn't used to, one of Johnny's suggested preparations is to first stay in a hostel somewhere within the UK to ease Kyle into the kind of arrangement not everyone finds all that... comfortable. Hell knows Johnny would rather forget the first few times he'd ever stayed in a hostel.
They'd be somewhere familiar enough but not too familiar, and once a few days have passed then they'd move on to their first real destination. It was a good plan—a great plan, even, if johnny had to say anything about it.
At least, it would be, if he and Kyle hadn't managed to get separated before they've so much as checked in.
This, thinks Johnny, is exactly why I said we should take a test run.
He wishes it were so simple as calling his friend and setting a rendez-vous point, or just meeting up at the hostel, but unfortunately it had been Johnny with the address and directions, and Kyle with the dead phone he'd forgotten to charge.
Surely... surely Kyle couldn't have gotten too far, right? It's all Johnny can hope as he searches the area, repeatedly calling out his friend's name.
But no dice. He slumps onto a nearby bench, slipping his pack from his shoulders just to take a moment to compose himself, burying his face in his palms. They're barely a day into this—he shouldn't already be this stressed.
Then he hears his own name being called, distant and uncertain, and for a brief, hopeful moment, Johnny wonders if the universe is actually on his side today despite the rough start.
And, well, it is—albeit in a different way than expected.
Johnny lifts his head, squinting out in the direction of the voice. Once adjusted to the distance, Johnny's eyes widen upon realizing who it belongs to.
"Simon?" Johnny exclaims.
Once he closes the space between them, Johnny is happy to confirm that yes, that crop of blond hair and shy, crooked smile are most definitely familiar.
Simon slides onto the bench beside him as Johnny moves his pack to make room. Simon himself isn't carrying anything, but Johnny assumes that's because he—unlike a certain two someones—actually got the chance to check-in somewhere before going out to explore.
"Hi," Johnny breathes, still left speechless by the warmth of Simon's coffee-coloured eyes. "How are you?"
He winces, knowing how accented his Ukrainian is no matter how desperately he's tried to correct himself, but to Simon's credit, his only reaction is a wider smile.
"You've been learning," Simon remarks in English. The lilt of his accent is far more pleasant in a foreign tongue than Johnny's own, he's most certain of it.
"A little bit," Johnny admits sheepishly. It had been a difficult venture, learning a language entirely new from his first, but he had been putting the work in—not only for having been inspired by Simon, but almost maybe for the off-chance they'd meet again.
Like this.
Simon replies with something in Ukrainian, something Johnny only understands pieces of. His confusion must show in his face, as Simon just looks at him, laughs quietly to himself, then says, "I said, 'Your pronunciation is good... for a beginner.'"
Johnny snorts, playfully shoving Simon in retaliation along with an indignant protest. A proper laugh bubbles out of Simon's throat this time, all too pleased with himself and the teasing insult.
"Sorry we can't all master a new language right away," Johnny says, shaking his head awfully fondly—already, just as Simon had, he's noticed improvement in the other man's English, though far more significant that Johnny's own progress. "Maybe you'll just have to start teaching me."
Simon shrugs a casual shoulder, a mirthful grin still lingering on his face, though far more subdued than it had been seconds before. He remains silent, so Johnny continues, the moment somewhat reminiscent of their first meeting when Johnny had mistaken Simon's quietness as an invitation to fill the gaps—he knows better now, however.
"So, what're you doing here?" Asks Johnny, offering a much gentler nudge with his shoulder.
Simon hesitates just briefly, and initially Johnny chalks it up to him trying to find the words in English, but then his expression falls somber, his brow furrowing with concern.
"I'm here with my brother, but then he..." he begins explaining, slow like he's unsure of something. He makes a vague shooing gesture as he chews on whatever irks him. "...and now I don't know."
Johnny frowns, trying to decipher what Simon is talking about—then comes to the realization that he's in the exact same situation as him; currently in search for a lost travel partner with a tendency to wander.
"Well... can you call him? Or where are you staying?" Johnny questions. "He could just have gone back there, aye?"
Simon hums assent. "He didn't answer. I was walking back, when I saw you. You looked…”
He trails off, whether it be to avoid adding insult to injury or just because Simon didn’t have the vocabulary.
“Troubled?” Johnny supplies. “Distraught? Stressed?”
Simon nods.
Johnny huffs, slumping back on the bench. “‘M in the same boat. Lost my friend and his phone is dead,” he sighs. “He might be at the hostel, though. Or heading there. It’s as good a place as any to check, at this point.”
“A hostel?” Simon asks. “Maybe it’s the same one.”
“Same one?” Johnny raises an eyebrow before understanding hits him—and yeah, maybe the universe really is on his side today. How convenient it would be to have an excuse to spend more time with Simon, if they were staying at the same place. “Aye, could be. Why don’t I come with you, anyway?”
Simon doesn’t refuse him, so Johnny stands and slings his pack over his shoulders before offering a hand to Simon. Despite doing so, a part of Johnny is still surprised Simon accepts, his palm warm and lightly callused.
Then Johnny’s phone starts to ring. He pauses, pulls it out; it’s an unknown number. He glances at Simon, who jerks his chin toward the device as if to say go ahead and answer.
He accepts the call and puts it on speaker. “Hello?”
Kyle’s voice is suddenly in his ear, not quite frantic but nor is it completely calm—breathless, is really what he is. “Tav? That you, mate?”
“Aye, it’s me.” Johnny glances at Simon again, who just shrugs. “Where are you? What are you callin’ from?”
“Borrowing someone’s phone. Says he didn’t know enough English to help,” Kyle explains. “Can you tell me the address of this place? I’ll just meet you there.”
Johnny rattles off the address of the hostel, not at all ignorant to the way Simon’s face lights up with recognition—definitely the same place, then.
“Thanks a lot. I’ll just—“ Kyle suddenly cuts himself off, and Johnny can hear quiet murmurs on the other side. He waits impatiently to see what it’s all about. “The… he’s saying something about his brother. He knows the place.”
Simon’s brows arch, and Johnny would bet he’s thinking something similar about how coincidental it would be that Kyle would be enlisting Simon’s brother for help just as he’s also searching.
Tentatively leaning closer to the phone, Simon asks, “Tom?”
There’s a brief rustling on the other end along with some more mumbling before a new voice cuts through the phone. “Simon?”
Johnny wordlessly passes the phone off to Simon before he starts into a tirade of rapidly-paced Ukrainian directed at his brother. Again, Johnny is back to understanding only bits and pieces, but he has to imagine it’s something along the lines of cursing and telling off for not answering the phone earlier and other kinds of brotherly arguments. He’s all too familiar with that tone, having both given and received such talks to and from his own siblings.
Finally, Simon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “See you there,” he grumbles. Then, in English, presumably for Kyle’s benefit on the other end of the line, “Me and Johnny will meet you at the hostel. Sorry for…”
“No worries,” Kyle replies. “And—was that Johnny, you said? Tav, I thought—“
Johnny seizes his phone and hangs up before Kyle can finish. Simon regards him curiously, but ultimately says nothing. They finally set off to their destination.
Johnny is glad, at least, that everything seems to have worked out.
*
Reunion at the hostel is a well-needed burden off Johnny’s shoulders, more than happy to finally check in and get settled somewhere before enjoying their next few days in town.
Simon goes back to scolding his brother as soon as they’ve all arrived, pulling him aside to talk whilst Kyle and Johnny get everything figured out. Johnny minds his own business, of course, until their voices suddenly drop and he glances over out of curiosity—and watches as a splotchy, pink blush suddenly spreads across Simon’s face.
Kyle elbows him in the side. “So, Johnny, huh?” He teases, likely now since Johnny can’t simply end a call. “Thought no one was allowed to call you that.”
Johnny scowls at Kyle. “Haud yer wheesht, would you?” He hisses. “It’s not like that. It’s not like anything.”
“Uh huh,” Kyle says, entirely unconvinced. He does, in fact, shut up for a moment—but then there’s a smug grin growing on his face that Johnny doesn’t like in the least. “Wait—don’t tell me that’s the Simon.”
Unfortunately, Johnny can’t help his face going red.
“It is!” Kyle whisper-shouts. “Oh, this is too good. Hey, Simon!”
Both Simon and his brother turn at the sudden interruption. There’s still remnants of a blush on Simon’s own face.
Johnny wishes the world would just open up and swallow him whole.
“We were gonna head out to dinner,” Kyle says, much too loud. “Care to join us?”
Simon glances at Tom and asks him something quietly, to which he nods after a moment of consideration.
Simon nods as well. “Sure. We’ll come.”
Johnny decides then and there that he’s taking back everything positive he might’ve thought about the universe and his luck today. He can already see the way Kyle is scheming, and something tells Johnny a plan is already formulating in his head—all because of that silly nickname.
Though, Johnny supposes, it’d probably be pretty easy for Kyle to connect the dots without that part.
Oh well. He wanted to spend more time with Simon anyway, right? He shouldn’t take today’s many coincidences for granted just yet.
And hell—denying this would be a waste of an opportunity to get to know Simon and his family better, if he were ever to go ahead with that surprise visit to Ukraine in the future.
#ask#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#tommy riley#soapghost#ghostsoap#ghost x soap#ghoap#writing
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perfect palette | jjk
vegas isn’t your first choice, but you love your best friend and are willing to do anything for her, including planning her bachelorette party. everything is all set, ready to go for the last day, until you receive a text from the model you’ve hired. he’s out sick but have no fear, he’s sent the next best thing to replace him for the night.
✨ title: perfect palette
✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader (nicknamed Ro)
✨ genre/au: slice of life, light angst | model!jk, las vegas setting
✨ rating: m/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.5k
✨ warnings: language, drinking, mild nudity, jungkook + reader are tipsy, kissing, reader is nicknamed Ro but is only called by her name a handful of times.
✨ a/n: hi again! so this idea came to me when i was in vegas lmao, and the painting idea is from 'this is us' (the show). i just thought it was a fun premise. i hope you enjoy it.
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
Your head is pounding, and your stomach is growling. As you pop your head up, you notice the hotel room is a complete mess: furniture has been knocked over, empty tequila and champagne bottles litter the room, and clothes and money are scattered across the floor.
A low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover up with the duvet. You definitely don’t remember sleeping with someone. Your mind races, attempting to recall last night’s shenanigans.
Whoever is next to you mumbles under their breath and turns over on their stomach. The silver chain that’s adorning their neck glimmers from the sunlight peeking through the blinds. You can’t help but notice their broad chiseled back and the markings on it. No, they’re not scratches from nails—they’re purple lines, going from one beauty mark to the next, and each mark is surrounded by a pair of red lips. Turning your hand over, you see it’s stained with purple, matching the color on their back.
What the fuck happened last night, you think.
You lean over, peering at the mysterious person. A scalloped tattoo delicately covers their shoulder and the rest of their arm is covered in ink. You giggle when you discover the tattoos are colored an array of hues—blue, red, green, and orange. It looks almost like a child was told to have fun and went wild with coloring.
The person groans again, switching to lay on their back side. You pull back, holding the duvet up to your chin. A small gasp comes out when you recognize the mystery person—it’s Jeon Jungkook, your old college buddy. Five years have passed since you last saw him at graduation. Last you heard, he was in Los Angeles, taking a jab at modeling and acting. Well, with his perfect face and body (your eyes quickly scanned over him), who would say no to him?
The real question now was, how did he end up in Vegas, and specifically in your hotel room?
—
The day before.
“Ro, cheer up please. We’re in Vegas, not a funeral,” Lottie says, swiping on a pink lip stain. “You’re only gonna feel like shit if you keep scrolling through those photos.”
Lottie’s right because looking through your ex-college sweetheart’s wedding photos is not doing anything for you. Four years of committing to a man who said he never wanted to get married, but there he was with a ring on his finger.
Your phone is swiped from your hand. “Hey!” you protest, standing to snatch it back. “Give it to me!”
“No! I will not let my maid-of-honor mope around like a sad puppy. Forget Jimin! He’s a married man now and a Libra—an October Libra too, I might add. That should’ve been a red flag right off the bat!”
She’s been your work wife for the past three years, and the two of you bonded over talking shit about your boss and colleagues. The only anecdotes she knew of Jimin were the ones you spilled on drunken nights.
“Lottie, give me my phone. I have to make sure everything is ready for tonight. It has to be perfect,” you explain, holding out your hand, insisting she gives it to you. But it was an excuse to keep lurking.
The itinerary for today consisted of: brunch, pool and cocktails, dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, then a night of painting–naked painting you should add. As if the Magic Mike show wasn't enough skin for Lottie and the rest of the crew. You somehow stumbled upon a small business, ‘Perfect Palette’ combining models and painting into one. This would be the next closest thing to being with a fully naked man. It's been a hot minute since you've seen one.
The bride-to-be reluctantly hands over the phone and you're scrolling through emails, switching apps to confirm everything.
“Take a chill pill, babe. Everything doesn't have to be perfect, but I am excited about painting tonight!” Lottie smiles and claps, then leans over to give you a hug. “Okay! Time to get ready for brunch.” She runs off to the restroom. “And no more pining over Jimin, please!” She yells back.
It's hard not to look through the photos of your ex-boyfriend because it was supposed to be you, not the woman he's kissing and holding. If only you could go back to graduation and fix things between you and Jimin…maybe life would've turned out differently for you.
As you open up Instagram (your burner account, obviously), you see a new post of him and his wife on a plane with the caption, “Can't wait to honeymoon in Bali.”
Bali was your dream honeymoon location.
With a heavy sigh, flinging yourself onto the bed, you turn off your phone. Lottie’s always right—this is depressing.
A ding goes off and you're hoping it's just one of the girls confirming the schedule for today. Grabbing your phone, you hold it above you, the screen illuminating your face.
The notification reads:
Namjoon 8:30 AM
Hey. I came down with the stomach bug so I can't make it tonight, but don't worry, I'm sending the next best thing to replace me. I promise the bride and your girls will love him. He's a newbie but he's just as beefy if not more than me. Have fun tonight.
You turn the phone over and rub your hand over your face. Great, just my luck, you think.
Well, whoever this person is, you hope he’s worth what you’re paying for.
–
The Primrose restaurant is the perfect spot to finish off a weekend in Vegas. It’s bustling with groups similar to yours—probably other brides and bridesmaids celebrating a last hoorah before committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life. At this point it seems silly, doesn’t it? Being with someone, choosing them on a daily basis, loving them for all their faults, but who are you kidding? You’re a hopeless romantic now waiting for your charming prince.
Gwen and Ivy sit across from you and Lottie, whispering and pointing to their phone like two high school girls. You don’t doubt they’re plotting something. You just hope it doesn’t involve more naked men, minus the one you’ll see tonight. There are only so many ripped abs you can take.
“What are you two whispering about?” Lottie asks while narrowing her eyes. She holds her glass of mango mimosa, taking a sip.
“Nothing!” They both speak in tandem and Lottie makes a face at the two.
“No surprises,” you plead with your friends. “The rest of the day is already planned.”
“Don’t worry, babe! We’re not planning anything else,” Gwen reassures.
“It’s just that—” Ivy is cut off when Gwen jabs her in the ribs. “Ow!”
Gwen puts her phone down, hiding it under her thigh. “It’s nothing that concerns you.”
“But it does—kind of—” Ivy interjects. “Jimin and his wife—they’re pregnant.” She grabs Gwen’s phone, showing a photo of Jimin kissing his wife’s belly.
“Oh,” you say softly. “That’s great. I’m really happy for him.”
You hate to admit it, but it stings. He’s living the life you dreamed of with him. The big house, big cars, but someone else got the big ring. And now they’re starting a family? Everyone seems to be moving forward, but it feels like you’re at standstill. It’d be amazing to have a man plop in your lap, but life just doesn’t seem to be going your way.
Clearing your throat, “Should we get ready for the pool?”
—
It doesn’t matter how many times you tug down your swimsuit, it keeps riding up in all the wrong places. The white linen shorts and tie top aren’t doing you any favors either by being paper thin.
The pool is bustling with hoards of party-goers. They’re laughing, drinking, and having the time of their life. An ex-boyfriend’s current life shouldn’t be affecting yours—but it is. You wish you could let go, let loose, forget everything related to Park Jimin. You’d rather be consumed by anything, anyone other than him.
Lottie’s at the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Gwen and Ivy are grabbing the attention of four guys. And it’s the last night before returning to reality, so you should be having fun, flirting, and making a fool of yourself to someone whom you’ll never see again. That’s what Vegas is for, right?
As a maid of honor, you’re definitely not living up to the hype and you know Lottie’s disappointed expression like the back of your hand, and yet you can’t unbunch your panties that are in a twist. The effects of the morning mimosas have worn off, and maybe you need something stronger. Hell—even a gummy sounds tempting at this point. Anything to forget how miserable your love life is.
“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” Lottie asks. You shake your head no, but she knows you. She sits down, taking your hands. “Look, I’m sorry about Jimin. It sucks that he got married even though he said he never wanted to—” You’re ready to interrupt but she stops you, placing her index finger on your lips.
“Bup-bup-bup. I know what you’re going to say, but don’t,” Lottie implores, pleading with her eyes. She knows how much you torment yourself with lowly thoughts.
You want to say that there’s definitely something wrong with you. Why else would Jimin say one thing to you about marriage and then do the complete opposite?
“You’re more than enough, so please don’t think otherwise. Don’t let this one guy determine the course of your future relationships. He’s not worth your time and energy.”
Tears began to well behind your eyes as she continued, “You deserve to have some fun. So please, can we enjoy this last night together before we have to go back to our real lives?” Lottie pouts along with puppy eyes.
Lottie’s always right and that’s what you love about her. You hate that you’ve been a poor sport this weekend when you’re supposed to be celebrating your friend and having fun. You’ve been busy moping over a man who is now married with a child on the way. It’s a pathetic way to spend your last night in Vegas.
You let out a deep breath, expelling all the bad energy you’ve harnessed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been the worst maid of honor, but have no fear!” A server brings over the drinks that Lottie ordered, you pick up your Paloma cocktail and an oversized margarita, handing it to the bride-to-be. “Let’s have the best night. Cheers!” you say, clinking your glass against hers.
—
Tequila is one of your worst enemies, but also the best way for you to loosen up your limbs and lips.
By the time the four of you arrive at the hotel room, you’re unsure if you can even pick up a paintbrush, let alone even get paint on a canvas.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry that you love me! Change my mind up like it’s origami!”
The trio of you, Ivy, and Gwen are linked arm in arm trying to fit through the door while singing at the top of your lungs.
“Ugh—I swear Tate McRae is my spirit animal,” you say, turning to Gwen. “You know, she just gets it. Always gets me in my sad girl hours and then has me dancing the next.”
“I’m a-I’m a-I’m a wild ride that never stops!” Ivy continues singing, letting go of the two of you while Lottie trails behind. Someone has to be the semi-sober one.
“Hey Ro—they’re bringing everything right?” Lottie asks you.
“Yeah, the guy will bring the supplies. There’s an area cleared out for him. I’m gonna freshen up then I’ll be out.”
“I’m ready for a man to bare it all and ask nothing of me in return,” Gwen comments, taking a seat on the couch.
You chuckle, shaking your head at your friend. Hopefully, it’ll be the last naked man you’ll see this weekend. But either way, you’re sure you’ll enjoy this last activity.
The powder puff pats against your skin, making dust fly everywhere. Taking a step back, you give yourself the once-over in the mirror, but not before swiping a red stain on your lips. You don’t want to look disheveled for this naked guest. Apparently, he’s the ‘next best thing’ next to Namjoon, and you saw Namjoon’s photo on the website. You’re curious to see this mystery man and how this evening will end up.
As the door is ajar, you can hear the girls talking amongst themselves along with giggles. Whoever this guy is, he must be living up to their standards.
You’re unsure what to expect, how everything will turn out. Is this model fully naked? Are they covered? Do you keep your art piece? How are you supposed to bring a canvas of a naked man on a plane without receiving a few stares? You definitely didn’t think this part through.
“Ro! Get your butt out here. We’re gonna start painting soon!” Gwen yells, making you sprint out the door and into a curious situation.
Four canvases on easels and paint palettes on stools surround the model. His back is turned to you and he’s already half-naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist. One arm is completely inked from the top of his shoulder to his wrist. When he turns around and your jaw drops, not because he’s built like a Greek god (well, yeah he is), but because you recognize the half-naked man.
“Jeon Jungkook?”
“Ro?” His eyes light up and he secures his towel, tucking it in his waist. “What are you doing here?”
You step toward him and the girls. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”
Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Err—”
Lottie clears her throat, blinking at you and then Jungkook. “Um, excuse me. How do you two know each other?”
The pair of you give each other a look and chuckle before you answer. “Oh, we went to college together.”
“Just went to college together? Nothing more?” Ivy narrows her eyes at you, trying to figure out if you’re lying.
“What? No! We’re just friends. I was with Jimin, remember?” A pathetic reminder of your past relationship and now non-existent one.
“Uh huh,” Lottie remarks, taking a stride to you, pulling you in. “I wanna hear all the details about that one later.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” you whisper. “We’re friends—nothing more.” Catching Jungkook’s gaze, you smile softly before taking your seat on the stool.
“Are you ladies ready?” Jungkook asks, ripping off his towel, only to reveal another small hand towel covering his crotch.
The girls are yelping and hollering. You can’t help but cover your eyes, giggling at the fact that you’ll be painting one of your friends—naked.
—
Jungkook’s surrounded by the four of you. His pose is simple, straight forward. Literally straight forward because he’s facing you, knees slightly bent as he’s sitting on the stool. Your eyes have caught his every now and again, but he's focused on something past you.
Every inch of him is chiseled like a statue right out of Ancient Greece. From his jawline, to his collarbone, to his sculpted chest and not one, two, three, four, but eight pack abs. How is it that some people are just born to look like a Greek god? You didn’t think God had favorites, but Jeon Jungkook definitely proves you wrong.
Studying Jungkook’s physique for the past hour has made you realize how intimate this feels. Although the pair of you were friends in school, this is the most time you’ve spent with him outside of it, and the most time you’ve spent just looking at him. He is definitely a pretty boy with a soft, sweet energy.
Your brows are knitted, biting your bottom lip, trying to figure out how to paint his inked arm. It’s looking more and more like a glob than anything distinguishable. It’s when your eyes catch his and he’s doing that smile, the one where one side curves up, and it makes your heart skip a beat.
Jungkook’s eyes flick to the large clock in the living area. “Okay, ladies. It looks like time is up. How did everyone’s painting turn out?” There are groans and grumbles coming from the four of you. Jungkook chuckles, “Aw, come on. It can’t be that bad.”
He turns, fetching a robe behind him, slipping it on to cover himself. Jungkook takes it upon himself to check out everyone’s canvases, and you’re dreading the moment when he approaches yours.
You clutch it, holding it close to your body, and you have no intention of Jungkook ever seeing it.
He tilts his head, giving you a look. “Ro—it can’t be that bad.”
“Trust me, it is!” You turn, hoping to somehow destroy it before leaving tomorrow morning. It’s not that Jungkook looks horrible—it’s that you’re a horrible painter. But your death grip isn’t as strong as he is. With a sigh, you hand it over to him.
Jungkook nods with a pout on his lips. “It’s…”
“Horrible—I know.”
“No, no. I’d say it has an abstract feeling to it. I like it.” He gives a bright smile, returning the canvas to you.
You give him a thin smile, knowing that he’s just saying it because it’s his job. “By the way, you’re really good at this gig, but are you still pursuing the whole modeling thing?”
“I’m still doing that. I just do this gig for fun on the weekends. I mean, I get to meet cool, and sometimes crazy people and the money isn’t bad either.”
“Alright, ladies and gentleman. Tequila, anyone?” Gwen suggests as she wiggles her eyebrows, holding up the bottle. No one answers which makes her frown. “Aw, come on!”
“I’m game. What about you Ro?” Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised, eyes practically pleading for you to say yes. “One for me?”
You know it’s never ‘just one’ with Jungkook. You’ve seen first hand what that one line does to people, but you take the risk. “Okay, Jeon—just one.”
Everyone else gives in, raising and clinking their glasses to toast the bachelorette. Expelled breaths come from everyone after knocking back the clear liquor.
“Round two?” Jungkook asks, extending his glass toward Gwen in which she happily obliges.
You smirk, shaking your head as you catch Jungkook’s gaze.
—
It didn’t take long until you were feeling euphoric from the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’re always on cloud nine when you drink Tequila.
Lottie called it quits after her fifth shot. Gwen and Ivy are also well on their way to sleeping like babies. But you and Jungkook? You both have caught a second wind of energy.
“Ugh, I’m so hungry!” you exclaim, rubbing your belly as it growls. Jungkook’s trying to hold in a laugh. With a gasp, you turn to him, slapping his back, which is firm to the touch. “Shut up! Drinking makes me hungry.”
“Okay then, let’s get some room service. What are you craving?”
You tap your cheek with your index finger, combing through the many options. “Pizza. No—wait, chicken wings.” Jungkook closes his eyes and hums. “No, nope! I want a juicy, juicy hamburger…with…with…” Your brain is obviously short-circuiting.
“Fries?” Jungkook answers.
“Yes! Fries! And a milkshake!”
“We can do that. I’ll call it in.”
An hour has passed and you and Jungkook are sprawled out on the bed, bellies full and minds are swirling.
“Oh man, I haven’t done anything like this in such a long time,” you admit, turning over onto your belly. You lay your head in the crook of your arm, facing Jungkook.
“What? Eating?” he teases.
You giggle. “No—getting tipsy and I don’t know, just being free.”
“This is you being free?” Jungkook raises a brow. “I gotta get some more tequila in you then.” He proceeds to get up, but you pull him back.
“No, no, no. Trust me, this is good. I don’t wanna black-out.”
“Okay, how about some champagne then? Just to celebrate your last night here,” Jungkook suggests.
You know you’ll regret it, but you agree. “Just one bottle.” Besides you already paid for it, you wouldn’t want it to go to waste.
He sprints out of the bedroom to the bar area to grab a bottle and two glasses. You can’t help but notice how his biceps flex as he pours the two of you a glass.
“To—”
“Lottie,” you finish his sentence.
“To Lottie.” He clinks his glass with yours before chugging down his bubbly.
You stare blankly at the Greek god himself. “You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?”
His lips thin into a smile. “I’m not doing anything…”
“Mmhm.” You take a gulp of your glass. You’re sure that if Jungkook were to ask you to do something, you’d say yes in a heartbeat. He made being around him comfortable and you always felt at ease.
“So, what should we do now?”
Your lips turn into a pout, peering around the room before a lightbulb goes off. “Ah! I have just the thing.” You rush over to your luggage, rummaging through it. Turning around, you wave a box of double tipped markers.
Jungkook knits his brows together. “And what do you think you’re going to do with those?”
You giggle. “You’ll see!”
—
Your tongue is out, concentrating on the purple line connecting from one beauty mark to the next. You’ve forced Jungkook to lie on his belly as you’re hunched over, straddling his legs.
“Don’t move!”
He relaxes, letting you continue on. Capping the purple marker, you set it aside. You’re giggling, tracing the line across his back and you can feel him squirm under your touch.
“You finished or what?” He peers over his shoulder but you turn him away.
"Just need to add the finishing touches." Leaning forward, you press your lips to the first beauty mark on his mid back, leaving a lipstick stain. Then you move to the next one beneath his shoulder blade, and continue on. His skin is smooth and warm under your lips, and though it's faint, you think you hear a low groan from him.
You sit up, adjusting your position, staring at the artwork you’ve created on Jungkook’s back. “Done—with your back at least. Now onto your arms.”
—
Jungkook turns his head to see what you’re coloring, flexing his bicep, making you color outside the lines.
“Oh my god! You made me mess up!” You try wiping the color, but it doesn’t budge. “You did it on purpose.”
“I did not! Why do you need to color inside the lines anyway?” he asks before returning to his previous position, resting his head on his arm.
“Because…that’s the way you’re supposed to color.” Taking an orange marker, you continue shading in his cloud tattoo.
“You don’t always have to follow the rules,” he breathed, gazing up at you.
“I know…” you mumble. Your eyes flick to his then back to the tattoo. You hate when things are not in your control. There were a handful of moments in your life when shit hit the fan and chaos ensued—Jimin being one of them.
You clear your throat, grabbing a yellow marker to color in a gradient effect. “And are you the type to not follow the rules?”
Jungkook chuckles, “I guess we don’t know each other well huh?”
“Well, I was practically glued to Jimin when we were in school.”
“What happened with you guys anyway? I thought you guys were like soulmates or something.”
“We just wanted different things,” you mumble, not wanting to elaborate. “What about you, hmm? Being a model in LA and Vegas? I’m sure you have women wanting to crawl into bed all the time.”
His gaze catches yours. “Exhibit A.”
You scoff. “Hey! We’re friends—that’s the only reason why you’re in my bed.”
“Uh huh. I saw the way you were eyeing me during the painting session. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it,” Jungkook teases, making you stop coloring, and pinch his underarm. “Ow, ow, ow! Okay, just kidding!” He moves away, but you pull him back.
“Hey! I’m almost done coloring,” you say, gripping tighter onto his arm.
“That’s not fair. Only you get to color me?”
You sigh, tilting your head. “I’ll let you draw one thing on me.”
“Can I pick the location of where to draw it?”
“As long as it’s not my tits or ass.”
Jungkook lets out a hearty laugh. “Alright, how about your—”
Your hand flies to cover his mouth, knowing exactly what he’s going to say. “Jeon Jungkook! That’s a hard no!”
“You practically saw my junk and I can’t see yours?”
“Well, I paid for it.”
“I can pay you too.”
You gasp. “You can’t just buy me.”
“Fine. Give me a few options and I’ll choose the placement.”
It would be easy to choose a place more visible, but you’re feeling frisky. “My hip or my back.”
Jungkook lips his licks, eyes flicking to your hips then back up at you. “And I can draw anything I want?”
You hum with a nervous tremble. You’re sure he wouldn’t draw anything ridiculous. “I trust you.”
“‘Kay then, turn over on your belly. Top off.”
Sitting up, facing Jungkook, your hands fall to the first button on your linen vest. Your eyes never leave his as you continue to unfasten the rest, then you toss it aside, revealing a blush pink see-through bra with floral detailing. Jungkook is trying his best to not let his eyes wander lower and you’re trying to do the same. Yes, you’ve stared at his half-naked body for an hour tonight, but you didn’t have the chance to explore it up close.
“Is this okay?” You know it is, but you’d like confirmation.
“Mmm.” He gestures for you to lie down, and you do as he asks.
Jungkook reaches for a black marker, the tip is thinner than the others. He shifts his position a few times before lying comfortably next to you. The warmth from his body radiates, heating up against your skin. You lie on top of your crossed arms, facing him, wondering what he’s planning to draw. Maybe some flowers or stars.
His brows are knitted as he’s concentrated on where to begin. He starts on the middle of your back, drawing circular shapes from what you can tell. The tip of the marker grazes back and forth, and his hand and fingers emanate a gentle touch upon your skin.
He’s quite handsome, you think. Even the scar etched on his cheek has a certain beauty, and his nose must be a butterflies favorite place to land on.
“Is it okay if I unhook this?”
“Hmm?”
“Your um,” he clears his throat. “Your bra.”
You’ve been too focused on Jungkook’s face, you hadn’t realized he was halfway down your back. “Yeah, um, go for it.”
He unhooks your bra in one fell swoop and the sides of your bra fall to the side. Continuing with his design, he concentrates on the smallest details going down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut as his warm breath softly fans the wet ink on your skin.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Jungkook asks, trying to make conversation, realizing he doesn’t know you well, besides when you were with Jimin.
“Single as can be. What about you? A girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Situationship?”
Jungkook laughs. “What kind of life do you think I lead here, hm? That’s a lot of assumptions about me.”
“I don’t know. I just assume that someone that looks like you would have someone is all.”
“Well, I’m also single, and I’m a more monogamous kinda guy.”
“You are?” you question with a dramatic gasp. “That comes as a nice surprise. Maybe we should go get married tonight in a chapel,” you joke.
“With a few more drinks in me, I’m sure I’d say yes to anything.”
“Stop—don’t tempt me.”
“I’m serious. I’m ready to meet someone and do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but a lot of the people I meet just want sex.”
“I’m sorry, did I just meet a guy who doesn’t want sex?”
Jungkook deadpans. “I didn’t say I don’t want sex. I do—I just wanna be a romantic and spoil someone.”
“Oh, well, you can always wine and dine me. I won’t object,” you tease.
As Jungkook continues drawing, the pads of his fingers create a light buzz of electricity, from one end to the other. Your eyes flutter shut, relishing from his soft touch. You almost let out a low moan but catch yourself when he gets to a ticklish spot near your ribs.
“Jungkook?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think the right person will come along for you?”
A beat passes before he answers. “Yeah, I think so. Whoever they are, I just know that I'm probably not ready to meet them yet, but the right time will come.”
“But what if the right person came at the wrong time?”
“Or…you were the right person in the wrong place,” he suggests. “Are you talking about Jimin?”
“Yeah, I've been trying to avoid talking about him. He recently got married and his wife is pregnant too.”
“Ah, don't tell me you're feeling shitty? ‘Cause you shouldn't.”
A sad chuckle leaves your lips. “I'm pretty sure I fumbled it.”
Jungkook stops drawing on your back, softly calling your name, in which you hesitate to look at him for fear of bursting into tears.
“Hey…you didn't fumble anything. Pretty sure it's Jimin’s loss.”
“You're sweet, Kook. Thanks.”
Jungkook continues on his quest to finish his drawing.
“Is it almost finished?” you ask, clearing your throat. The tequila and champagne are starting to wear off and tomorrow’s reality is beginning to settle in. Tonight feels like a dream and you don’t want to wake up.
He hums. “Almost. Just a few more details then we’ll be good to go.” Short strokes lightly mark across your back and he doesn’t break his concentration. He continues for a few minutes before closing the cap. “Done. Wanna see?”
“I’m not gonna lie. I’m low-key scared to see what it is.”
Jungkook straightens his posture then reaches for his phone. “You have nothing to be scared of. It’s pretty. I promise.” He takes a photo, showing it to you.
Though the drawing session didn’t feel long, you could see the intricate detailing he went into drawing the moon phases down your back.
Sitting up then turning away from Jungkook, you use your arm to cover your breasts and secure your bra. “Are you always good at everything?” you ask, standing and walking over to the dresser, you pull out an oversized shirt, slipping it on, then you grab the tequila bottle and two shot glasses. There’s just enough to end the night.
Jungkook shifts to the edge of the bed, legs spread, and you slot yourself right in between. “Nah, I’m not good at everything.”
“Oh yeah? What are you not good at?” you ask, making him hold a glass while you pour his then yours.
He chuckles, looking away, then back up at you. “For starters, I’m not good at flirting.”
“You’re lying.” Your eyes lock in on his as you set the empty bottle down on the floor.
“I’m not.”
“Okay, practice on me then,” you say, trying to persuade him.
“A bit of liquid courage might help.”
You raise your glass and clink it against his. “Bottoms up.” The both of you wince as you knock them back, tossing the glasses on the carpeted flooring.
“Better?” you inquire, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, playing with the hair along the nape of his neck. Jungkook’s fingers delicately trace up and down your thighs, sending tingles across every inch of skin. His eyes are so starry, you’ll gladly get lost in them.
“You’re pretty.”
“Could say the same about you,” you giggle, twirling his hair in your fingers. “You’re right.”
Jungkook closes his eyes, reveling at your touch against his skin. “Mm, about what?”
“That you’re bad at flirting.” Your eyes linger on his lips, wondering what they taste like and how much you’d like to kiss the chocolate chip mole right underneath his bottom lip.
He lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at his feet then back at you. “Told you,” he says as he pulls away, propping himself up on the bed. He scans you from head to toe, loving the fact that you’re in between his legs. Hasn't seen you in years, but he’s intrigued.
Letting out a yawn, you cover your mouth then apologize.
“Damn, didn’t think my non-flirting would put you to sleep.”
You laugh. “It’s been a long day and it’ll be an even longer one tomorrow.”
“Right, I should head out too.” Jungkook shifts, scooting to the edge of the bed but you don’t budge.
“Do you wanna stay? Since it’s pretty late already.” Nearly 3 AM and you know you’ll regret this but right now, you’ll indulge in whatever’s left of this trip.
Jungkook’s silent for a moment before answering, “Sure. I’ll stay.”
You crawl over him, slipping under the covers that have been calling your name for the past few hours. The plush, fluffy pillows are like a cloud as you lay your head down. Jungkook follows your lead, doing the same, facing you. His fringe gently falls, covering his eyes, and you find yourself moving them out of his face.
“You’re cute,” you whisper, letting your finger trace his cheeks to his jawline.
“I don’t really like being cute,” he hums.
“Well, that’s just too damn bad, isn’t it?” You inch closer to him, and can feel the warmth radiating off his body. It feels nice to be in close proximity to another human being again. And you like that there are no expectations. You can just be with Jungkook. The two of you run in the same circle of friends, and he makes you feel safe—like if anything were to happen to you tonight, he’d take care of you.
Your eyes flick to his lips, lingering longer than expected, and your cheeks are warming up, ridding the last bit of alcohol coursing through your veins.
Jungkook moves in, closing the distance. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, lips ghosting each other in a delicate dance before finally meeting in a tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as you melt into each other. Hearts beating in perfect harmony, lost in the sweetness of the moment.
With your breaths mingled, it creates a cocoon of intimacy as you savor the softness of each other's lips. Your fingers entwined in his hair, drawing him closer, bodies pressed together in a silent declaration of desire.
The last leg of this trip was fate trying to make you forget about your worries, and Jungkook was the perfect color to paint over your monochrome palette.
There’s a longing deep inside you wanting to escape, and as much as you want to release it, you’d rather have him when you’re sober and in the right mindframe.
“Ro…” Jungkook moans as he pulls away, your hands splayed on his taut chest, forehead resting against his.
“Yeah?” you reply, leaning in for another kiss.
“I don’t want you like this,” he says, taking you by surprise, almost like he could read your mind.
Letting out a chuckle, you answer, “No—yeah, makes sense.”
“It’s not that ‘I don’t want you’, I do! I just—don’t want this to turn out like other flings I’ve had in the past because I don’t consider you ‘a fling’ or someone to just toss the next day because we’re friends and I would never do that to—“
You interrupt him with a peck on his lips. “Jungkook. I understand. I feel the same way.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I had a lot of fun tonight and that’s all thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“No, you did! You helped me loosen up.”
“I’m sure it was just the champagne and tequila doing all the work.”
“They helped, but it was mostly you.” You smile, letting a beat pass before speaking again. “Should we try to get some sleep?”
He hums, leaning in for a kiss, in which you willingly give. You tug on his silver chain, asking for a few more kisses before letting him go.
Not even three minutes in and Jungkook is already snoring. His chest rising and falling, rumbling like a mountain. It’s cute, you think. Could get used to listening to this, almost like white noise.
You admire how Jungkook lives his life without worries, letting the wind guide him. It might not happen right away, but maybe when you return to reality, you should consider not always staying within the lines. That it’s okay to go out of bounds and live a little. Life shouldn’t be so serious all the time.
—
There’s a light sound of pitter patter sweeping across the floor with shushed ‘Ows’ and ‘shut up’. You weakly open your eyes to see what the commotion is. Your body wants to get up, but the pounding migraine is saying otherwise.
A loud thump makes you blink your eyes open and pop your head up. There’s furniture knocked over, tequila and champagne bottles are scattered everywhere, along with clothes and money.
The low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover yourself with the duvet. They’re facing away and you can’t make out who this mystery person is. You peer over to find a man covered in tattoos, and it looks like a child tried to color inside the tattoo lines but failed miserably.
He mumbles gibberish under his breath and turns over onto his stomach. Great, now you can’t even get a good look at him, you think.
His silver necklace glimmers from the sun peeking through the blinds. And holy shit—his shoulders?
Broad.
Chiseled.
For all you know, he could be some kind of athlete. Then you notice the purple lines on his back, and no—they aren’t scratches from nails, the lines connect from one beauty mark to the next across his back. It’s like one of those connect the dot pictures, except the finished drawing wasn’t anything recognizable. But surrounding each beauty mark is a pair of red lips, and as you look down at your hands, you find that you’re the culprit who must’ve drawn on this man.
What the fuck happened last night, you think.
Another groan escapes the man’s lips and he turns over again. You pull up your side of the duvet, further covering yourself, and the smallest gasp comes out. It’s none other than Jeon Jungkook, an old college buddy.
The duvet is pulled down, covering his bottom half, revealing his taut chest and not one, two, three, four—but an eight pack set of abs. Is it humanly possible to even have more than six?
How did he end up in Vegas? And specifically in your room?
“Jungkook?” you whisper. “Are you awake?”
“Mmm…”
You move closer, feeling the warmth from his body. “Jungkook, it’s time to get up.”
Still half asleep, he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you flush against him. “Just five more minutes, Ro,” he says, nuzzling into you.
“Jeon Jungkook! What are you doing?”
He chuckles, smiling, finally peeking his eyes open. “You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”
“I…remember things…” you say, lying through your teeth.
“Oh yeah?” Jungkook moves into a sitting position, turning to you. “So you know we got married, right?”
Your jaw drops and eyes widen. “Oh my god, please tell me you’re lying.”
“You’re the one who suggested it!”
How could you let yourself get married in Las Vegas? And at your best friend’s bachelorette party? It’s not like you’re trying to steal her thunder, quite the opposite, really. This was supposed to be about her, not you. Fuck—Lottie’s going to hate you, isn’t she?
Jungkook quietly watches you freak out. Wonders how long he can let this continue before telling the truth. He thinks you’re cute when you’re all flustered.
“No, we can't be married! I don't even know you and how would this even work? We live like 3000 miles away from each other? And would you move to New York? Or would I move to LA? What if your family doesn't like me? Your friends even? Wait–do you even like me? Oh–Jungkook, how did we let this happen?” you ask, burying your hands in your face.
Question after question runs through your mind and Jungkook is sitting there with a smirk on his face.
“Why aren't you freaking out?” you question, raising an eyebrow.
Jungkook chuckles, leaning over toward you. “You're really cute, you know that?” he says.
Your eyes follow his finger as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Clearing your throat, it's time to get down to the important things. “Kook–please! This isn't the time to tell me I'm cute. We have bigger things to worry about. We're married!”
He sucks in his lips, trying to hold in a laugh.
You knit your brows and narrow your eyes. “Unless…we’re not married…”
Jungkook lets out a soft laugh, his finger gently caresses your cheek. “Maybe one day, pretty girl. If we ever get to that stage of course.”
A smack against his arm reverberates throughout the room. “Aye! I'm gonna kill you. You really had me worried.”
He rubs the ruby red spot that's imprinted on his arm. “Why? Because marrying me would've been horrible?”
No, you think, quite the opposite.
“Of course not. It's just, we don't know each other and I wouldn't want you to feel trapped in a marriage,” you explain.
You'd at least wanna go on a real date and get to know him before strapping him down forever.
He nods in agreement. “Well, I had fun last night. Hence all the things I let you do to me.” Jungkook points out the badly colored arm and connect-the-dots on his back.
“Oh, I'm so sorry about that.”
“I'm not. I'm glad you had fun even though you don't remember it.”
“Please tell me I didn't act like an idiot.”
Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, you're fine, but uh, I should get going since you have a flight to catch.”
“Oh, shit. My flight.” You reach over to find your phone. It's already 9 AM, and thankfully the airport isn't far away and TSA Pre-check has been a lifesaver.
With another glance, you see your clothes and Jungkook's scattered on the ground. He reaches to grab his shirt and sweats.
“I, um, I was pretty bold last night. Wasn't I?” you were referring to the pair of lips covering his back.
Jungkook snickers. “Yeah, just a bit, but I didn't mind it at all,” he says, slipping his shirt on. He stands, putting his sweats on and you can't help but stare at his peachy ass in his black Calvin Klein–the tight kind. “Do you remember anything else from last night?”
Your mind thinks back to the whirlwind of last night. There was definitely alcohol involved because you only act with confidence under the influence of Tequila.
But a recollection of soft lips and entangled hair between your fingers flutter back into the present just for a fleeting moment.
You shake your head, wanting to keep this memory to yourself.
Jungkook's lips thin into a smile as he ruffles his bed head hair. “Call me next time you're in town?”
You stand to meet him. “Or you can call me when you're in the Big Apple,” you reply, handing him your phone.
He dials your number, so you can have his. “Mm, looks like that confidence hasn't left yet.”
“Mm, I have a smidge of it left.”
“Yeah?” He draws closer, and you nod in agreement.
“Yeah,” you whisper, taking in his warmth and scent.
Last night was hazy but bits and pieces are coming back. You're not sure if a lot of these moments with Jungkook are real or just a dream. You'd like to hope he enjoyed spending time with you as much as you did with him.
“It was really good to see you, Kook.”
“Good to see you too, Ro. Don't be a stranger, okay?” He turns on his heel to open the bedroom door, but turns around to say one last thing. “Oh, and don't worry too much about the right person. Who knows, maybe you’ve met them already.”
You wonder if he's referring to himself. You have to admit, he's been making you smile and laugh more than usual, even making you blush.
“Mm, I'll keep that in mind.”
He flashes a smile, opening the door.
“Jungkook?”
He hums, turning to you again.
You reach up to kiss him on the cheek. “What happened in Vegas, can it not stay in Vegas?”
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there is no heaven on earth except for you.
summary: you divorce nightowl and reconnect with him decades later.
notes: 1.2k words, divorce, suggestive content (implied sleeping together), inspired by several robobarbie drabbles (including one which i swore i read about a similar scenario but CANNOT find)
The ring glints between the two of you on the dining table, a shard of ice-cold diamond.
For a second, neither of you breathes.
And then you stand, and Nightowl looks down at the table listlessly, his bleached hair falling in front of his eyes.
“That’s it?” he asks quietly.
“That’s it,” you confirm. Your voice is flint and steel. Impenetrable. There’s no need to repeat the arguments that have been doggedly circling your apartment for weeks.
You’re not quite as young as you were when you got married, an impulsive decision that had felt so, so right at the time. His hand in yours. The two of you against the world. A ring he’d been saving up from the paycheck at his first architectural job.
You could have survived anything together. The end of the world. A national disaster. But somehow, it’s the small things that ended up tanking your relationship. The bills, the rent, the piling financial strains. The gratingly small habits. And the emotional insecurities, running deeper than you could possibly have begun to help him with.
It’s easy at first. You have infinite patience and love for Nightowl. You’ve promised to dedicate your life to him.
You can take it. The late nights, the constant need for reassurance, the desperate way he clings on to you, as if you’ll leave if he lets go.
And then it becomes harder.
You grow older. You do your best. But nothing you do can reassure him, can save Nightowl from himself. It’s naive for you to think you could in the first place. You can’t love him enough to make up for deep wounds that tears him apart.
Like a sinking ship, you stay until the water is over your head, and now the both of you are drowning.
“The lawyer will be in contact,” you say.
His shoulders shake, and his voice only wobbles slightly. “Okay.”
It’s for the best. That’s what you repeat to yourself as you stumble out into the elevator, down to your car. One day, you will be able to look back on this and forget it all.
—
Someone calls your name. A voice you haven’t heard in years, one that comes straight out of a dream.
“Hey,” he says. And you feel twenty five again, and all you can remember is the boyish smile and the bleached hair falling on your shoulder, warm arms pulling you closer. A ghost, one that seems determined to pull you back.
“Hi,” you say.
“Do you have time to catch up?” Nightowl says. It’s been thirty years? Thirty five? But his voice is as bright as ever.
“Sure.”
On his hands, you notice, he has no rings. Just a pale band of skin where one once rested on his fourth finger.
—
There’s still a light band of skin where your ring once was. You thumb it over unconsciously, glancing out of the corner of your eye at the man besides you. You don’t think he’s noticed, absorbed into the ceramics of a long-lost civilization in front of the two of you.
Even after all these years, it still hasn’t faded. An indelible mark of your relationship, a ghost marriage: something that should have died long ago, but doesn’t go away.
He’s different now. Of course he would be, but it still hits you at unexpected moments. His long hair, tied back professionally, which he hasn’t bleached in decades. The wrinkles, which he would have used to complain about. But there are some things that are still the same, too: the dark thumb prints under his eyes. The mischievous twinkle.
You’ve changed too. You’re tired, older. You can’t stay up as late, move quite as fast, drink as much. You have your own wrinkles. You’ve found a streak of gray in your hair.
Nightowl catches your eye. “Like what you see?”
“Hm? What?”
“The art,” he says cheekily, tilting his head. “What did you think I meant?”
Your face heats up. He’s caught you staring like some lovesick teenager. “The art. Of course.”
His laugh, you’re relieved to find, is still so, so warm.
—
The evening gloom rolls in as you find yourself in the lobby of his hotel. The misty street lights are turning on one by one outside, surrounded by halos.
“It was nice seeing you,” you tell him. As if your only history is being two old friends, and nothing more.
Nightowl dips his head. “It was. I’m glad. I didn’t realize you were still in the city.”
You shrug. “I like it here.”
“I do, too.”
“Well, I should probably go now. Before it gets late.”
You take a step back. Then another. The silence stretches between the two of you, wider than a thousand years, a thousand miles. A thousand unknown memories and experiences.
This is it. A beautiful evening, a chance meeting. And then two of you will vanish again, back to your own lives. It’s a better parting than your last one. A nice memory to take home with you, once it’s all said and done.
“Wait.” Nightowl strides towards you. He doesn’t touch you, but he doesn’t have to. “Do you want to stay? I can order room service.”
“For more wine?”
“More wine,” he confirms. “It goes on the company card, so we should take advantage of it.”
The only thing you can do is nod.
—
You wake up in a shaft of sunlight on your face like a spotlight, creeping through a gap in the blinds. Someone’s arm is around your waist, sheets pooling around your legs.
You squint, and then– shit. You try to rise, but Nightowl stirs at your movements, pressing a sleepy kiss against your shoulder.
“Good morning.”
“Nightowl,” you breathe.
“Yes. That’s me.”
You close your eyes. Your head is throbbing, and you throw your mind back to the past, groping for the events of last night. The wine. The way the hours ticked away, until the easiest choice was to stay here. And how easy it was to fall right back into his arms.
“This was a mistake,” you begin.
“Really? Because it didn’t feel like one.”
“It’s been so long.”
“And I missed you,” he says quietly.
“Nightowl.”
“I’ve been with other people. But you weren’t just my spouse. You were my closest friend.”
You let out a breath, sinking into the plush hotel pillows. Nightowl reclines next to you, resting his chin on his propped hand. He’s drinking you in, and it sends heat throughout your body. To think that he could look at you the same, to want you the same.
“We left each other for a reason,” you say quietly. “We’re too old to be repeating the same mistakes.”
“But we’re not. We’re doing something different.” His hand slips into yours, palm to palm, fingers intertwined. “We’re not the same kids anymore.”
“I…” Your eyelashes flutter. “I know. But…”
“Do you regret this? Because I don’t.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Give us a chance again,” he says. “We can take it one step at a time. As slow as you want.”
In the sunlight, you see the pale band around his finger, glowing. “All right. But at least take me out first.”
“I think we’re already past that.” When he leans in, you only lean your head forward in response. Your first time, done again, and again, until the two of you finally get it right.
#liya writes#blooming panic#nightowl#nightowl x reader#blooming panic x reader#x reader#no words for this one#played seekl#replayed bloomic#my love for robobarbie games knows no bounds
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heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i ♱ portgas d. ace
+ siren!au. f!reader. strong language, a touch of religious symbolism, cannibalism. canon-typical violence. this is inspired by, surprise surprise, hozier’s song francesca. i’ve been meaning to write something based off of this song and i’m so glad i felt inspired enough to write one for ace. he’s my pookie and i hope this is going to be an enjoyable read for everyone. also this is not proofread sorry :((
“I’ll tell them put me back in it
Darling, I would do it again,
If I could hold you for a minute
Darling, I’d go through it again”
Portgas D. Ace.
A name, a boy, and ruination.
He is the unforgiving sun in the tale of Icarus. Come, come a little closer, prepare yourself to burn. There, there, have you seen? The invincible man whose fire swallows the might of the sea?
So, why would it matter if he’s the son of the devil? Why would it matter if his steps are seen to have tendrils of the past, of the terror which enveloped the four seas? He has it all in the palm of his hand, don’t you know? Forget the bounty that sits upon his head, he stands on the pinnacle of glory.
How many years has it been since he left that little town in the kingdom of Goa? He has left everything that he had known there, bringing only the cherished memories of his brothers to take to the unknown sea. From the rowboat that he had put by himself, he garnered a ship, collected his crews, until he was named captain.
This is the beginning of his tale. Tale that has been morphed by hubris. There, he met the strongest man in the whole continent, an enemy at first, then a father.
Fate has such a way to unravel someone, doesn’t it?
Like the waves, Ace has been washed ashore onto many islands. He has faced enemies, drank with friends, maintained his name as a force to be reckoned with. He has slipped, many times before, from the hands of the Navy.
With a mystery in his name, he is called Fire Fist; all-powerful, undefeated.
But in the deepest level and behind the gargantuan sea-prism stones of Impel Down, he is just Ace.
A son, a brother, and a lover.
For the first time since he has taken to the sea, Ace’s only wish is to come home.
“Luffy, don’t come,” is his vehement and incessant whisper after Empress Hancock’s revelation.
Pride be damned, Ace had asked Blackbeard to spare Luffy the knowledge of his brother’s defeat and captivity inside the formidable and infamous prison in the Grand Line. Ace understood the stakes of chasing blindly after Blackbeard, and now it brought upon his downfall. He couldn’t, in good conscience, take his little brother down with him.
But of all people, Ace should’ve known. He should’ve known that Luffy would come flying to save him, to see him freed, safe and sound, even at the expense of Luffy’s own life.
And so together, they battled their way towards freedom. Much blood was shed, for both the Whitebeard Pirates and the Navy. Both sides have lost good men; both sides have suffered the reality of bitter defeat from the buildings that have been demolished and ships that have been wrecked during the heat of the battle.
It was called the Paramount War, and in this war, Whitebeard lost his life.
Such a blow was unimaginable for the remaining members of Whitebeard’s crew, who had known one father figure all throughout their lives and that had been the man who died standing.
“Ace, should you be out here instead of resting?”
Ace’s attention remains glued to the stretch of water before him despite hearing Marco’s question. With the gaze of the moon falling softly onto the pearly sea, the faint, luminescent glow caresses the edges of Ace’s bruised and beaten face.
His body throbs from the places Akainu bombarded with unforgiving blows, but what pains him most has been the angry mark between his chest. Akainu’s fist almost punctured Ace’s chest had it not been for Luffy’s aid. The attack has rendered Luffy insensible for the whole fight and drowned Ace in an all-consuming guilt.
“Marco.” The breeze whispers all around the two men, brushing the tendrils of raven hair out of Ace’s face. He doesn’t wait for a response before proceeding, “Drop me to Eien.”
“Ace, you’re in no condition,” Marco quickly answers.
Ace’s eyes glint in the moonlight. “I don’t care. Just… take me there.”
“Quit it, Ace! Do you hear yourself? You’ve barely survived Akainu! It’s a miracle you’re standing on two feet right now with all your injuries. Don’t be unreasonable—”
“Marco, do you want to know how it felt to be on that platform, kneeling and shackled?” Ace’s fingers closed around the taffrail, his knuckles red and raw.
He had never felt as hopeless, as though he was a little prey for the naval forces to tear into shreds. He is Portgas D. Ace; he would have burned the whole Marine Ford to cinders. He would have turned them all to ashes, but he was just one man.
“Yes, it felt like shit,” he answers himself with a biting laugh. “But tell me why did it make me glad?”
Because kneeling there and waiting for his execution has opened the memories he has kept safe and sealed away. Upon the platform, the memories paint a vivid recollection of Ace, Luffy, and Sabo when they were kids, wildly running around and defying Dadan. Those memories are a memento of his life, from when he had left Goa to Whitebeard taking him under his care.
They were good memories, flashing consecutively in his mind as death loomed overhead. They reminded Ace that he was loved and that he, too, had loved. For this one thing, he has you as the testimony.
“Take me to Eien, Marco. You know I’d go even if it’s the last thing I’d do.”
With what strength he has left, Ace descends to Luffy’s room. His little brother’s body mirrors the wounds and bandages around his own; the sight is enough to singe Ace’s eyes with tears.
Luffy’s lids flutter open, exhaustion evident in the droop of his eyes. He spots Ace standing on the threshold and flashes his brother with a worn out smile. “Ace…”
“Luffy!” Ace rushes to his brother’s side. There are fat tears in the corner of his eyes, begging to race down his cheeks. Overwhelmed with mixed emotions, all that Ace could utter through the heat in his throat are the words: “Thank you for loving me!”
The reason behind Marco’s initial dissent lies in the history of Eien Island. Situated before the menacing Red Line, it is home to another kind of Fish-men called the Sirens. However, unlike the majority of mermaids in Fish-Man Island, the Sirens possess the ability to change their tails to human feet out of the water. Therefore, instead of living 10,000 feet underwater, they dwell on an island located on the surface.
Bonded by the same blood they might be, Sirens have long been considered as the black lamb of the Fish-men race.
In their veins are a vehement hunger for blood and hearts of sailors. Not only is it home to menacing creatures, a thick fog enshrouds the island. It serves both as a protection and a trap to lead their victims astray. Together with a siren’s song, men have been lured to their deaths; their bones piled up on a heap below the waters surrounding Eien.
And yet for the first time since the Paramount War, Ace feels a renewed sense of euphoria ready to envelop his heart at the sight of the dismal place, because this dreary island is where you are.
He knows the fog by heart; you have taught him how to sail through the thickness without getting lost, after all. Here, death hangs heavy in the air, and the water is perennially tinged with blood. Few have the heart to brave Eien Island, but Ace left his heart here, secured in your hands, but should you decide to eat every inch, go on and do it.
Tonight, the moon has shown its mercy and decides to kindle the skies of Eien with a hazy moonlight.
Ace burns with the pain of rowing towards the shore. He is no way in shape to man this rowboat alone, yet he cannot ask any of his friends to do the work for him. And so with painstaking effort, in spite of his body’s frailty and the fresh wounds dressing his skin, Ace has persevered until he has reached that spot.
This is where your eyes found each other for the first time. This is where you have spoken the promise that you’d always wait for his arrival.
But where are you now?
The boulder where you always sit, waiting for him with your magnificent tail folded, is empty. He has never arrived in an empty boulder. Not once.
Ace’s heart picks up its speed in a snap, dread washing over him completely. Has he arrived too late? They haven’t reached you, have they?
He calls out your name, but the night merely swallows his desperation as if in derision. Ace’s breath grows more labored, his skin already clammy with anxiety. All the worst possibilities crammed into his brain, penetrating to the point of headache, an ache that has traveled all over his body, until he has fallen on his knees.
Please, no, no, no.
Torture me. Break my bones. Put me in hell. I’ll go through it again. But not this, not this, not this—
“Ace…?”
He doesn’t even know which god he’s praying to, but this is salvation; hearing your voice utter the lone syllable of his name.
Ace has never stood up so fast, has never severed the space between you that swiftly, has never embraced someone this tightly, until now.
“You… You’re alive,” you whisper, too surprised to move a limb, too euphoric to even smile. “A… are you real?”
He has your face between his calloused hands. His skin feels warm, alive. There are bandages wrapping his body, split lips, scratches, bruises, wounds, but he is Ace in flesh and blood.
“‘Course I am, pretty,” he declares with a delightful chuckle.
And your tears are spilling like stars down Ace’s hands as if they have been stolen from the universe itself. He kisses your damped cheeks, gently, slowly.
Your words are a garbled mess, defeated by your untamable sobs. “Is… is this a cruel… dream?”
“No, we’re real. This is real,” he murmurs softly, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, before his lips finally collide with yours.
Your tears slip between your lips, shoulders trembling as you cry. There is longing, there is hunger, and there is a touch of resurrection in that mind-numbing kiss.
Ace’s eyes are red-rimmed when you’ve managed to detach yourselves from each other.
“Why did you travel all this way in your condition? You shouldn’t have pushed yourself. I would’ve waited, Ace. I would’ve waited for you for all eternity.”
He still has your face between his hands, and in those eyes is a passion of a new kind looking back at you. “It doesn’t matter. You know it, don’t you? To get to you— to get to you I’d have set the world on fire.”
Here and now, Ace realizes with a terrifying clarity that it didn’t matter if they had broken all his bones, he’d come to you crawling. It didn’t matter whether the whole world had put a bullet between his eyes, then he’d come to you blind.
He’d come beaten, he’d come bruised, he’d come in pieces, he’d come half-alive, but he would come. For you, a thousand times over.
#ace x reader#ace x you#portgas d ace x reader#portgas d ace x you#one piece x reader#one piece x you#op x reader#op x you
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Of Swings and Snakes - Matsukawa x Reader
part 1 - this is the angsty start, for someone who likes angst to fluff, leave a note so I can tag you in part 2
Warning: Angst, Relationship ending, failed communication
tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain and my angsty Mattsun Anon
The old swingset creaks loudly as you push yourself forward. It’s the only noise in the park and it would probably be creeping you out if your thoughts weren’t occupied as is.
You barely have enough energy to push yourself forward, but you cannot stay in place either and the loud, whining creak is enough to cut a little slice out of the gloom that’s been settling heavily into your skin.
“This seat taken?”
You don’t look up. Makki settles in the swing next to you without waiting for an answer.
For a while, there’s just the sound of two swings creaking, the soft sound when your feet hit the floor to push you forward just a little more.
Eventually, though, you come to a stop. Makki follows, puts his feet down so hard dirt flies through the air.
His left hand moves over to take yours, folding around your cold fingers holding the cold metal.
“I’m staying with you, okay?” He says, “You’re not going to be alone.”
Finally, your tears start to flow.
-
When you’re dating in high school, the reactions are always the same.
There are the ones who think it’s cute.
“Youth,” they’ll say with a wistful smile. “To be young again.”
There are the ones who think you’re too young.
“You’ll regret this later, trust me. Don’t bind yourself to someone else too early.”
And there are the ones who look like their heart breaks just at the thought of it.
“I wish you the best,” your mother had said when you brought home the news, “I hope it turns out better for you.”
You hadn’t thought to ask then, what she meant. Would you have decided differently, if you had? If you’d heard about her own love story at seventeen? How she loved and lost in much the same way?
Or maybe you’d have told yourself that you are different.
Only to realize that you are not.
-
“Please welcome our new manager to the team.”
You wave shyly as the boys turn toward you. Your Middle School Volleyball Club was way smaller.
There’s talk of them making Nationals this year and you do your best to help.
“Oikawa made a name for himself in Middle School,” they say like he’s the Messiah that will bring new life to their hopes and aspirations.
And he’s good, that’s easy to tell. But where your Senpai seem to forget that Oikawa isn’t the only first year, you can see all of them gleam and glitter in the background, like Stars, unable to outshine the moon with their light.
Iwaizumi is a little shy, but you stay back to help him practice his spikes sometimes.
Hanamaki and Matsukawa, or as they ask you to call them, Makki and Mattsun, tend to goof off most of the time during training but it’s not hard to call them to attention. Watching them play together is something you will not get tired of.
“Hey, Manager, can you help us?” Makki calls out to you, “I wanna practice blocking with Mattsun.”
“Coming!”
.
You don’t make it to Nationals this year. Shiratorizawa has also gained a new star and if Oikawa is the moon, outshining the stars, Ushijima Wakatoshi is the bright midday sun, burning away all memories of the night.
“You are a good manager,” he finds you in the hallways later, face set in a passive frown, “you should come to Shiratorizawa.”
And you’re sure it’s a compliment, in a way. But there’s no question of your loyalty.
“I wouldn’t be half as good as you think if I’d just abandon my team the moment someone asks me to.”
There’s surprise evident on his face that soon falls away.
“Come on, Ushiwaka, we’re going to be late,” a redhead calls for him just as Mattsun appears at the corner, waiting for you.
“We’ll meet again,” Ushijima promises and you shrug before turning around. You suppose there’s nothing you can do about it.
-
“Mom, can you give me my water bottle?”
Silence falls over the Gym, then laughter.
“What?” Watari asks, hackles rising.
“You just called our Manager Mom,” Sawauchi points out.
“No, I didn’t!” Watari defends himself and you pity the poor first year.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind-”
“You don’t mind?” Makki leans heavily onto your shoulder. You don’t know how he could appear so fast out of thin air. “Mattsun, did you hear that?”
“Hm, I did.” He leans heavily on your other shoulder, winking down at you when you look up at him. Mattsun’s so close you can see every single one of his unfairly long lashes and the slow growth of his lazy smirk.
He’s terrifyingly good looking and you suspect he knows it too.
-
“Mom!” Kyoutani yells through the Gym a few weeks later, the Nickname stuck like glue.
“Coming,” you yell back, emergency kit ready. “Jeez, you guys need to stop being so rough. Everything okay, Watari?”
“Yeah,” the Libero’s clutching his nose, blood dribbling out from under his hands. “Just managed to receive with my face.”
“Thanks for calling me, Kyoutani,” you tell the other boy who nods gruffly before returning to the court as if nothing happened.
“Come up,” you say, but he stays on the floor, growing paler.
“I don’t feel so good,” he mutters and your head flies around, looking for someone, anyone who can help.
“I’m here,” Mattsun calls out immediately, already by your side. You didn’t see him come over, nor do you know why he decided to do it, but you’re too thankful to think about it now.
Together you manage to get Watari out of the Gym where he empties his stomach into a nearby shrub.
“Let’s get you to school nurse,” Mattsun decides before looking at you. “That okay?”
“Yeah, thank you.”
With Watari supported on your left and Mattsun’s right arm, the walk is more than a little wobbly - height difference and all - but your mind is going elsewhere, unable to focus on the first-year’s health.
Mattsun’s arm rests under yours on Watari’s back, warm and steadfast and safe.
He smiles softly, reassuring, whenever your eyes cross.
He doesn’t have to say anything, he just has to be there.
-
“Hey, I was wondering…” Mattsun’s rubbing the back of his head and you stop to give him some time to think.
“Yeah?”
A pink blush grows on his cheeks. You wonder if this is really what you think it is.
“I really like you. A lot. And I was thinking… if you’d want to be my girlfriend.”
You swallow thickly, look around for any signs that this is a prank.
“Are you being serious?”
“When have I ever not been- scratch that, yes, I’m serious.” He stretches out his hand as if this is a business offer, realizing half-way how weird it looks.
But it’s too late, you’ve already clamped both hands around his and shook it.
“I want to be your girlfriend,” you blurt out, just as awkward in your affection as he is.
A wide, satisfied grin spreads over his face and the blush intensifies to your delight.
“Wait,” Makki calls out from somewhere behind him, “Does that make Mattsun my Dad? I’m veto-ing!”
“You don’t get a say,” you declare just moments before Mattsun pulls you in, face mushed into his chest.
“If we run now,��� he whispers, “we can outrun him.”
-
“If you miss this serve, you’re buying Ramen!” Makki declares.
“I want mine with pork!” Mattsun immediately adds on.
Oikawa rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t matter. They might be playing an important game, but this team knows better.
“I want mine extra spicy,” you call out from the side, waving when both Mattsun and Makki give you a thumbs up for the order.
.
“What are you going to do now?” Kindaichi asks after their loss.
“What do you mean?” You ask back.
“Are you still going to come to practice? You’ve got your exams coming up.”
“Are you trying to steal my girlfriend?” Mattsun hooks his head over your shoulder, trying to stare Kindaichi down.
“NO! No, no, I just… it will be different without you there.”
“Yamagata-chan will be helping you just fine,” you assure him, smiling at your feisty first-year manager. “I’m not sure yet, it depends on how well I’m getting on with studying.”
“Lies,” Mattsun whispers into your ear when Kindaichi turns his back on you for a second. “You’ll be back. You care too much.”
And isn’t that the truth?
-x-
“Where’s he staying?” You ask, your hand curled around the doorframe. Even from this distance you can tell that Mattsun’s missing.
Later you’ll find your suitcase missing, along with his suits and a few sets of underwear. He’s never been a materialist.
“I-” Makki pulls his head in as if to avoid the question.
“Please?”
“He’s staying with Kyoutani for the moment,” he sighs, moves as if to hug you but pulls back when you step out of reach.
“I’m staying with you, okay? You won’t have to be alone.”
“What if I want to be?”
Makki cocks his head to the side, eyeing you curiously. “No, you don’t.”
“Fine,” you sigh, “but you’re making Dinner. I’m going to take a bath.”
“Don’t drown.”
You flip him off.
Though when you’re sitting in the hot water, surrounded by remnants of this lost relationship, you can’t help but weep.
-
“What’s this monstrosity?” You ask when Mattsun drops his hands from your eyes. There, on the shower curtain, is a giant cat in Seijoh colors, flying through space.
“Do you like it?” Mattsun asks, giggling, “Kindaichi ordered it.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“No, he didn’t, Kunimi ordered it. But Kindaichi paid.”
“Poor guy,” you huff, “but I suppose we can’t get rid of it now.”
“You always wanted a cat.”
You snort. “Yeah, and I guess I got one now.”
“And look, Kyoutani got us this kitten soap dishes to match. Isn’t that thoughtful?”
You sigh. “It is. At least now I’m glad I had the foresight to steal towels during my time at Seijoh.”
“You didn’t,” Mattsun gasps, “I’m dating a criminal!”
“You do,” you sling your arms around his shoulders and press a kiss to his jaw, “gonna kill you if you sing.”
He laughs, dips you like you’re dancing.
And yes, your apartment is barely big enough to fit the two of you, but it doesn’t matter. Not as long as you’re together.
-
“What’s for Dinner?” Makki asks, closing the door behind him with a snap.
“I wanted to make Lasagna but I only had Ramen Noodles left, so I don’t know what to call it,” you announce from the stove.
“Oh, LaRamna, my favorite,” he chirps, going straight for the snack drawer until a well-aimed spoon cuts him off.
“No chocolate before Dinner.”
“But-”
“You can set the table.”
“Fine,” Makki huffs, sticking his tongue out at you. “I brought wine with me, by the way.”
“Oh, how classy of you. Are we pretending to be something other than College Kids?”
“Who’s pretending what?” Mattsun’s still in the door, wet hair hanging into his eyes.
“Oh baby,” you coo, walking over. “Did you forget your umbrella again?”
“Mhm,” he leans down to kiss you, leaving droplets of cold running down your skin. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too,” you hum back. Mattsun leans in to kiss you again though this time he stops, turns and “Makki, no Chocolate before Dinner!”
-
“You good?” Makki asks, pushing an open bar of chocolate in your direction.
“Yeah,” you hum, doodling yet another heart into your book.
“You don’t look it.”
“Just lonely, I guess,” you admit, “I’m not used to Mattsun staying out this late.”
“How long is this course going?”
“Two weeks,” you groan, rubbing your eyes.
“That’s not that long.”
“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not.”
But the gloominess doesn’t really go away that night.
.
“Another course?” You ask, focus on the carrots you’re cutting.
“Yeah,” Mattsun’s at the table, going over the bills. “This one’s not mandatory but I’d get ahead much faster. My uncle said I could start working part-time for him as soon as I’ve got through this one.”
“You wanna work for your uncle?” You ask, turning to look at him.
He purses his lips, taps the table with his pen.
“I mean, it’s honest work, right? I don’t really have any passion to follow and it pays good money.”
“Yeah, but what if you realize you hate it?”
“I’d figure it out then, wouldn’t I?” He cocks his head to the side to look at you. “Do you think I wouldn’t like it?”
“I don’t know. It’s just… I don’t like those late classes.”
“I know,” he coos, getting up and walking over. “I know you hate falling asleep without me.”
“That too,” you huff and lean into him. “I just… I didn’t know growing up was this hard.”
“It won’t be for long, I promise.”
-
The numbers on your alarm clock are a bright, annoying red and a slap in the face.
It’s two hours past midnight yet the other side of your bed is cold and empty.
There are no new messages on your phone as you slip out of bed and stalk around the room, chewing on your lower lip as you consider your options.
Call the police? Call Makki?
You call Mattsun, because that’s always been your go-to if you needed help.
The familiar ringtone cuts through the silence, muffled only by the closed door.
When you open it, you’re greeted by the dim lights over the stove and a long body stretched out on the Couch.
He fell asleep waiting for the Microwave to get done and though you want nothing less than to curl up beside him, he looks far too exhausted for you to wake him up.
So you tuck him in the best you can before you slip back into the bed he should be sharing with you, unable to get rid of a chill that has started creeping in.
-
“Instant Ramen?” Makki’s stopped halfway to the fridge, staring at your choice of Dinner. You shrug and dig your chopsticks into the meal.
He looks like he wants to add something, but instead, he picks a pack out of the drawer Mattsun pretended to hide them in. A few minutes later he’s sitting across from you, blowing on his own bowl of Ramen.
“I thought they’re not healthy.”
“They’re not.”
“Period incoming.”
“Had it last week.”
“Hm.” Makki squints, takes a first sip, and curses when he burns his mouth.
“Okay,” he huffs finally when even that doesn’t make you smile, “Spill. Why are we eating Instant Ramen instead of the usual healthy stuff you like to make?”
“I hate cooking for one person.”
Makki stops, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.
“But you’re not cooking for one person,” he says, confused, “You always cook for-”
You stare at him until he breaks off in the middle of his sentence.
But Makki wouldn’t be Makki if he could be convinced to shut up by a glare alone.
“It’s only a few more days until the course is over.”
“I think he’s cheating on me.”
Makki’s chopsticks drop into his bowl, spraying broth everywhere. But you don’t care. Not about that, at least.
You eat on, try to stare a hole into the wooden tabletop, right there, where you usually put Mattsun’s bowl when he sits down for Dinner.
“You wouldn’t-” Makki stumbles over the words. “He wouldn’t- Why do you think-”
“Working late,” you count on your fingers, “coming home later than the course needs him to, smelling like perfume. Do you need me to go on?”
“Did you talk to him about it?”
“Yes,” you nod sharply, “but apparently it’s a secret I’m not supposed to know.”
Makki sighs. “It really is, I know it and it’s supposed to be a surprise.”
You freeze. Makki dares to show a small smile and you look up at him, surprised at your own feelings.
“I was actually kinda relieved,” you admit, voice hollow, “because that would have explained why he doesn’t want to spend time with me anymore.”
-x-
It’s hard, getting up in the morning after your first - and worst - breakup.
It’s hard, getting through the day and coming home again only to realize that this is it. This apartment will never be filled with life again, not in the way it was supposed to be.
Makki only leaves your side for work, sleeping on the Couch as if it’s his bed and not a torture instrument created to destroy your back muscles.
You think it’s sweet of him until you realize that Mattsun’s probably camping out in Makki’s apartment now.
All the friends you have are tied to the two of you.
And while none of them pick sides, you kinda want them to.
You want them to tell you that this is wrong. That you should have stayed, that you should have tried harder.
Because if everyone’s just sympathetic, doesn’t that mean you don’t have any chance to mend this? To have a future with Mattsun in it?
You’re not home when Mattsun comes to pick up most of his things.
All those feelings come back up again at the sight of empty spaces where his things should have been.
The mountain of blankets because he likes to wrap himself like a Burrito. His movie collection. The sweaters you loved to curl up in when he wasn’t around.
But he left the shower curtain and seeing that still hanging feels like the worst betrayal, a knife straight to the heart.
You’re not doing the best job taking it down, but you’d rather spray water everywhere than look at it again, be reminded of what could have been but didn’t.
-
This time he wakes you up.
Makki must have told him, managed to get a hold of him between classes and work and this stupid course. You can see it in his face, can feel it in the way he holds you, not too close but never too far.
“I’m not cheating on you,” he assures you, shadows under his eyes from not sleeping enough, hair disheveled and sweaty, “I swear, I promise, I’d never do something like that.”
And maybe it’s the late night or the loneliness, watching him be so nonchalant about all the time spent apart, or something else you haven’t yet faced, but the words slip out like snakes, quiet, quick, and unstoppable.
“I want a break.”
“A break?” His voice is high, frightened, like that time he dragged you to a haunted house and realized he’s so much worse at getting through them than you are.
“A break. I can’t go on like this. I don’t see you anymore. I don’t… I don’t know if I love you anymore.”
Mattsun sinks into himself, shrinks until he’s barely tall enough to look at you.
This is what you did to him, you think, this is what he did to you.
“A break like Rachel or a break like Ross?” He asks, voice wavering.
You stare at the wall behind him, at the absence of a mess in the bedroom because you keep it tidy and he falls asleep on the Couch more often than not.
“Like Ross,” you say because you’ve always believed in clean cuts over jagged edges.
The worst thing is that he doesn’t fight.
Mattsun doesn’t argue with you over the end of your relationship.
If he had, this might have turned out differently.
But he doesn’t, he just sneaks back to the Couch in the living room, curls up in the blankets like a dog that’s been banished to his corner.
He doesn’t even wake up when you sneak outside, unable to sleep, unable to stay in one place.
It’s not Mattsun who finds you at the swingset, the place you always go to when you have to think.
It’s Makki.
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#my writing#matsukawa x reader#mattsun x reader#matsukawa angst#mattsun angst#mattsun#matsukawa issei#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#haikyuu#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/N
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i honestly do think even beard forgets he has a first name
#it's never used! it's on his contract and everything but.#he forgets he has a first name. someone calls him it and he's just#walter white vc : who are you talking to right now#ok my hands are cold bc i was outside and it's making typing hard lmaoooo
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✎ heaven's fury
- gojo satoru x reader
sometimes you forget that your husband has burdens as the strongest sorcerer alive. when he goes back home from a bad day and you're the first person he comes contact to, you're made aware of it once again
genre:
angry!gojo, a bit of hurt with looots of comfort and fluff !! it’s self-indulgent too🤭
note:
i knooow i said i'll post gojo angst next, but i forgot i have this in backburner too so... this hurt/comfort goes first :') based on an anon's request. loosely takes place after baby!
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
“Sukuna's vessel is a threat— he must be executed as soon as possible!”
“The more we put this off, the greater the risk he poses to society!”
“Gojo, you can't delay his sentence any longer—!”
Weak. All of them. They always make excuses. Trying to pin blame on someone else.
The jujutsu world he lives in… is wretched. Gojo Satoru thought he knew that well already, or at least knew enough to not get riled up over it.
Apparently not.
“Gojo-sensei? You look scary...”
Typically, he would mask his clear disdain with sharp-witted jibes, but he reached his limit this time. Especially since they had been pressuring him relentlessly to execute Itadori Yuji for at least five times a week, each week.
. . .
“Satoru, oh, you're home already!”
At the end of it all, he went home with the worst of moods. It served as a reminder—of his deep-seated contempt for weakness and how burdensome he found the task of protecting the insufferable to be.
“Satoru...?”
And it's because of their weakness that Suguru—
“Satoru, are you—?”
“Just fucking shut it!”
And that was when he saw you, standing before him with wide eyes, cradling your—his—precious baby in your arms, who was sound asleep.
“Huh…?”
Satoru immediately tensed up, realizing his mistake. And what hit him even harder was— is that a flicker of hurt he saw flashing across your face?
If so, then you quickly blinked it away because in the next instant, your face lit up with a warm smile— kind of forced, to his dismay. “Welcome home, Satoru.”
Something inside him churned, his heart started to ache, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth then.
There you were, as accepting as ever, and he cherished you for it.
But not tonight. Not for this. You didn't deserve any of his misplaced resentment.
Damn it. Damn it all!
In response, he offered you a subtle nod and headed to the bathroom, thinking a shower might help clear his foul mood away.
Contrary to what Satoru might think, you didn't really hold anything against him.
You were surprised, yes, because he was usually such a ball of energy even when he got back from intercity missions, but more than the hurt, you would understand if now, he was pissed some way or another.
Your husband is still a human. He is entitled to be upset on some days.
After ensuring your son was comfortably asleep in his cot, you returned to your bedroom to find Satoru already in bed, facing away from you. Hmph... now that you thought about it, this silence between you was unacceptable.
“Satoru.” You poked his side, but he didn't budge and still had his eyes shut. You arched an eyebrow. “Satoru? You can't be asleep.”
“…” No answer. Okay, let's try something else.
“Honey, talk to me? Hmm?” you decided to swallow the heat on your face as you addressed him more intimately. Mind you, you didn't usually call him that. He was the one in charge of pet names.
“…” This shithead. That's it.
“Satoru, my tummy hurts—”
“What?” In an instant, he flipped over, abruptly sitting up. “What hurts—”
Seizing the opportunity, you tugged him by the neck, and both of you tumbled onto the bed, with him landing on top of you. Satoru instinctively held himself up and cushioned the back of your head with his hand so you wouldn’t crash into the headboard—his blue eyes wildly flickering, searching for any sign of discomfort or harm.
“You good?” he made a face upon realizing your ruse.
“You won’t talk to me otherwise,” you noted with a hint of annoyance. But then your eyes softened into a concerned frown. “Satoru… what’s wrong?”
Once again, Satoru felt hollow. You were worried and it reached him. “It’s nothing,” he replied, looking away, trying to downplay his fury.
You pulled him close, his head against your chest, and though he was stiff and taken aback at first, he released a reluctant sigh and instinctively snuggled closer, finding comfort in your embrace.
“There, there…” you soothed with a smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Feel better now?”
He let out another sigh against you, returning the hug and nuzzling his face against your chest. His body heat enveloped you like a blanket.
And after a while...
“...’m sorry for yelling at you...” he muttered with such regret it made your eyes widen. “Didn’t mean it.”
The slight prickle in your heart dissipated at once, hearing his muffled voice.
“Mm-hmm, I know.”
“Really.”
“Mmm, really, really.”
He held you a little tighter, breathing in your scent, and you kept stroking his head. He looked so despondent it warmed your heart, and made you want to pet him. “Our baby loves being held like this too,” you giggled fondly. “You big baby… you’re just like him.”
Your husband let out a soft grunt against your chest, exhaling deeply.
“Whenever you’re ready, talk to me, yes?”
And so after several more pats on his head, Satoru finally told you everything, about how the higher-ups were relentlessly pressing him to put an end to Yuji, the new kid he recently enrolled to the jujutsu school.
“They're just some paranoid old fools—”
“Mm-hmm.”
“—stinky, cringey, looks depressed most of the time—”
“Heh— now that's just plain disrespect.”
“Yuji is just clueless and just has a lot to learn,” Satoru grumbled sullenly. “They didn't even teach him a thing and incapable to— how dare they? To keep him ignorant and then murder him?”
...oh.
And at that moment, you found clarity. Why he got so worked up, why he got irate this time whereas he was usually insensitive.
First, it was because of your tragic youth. No one protected Haibara from his unfortunate incident and was there for Geto when he needed it the most—which still haunted him to this day.
And secondly, because he himself is a father too. No one deserves their youth being taken away. That has been his moral compass, and the sense grows even stronger ever since the baby was born.
It made something inside you flutter.
“Satoru...” you breathed out, smiling, squeezing him affectionately. “You’re ... a kind person.”
“Huh?”
“You take it upon yourself to mentor those kids,” you mused. “Just look at Megumi and Yuta; they've turned out just fine.”
Truthfully, Satoru didn't consider himself as kind as you made him out to be. At times he felt like he was doing it because it was right, sometimes he thought it was for fun, and at other times, he simply didn't feel like seeing more deaths or wrong paths. And he was sure if you had asked Megumi whether he was a good teacher or not, the grumpy boy would only roll his eyes.
But then, just as he looked up at you, the prettiest smile blossomed on your face, and you said to him—
“And as your wife, I’m... proud of you.”
The way you sincerely told him that made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart pound a little faster.
The woman who has become his everything. This unabashed, pure love you show him.
“Sweets, I—” he suddenly rose, back to on top of you. But his voice faltered, remembering the way he coldly snapped at you earlier. “I...”
You looked up at him innocently. And he swallowed the shame because he had to tell you too.
Because you were so, so incredibly precious to him, and he wanted you to know that.
“…love you,” he mumbled, his beautiful eyes meeting yours with no hesitation. His cheeks were burning, tinted with a shade of pink—and you out of all people knew best that him being embarrassed meant as good as him not being horny—
But before you could point it out, he leaned down towards you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. There was no trace of the man who was hungry for your body— it was just a long, chaste kiss that contained his feelings for you.
And when he pulled back, both of you were panting slightly, trying to catch your breath. Then, he pursed his lips, his eyes glittery—somehow reminding you of your baby's face just before he cried out for his milk.
“I wanna pay for my sin. Wanna cuddle you too.”
And so you let him. He held you close, his arm under your head and you traced lazy lines on his chest, feeling contented and somewhat giddy.
“You feel that bad, huh?” you chuckled, noticing his continued gloominess.
“I am,” he puffed out his cheeks before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Because if anyone else dares to tell you off like that, I'll wreck them on the spot.”
“Hmm, how romantic. But come to think about it... you did look a little scary though...”
At that moment, he felt his heart drop, his eyes instantly rounded in alarm, looking at you with dismay.
“No, no, I'm not scary! Wifey, I'm your devoted and loving husband!”
Epilogue
Your morning started with your baby's cries. When you glanced over, Satoru was gone from your bed already. Curious, you made your way to the baby's room, and what you saw there caused you to raise an eyebrow.
"Satoru... what are you...?"
He turned to you with an expression so heartbroken as he rocked his wailing baby. "He keeps crying, I don't know why..."
However, your attention was drawn more to his disheveled appearance. Messy hair, slitted eyes as if he hadn't brushed off sleep, and most of all, the dark eyebags under his eyes.
"Uh, Satoru... give him to me."
When he did, your baby calmed down almost instantly, his sobs turning into light sniffles, and your husband could only scratch his head in confusion.
"Why...? When I tried to look at him, he cried even harder—"
"...no offense, but if I were a baby and someone who looks like a panda holds me up, I'd get scared and cry too."
Satoru let out a theatrical gasp, clutching his chest as he hovered over your baby—
"Nooo! Papa didn't mean to scare you—!"
...but to his horror, your baby turned away from him, hiding his face in your chest instead.
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo satoru imagines#jjk fluff#gojo satoru fluff#dad!gojo#satoru gojo fluff#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jutusu kaisen x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo
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♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌)
– previous part
౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader
synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.
tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold
It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.
It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).
The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.
Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.
There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–
"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.
You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.
"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.
You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."
"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.
"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.
"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.
"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"
Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.
Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.
Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.
(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)
Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."
"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.
"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.
"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."
There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."
"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."
The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.
On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.
He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.
#౨ৎ simon !#୨୧ audi's works !#finally did this omg#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost riley x you#cod mw#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod#ghost cod#cod x reader#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod x you#fluff#cod fluff#romance#ghost#john price#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#gaz cod#gaz garrick
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Oo could I request romantic Vees with a reader who's this famous singer/idol in Hell? (Think, way more than Fizzarolli-level famous)
Valentino | Velvette | Vox [Romantic]
In which you are one of the most popular performance artists in all of hell. Reader is female.
Your name was more than just 'known'; it was plastered along buildings and chanted by millions
He was always scouting for personalities, following trends in people to see who he could drag down into his vicing grip
But you were untouchable, the first thing he couldn't command to their knees before him
Even so, if Val wanted to meet you, he could, and it was extremely new to the overlord to have to go out of his way to meet someone, but he felt it was worth it
He claims it was because you had possible talent, but those closest to him know he had a bit of a celebrity crush
Valentino is not one to be nervous; he would be direct when telling you that he wanted you, again and again, until you eventually granted him at least one night out, just the two of you
Once he has his chance, he'll pull out every stop just to hear you say that you'd like to see him again
He gets so distracted with you that he forgets the part about getting you into his company, eventually brushing it off by saying you 'didn't suit what he was looking for'
Avoiding being under his contract meant he could never command you, which meant he never had anything to be angry with you about
According to him, you were a role model for all the demons he owned
Famous stars require famous stylists, and who better than Velvette?
You'd actually reached out to her personally, since a lot of her work inspired your current stylists, and you wanted an upgrade for your tour of hell
Idol's like you were the exact thing people like Velvette dreamed of having in their portfolio, and she insisted on meeting you so she could see what you were looking for
In all her years, she'd never met an idol so genuine—most were snobbish, greedy, or just told her to 'do whatever'
You came in with photos of things you liked, hell, even fabrics you preferred, and a set list of what your songs would look like in order
She was already in love
You get her personal creations, and she insists on being the one to tailor you herself
" Only the best for the best, right? "
She can feel her bitchy attitude melt, and though she gets extremely bothered when anyone interrupts your sessions together, you ground her
It's not long before you two become official, and while she can't follow you into the deeper rings of hell, she will always be sure to watch your performances in the background while she works
She constantly calls you 'doll', because she's always dressing you up
Influences, aristocrats, idols—none of it was new to the king of social media
Everyone contacted him for their social management, or his team, at least
He didn't do much of the personal work himself; he had far too much on his plate, but he always checked on who was requesting his services
Mostly for the ego boost, knowing the image of so many self-proclaimed "stars'' relied on him
But there was also a list of people he wanted to work for, a list that brought his ego back down and told him he hadn't met his goals yet and had to try harder
You were at the very top
He'd seen a plethora of your performances recorded and reuploaded: best takes, most underrated performances, and unforgettable sets
But he'd never had the chance to see you live until he got a PR package regarding your newest album release
Him? It was certainly interesting to...no shot, you sent him hidden tickets for 'friends only'
He is not fangirling except maybe a bit; he's already cleared his schedule that evening so he can get there and making sure his outfit is cleaned up and ready
Your performance was out of this world, and he is beyond pleased when he is invited backstage to speak with you
There you were, taking off your earrings in your dressing room, smiling at him as if you were old friends
" How was the performance? I'm so glad you came. "
For a moment, hes almost worried you have the wrong person; he seems uncertain of what to say until you continue
" I heard you are hard to win over, so I figured I'd go all out before I ask if you'd consider running my new album compaigne? "
He acts cool, but when he gets home that evening, he is pumping his fist in the air and screaming
Author's Note - I was thinking lilith-level famous, you are THAT girl... Thank you for requesting! I went for a fem! reader because it was no specified
#koko writez#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#hazbin hotel x reader#helluva boss x reader#reader insert#x reader#valentino#valentino x reader#velvette#velvette x reader#vox#vox x reader
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can't move on || mattheo riddle
Summary: He was done fucked, a weak man on his knees for her, mad for her, in love with her and funny enough she didn't know. Him sleeping around isn't helping him though.
Beware: angst, fluff (?), minimal plot, smoking, drugs, alcohol, she/her pronouns, second person used as well, miscommunication, misunderstandings, excessive use of swear words, both reader and Mattheo assume the worst, happy ending.
Words: 4.025k
Mattheo Riddle is in deep shit. His feelings have dug him a deep hole, a hole so deep that he could bury himself a hundred times over and still not be anywhere near the surface. He is so in love with you. And you being so fucking oblivious, mistake his advances for him being friendly. It's funny because when has he ever done something friendly? He's not even friendly to his friends, he insults them as a greeting for fucks sake. It's ridiculous how clueless you are, it was endearing at first but now it's just painful for him to watch you go on dates, that too every date with a different guy.
He thinks you've fucked them all, afterall it's him, Mattheo Riddle, he only thinks in extremes, if you've been on a date with some dude, you ofcourse had fucked him because who wouldn't do you. He resorted to the same ways, fucking his frustration out but instead of feeling satisfied, he would feel relieved for a moment and then his frustration would grow more and more, never coming close to being satisfied. He thought he could just fuck it all out, that he could just forget you, that he could just hate you. It became a routine for him, he got rougher and rougher with the girls he slept with, reaching his own high became harder and harder. It was all because of you, 'cause you couldn't see his love and make him a lover.
His reputation was worsening, his grades started slipping, he started ignoring you, becoming angry easily, snapping at anyone and everyone. Fucking girls left and right, every day was the same and he wondered why the hell he couldn't find a solution to all his problems. His smoking habits became worse, one cigarette turned into two, two turned three and now he was smoking one pack a day. His life was fucked, he could no longer think for himself, the thoughts of you with someone else corrupted his mind at all times. Everyone could see him ruining his life, he couldn't care less, he didn't give a shit about the names he was being called, most of them were true anyway.
…
Tonight was like every other Slytherin party night, except for the fact that he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, all he wanted was a drunk hookup but he had slept with most of the girls in the room and he couldn't bring himself to repeat them over. He sighed, walking off to a secluded balcony, pulling out a cigarette, it was boring, life had become boring.
"Mattheo," he nearly jerked his head in the direction of your voice, it's been so long since he's heard it. All of it coming back to him, all the feelings he was trying to get rid of came right back, knocking at his heart. He's looking for the sweet smile, the one you'd always give him when you'd talk to him but all you did was frown at him, looking at him like the onlookers who gossiped about him and it fucking hurt. "Yes darling," he greeted you like nothing was wrong, before you would've smiled at his cheesy nicknames but now you grimaced at his hoarse voice and stepped back, he quickly looked away, just like that he blew off his last chance, he couldn't face it, he couldn't see you walk away from him, he physically couldn't.
"Riddle-" "Don't, don't call me that," he whispered, it was pathetic, he knows it too but that doesn't stop him, he couldn't hear you call him that. "Mattheo, I am Mattheo," he breathed out like an affirmation to himself, as though reminding himself of the person he's losing, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with his shoe. There it is, he's doing it again, acting how you'd want him to act, you disapproved of his smoking habits, you never told him to stop though, just so you know, he would stop if you only asked but you never did. You never asked anything of him, making the friendship feel one-sided, never wanting to bother him, you didn't do that with your other friends, you were openly asking them for favours albeit small, still favours, that's how friends are, looking out for eachother but no, you never expressed it, he just had to read into it. It made him feel as though he was your friend, just for the name sake, wow- he couldn't even be your friend.
He closed his eyes trying to contain himself, taking a hit from the burning cigarette, his hands were trembling, he was hurt, he could never be with you, you were making it clear. For the first time he got an actual sign of rejection and he just couldn't take it. "Riddle." It was still your voice, coming from his side, he slowly turned, there you were, standing next to him, looking at him with concern, giving him the slightest bit of hope, making his heart pound against his chest. He simply stared at you this time, unable to think of a response because you called him by his last name, you never did that. You didn't speak either, both staring at eachother, him with everything unsaid, sadness, anger, hope, longing, love, every fucking thing while you looked at him with worry painted all over your face. Mattheo hated to have people worry about him, noone was obligated to do so and he didn't want anyone to do it but right now, he didn't seem to mind, your attention was on him, worried about him. You finally looked away, placing your glass on the railing, alcohol with a lollipop in the glass, a typical you thing.
"alright, Mattheo," a small smile was tugging at your lips at his actions, "tell me, what's going on?" He didn't have anything to say, what would he say anyway? Upon not receiving an answer you sighed and continued, "Draco was telling me how different you've been-" he scoffed loudly interrupting you, ofcourse this is what it is, Malfoy sending you to talk to him, to scold him like everyone else, ofcourse you wouldn't come to him on your own, he was so fucking worthless in your eyes. “Don’t do that Mattheo-“ “Yeah? Why not? Coming here to scold me like everyone else, you know what, surprise surprise, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” He was angry, you come to talk to him after all these days and it was to tell him, that he’s bad, that he’s wrong, yes, he started it by ignoring you but you didn’t even make an effort to talk to your “friend” while he was away, it pained him to know that you didn’t even care to check up on him.
“No, I am worried Mattheo, this is not okay for you,” you moved closer, shaking your head trying to find the words, “I tried Mattheo, to catch you, to talk to you but you were always turning away, ignoring me, I couldn’t even get a proper look at you these weeks. Draco was joking about you smoking two a day, one for each girl you slept with, it was then but now, a whole pack a day? I tried to get to you, tried to see what’s been hurting you, but all I saw was your back towards me.” You paused, looking around clearly frustrated, “I thought maybe you didn’t want to talk about it, so I stopped trying but I am sorry, I can’t help myself, I care about you Mattheo and I hate to see you like this,” you looked up at him, hoping he’d understand but he only stared at you blankly, maybe you were wrong to care, he clearly didn’t want to be bothered, you sighed yet again, clearly there was no point, you could only wish for him to be better.
You mustered up all the courage you could, moving closer to the brunette who still hadn’t said a thing, “I am sorry for bothering you, I hope you win whatever battle it is that you are fighting, just know that I care and I can’t help but be worried when you are hurting, sorry if it is selfish that I want you to be better, I won’t disturb you anymore” you gave him a small smile, going up on your tiptoes planting a small kiss on his cheek, lingering for a moment, holding his hand in both of your own giving it a hard squeeze before letting go. It pained you to see that he didn’t seem to care about his own life, making you feel useless for doing the same, he was dear to you, you didn’t want to let go of him but clearly he didn’t want the same, who were you to deny him of anything? So, you let go, taking the moment in before walking away, the tears were ready to fall, you weren’t going to let him see that, you didn’t want him to see how pent up you were over him when he couldn’t even bring himself to care.
Mattheo could feel his chest burn, he could feel the sting in his heart at the sight of you walking away, his knees felt weak, you cared? You tried to reach out? Yes you did, of course you did, you weren’t the ugly person he tried to paint you as, he wanted to hate you so bad, he wanted you to be wrong, he wanted you to scold him, he wanted you to hate him just so he could move on but no, he could never move on from you, even if you spat his way he’d love you. ‘Sorry if it is selfish-’ he fucking wants you to be selfish, he wants you to be selfish about him. Only if he wasn’t busy imagining you with other guys, maybe he would’ve noticed that you smile a bit more around him, just maybe he’d see your eyes looking out for him. Maybe then he would’ve seen the look in your eyes, one similar to his, but he was a fool, he’d always be unworthy of your love, you wouldn’t love someone like him, he ruled that possibility out the very moment he fell in love with you, thereby in his mind even if you actually loved him, you didn’t because he couldn’t see it.
He called after you, he couldn’t see you walk away, not when he has so much to say. You turned around, he saw tears in your eyes, he felt like dying, it was him who made you cry, if he didn't hate himself before, he clearly did right then. With two wide strides he was infront of you, holding your face, wiping away your tears, "please don't walk away from me," he muttered, trying to get you to look up at him, you look up at him with stars in your eyes, taking his breath away, 'I want you so bad' he thinks to himself but it's false, no, he doesn't simply want you, he fucking needs you like the air you take away from him, when you look at him like that- hazy eyed, making him think that you love him but he knows you don't, he knows you don't love the guys you go on dates with, he knows you don't love the guys you sleep with, in his eyes you love to care but don't care to love, he'll be one of those guys, if it means you'll have him, even if it is for one night.
He was staring at you, looking for a sign, waiting for you to push him away but you just look at him with glossy eyes, making him weak, unable to contain himself he presses his lips against yours, you hiss pulling back, the bitter taste of smoke invading your senses, your reaction hurts him, he couldn't even be one of your guys, that's how worthless he is, his grip loosens, he tastes you on his lips, sweet cherry- the lollipop still sugary on your lips. Then you surprise him, fisting his collar, pulling him down, soft lips on his, like honey against his smoke. He loses it then and there, his hand comes up to hold your face, the other low on your back pulling you flush against him. It was heaven, eyes closed, moving in sync, savouring every second, he could feel his skin tingle, his body burn, it was pathetic how you could bring him to feel so much with the simplest of touches, and now you were kissing him, better than any dream or fantasy, it's real, he reminds himself, frowning as he concentrates trying to capture every single detail, of you against him.
Mattheo walks you back to the railings, not letting go of you even for a second. You pull away as the cold metal makes contact with your body, the sting seeping through the thin layer of your clothes. Still impossibly close practically breathing the same air, then the situation dawns upon you, you look up at Mattheo in horror. This is what has become of your love for him, he's using your attraction towards him to get you into bed, just like he did with other girls. There was no difference in their relationship with him and yours with him, evidently so. You loved kissing him but you hated the fact that it meant everything to you but all it was to him was a one night stand, your dignity would not allow it, even though you wanted him so badly. "I'm- I'm sorry but I can't," you quickly walk off, not looking back this was humiliation, you felt embarrassed.
One moment you were there kissing him and the next you were gone, he fucking hates this because he doesn't know what to do or what made you push him away. You gave him hope when you kissed him but shattered it when you walked away, you were confusing him. Why'd you kiss him like that if you wanted to let go? His hands reach out to pull at his hair, "Fuck" he grits out, it was frustrating not knowing what to do, knowing he has done something wrong. But for the most part, he doesn't know how you feel, you kissed him like you felt something but you walked away like it was nothing. He's over it.
…
He's absolutely not over it. He couldn't even stick to the plan for five seconds, images of you in his arms plagued his mind. He could only cherish that moment, he felt more alive in those few seconds than he ever did, his lips are still tingling, it's the next morning and his head is still in clouds. Mattheo for once, feels human- he feels like going to class again just so he could see you. The wound of your rejection was still fresh in his heart but so was the memory of your lips against his in his mind.
He could handle the professors' taunts, he infact muted them out and zeroed in on your face, you were avoiding him, he could see it, trying so hard just like he did the past few weeks. He saw himself in you for a moment but then you started talking to some Hufflepuff dude next to you, smiling at him so pretty, his blood started burning hot when he saw the guy touch you. You did nothing to push him away, pfft- ofcourse he wasn't Mattheo fucking Riddle that you'd push him away.
Mattheo was practically burning holes into you skull as he took a seat in the very back. Only if he wasn't so overtaken by jealousy he'd see that your smile didn't reach your eyes as you laughed at the Puff's joke, that your reactions were simply polite, a mere distraction from the pinching of your heart. You didn't want to be one of the girls he slept with, didn't want to be discarded after being used.
He couldn't even be one of your guys, he fucking wanted it to be him so bad just to have your for a night, just so you could see him in a different light, just so you'd know that he loved you. He'd gladly be discarded by you.
…
Mattheo has been searching for you, for about an hour now, you were minx- rushing out of the class before he could catch upto you. You were no where to be seen, he was actually getting worried. He was just about to enter the dungeons when he saw Pansy near the entrance. She'd know your whereabouts, she was a close friend of yours. She'd help him too, because she was his friend as well, right? Or had he destroyed every relationship he had the past few weeks. "Pans, a moment please" "oh hey Mattheo," she greeted him with a smile, that's a good sign, "umm- do you know where-" there he was, polite stuttering fucktard, "oh I know where she is," He didn't even tell her who he was looking for, confusion taking over his features, "I saw you looking at her in class, you like her don't you?" Was he that obvious? If so, why couldn't she see it? "Yeah," he finally admitted it to someone else, it was out there now, he felt some weight lift off of his shoulders, there was no denying to it, he loved her and he doesn't care if he gets laughed at for it but then his heart stops at her next words. "She's on a date with some Hufflepuff, in Hogsmeade," her voice was sympathetic, hurt was painted all over his face.
They were standing there in awkward silence for a couple of minutes before she broke it, heading towards the entrance, "You know you should tell her," she gave him a small smile, she patted his back ready to slip into the entrance, he stopped her "Why? Did she say something about me?" His voice was full of hope, hoping that maybe she had confessed to her friend just like he did right then but to add onto his sorrow, Pansy shook her head, he let his head hang low, moving his hand over his face, scoffing bitterly at the situation he was in, "but you should still tell her, at least you'll be satisfied knowing that you did something about it than do nothing." She shrugged walking in, leaving him there to think about her words.
She is right. He has to know, to know how you feel, he has to talk to you, has to let you know how he feels because in his heart, there's hope that you may like him back because you kissed him like you did. Mattheo wants to confirm that it wasn't his delusions that rendered your lips to move against his in adoration, something more than just physical. He has to hold you again in his arms-
He didn't even have to walk far away to find you, walking alone in the empty corridor but you turn around as you see him. Mattheo won't let you do that this time, he's onto you within seconds grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. "What-" "Please don't ignore me-" "I am not!" You sound defensive, taking your hand back, folding them as you look at him as though he is some lowlife human, there's a similar hurt in your eyes, one he knows a bit too well. "Yes you are, please don't try to deny it," he says slowly and carefully, he doesn't want you to walk away, "what do you want Mattheo?" You are annoyed, you stretch out his name showing your impatience. He takes his sweet time though, taking your hands in his, they feel cold, snatching away the warmthness of the action, "Why did you walk away? Yesterday?" "Why? Is there some rule against it-""no no ofcourse not-" both of you interrupting each other, you were frustrated, what was he trying to do? Did his ego take such a huge hit that you didn't want to sleep with him, like those girls he used and discarded? "Tell me why is it that you care? It's not a huge deal to you, you can have anyone else to sleep with you, it shouldn't matter that one girl decided to walk away when you have tens and hundreds lining up-" "WHAT?" He was looking at as though you were saying something ridiculous, "I cared about our relationship enough not to ruin it but you had to be there, trying to use me like you use the other girls and then discard me-" "STOP!" He holds your face in his hands, intense gaze setting you ablaze, "I fucking care, don’t think otherwise, I care because it's you, you could never be them-"
"wow- am I so worthless and unattractive in your eyes that you don't even-" "Wait, it should be me saying all of this, about you and the guys you on dates with, the guys you take to bed-" "What guys-" you both were now screaming at eachother, it was overwhelming, having to be vulnerable and admit your feelings and not understand what the person in front of you is saying. "I have not once slept with the guys I went on dates with, I'm in love with you for fucks sake but I got tired of waiting for you to love me," What.
He fucked up.
"Fuck, fuck-" his knees hit the ground as he covers his face with his hands, he's ruined all his chances by being an assuming dickhead. Heavens goodness- "FUCK!" He groans into his palms, not being able to digest what you had just said, he feels ecstatic that you love him but he hates that he's ruined his chances with you, "Mattheo-" "Fuck, I am so sorry, I've been a fool, a fucking idiot-" he pulls you down, grabbing your hands, crying because he doesn't know any other way to express it. He has lost his chance all because he let jealousy get the best of him, took illogical steps to overcome it. "I love you, I fucking am in love with you," he grips your hands tight, shaking them as he speaks, unable to control his very physical reaction, "Mattheo what-" "I thought that I could fuck it all out, fuck all the feelings away but no you were always on my mind, not just you but you with someone else, happy. I thought maybe I could resort to your ways, thought maybe I could sleep around then I'd get rid of my feelings, afterall you seemed happy doing it but you never- FUCK! I am so fucking sorry, I love you-" you kiss him, he sure was an idiot to think that you could just flip a switch and "unlove" him, what kind of love would that be? You hated to admit it, you loved him even when he was sleeping with so many girls, you loved him before he did that, a few weeks were nothing to make you hate him.
It was brief kiss, enough to silence him, tears were still running down his face- he was a heartbroken man on his knees afterall- they were only a sign of his regret, then he was at it again, apologising, "stop Mattheo, you are foolish if you think that I'll love one moment and not love you the next-" "but you don't deserve it, not after what I did-" "let me decide that. Do you love me?" Your ask is serious, so he answers you with utmost sincerity, his words soft, full of truth "I love you, more than I think I can handle," he looks down, you don't let him as you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him close, "Learn to handle it then, I am not going anywhere." For the first time in his life, does Mattheo experience pure bliss, you are a sin against his lips, he pulls you closer like a prayer because if there's a god above, he'd pray for you to be his.
...
#first post#mattheo riddle#slytherin#slytherin boys#draco malfoy#matheo riddle#pansy parkinson#matheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheoxreader#had a hard time writing on here#realised it was mattheo and not matheo after completing the whole fic#had to manually copy paste each para into google doc
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Jason absolutely hating whenever you use his actual name randomly out of the blue rather then the plethora of nicknames you’ve had for each other.
Absolutely hates it more than you think.
Naturally at first he tired not to think too deeply into it but after being together for as long as you have, something he didn’t think was possible but is eternally grateful that you were still with him, and suddenly hearing -in his own opinion- his boring, bland name come out of your mouth felt wrong to Jason on so many levels to hear.
‘I’ll see you soon yeah? Besides it’ll be like I’ve never left, I promise baby.’ - Jason
‘I believe you Jason, I’ll see you when you get back home. Preferably unscathed but I know when I’m asking for too much.’ - you.
He’d stop just before his hand touched through door handle. ‘That’s not my name.’
‘Yeah it is.’ You’d laugh.
‘To everyone maybe but to you? Nobody by the name Jason should exist when baby, babe, Jaybirdie, handsome, my one and only, or my love are right there to be used like they have been throughout the entirety of our relationship.’ Jason explains and you couldn’t fight back the smile he was causing.
You’d gladly call him any name he wishes but you did recently lost a bet to Dick a while ago and your punishment was to call Jason by his name for an entire day of his choosing. Today just so happened to be that day. And as much as Jason hated it, you hated it even more, but it was rather endearing to know just how much Jason lived for your nicknames as though they were his lifeline.
‘But what if you forget your own name one day?’ You asked coyly. ‘Someone has to remind you of it.’
‘That’s what everyone else is for,’ Jason began, ‘I’m meant to forget my name with you sweetheart, i not meant to remember it when I’m with you because why would I when your calling me by such sweeter names.’ He finished and you got up from your seat to hold his face in your hands.
Oh to hell with it, Dick will understand. you thought to yourself.
‘Always the hopeless romantic aren’t you Jaybirdie?’ You asked with a smile.
‘Only with you.’ He replied, holding you tightly in his warm, protective embrace.
#jason todd x you#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagines#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#dc x y/n#dc x you#dc comics x reader#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc imagines
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Soooo ahem- what if traveller calls Xiao's name while our babygirl is busy moaning in the best part??
GETTING- Interrupted while doing the nasty.
OMG YES!! Love your brain darling, this but with other genshin men as well.
...kazuha...tighnari...itto...Xiao...
Kazuha
You're his first priority doesn't matter if he's the one fully naked.
He's probably more red than before but he'll cover you up first
Glares at whoever walks in but it's more of an embarrassed glare.
After that person leaves he'll just sigh and probably won't be in the mood anymore.
But if you coax him a bit he'll be raring to go soon enough.
It's an embarrassing memory which he wishes he could forget
The next day when he sees that person who walked in he's very chill and acts calm and collected like nothing happened.
Tighnari
Shocked and pissed.
With work it's already hard to find time for each other and now when you finally get the chance someone interrupts
Immediately covers himself with his tail
It's like an instinct, he'll cover you too
He sends the person off with a nasty glare and then refuses to resume your previous activities,
He's ashamed beyond belief and gives you an earful for not locking the door.
Cannot face the person who caught you both for a while..
Itto
Doesn't realise.
Bro keeps going until you have to physically stop him
Once he finally sees that someone has intruded on your private time he just stares..for a moment, before letting out the most shrill scream ever known to man.
You can't believe such a scream can be from a bug muscular man such as itto
He chases intruder out the room..forgetting the part where he's naked.
You have to run after him before he runs into his gang and embarrasses himself further
Xiao
Pretty back arching and hands tightly gripping at the sheets, xiaos trying desperately to last longer. But, you're just not giving him the chance to hold back any longer.
He moans your name like a mantra as if it is the only word he knows. He could feel that he was close, arching his back he looked back leaning into you muttering your name.
He was close, he could feel it..it felt so good. Sweat dripped off of him and he could feel himself becoming closer, and closer, and- "adeptus xiao~ we need your help-"
Immediately the traveler's hands shoot up to cover piamons eyes. It takes Xiao a second to realize that he's no longer in bed with you...
His eyes widen. He stiffens as he's overcome by pure shame and embarrassment, horrified he tries to jumble a sentence together but fails, too stunned to speak.
He immediately teleports back falling onto the floor of your room. "xiao..there you are..where the hell did you go?" your question doesn't get an answer by the panicked adeptus who looks like he saw a ghost.
You have to calm him down, and there is no chance in hell you can continue what you guys were doing beforehand.
After said incident, he refrains from having intimacy for a good while, too traumatized by the prospect of the past repeating itself.
He's also too embarrassed to face the traveller in the coming weeks, running away whenever they get even a little close.
Safe to say you've lost love-making privileges all because of the traveler..damn...you won't get to see that xiaoussy for a while🙏
#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin imagines#genshin hcs#sub genshin#genshin xiao#xiao x reader#xiao fluff#xiao hcs#itto imagines#itto smut#genshin impact itto#genshin itto#arataki itto#Itto#itto x reader#kazuha fluff#kazuha x reader#kazuha#kazuha headcanons#tighnari x reader#tighnari x you#sub tighnari#tighnari#gn reader#fem reader#male reader
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-ˋˏ ༻…oops…༺ ˎˊ- kny x reader
||synopsis: You’re caught completely off guard when ____ calls you by a pet name/compliments you. Most people wouldn’t get caught off guard by this, but the two of you aren’t even in a relationship yet. It just slipped out of their mouth. ➳ (before the confession scenario)
||characters: Kamado Tanjiro, Agatsuma Zenitsu, Hashibira Inosuke, Shinazugawa Genya, Tokito Muichiro (separate), (gn! reader), (fluff), (headcanons + oneshot) <3
“kiss me hard before you go, summertime sadness.” -Lana Del Rey
˚ʚkamado tanjiroɞ˚
♡He’s in love with you, and as his first priority is being a demon slayer to turn Nezuko back into a human, he does the best he could to hide the feelings and/or ignore them.
♡Of course he wants to be with you after this is all over. Actually, he wants to get with you as fast as he could. (But priorities first! …right?)
♡At first, he was embarrassed when he called you, not by your name. Although all that previous embarrassment was quick to wash away after he saw your reaction. Now he just has to hope he doesn’t fall for you even harder.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚
You hummed silently to yourself while on the very top of the ladder, hanging up colorful decorations all of the butterfly mansion. With the idea from Aoi and Kanao, everyone was decorating the estate as a surprise for Shinobu. It was your job to hang decorations, Aoi to bake, and Kanao to pass out invitations to the Hashira’s.
“Y/n! Be careful!” Tanjiro who had been below you was holding onto the wobbling ladder you were standing on. He had helped you already hang up banners in half the estate. Now there was only the other half to go. And despite you being the one on the top of the latter, Tanjiro seemed to be way more anxious at you being up there.
Your body stretched forward in an attempt to hook up the end of the lavender banner to the other side of the wall. Without realizing, you began to wobble in the slightest, stressing out Tanjiro in fear of you falling.
“Dear, be careful!” You quickly paused your actions. Thankfully, you had already hooked up the end of the banner. You felt your face get hot as you looked down at Tanjiro, checking to see if he had coincidentally called someone else dear. But he had been staring right at you.
At first, he seemed confused on why you became to flustered out of no where. Until he realized what he said. His own face turned a dark red as he tried to explain himself. But he only became a stuttering mess.
Taisho Secret!: After what happened you tripped off of the ladder in embarrassment and Tanjiro had to catch you, making him blush more.
˚ʚagatsuma zenitsuɞ˚
♡Let’s be completely honest, he’s head over heels in love with you and not afraid to show it. He calls you pet names all the time. He calls you his love, future lover, and his soulmate.
♡Sure the first time he called you a cute name and complimented you, you blushed profusely. But eventually, you got used to the pet names.
♡Zenitsu, for one, will never forget the day you got flustered from him calling you a pet name. As for you, you tried your best to forget it at how embarrassing the whole scenario had been.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚
You laid on the soft futon on the floor, zenitsu’s futon being right beside yours as tanjiro’s was on Zenitsu’s side, Inosuke being on the other end. You had a long night and were mostly just happy you made friends and wouldn’t be alone on your journey as a demon slayer.
However one thing that had made your day seem extra slow and long was one of the boys you met. Zenitsu. He was adorable but he was relentless in trying to get you to be his spouse.
Your back had been facing zenitsu as you were trying to finally get some sleep. That was until zenitsu snapped you out of your thoughts by poking your back repeatedly. With a small sigh you turned the other way to face Zenitsu.
As every other time you saw him, he had tears in his eyes. “What happened, Zenitsu?” You asked, your eyes half lidded as you just wanted sleep. It took everything in you to not pass out in the middle of your conversation with him.
That conversation had mostly just been him talking to you. But you couldn’t pay attention to a single thing you said. “Love? Are you okay?” Your eyes suddenly widened as you felt yourself blush.
“AWW! YOU’RE BLUSHING!”
“Zenitsu, Go to sleep!” Tanjiro yelled, throwing a pillow right at the boys head as Inosuke began laughing loudly.
Taisho Secret!: Zenitsu teased you about your flustered state for weeks and wouldn’t drop the topic. He believed even more that you two were meant for each other.
˚ʚhashibira inosukeɞ˚
♡In a situation like this with him, your most definitely not going to be the embarrassed one, even if it is you that received the compliment.
♡Inosuke has pride. A lot of pride. So the moment he ‘accidentally’ compliments you, his face is secretly burning a bright red. Thankfully his boat mask had been there to cover for him.
♡Getting a compliment from inosuke doesn’t happen very often. Especially when the two of you aren’t even in a relationship together. So you better cherish the moment while you can.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚
Inosuke calling you strong was just about the only compliment you received from him. And sometimes, it didn’t even seem like a compliment with the way he sounds so sarcastic and whenever he says it. And he also always brings up his own strength in the ‘compliment’ calling himself stronger than you.
And from Inosuke, you never would have expected to get a non-sarcastic compliment. Especially when it comes to your looks.
You, Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and him all planned on going to a small festival nearby just for the fun of it. And for a break from slaying demons. And as the only thing you wear every day now being the demon slayer uniform, you didn’t think it would hurt to dress up a little.
Being out of the corps uniform felt comforting in a way. Despite still having to bring your katana just in case, it felt nice to feel like a normal person your age.
You walked outside, seeing only inosuke outside, dressed up and out of the usual pants he would wear. But the boar mask remained. You stood beside the boy, waiting for the other two to come.
“You look pretty..” You heard a Mutter from inosuke, making you shocked. You turned over to the boy with a questioning look on your face.
“Did you-“
“No!” He yelled quickly, crossing his arms. A small blush dusted your cheeks as you moved your arms over to his boar mask to take it off. The moment you did, you noticed his red face making yourself turn red as well.
Taisho Secret!: When Inosuke told you that you looked pretty, Tanjiro heard and brought it up to you during the festival making your face turn pink. Inosuke saw and felt a little jealous but he’ll never admit that.
˚ʚshinazugawa genyaɞ˚
♡He spoke without thinking. And the very moment it slipped out of his mouth, it took no time for him to turn the darkest shade or red.
♡You immediately turned a light red but the moment Genya began apologizing for calling you that and assumingely making you uncomfortable, you felt really bad.
♡100% had to assure him multiple times that it was completely fine and you didn’t mine one bit. He stopped apologizing but he was stiff as a board the entire day as he couldn’t shake off what had happened.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚
You and Genya had both chosen to visit a small lake that day. The two of you were simply in the water, splashing each other and staying afloat.
While not paying attention, you didn’t realize Genya staring at you with a small smile on his face. The moment you saw, your head tilted to the side. You eventually waved your hands in his face to break him out of his small trance.
Although even that didn’t really seem to work.
“Genya?” You asked before moving your hand back to your side.
“You’re so lovely.”
He paused. You paused. His face slowly turned a dark red and so did you. He was quick to put his hands up in defense.
“I’M SORRY!-“
“NO GENYA, DON’T WORRY-“
Taisho Secret!: Genya was ashamed thinking he may have upset you. So when the little lake day ended, he felt super guilty, thinking he made things awkward. Sanemi soon got worried at his brothers embarrassed state but Genya refused to say what was wrong.
˚ʚtokito muichiroɞ˚
♡Poor Muichiro has horrible memory and everyone knows that. In some cases, having horrible memory can be a good thing, and in other cases, it’s really bad. For obvious reasons, it’s mostly bad.
♡But when this happened, Muichiro had a win win situation. Muichiro cares deeply about you and out of all the Hashira’s, he only ever hangs out with you. For that reason your company means a lot to him, even if neither of you knew it.
♡Mitsuri and Tengen had also both informed Muichiro about his feelings for you. So when he found out he was in love with you, he sort of forgot that he wasn’t dating you. More so with the way you’re both always clingy to each other.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚
You walked around the main garden with nothing else to do. Muichiro was practically clinging onto your arm as he too had nothing else to do. Honestly, unexpected visits from him had gotten normal so you never payed much attention to it.
After a while of walking around, you took a small seat on the grass, Muichiro soon after sat right next to you, a blank expression on his face as he put his head on your shoulder.
It was something he always did. It took a while of getting used to it as your face would always flush at first. Now it had been comforting.
“Love, what are you doing tomorrow?” Muichiro asked, gazing up at the sky as his head was still placed on your shoulder.
“I-“ Right when you about to answer, you paused. Your face slowly began turning a light shade of red as you stiffened. Muichiro felt it, soon after bringing his head off your shoulder. He gave you a small head tilt, amused at your reaction.
“Mui..?” You asked, waiting to see if he even realized what he said. With the amused expression, you were sure he did. “You called me-“
“Are we not dating?” His amused expression faltered as he gave you a more genuinely confused one. You blushed more, not sure at what to say.
Taisho Secret!: Since Muichiro never got a direct answer from you, he spent and entire month thinking the two of you were dating and so Mitsuri had to later explain he hadn’t asked you out yet. Maybe that’s why you got so embarrassed when Muichiro told Zenitsu the two of you were dating.
#demon slayer#demon slayer x y/n#kimetsu no yaiba#x reader#demon slayer fluff#kamado tanjiro#kamado tanjiro x reader#tanjiro x reader#x y/n#tanjiro x y/n#zenitsu agatsuma x reader#kny zenitsu#zenitsu x reader#inosuke hashibira x reader#inosuke x you#inosuke x y/n#inosuke x reader#genya shinazugawa x reader#genya shinazugawa#genya x reader#muichiro#muichiro x y/n#muichiro tokito#muichiro x you#muichiro x reader
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heyy, i love your work, i was wondering if you could write a fic based on the song ‘the other woman’ by lana del rey where the reader is the other woman. you could do it about any member :)
this is my first ever request since i’ve been on this app so i hope i did it right 😭
The other Woman • Hwang Hyunjin
thank you so much! i’m so happy that your first ask was on my acc! i hope you like it<3
warnings: suggestive(no explicit smut), arguing, infidelity, toxic relationship, plot twist at the end;)
"I have to go, beautiful." Hyunjin leaned down to kiss your forehead after pulling his pants up and buttoning them. He placed his hand on the side of your face, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. "She'll get suspicious if I stay any longer."
This was normal for you, yours and Hyunjin's little routine. He'd take you out to dinner and treat you like a princess, paying for your meals and anything else you could possibly want. Holding your hand and taking you places you've only dreamed of going, then he'd take you home --your home-- and he'd fuck you like there was no tomorrow. And then he'd leave to do the same things with his wife.
You never understood why he pursued you the way he did when he had someone at home to take care of, but you didn't care enough to bring it up. Why would you? You have everything a young woman could ever want; a young, handsome, rich man who gives you anything you want. But only a few times a week. It's okay though, that just gives you plenty of time to do things that you enjoy like reading and going to museums and admiring the beautiful pieces of art that you wished you could just shove in your bag and take home with you.
"Okay," You said with a tired smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Actually, I meant to tell you, I won't be able to come over tomorrow. Apparently, Violet has a family reunion, and she wants me to accompany her." He stated as he pulled his shirt over his head and grabbed his bag from the chair in the corner of your room.
Violet. Such a pretty name for such a lucky woman.
"Oh." Was all you replied with.
"Are you mad at me?"
"No, of course not, these things happen," You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into as soon as you entered this relationship, if it can even be called that. "Just text me when you can. let me know when you want to meet up."
"Of course." He smiled.
He kissed you deeply before he left that night, almost making you forget that he had someone at home waiting for him, and you would be left here, cold and alone.
That text that he promised didnt come until a week later.
"I miss the way you feel wrapped around me." Was all that the message contained. You liked to imagine he was talking about your warm embrace, but you knew that wasn't true. He just wanted to feel an unfamiliar body underneath his.
You weren't sure how you ended up like this. When you first met Hyunjin he was sweet and caring, attentively listened to you while you complained about your bad day at work and massaged away all the soreness in your muscles. You can't remember the last time he's taken you out to dinner or bought you flowers. Now you were just his escape from his nagging wife.
You put up with the constant shame and guilt you felt for being with someone who already had their someone, because you thought that maybe his love for you would grow and that maybe someday Hyunjin would realize that you're the one he wants to spend every waking moment with and not someone else. But as your love for him grew your patience shrunk until one day you snapped.
Hyunjin was collecting his things after he had finished what he came here for, which was to get his dick wet and nothing more. "I won't see you again after tonight."
Hyunjin stopped in his tracks and stared at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean I deserve more than this. I deserve to have someone's full attention and all of their heart." You held yourself together, determined not to cry Infront of him. He doesn't deserve your tears.
"Baby, what are you even talking about?" He knelt down in front of you and placed his hand on your shaking knees. "Of course, I love you."
"No, you don't," You shook your head. "You love my body, you love having someone at your disposal, someone you can use only for your own pleasure. If you loved me even in the slightest there wouldn't be another woman getting the treatment that I crave so fucking much." All the emotion you've kept stuffed away finally revealed itself in the form of a single tear running down your cheek.
It was silent for a long time before Hyunjin spoke. "I'll leave her." You snapped your head up so fast that it hurt. "If that's what you want than I'll do it." The way he worded it as if it was your choice whether his marriage ended or not made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn't deny that you felt a flutter of hope in your chest that maybe this didn't have to end after all. But you're smarter than that. He says this now, but he doesn't mean it, and even if he did you wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that a woman who did nothing wrong was out there most likely crying herself to sleep while your warm and safe in the love of her life's arms.
"No, be with her. I'll be okay." That was a complete lie but even after everything he's done, you still don't want him to worry about you.
"Please don't do this to me. I love you and I want to be with you. He held on to your legs tighter.
"Funny, isn't that what you told her when you vowed in front of God and everyone that your love for her would be eternal." His mouth snapped shut and his hands left your legs before he stood. He leaned down and before you could register what was happening his lips were on yours. You immediately reciprocated, leaning forward and pressing yourself closer into him. He was so intoxicating, the way his tongue glided with yours so smoothly had you in a trance; you snapped out of it when he placed his right knee on the bed beside you and started pushing you backwards. "No!" you shoved him away. He stumbled backwards but regained his balance quickly. "I'm not doing this with you, Hyunjin. I can't do this anymore, its wrong."
"Since when do you have morals?" His voice was louder this time, he was pissed.
"I've always had them, but I put them aside because I love you!" It was your turn to stand up and look him square in the face. "But the longer we do this the more I realize that this isn't love, its obsession and its toxic. You never loved me Hyunjin you were curious about infidelity, and I was an easy target because my standards were so fucking low that I actually settled for you."
"Fuck this, I don't have to sit here and listen to you degrade me like this." He grabbed his bag and left, but not without slamming the door behind him.
~
The past month has been hell. After laying in your bed for an entire week you decided to pack up all of Hyunjins things and throw them out, the smell of him that was radiating off of them was making you sick to your stomach every time you walked in the room. And then you went to the mall to treat yourself to a new outfit, you wanted something that didn't have any memories of him attached to it. A trip to your favorite coffee shop followed after that. you hadn't been her in a while and you missed the smell of fresh espresso as you walked in the door.
After getting yourself your favorite -a butter pecan macchiato and a small triple chocolate brownie (they were out of doughnuts)- You sat in the best spot in the entire shop, in a little booth in the corner right next to the window, where you could watch the leaves that had no color left in them fall to the ground only to get trampled over by the passing pedestrians. The leaves reminded you a lot of yourself in a way, but you hoped you never had to fall again.
"Hi," a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned to find yourself looking up at a very handsome young man. His hair was blonde, and it came down to his shoulders. he had an apron on, and a big smile plastered across his face, little freckles decorated his cheeks. "I saw you bought one of the brownies, it's a new recipe I tried, and I wanted to ask if you enjoyed it."
"Oh," You blinked up at him. "Um yeah it's really good, maybe my new favorite."
"Oh, thank god," He let out a sigh of relief. "I was worried that it wouldn't be any good. See a couple of the ingredients I use were sold out, so I had to substitute-" He stooped in the middle of his sentence. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to do that a lot."
"No, it's okay," You huffed out a laugh. He was so cute. "Now I'm curious about what ingredients were sold out." You joked.
He smiled widely at you and stretched his hand out. "I'm Felix."
You hesitated but took his hand anyway. "Nice to meet you, Felix."
PART TWO HERE
THANK YOUUU ALL FOR A THOUSAND FOLLOWERS I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO FEEL 😭
taglist: @katsukis1wife @sungprotector @seung-mine @favieee @soephiphanymain @z4hir @minnieslover @kjr-army @caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs
#stray kids#kpop#skz#skz scenarios#kpop oneshots#skz imagines#kpop senarios#skz smut#kpop smut#skz stay#skz x reader#skz fanfic#hyunjin fanfic#skz hyunjin#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin stray kids#hyunjin scenarios#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#hyunjin x you#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin x oc#straykids angst#skz angst#skz asks#skz au#skz fluff
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delirious
does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?
alhaitham x reader
you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?
alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.
“what are you doing?” you whisper.
“taking you home.”
you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.
“home?”
“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.
you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.
a lost cause, your roommate called you.
a lost cause was right.
“why?” you ask again through another cough.
alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”
“but you’re not nice?”
alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.
you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.
you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.
“you can’t do that.”
“but why?”
“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”
“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.
“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”
“stay.”
so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.
it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.
“ready to go?”
you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”
“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”
you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.
as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”
“i didn’t wear one.”
“why not?”
“i am immune to the cold.”
“i assume that’s why your sick.”
“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”
“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.
you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.
you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.
he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”
you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.
“because i wanted to see you.”
the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.
“why did you want to see me?”
“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”
like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.
if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.
“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.
alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?
alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.
but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)
#genshin impact#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact x reader#genshin headcanons#genshin impact fluff#genshin fluff#genshin imagines#genshin x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact alhaitham headcanons#alhaitham headcanon#alhaitham headcanons#alhaitham imagines#alhaitham x you#alhaitham fluff#alhaitham x reader#al haitham fluff#genshin impact alhaitham#alhaitham#al haitam x reader#alhaitham x y/n#alhaitham imagine#genshin impact imagines
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There are so many fics out there where Danny is either adopted by or the biological son of Bruce. In many of these he might have an existential crisis but other wise he is fine and happy to be part of the BatFam. Where are the ones where he fights against this just doesn't want to connect with Bruce of the rest of the family.
One: Bruce is a billionaire and Danny has had some bad experience with Vlad trying to adopt/get him as a son. So even if Bruce is one of "the good ones" Danny does't like billionaires.
Two: Danny for the most part grew up in a mostly normal family and home, with two Parents and a sibling. Most of the BatFam were only children and parents are dead or came from dysfunctional homes. I think Duke is the only one who really had a normal childhood.
Three: The Fenton family is pretty openly affectionate with each other and are pretty normal emotionally. Danny has a great relationship with all of them (Danny went evil in the timeline where they all died). Most of the Batfam is emotionally constipated.
Four: Danny is used to his boundaries being respected. I don't think that the Batfam is great at that. With Bruce needing to know everything, Tim's stalking tendencies, Barbra's hacking, just to name the obvious.
Danny knew that he was adopted into the Fentons. His parents had never hidden it from him, but they never treated him as anything besides their child.
He had come into their lives one day when one of Maddie's old high school friends had called, bawling that she had gotten pregnant and that her husband wasn't the father. He had discovered the truth and thrown her out, leaving her pregnant and alone on the streets of Gotham.
Maddie had been furious at the affair- she hated disloyalty- but had decided to help her only for the baby's sake.
She had driven over multiple state lines back to her home city to pick up the friend only to find out she had taken her life and left her newborn son to Maddie. While Maddie had been able to escape the hellhole that was Gotham, Rebecca never got the chance, not with her average intelligence.
In high school, the two were as close as sisters until Rebecca fell into the whisky bottles her father carelessly left around. She blossomed into a beautiful woman upon their graduation- more so than Maddie-, turning from a sweet homebody into someone who got into exclusive parties and powerful men.
Maddie had slowly drifted away from her, so far away at college, and Rebecca fell further and further into the party scene. It was a surprise that she settled down for marriage and Maddie truly believed that she had been happy with her husband.
That's why Danny was such a surprise. Maddie did not know who Danny's biological father was, but she did not care. Not after they placed the sobbing infant into her arms, and she realized that she was his mother now.
She immediately phoned Jack to tell him what had happened, and he told Jazz she was a big sister before the call ended. They told him the story about when he started to learn his colors. Not with her taking her life, of course; that was when Danny turned fourteen. This was only a few days before Danny revealed he was Phantom to them.
They were first shocked, but then they became supportive. Phantom now had two proud ghost hunters following him, shooting photos instead of guns.
It was embarrassing, but it was also nice of them.
And that was that. Danny is a Fenton, adopted, but a child of Maddie and Jack Fenton all the same.
He never gave his biological parents a thought. In fact, he all but forgot about them until Sam convinced him to take an ancestry test. He had allowed her to swipe his mouth, package his DNA, and send it off to see where his people came from, completely forgetting that he would not match with Jazz, who had done the same thing a month prior.
His results were shocking, to say the least.
Somehow, someway, Rebecca Silver had been in the system of DNA samples, and they had matched him to her alongside his biological father.
Bruce Wayne. Rebecca had an affair with Bruce Wayne, arguably one of the wealthiest men in the country, and they had sent him a message to let him know he matched with his son.
An eccentric billionaire has just been told that Danny was his. He knew that song and dance well, and it was never fun to dance to. Danny could only stare at the results with dread as Sam apologized profoundly.
"Maybe he won't see it." Tucker tried. "I mean, Wayne is probably so busy with rich people stuff he doesn't have time to even look at his emails. Especially ones that will come in spam since it's comersolized."
"Yeah, Maybe" Danny doesn't think he's that lucky.
A month later, the Fenton's home phone rings. His parents are working on a new invention on the dinning room table, Danny is stretched out in front of the TV watching a mindless cartoon and Jazz is crocheting in the love chair.
It's a typical Tuesday night where everyone is doing their own thing but close enough to each other that they can call it family time. Jazz is the closest to the house phone so she picks it up with a cheerful "Fenton house, this is Jasmine."
Her smile slowly slips away as all the blood drains from her face. Alarmed by her reaction, Danny sits up. "Jazz? What's wrong?"
His words have his parents' heads snapping up, zoning in on their daughter's rapidly growing destress. Yes, they get distracted often with their work, but the Fentons have always been loving parents.
They quickly spring into action.
"Jazzy-pants?" His dad says, walking up to her and taking the phone from her slack hand. He covers the speaking end of it, not paying attention to the call as his mom hugs his sister. "What's the matter?"
"It's... Bruce Wayne's lawyer," Jazz says faintly. "He's calling about Danny. He said that Mr. Wayne has been attempting to take Danny back and that they are going to take us to court soon."
The room goes dead quiet, and Danny snorts. "He can't do that without a letter or something. Come on Jazz, it's obviously a prank."
Someone at school likely found out and thought it would be funny to make "the biggest loser of Casper High" Danny Fenton, think a billionaire wanted him as a son. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past the A-listers.
He laughs to show how stupid this prank is, but neither of his parents joins him. Instead, his mother closes her eyes and whispers, "We received his court papers weeks ago. We've been trying to get a lawyer."
What.
She pushes Jazz into his dad's arms, where his sister is slowly panicking. His dad tries to soothe her as his mom opens the drawer under the TV, pulling out three orange envelopes. She looks remorseful as she hands them to Danny. "We didn't want you to worry. I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. Vlad said he would help, but he wasn't sure what he could do against such a powerful man"
And there, in overly complicated terms, is clear as day. Bruce Wayne wanted full custody of Danny Fenton and was willing to take the Fentons to court to get it done.
The man- who has never so much as met Danny, much less have a right to say what happens to him- was accusing his parents of child abuse and child neglect! He not only was trying to take Danny away but Jazz as well!
Where did this man get the audacity!?
"I don't want to go with him!" He shouts rage, making his eyes glow green. "I don't even know him!"
"I know, sweetie. I won't let him take you" His mom says, yanking him into a protective hug, and he realizes that her shirt is getting wet with his tears. Tears that fall just like the woman who raised him. "Everything will be alright."
It won't be, he knows, but he won't tell her that. He just lets his mother hold him, and when his sister and father crash into the hug a second later, he holds them just as tight.
He's not sure how they will win against Bruce Wayne, but Danny will fight his biological father every step of the way. He will not be his son.
______________________________________________________________
Bruce stares at the photo of Danny Fenton- his son. His boy, whom he wasn't aware was alive until a month ago- and the reports from concerned teachers and whatever information Barbra could pull from his classmate's social media.
Dramatically dropping grades.
Clear signs of sleepless nights.
Flinches whenever his parents pull out "ghost hunting" gear.
Strange bruises and cuts along his arms and legs.
His small stature is no longer growing properly like his peers.
It all pointed to one thing. The Fentons were abusing his son and Bruce would bet the sister was suffering from the same treatment if her own grade dropping, sleepless eyes, and desperate race to adulthood were any indication.
Bruce laces his hands, resting his chin on them as the Batcomputer slowly flips through various reports being quickly dismissed by incompetent social workers who all claim it was Ghost Hunter related and not a cause for concern.
Those same social workers all seemed to have gotten quite generous donations from one Vlad Masters, a well-known family friend of the Fentons.
He hates corruption that allows children to be hurt, more so when it;'s his own children.
"When do we go retrieve Brother?" Damian asks, green eyes narrowing in rage as the reports scroll slowly. Ever since he found out Danny is a blood sibling, all Damian has been talking about is getting his elder brother home. "I am displeased with how long it's been, Father."
"Soon," Bruce promises, aware the rest of his children gather around him. They don't speak, but he feels their protective rage at what Danny has gone through, and he knows they will use every last bit of their training to get Danny home. "Either through the courts or in person. Danny will be with us come summer."
"Good," grunts Jason. "I'll have a little chat with his adoptive scumbags when we get him."
"I'll help," Dick tacks on.
"I'll make it look like an accident," Tim says, voice leveled but eyes blazing as the reports get to the neglect section. He has personal issues about that.
Bruce has never been so proud. "Court date is set for three weeks. They can't weasel their way out of it this time."
Don't worry son, he thinks to Danny, I'm going to save you.
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#Rescue Mission Au#misunderstanding#TW: mention of suicide#Off screen but there#Danny is just ghost fighting#But Bruce thinks his son is being abused#Tw: Assumed child abuse#Danny will not be a wayne#The Waynes think he needs a hero not that he is a hero
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