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heich0e · 6 months

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choso/f!reader

The light from the signs that line the street around you makes a dull, irritating ache throb behind your eyes.

It’s a migraine. Or exhaustion maybe. Regardless of the cause, the pain carves its way through you like rot. You lower your eyes to the pavement, hoping that by averting your gaze from the fluorescents you may find some temporary reprieve.

It doesn’t help much.

You fish the little paper packet of cigarettes out from inside the small purse you wear over your arm. There are only three left in the pack, but you swear there should be more. You’d only bought them that morning—no, wait, yesterday morning, since you’d gone a night without sleep. You suck a little hiss of disappointed air in through your teeth, plucking out one of the last lonely cigarettes from inside the pack and then retrieving your lighter too. Though inadvisable by anyone medically qualified, you hope that maybe the hit of nicotine might help the headache while you wait.

Cigarette between your teeth, you lift your little yellow lighter to the end. Pressing down on the safety that covers the spark wheel you draw it quickly back, but the tiny flame that appears momentarily flickers out just as swiftly. You repeat the motion, pressing and dragging your thumb to light it, but you find no more success than you had upon your first attempt. Your lips pull into a tighter line, pressing into the spongey filter of the cigarette in frustration. You shake the lighter a few times, hoping that whatever meagre amount of fluid left in it might suddenly decide to make itself known.

You light it again.

Nothing.

“Here.”

You glance up.

Choso stands before you, his arm extended in your direction with a lighter in his hand. It’s green—a less neon shade than your own lighter—and has something scrawled across it in smudged ink that you can’t make out in the night. Your eyes meet, a momentary look passing between the two of you. Recognition. Greeting, maybe.

You don’t take the lighter from his hand. Instead, you steady the cigarette between your lips in the V of your fingers and lean towards him. He understands without it needing to be said, clicking his own lighter to life and holding it to the end until the cherry flares red on your inhale.

Your eyes meet again as you angle yourself into his space, closer now than before. The same street signs and their glowing lights that had been so irritating to you catch in his glassy brown eyes, framed by long lashes that flutter in a blink.

He looks tired. But he always looks tired, and you’re sure you’re not faring much better—so who are you to judge?

You pull away once your cigarette is lit, taking a drag and then blowing the smoke into the wind.

“You’re late,” you say quietly. Not a hello, nor a thank you.

“Sorry,” he replies. “My little brother had cram school. I had to wait to make sure he got home safely.”

Itadori Yuuji—15, a high school student, not his brother by blood.

You nod a little bit, dismissive more than it is accepting, and take another long drag from your cigarette.

Choso watches you raptly, his eyes following every movement. After some time passes, you hold the cigarette out to him in offering, though it’s mostly burned away.

“No, thank you,” he refuses you politely, dipping his head.

You finish the cigarette off, and then drop it to the ground and crush it under the pointed toe of your high-heeled shoe.

There’s a mint in your coat pocket, and you quickly pop it into your mouth to chase away the lingering taste of tobacco. You love the nicotine rush, but you still hate the bitter flavour that lingers on your tongue even after all these years. Choso watches that too—his eyes following your hand until the little white pastille slips behind your lips.

Your gazes meet.

You take a step towards him, wrapping your hands around his arm and tucking yourself against his side. It’s natural. Familiar. Easy. He smells like soap, and this close to him you can see the way his dark hair—down today, and tucked behind his ears, rather than in the two twists he often wears—is faintly wet, like he’s only just showered.

“Let’s go.”

Inside the shabby lobby, there’s only one person lingering—a man, standing behind the counter—who pastes on a small but notably insincere smile when you and Choso step through the door.

“Good evening,” he greets you with a slight bow.

“A room, please,” Choso says to him, to the point but not unkind.

“For how long?”

You feel the man’s eyes on you then, and you know what he must be thinking. It’s not hard to tell, looking between you and Choso, what the two of you are doing—even less so at a love hotel on a seedy side of town where you can book rooms by the half-hour. The differences between Choso and yourself are many and obvious; what with your skimpy little dress and your heels in contrast to his jeans; raggedy, thick-soled combat boots; and windbreaker. And that’s to say nothing about the differences in your countenances: Choso looks stiff, uncomfortable even, under the scrutiny of the man at the front desk, but you’re largely unbothered by the judgement in his gaze. You lean a little more into Choso’s arm where you’re wrapped around it, tucking your face into his collar in a show of diffidence but you meet the man’s eyes with a flutter of your lashes.

He licks his lips a little, a flush appearing just above the collar of his rumpled dress shirt, and you resist the urge to sneer in disgust.

Once the two of you receive the key to your room, you quietly make your way there—still sticking close to Choso’s side as you depart from the lobby towards the elevator. You don’t cross paths with another soul as you travel to your room on the third floor, the only sound to be heard is the mechanical fwoosh of the elevator as it climbs, the hum of the vending machine selling variously erotic wares you have to pass to make it to your room, and the quiet beep as Choso unlocks the door.

Just as the two of you are about to step in, a door at the other end of the hall opens, and Choso swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you in front of him to usher you across the threshold first—using his body to shield you from the eyes of the man who passes down the corridor behind him as the door swings shut. There’s something almost charmingly conscientious about the gesture, though it seems to have been more unconscious than anything.

The room is just what you expect it to be. Plain. Somewhat sterile. Not uncomfortable, but not particularly homey, either. There’s a bed, two bedside tables, a television mounted at the foot of the bed. There’s a door that leads into the tiny washroom, where the shower seems to take up most of the floorspace. The room is dim, likely intentionally, even once you flick the overhead lights on.

“That guy was creepy,” you sigh, stepping away from Choso and further into the room towards the bed.

“Who?” he asks.

“The guy at the counter,” you sniff, flopping down at the edge of the bed. You throw one leg over the other, crossing them at the knee, and lean back on your elbows against the mattress. The linen is surprisingly soft considering the inexpensive rate. “You’d swear he’s never seen a call girl before.”

Choso is still standing by the door, looking as uncomfortable as ever. He reaches up and rubs his neck, peering around the room seemingly just as an excuse not to meet your eyes.

“So,” you call to him, beckoning his wandering attention back to you. You tilt your head to the side once his gaze connects with yours. “Did you bring it?”

Choso’s hand flutters to the pocket of his dark windbreaker, and part of you wonders if he even knows he did it. You always find that part of him so curious—his sincerity. How easy he is for you to read. You can’t help but question if he’s like this with everyone, or if there’s something about you that makes him this way.

He nods.

The mint you popped into your mouth before entering the hotel has melted away to nothing on your tongue now, but the lingering freshness remains. You feel the mentholated burn as you suck in a little breath, a pleasant tingle in your throat.

“Let’s see it, then,” you say, holding out your hand expectantly.

He hesitates a little but then he approaches, pulling a creased envelope out from his jacket pocket and handing it to you. It’s folded in half, and theres a grease stain at the corner of the white paper envelope—not uncommon for a mechanic, you suppose.

Choso’s hands are always so clean when he meets you, though.

Inside the envelope is exactly what you came here for.

“This is perfect,” you remark, thumbing through the papers as your eyes quickly scan across the pages to surmise their contents.

Choso is very still as he stands in front of you, towering over where you sit perched at the edge of the love hotel bed and watching as you flick through the papers he’s just delivered into your hands. There’s something sort of expectant in the way he waits for you to speak again.

“And you’re sure this is all of it?” you ask him, glancing up from the pages in your grip.

He nods. “That’s everything.”

“Gojo’s gonna lose his shit when I slap this on his desk,” you remark to yourself with a snort. You can already picture the absolute dismay on Satoru’s face when he realizes that you beat him to the punch in securing the information that he’s been after for weeks now. You’re sure he’ll be whining about it to Geto for days.

Choso fidgets slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Nice work, kid,” you commend him, looking up at him with a smile.

There’s a shift in expression on Choso’s face then—not quite a pout, but a definite air of disappointment or displeasure. He says nothing in spite of the look, and you don’t ask anything, either. That’s not what you came here to talk about, after all. For all intents and purposes, your businesses began and ended with the stack of papers in your lap.

Contained within the pages Choso brought to you is every vehicle (make, model, VIN number and plate) that Choso’s garage has worked on or modified for the crime syndicate currently wreaking havoc in the city under Sukuna’s command.

“I’ve got your payment here,” you say, fishing out an envelope of your own from inside your purse. There’s enough cash inside the crisp manila envelop that you produce to reimburse the cost of the room he’d paid for and to compensate him for the information. “The rest of it went to the cram school to cover your brother’s tuition, as usual.”

Choso takes it from your hands, his long fingers brushing gently against your own as it passes between your grips, and he doesn’t even bother checking the contents before he slips it into his pocket.

“Thank you, Inspector,” he says quietly, dipping his head in a bow.

Your lips purse as Choso stares down at his feet, observing the way he seems to be avoiding your gaze.

Choso’s been working as an informant for the past few years. It started off just passing small pieces of information here and there, having established a rapport with your previous chief in his late teens following the murders of his two brothers thanks to the early days of the gang that would eventually grow into Sukuna’s organization now. Choso was born into that life—cursed by his own blood—but he’s made a conscious effort in his adulthood to keep on the straight and narrow, largely for Yuuji’s sake.

You’ve been meeting him like this for a little over a year now, building your own relationship with him now that the chief retired. Choso’s mechanic shop sees all kinds of people coming in and out, good and bad, and he gleans a lot of information in his neutrality. He’s useful to you.

You understand the risk that Choso takes by meeting with you. By working for you. It’s a truth you recognize as well as he does. But he’s never hesitated to get you the information you ask for. Has never denied you anything you seek. All he asks in return is a meagre compensation and the assured safety and education of his little brother.

You wonder why he’s willing to go so far, and for whose sake he does it.

You flop back onto the hotel bed, one hand resting over the papers in your lap to keep them from slipping onto the floor.

“I’m beat,” you complain, throwing your other arm up over your eyes and hiding your face in the crook of your elbow.

“You’re not sleeping?” the soft rumble of Choso’s low voice is strangely comforting like this.

You hum. “Haven’t been home in two days.”

“You need to rest,” he chides you, and there’s something funnily maternal in the way he says it. He’s suddenly every bit the big brother you know him to be. You shift your arm so you can peek up at him from where you’re sprawled across the bed.

He’s inched closer to you since your eyes were covered, hesitating at the very edge of the mattress beside you. He’s staring down at you with a serious expression on his face, slightly pinched in reproach but softened at the edges with concern.

“Yeah, yeah,” you snort, lifting your hand and waving it dismissively. “I’ll get there eventually, kid.”

Choso catches your wrist in his hand before you can let it drop again, suddenly kneeling against the mattress so he’s looming over you. You’re surprised by the gesture, a sudden falter in the steady thumping of your heart as he stares down at you.

“I’m older than you,” he says quietly, somewhat sullen but simultaneously sheepish. His eyes bore down into yours. “Please stop calling me 'kid'.”

You know he’s right. You know just about everything there is to know about Kamo Choso on paper, having researched him and his background extensively before you got involved with him like this. You suppose you picked up the habit thanks to the chief, since that’s how he always used to refer to him. As Choso hovers over you, his big hand still wrapped around your wrist and his broad frame blocking the rest of the hotel room behind him from view, the truth of his remark rings palpably true.

You suddenly aren’t sure how to respond, your lips parting but no words slipping out.

Choso lets your hand drop after a moment, shifting to sit beside you on the bed. There’s no other seats in the small hotel room, so it’s not particularly unexpected, but you’re strangely conscious of him now in ways you don’t like.

“You should sleep here for a bit,” he says, his eyes glancing over to the clock on the bedside table. “We have the room for another hour.”

You don’t ever leave the hotel room before a realistically inconspicuous amount of time has passed, but suddenly the prospect of spending another hour with him makes your stomach twist.

“I’m fine,” you try to brush him off, sitting up and neatly stacking the papers so that you can slip them back into their envelope and tuck them safely into your purse. Your face feels hot, and that ache between your temples is back again. You contemplate another cigarette.

A gentle touch against your elbow makes you freeze.

You glance over at Choso from the corner of your eye, and find his dark gaze on you. His eyes are imploring, soft, and seemingly fathomless.

“Rest,” he insists again. “I’ll wake you before we need to leave.”

Your eyes scan his face. Your headache throbs.

There are a hundred reasons to deny him. A thousand reasons you shouldn’t listen to what he says.

But there’s one—a distant, whispered reason, that you don’t want to acknowledge—that tells you differently.

“Move over,” you grumble, letting your purse fall to the floor with a dull thud!

Choso obeys immediately, shifting so you can crawl into the bed beside him and rest against the pillows. You squeeze your eyes shut the minute your head hits them.

“You should at least take your shoes off,” Choso remarks. You flinch a little as you feel the warmth of his hand on your ankle, holding it steady as he gently slips your shoe from your foot. He repeats the same motion for the other.

Your eyes remain shut.

After a moment of stillness, you feel the mattress shift slightly and the warmth of his body recede. When you crack one eye open to survey what changed, you see that Choso’s slipped down to the floor, resting with his back against the side of the bed and his legs crossed underneath him. His eyes are shut now too, and you watch his profile for a moment as he breathes.

You close your eyes again.

“Wake me up in thirty minutes,” you mumble, and Choso hums in response. “I’ll leave first."

But even in the stillness of that little hotel room, even in your exhaustion, neither of you manages to fall asleep.

#choso x reader #kamo choso x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #tw smoking

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metalotaku-da · 7 months

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So many cross overs so narrow of common hero choices. Let's expand a little.

"Rip what the hell is that?"

"It appears sir, to be a small human child. Around the developmental stage of 4-5"

"Even you know better than to cuss infront of kids.

"I was gone for five minutes."

"Actually I snapped you back to a minute after you left."

"Are You misser booser gol?"

"Yeah kid that's me. You a fan or something who got into something you shouldn't to find me?"

"No. Clockie said tis for you." Hands a sticky note to booster.

Note reads: this is Danny. You will care for him from now on. See this as payment for resetting your time line safely. If you even try pass him off to Bruce wayne/batman, I will ensure your entire familial line never touched time traversing. And you stayed forever trapped in the 31st century. -clockwork master ancient of all time. P.s. there is not conning your way out of this. I will hunt down every ancestor or decendant for all time.

"This looks very serious sir. Congratulations sir you are a father Now"

"Wow kid. Clockie must hate you. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not that bad of an option. Obviously I was judged better that batsy."

"Clockie ass hero I want to say wiff."

"OH kiddo and you asked for the greatest hero boostergold?"

"I wike space. He say geen lanern is space. He take care of me."

"I'm so sorry sir, you have already disappointed your new child. Should I take a commemorative photo of this milestone moment for you?"

"No" "yes skeets"

Camera flashes.

"I shall add this photo to a new album labeled baby book. It is labeled Danny's first disappointment, sir."

"Thank you skeets." X2 one sarcastic one pleased.

"I wan geen lanern."

"Think you're gonna need help anyway Micheal. Call one of them. Not guy."

"I would never co-parent with guy. What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"Rip takes you as the utmost idiot sir. As does most of the justice league sir."

"Thanks skeets."

"You are most welcome sir."

"Can I pay wif the talking space ship?"

"Sure kid." Pushes skeets into the kids hands.

"I do not believe I am rated for physical interaction by children under 10 sir."

"To bad skeets." Picks up Danny who looks up at him instead of at skeets to smile all teeth. "Holy shit are those fangs? We are going to go see my friend Ted now. He will know what to do."

"He will atleast know not to cuss infront of kids. Don't know about the rest."

"Is ted geen lanern?"

Cue shenanigans. They were roommates, but adopted a child.

"Does Batman know you stole a child from him?" <- Jaime when he visits.

"Do not even joke like that. My existence is at stake."

"Batsy is the new beetle juice. In this house."

"Are You geen lanern?"

"Sorry kid I am blue beetle."

"Should I take a picture for Danny's third disappointment since becoming your child sir?"

"No skeets."

"3rd? How long you had him?"

"A week"

"Ouch. Hey kiddo why do you want to meet green lantern? Aren't these guys just as cool?"

"Considering the average human body temperature is 98.6 degrees I do not believe they qualify as cool sir." Jaime is picking up danny to hold on his hip.

"Clockie says geen lanern is space." Danny smiles.

"Are those fangs? Is this a meta kid? You like space? My scarab is from space. Isn't that just as... Oh My, no scarab!" Scarab starts to go into protect host mode while screaming danger desteoy threat in Jaime head just as Danny's eyes start to glow green at the statement and his mouth splits inhumanly wide with even more teeth. Ted and Michael scramble to grab Danny and move him away from Jaime till he gets control of the scarab again. But Danny has a death grip and won't let go of his new friend.

"I do believe sir that your new child qualifies as a meta. Should I take a picture to commemorate your child's first power demonstration sir?"

#dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #blue beetle #booster gold #ted kord #dc universe #danny phantom

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just-wrting · 6 months

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Just My Type

Title: Just My Type

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader

Summary: Itadori helps you get closer to a man who is just your type and your opposite.

Word Count: 2126

Master List

A/N: I'm so sorry! I got a really bad string of migraines and started to sink into a slump. But here is the next prompt! I'll try to keep up, but I won't finish during October I guess. Also, NO SPOILERS PLEASE! I haven't seen season 2.

You tilt your head and study the young boy in front of you. Unsure of the reason, you wonder what sort of reason would lead the more powerful Nanami to leave a teenager in your care.

“Remind me again why I’m in charge.”

“I’m needed elsewhere and can’t leave him alone. He is to be supervised at all times.”

You frown and look over your shoulder at Nanami. He looks as stoic as ever, even getting ready to head out as he talks.

“Well, for being the vessel of the king of curses, he’s awfully adorable. Are they so sure he poses a threat?”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I am not qualified to speak on that. Just don’t get him killed in the process of whatever you are doing today.”

“You’re being so cold today, Nanami. A thank you wouldn’t hurt, but since you’re my favorite I’ll do you this favor.”

—-

The silence is overwhelming. You aren’t sure how to approach a conversation with Itadori.

“Despite your power level most likely being above mine, I’d like you to stay back when fighting curses today. I know you’d be fine, but if this whole thing with those special curses involves other sorcerers, you need to know more about them.”

It’s almost comical howhe tilts his head in response. “I need to know more about those sorcerers? We don’t even know who they are.”

You push down the urge to ruffle his hair like he’s a dog and shake your head. “You need to know more about other sorcerers in general. Cursed techniques vary between people even if they are similar. The more you see the better you’ll be able to pick up on things.”

You know that’s not one hundred percent true. Some sorcerers are good at keeping their technique hidden while others get benefits for telling their technique. Nanami is open about his technique and you often find yourself a bit jealous of it. The ability to create a weak point on your opponent is amazing.

“Then what’s your technique?”

You wave your hand, attempting to dismiss the question. “It’s nothing as cool as others. It’s not even that powerful.”

Despite you being dismissive, Itadori stares at you expectantly. He’s new to the world of curses, and seems to always be willing to learn a bit more about them. His willingness to put others first is also adorable, and you find it hard to tell him no.

“It’s easier to show than explain. If you want the simple answer, I can turn my cursed energy into flowers. Each does something different,” you say awkwardly. “If you want, there’s rumors about a curse near here. If there is one I’ll show you.”

“Let’s go! No point in waiting!”

—-

You know as soon as you enter the open space that the curse is going to give you trouble. It’s not stronger than you in fact, it's a little weaker. The issue is that you’ve been hiding an injury. That’s what will make it difficult.

“Like I said Itadori, stay back unless I say so. I’ll be able to handle it, it just might take me a bit.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but chooses not to. You’re stubborn and would make sure that he listens even if he protests. Keeping him safe is better than letting him get hurt. The poor kid has already died.

You analyze the area, trying to figure out the best place to start. The curse is too strong to be easily put to sleep with a blanket of lavender, but it would still disorient it. The problem is that you aren’t sure if, as a human, Itadori would be knocked out.

The first step is easy. You reach into a little orange pouch and pull out a few seeds. After imbuing them with your cursed energy, you place them across your side. Within seconds, bright orange blossoms appear and the soothing effect begins.

“Woah, what are those?” Itadori asks and reaches his hand out.

“Calendula blossoms. They’re used in rash and burn treatments but my cursed energy allows them to ease all my pain.”

Thankfully your cursed energy also means that they’re easy to remove. There’s no pain during the removal, the pain from the original injury returns soon after though. It’s something that you’ve never used on another person, but it’s very effective on yourself for pain management.

“If you start to feel tired, back up. The area of effect is larger than I’d like for this space,” you warn before stepping forward.

You hold your hand out, having dozens of fuzzy seeds appear. Pulling a fan out of your satchel, you keep your eyes peeled for the curse. The soft light causes shadows to flicker, and you make sure to glance in each direction to carefully inspect even the smallest of movements.

From above drops a misshapen dark blob. It lands in front of you, and you shield the seeds from the burst of air. Once the air stills again, you blow the seeds towards the curse. Each starts to take root in the curse’s face. The rapid growth of your curse causes the seeds to bloom within a few seconds. Dozens of dandelions pop out of their shells.

The curse howls and tries to pull out one of the flowers. With a massive tug, it pulls out a root at least eight inches long. This leaves a bleeding hole in the curse. As it writhes in pain, the other dandelions close up to turn into the fluffy seeds. The movement will cause them to spread all over the curse, so you tuck away your fan.

You duck and twist through the tentacles of the blob. You’re doing your best to avoid getting smashed as it squirms in pain. There’s no sympathy from you as you leap over it and land on the other side. Taking seeds from a purple pouch, you toss them along the ground.

A blanket of lavender spreads along the ground, engulfing the grimy concrete. As each flower blooms, the soothing scent of lavender hangs in the air and the curse starts to move slower. It won’t be put to sleep by the flowers as weaker curses might, but it will slow it down and relax it. You aren’t fully immune to this yet, and you feel the smell start to relax your body.

This slower reaction time causes you to stumble when the curse swats at you. It sends you flying into the field of lavender. Blood drips down your side as your injury reopens. The pain takes longer to subside this time.

“I need to wrap this up,” you mumble under your breath. “I’m going to make a fool out of myself.”

You pull three seeds out of the red pouch and clutch them in your fist. You set it ablaze with cursed energy, ready to punch through the curse. As you sprint towards it, you try to ignore the growing spot of blood on your side.

You let your body drop into a slide, coming to a stop under the blob. Despite the lack of momentum, you’re able to punch up into its center. You open your hand and deposit the seeds. As they start to poke through, you scramble back.

Three rose bushes burst out of the curse and start to climb up its body. The reddish-orange roses bloom as the thorny vines meld together. It takes no more than a minute or two for the whole curse to be covered in roses. You extend your hand out and light the bushes on fire with cursed energy.

With the large bleeding holes from the pulled dandelions and the spiky web of roses, the curse is exorcized. As it disappears, you let all of the flowers wither. The petals fall from the air, but turn into nothing before hitting the ground. You feel woozy, but suck it up.

“That was surprisingly cool!” Itadori yells as he rushes towards you. “I didn’t think flowers could kill curses.”

You ruffle his hair. “Thanks, I like to think I have some surprises. Be sure to tell Nanami how cool I am. Just don’t tell him I fought while injured, I don’t want it to impact my chances of a promotion.”

“I’ll make sure he thinks you’re cool too!”

—-

You’re staring at the displays in the shop window longfully. You’ve been good at limiting your spending, but the display of the stuffed animal cat is too cute to resist. It might be silly to see an adult fawning over how plush it looks, but you don’t really care.

As you make up your mind to head in, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You spin around and see Nanami. Itadori runs over to join the two of you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Gojo is coming back today and he agreed to meet in Tokyo! I wanted to look around so I got here early,” Itadori explains as he shows off a few shopping bags. “I think I see him over there!”

With the quickest goodbye you’ve ever heard, the boy rushes off. You’re not surprised by his actions since he acts lively all the time. It’s adorable how excited he is to visit the city.

“Isn’t he adorable? He’s like a puppy or a little brother,” you giggle. “It’s a good thing you’ve also taught him.”

“What makes you say that?”

You start to feel a little nervous. “Well, Gojo doesn’t have to worry about making rash decisions. He can practically fight however he wants with how strong he is. You and I have to make smart choices so we don’t die. Someone needs to teach him that he needs to make smart choices.”

“I suppose you’re correct. It would be a shame if you made a choice that led to your death,” he agrees.

“Not that Gojo can’t teach him important things. He has his own charms and abilities.”

Nanami gets a far-off look in his eyes. “Do you find Gojo charming?”

You’re taken aback. It never crossed your mind to talk about romance with your fellow sorcerers, for various reasons, let alone talk to someone as stoic as Nanami about it. Here he is, mentioning the topic to you.

“Not really. Sure I would complain about having a strong man loving me, but I wouldn’t classify Gojo as my type. If you’re considering me your friend now, I could indulge you by telling you my type,” you say with a cheeky grin. “I’m always down to talk about romance.”

Nanami sighs. “I suppose I can’t stop you.”

You giggle. “You could, but if I’m going to tell you my type, I want to hear yours. What could the type of such a secretive man be? It’s like a romantic mystery.”

He crosses his arms and gives a slight frown. Nothing is said, so you take it as an agreement to your condition.

“Well, my type of guy is someone who’s intelligent and calculating. Being strong isn’t a must, but it would be nice.” You press your lips together as you think. “As much as a man who is sweet would be amazing, I just want him to be nice to me at least, like a gentleman!”

As you list off traits, you realize that you’re describing the things you know about Nanami. However, you don’t share that fact. Why would a man who is so stoic and stern like someone who is emotional and soft?

“You wanted the cat in the window, correct?”

Nanami’s question catches you off guard. You don’t know when he turned to point at it, or how he figured out that you wanted the cat.

“Yeah, how did you know?” you sheepishly respond. “I can’t help but like cute things.”

His jaw is clenched, and you know he’s got something bothering him. Whatever it is, it doesn’t stop him from gently leading you into the shop.

“Since I can’t tell you my type right now, I’ll get you the cat. Consider it a sort of promise to tell you when I can. Besides, Itadori talked a lot about you, so I need to thank you for looking after him."

You feel your face heat up as he pulls one off the shelf. Trying to push the feeling in your chest down, you give him a big smile.

“Don’t worry! I’ll hold you to it,” you exclaim. “Besides, you know I wouldn’t judge you for what your type is. After all, I did sort of describe you.”

You’re too preoccupied with the other stuff in the store to notice that the composed look on Nanami’s face starts to slip.

For anyone curious, the roses are Warm Welcome Roses!

#reader insert #x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jjk fic #kento nanami

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notallangelsaregood · 11 months

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My thoughts on Spy x Family Chapter 82

Needless to say, (some real serious) manga spoilers alert

Oh, boy, I'm gasping for air. I'm panicking, and I've not panicked this much about Spy x Family since Anya's last hijack incident (which my heart has not recovered yet). Mr. Endo, may you, please, pay my cardiologist bill? I'm not joking, I'm hyperventilating, and my chest is TU DUM, TU DUM.

The mole was discovered! Poor guy (or not, who knows?). I wonder what SSS will do to him. How far will the organization go? I believe we won't even know.

I'm seriously nervous for him. Twillight is used to things getting on his way, with minimum complications and this situation is definitely not it. Of course, he could figure things could go bad, since It's a really risky operation, however, I feel his frustration in not getting much time to secure the real wheeler.

Damn, my heart is not surviving till the end of this chapter.

Our man got ✨ The Skills ✨ Still, all this shooting is getting me pretty nervous. I'm immediately getting my anxiety meds. Endo, what the actual f-

Yeah, Twilight is The Man! Still, my hands are trembling and so is my apprehensive cardiac organ. This is sure to be qualified as torture.

He is quite wise disguising as Yuri. Haha, got it? I'm not okay, Christ.

Damn, Yuri is very intelligent, as well. The brains had to go to one of the Briar's, am I right? (Poor Yor, I love you, It's not personal. Bad comedy is my coping mechanism when I'm nervous. I'm so sorry!)

He is right about that. Twilight is nervous. And I wonder why. Maybe because there's more on this game than before? He is a father. A husband. He worries. He is not the same he was before, as much as he tries to convince himself that he is not attached to his fake family dynamics.

I can clearly imagine his thoughts racing. He's thinking about Anya, about Yor, about WISE, while trying to run and get these thoughts away from him in order to not commit mistakes, like leaving a footprint behind. Just saying.

Oh Yuri, you are so sweet, in a way. And you know absolutely nothing.

The panic™ on his face. Poor Yuri, I'm truly divided right here. See? I'm calmer, not panicking at all, this is certainly my clonazepam working.

Quick (but important) writer's note here, I'm actually diagnosed with intense anxiety and use prescribed medication, I joke about it, cause It's better to laugh than cry on the reality of my condition, however, never use anxiolytic/benzodiazepines drugs without valid prescription and conscience, it might cause long-term dependency and tolerance. My Pharmacy academic self felt the need to point this out. Moving on!

By the way, have you noticed the "waver"? Twilight is hesitating, deeply, which makes him more prone to aiming wrong. Haha, ha… I'm okay, I swear 😰

...

HOW THE FLOOF AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CHILL AFTER THIS, HUH?

Okay, two theories. I'm okay, I swear, my blood pressure is just fine.

Theory number 1. Twilight gets Yuri shot on some of his limbs, probably one of his legs, so our spy can buy time, run to encounter the others Wise's agents and hide. Gladly, he can aim just on the spot when no much damage is made to Yuri, even though the spy is extremely nervous. Twillight was totally not expecting to find him on that corner, and he knows that doing something so serious like UNALIVING HER WIFE'S BROTHER will tear her apart. Why else he would waver? He is the best spy of Westalis. He doesn't hesitate, but this is different.

Theory number 2. Which I believe is less likely, but still possible, Yuri gets our incredible Spy shot on some area of his body where the disguise falls off, and he realizes Twillight and Loid are the same person, but he does nothing about it, at least not for a while. Making him and the spy share this major secret for a while, due to numerous reasons, but mainly to protect Yor and take her out of her position as Loid's wife safely. But as I said, I find unlikely to Yuri shoot TwiTwi, even though the latter is quite nervous and might not dodge the shot. Besides the fact Loid has his arm aimed at Yuri first, while Yuri has his arm sideways, which gives Twilight an advantage in time.

Be sure to talk to me in the comments, I would love to hear what you guys think. Moving on to the last past of the chapter.

Lady Yor! Our grownup baby! She is still with the same outfit and hair down, so I assume it's late at night or afternoon, maybe Anya is already home or at a sleepover with Becky? Not sure.

Our poor girl is nervous due to Yuri filling her thoughts with the possibility of Loid cheating (which is dumb as floof, because he is a loyal boy) but still, even sober, Yor is worried. She cares about this family so much it probably hurts and confuses her. Her face on the left gave me chills, so much is going through her mind, almost if she senses something is wrong.

So. Much. Blood. I'm. Nervous. I. Can't. Breath. Properly. What. Was. This? Whose blood is this? (Not Yor's, I assume). I always count the days till the next chapter, but for this one, I'll be in severe mental pain until its release date. My mind racing like Yor's, wondering if Loid will come home late or come home at all.

I keep imagining scenarios where one of the boys gets shoot and the aftermath of that, Loid or Yuri at the hospital or being held by their organizations in order to get intel from them, Yor drying with worry, there are so many possibilities. This arc has been the most intense so far, for me, at least. I don't know how I will cope till June 26th.

What do you guys thinking? If my heart survived until now, yours will! Make sure to like, reblog and support my work here on Tumblr, I really appreciate it. Now I will rest, cause that chapter was (hell) difficult 🌹 (this post will be reviewed soon, so if you encounter any grammar or spelling mistakes, forgive my bilingual mess self)

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emotionalmessss · 1 year

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Dead End Pt 3

A/N: I didn't think that I would be expanding on this anymore, but I got a few requests to, so here you go. :) (really quickly edited, sorry for any mistakes)

Synopsis: chrollo comes back for his ex-girlfriend who managed to escape his grasp. Non-canon. No spoilers.

Warnings: implied violence, implied murder, yandere, obsession, manipulation, chrollo is a piece of shit, reader is at her wits end, kidnapping, forced relationship, isolation. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Word count: 4.1K

It had been nearly three days since Chrollo and I were reunited. If you can even qualify kidnapping as being reunited. Three fucking days of being stuck in a singular hotel room with nothing to do. Luckily, Chrollo spent most of his time away from me, dealing with whatever business he wiggled himself into. While he was away, he granted me the privilege of being allowed to use the television. He even went as far as to bring me some books to occupy myself from his absence.

But nothing could fill the void of emptiness that grew inside of me. The feeling only magnified when I would roll over from the soft sheets and see that there was a note on his side of the nightstand.

I’ll be back by dinner. Make sure to eat. Enjoy and behave.

Love,

Chrollo.

Love. It was a funny word to me now. I knew that this treatment was far from the act of being loved. The thought of It made the insides of my stomach knot up, clawing their way to the back of my throat. I couldn’t even fathom ever loving a man like Chrollo. I believe that in his own twisted way he does love me, but the feeling was not returned.

Everything that he did was just him attempting to prove that he had control over me. That was it .

Even when he wasn’t here, he was always trying to show the power he held over me. Even in the most subtle of ways. I was brought food once a day by room service when he was absent, knowing that this was a show of it. He knew that I wouldn’t even think about trying to escape or ask for help, because he would kill every single person in this hotel if I tried. Chrollo knew that I would never put the lives of others in danger for my own.

As much as I yearned for the freedom I had worked so hard for, I wasn’t ready to take that kind of leap. Yet .

I rolled over slightly, tossing the note onto the ground after crumpling it. I often found myself doing petty things like this. Sometimes I wouldn’t even eat the food that Chrollo sent to our room, just to piss him off. He didn’t really seem to care, but it has only been a few times. That only pissed me off more. His stupid calm expression, that tiny smile that pulled at his lips whenever I would scream at him - I hated everything about him.

The only times that I could escape him briefly were in my dreams. For those few short hours, I was at peace. I often found myself back at home. My real home. Surrounded by my friends and my family. I woke up crying, missing those small moments with my friends and family and dreading the present. I would give anything to go back to those times and re-write my future. I would have walked in the other direction as soon as I saw that raven haired monster, his real self concealed by a gentleman act.

It would be a lie if I said I didn’t enjoy the beginning of our relationship. Chrollo showered me with affection and anything that I have ever desired. He made me feel safe, and protected. He brought security into my life when I had none. And he tore it all away from me all the same.

There wasn’t much to do in here and I had gotten bored of reading and watching the TV after a few hours.

I would kill to have my phone back in my possession, even only for a moment. I had managed to make a very few select friends during my time away from Chrollo. With my sudden and unexplained absence - they were probably worried about me, because I told them nothing about my past. It was better to say nothing than to try and explain the situation. It would only put them at risk. It would be nice to at least tell them that I was okay and not to worry.

I sighed, checking the time on the analogue alarm clock next to me.

4:35PM

It was only a matter of time before Chrollo came back and I hadn’t even moved a muscle, nor did I really want to. My body was weighed down heavily with mental fatigue. My bones felt like they were filled with lead, making me want to stay curled up in bed all day. I knew that I was starting to feel depressed, but I didn’t want to admit it. My thoughts needed to be clear if I ever wanted to escape.

Just as my thoughts had predicted, I heard the front door opening and closing soon after.

I shifted over in the direction of the sound, pulling the blankets down slightly as I watched Chrollo step inside. He was still wearing his suit and bandana, but he was carrying some bags alongside him. His eyes met mine for a moment before shifting towards the table in the corner.

I moved my gaze away from him, flipping over and facing the wall instead.

“You haven’t touched any of the food I’ve ordered for you.” He hummed in thought. “Why is that?”

“No appetite.” I grumbled back, not really wanting to talk to him. I curled up further into the soft blankets, caccooning myself from his stare.

“You need to eat, darling. Would you prefer I order you something else? I know that-” I cut him off before he could finish what he was saying. His voice was like nails on a chalkboard and I couldn’t handle it anymore.

“I’m not fucking hungry. That’s usually what happens when you’re trapped in a fucking room with no human interaction for days.” I gritted, pushing myself up from my laying down position.

Chrollo watched me from the end of the bed, his expression stoic and unnerving. His hands were still holding on the white bags that had tissue paper sticking out of it. His eyes were scanning over me, calculating his next moves carefully.

“I see.” He said. “You’ll be happy to know that I have made plans for us tonight, so you won’t be trapped in this fucking room for much longer.” Chrollo shifted slightly, moving towards me as he placed the bag onto the edge of the bed.

I glanced down at it. I could tell just by looking at the bag that whatever was inside of it was expensive and well beyond anything that I could ever dream to afford. This isn’t a surprise to me, as Chrollo often bought things that were way out of what I would ever think of purchasing for myself. I stopped asking why by the third time he spoiled me with a purse or piece of clothing that costed three times my rent.

I wouldn’t lie, it did feel nice at first.

“What plans?” I asked, genuinely curious at his proposition.

“I booked us a reservation at the restaurant downstairs. You’ll feel much better after you eat.” His lips pulled into a small smile that never reached his eyes.

Ignoring his last sentence, which clearly wasn’t true in the slightest, I adjusted myself against the headboard. “What if I don’t want to go?”

Chrollo’s head tilted ever so slightly, like he was challenging my words silently. “You were just complaining about being stuck in this room, and now that you have the opportunity to go out, you don’t want to?”

I clenched my teeth at him. “That wasn’t what I meant and you know that.”

Chrollo pushed the bag towards me slowly. “No matter. We’re going. Tonight is a special night.”

I gave him a quizzical look, my brows pulling together as I watched him go towards the sofa. He pulled up his dress pants slightly before he sat down, adjusting himself accordingly.

Before I could ask what he meant by that, he was speaking up again. “Your clothes are in the bag. We don’t have much time.” He didn’t even glance up from his book that was now opened, instead he focused on the contents that looked to be in some different language.

I found myself grabbing the bag and storming off towards the bathroom, grumbling to myself and slamming the door shut. I made sure that the door was locked before showering and doing everything that I needed to do. I put on a little bit of makeup and fixed my hair, which took me longer than I would’ve liked since I hadn’t done it in awhile. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had gotten all dressed up.

My hands reached out for the bag, pulling out the tissue paper and dropping it onto the counter. I pulled out the dress, my eyes taking in every detail as I scoffed. It was beautiful. Of course it was fucking beautiful. I slipped on the smooth satin dress, looping my arms through the thin spaghetti straps.

The fabric was incredibly soft, hugging the sides of my torso before flaring out slightly by my hips. There was a slit traveling half way up my left thigh, showing off my legs. If I moved too quickly I surely would flash somebody. The material left very little to the imagination as it hugged my figure tightly.

“Bastard.” I hissed.

I pushed open the bathroom door, walking back over to where Chrollo sat. He must’ve heard my soft footsteps on the carpet because he finally looked up from his book. His eyes met mine for a moment before he slowly scanned over my body. I heard the soft snap of his book closing before he pushed himself off the couch.

Something other than lack of interest crossed his features for once, his eyes narrowing on my body as he took a step forward.

“I knew this would look great on you.” He reached out for my hand, bringing it up to his lips before placing a soft kiss on my pale skin. “You look stunning.”

I pulled my hand away, not too fast, but quick enough to let him know that I didn’t want him touching me.

“Thank you.” I looked away from his unrelenting stare, instead focusing on the ground.

“We’re leaving now, I don’t want to be late.” Chrollo stepped closer to me again, his arm wrapping around my waist as he guided me towards the front door.

I followed him closely, the rough material of his suit brushing up against my arms. His arm was tucked into the crook of my waist, pulling me along slowly. I carefully balanced on my feet, scared that I would fall on these ridiculously tall heels. Whether Chrollo picked these out because he thought they were nice, or because I wouldn’t be able to run in them - I had no idea.

“I want you to behave tonight. No running. No screaming. No asking for help.” Chrollo broke the silence that floated in the air as we descended in the elevator.

I rested my ass against the railing, giving my feet a small break from standing straight. I fiddled with my nails, choosing to ignore his words. Did he really think that I’d try running away from him while surrounded by hundreds of innocents? Obviously not. He was smarter than that. He wanted me to know that I couldn’t do anything. That I would have to be on my best behavior tonight for the safety of others.

“You’ve been good lately, let’s keep it that way.” His tone was firm and warning, his body turning slightly towards me.

I held back a snarky remark at his words, reminding myself that this was not the time.

“You don’t have to remind me.” I said, pushing myself off the rail as the doors opened.

“Good girl.” He cooed, his arm finding my waist once again.

We slowly made our way through the lobby, which was almost empty at this time. There were a few people hovering around the front desk, more than likely checking into their rooms. Another group of people occupied the couches near the front doors. I noticed a woman resting against the back of the couch, holding onto her child, rocking back and forth while cooing softly in his ear. She smiled as she swayed, kissing the top of his head. She must’ve felt me staring as we passed because she looked up for a moment. Her soft eyes found mine and she smiled, which I returned before glancing back forward.

I moved my eyes up to glance at Chrollo’s expression, which hadn’t changed. His eyes were directed forward while his lips smiled slightly. I didn’t want him thinking that I was trying to signal for help, which I clearly wasn’t.

We approached the entrance for the restaurant, it was located in the far left side of the lobby, near the sliding front doors. The lighting was dim, which was a complete difference between the brightness of the lobby. It took my eyes a few moments to adjust as we stepped inside, blinking my eyes rapidly to see better in the sudden darkness.

I felt Chrollo’s hand drop from my waist as he approached the podium, leaning over and whispering something at the host. The man nodded and grabbed two menus, waiting for us to follow suit.

My legs moved before my brain had time to process, planting myself back at Chrollo’s side as we made our way to our table. The restaurant wasn’t overly busy, but most of the patrons never glanced up from their tables as we crossed paths. I teetered on my heels slightly as Chrollo pulled out the small chair for me, his lips cracked with a genuine smile.

The host passed us both menus before letting us know that our waiter would be with us soon.

I perched myself awkwardly on the chair, not wanting to accidentally ride my dress up further than it already had. The ambience of the restaurant was perfect and I felt very out of place by being here. Luckily it was pretty dim in here, and nobody would be able to tell just how uncomfortable I looked from where we sat.

Shifting my butt against the chair, I looked up at Chrollo, who was staring at me. He looked like he was admiring me, in his own sick way, but I couldn’t be sure.

“It’s a shame that you haven’t been out in such a long time, darling. Someone as beautiful as you doesn’t deserve to be living the way you were.” Chrollo mused, opening his menu and flipping through the pages casually.

My mouth parted slightly at his condescending words, feeling them sting at my heart slightly. He’s kidding, right? He is the reason I had to jump from place to place, living at the bare minimum for months on end. My face attempted to mask the irritability that etched across it.

“It’s funny that you would say that, Chrollo.” I started, pushing myself closer to the table. “If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve been just fine.” I opened up my menu, distracting myself with the options of overpriced dishes.

I heard Chrollo sigh slightly, his eyes moved away from his menu and back up to mine as soon as the last sentence left my lips. I could tell that he was irritated just by the slightest shift in his eyes, but he easily masked the annoyance with another grin.

“On the contrary darling, I’ve provided you with everything that you could ever want.” Chrollo grinned more, his annoyance hidden within his dark eyes. I could feel a small linger of hurt in his aura, but it was miniscule. Almost as if he was pricked by a small pin, causing nothing more than a pinch.

He went to continue, only to be stopped by our waiter approaching our table. He smiled warmly at the two of us before speaking up, “Can I get you guys started with anything to drink?”

Chrollo ordered a bottle of some fancy red that I wasn’t particularly interested in drinking, but it would help me get through his company. He also decided that he would order for both of us, more than enough appetizers and entrees for two people. His menu snapped closed and I felt mine disappear from my grip. Snapping out of my daze, Chrollo was smiling softly at me as the waiter disappeared towards the back with a thanks.

“What if I didn’t want the steak?” I asked, deadpanned.

Chrollo placed the small napkin across his lap and smiled. “You love steak.”

“Maybe I don’t anymore.” I replied, childishly.

“Don’t be so stubborn and ruin a special evening, darling.” There was a hint of annoyance in his voice.

My eyes locked onto his and furrowed my brows. “You said that earlier. Why is tonight special?”

Chrollo hummed, not giving me an answer. This annoyed me. There could be any explanation on why tonight was so special , and not knowing made me anxious. I remember him briefly mentioning that Feitan was in the city and helping him, but he said nothing more. I tried my best to avoid knowing about his business with the Troupe, mostly because I didn’t want to be involved in the sick things that they did.

I pulled myself closer to the table and leaned down closer to him. “Chrollo.”

“Feitan and I finished our work here, so tomorrow we can go back home. I know you’ve been feeling isolated lately.” He smiled up at me, but I could tell that he wasn’t giving me the full truth.

There was that hint of glimmer in his eyes that I had recognized months ago, that look of pleasure that only crossed his face in very few circumstances, and most of them were from unspeakable things. This was the second time that I had noticed it since our reunion. The first was in my apartment, when he caged me in. He knew that I had nowhere to go, and then there it was, that sick twisted expression morphing in place to mock me. My body clammed up at the thought and my mind started to reel.

“That’s it?” I asked, tilting my head to the side as I tried to extract the missing information. “You know that I don’t want to go back there with you, I have my own home now.” Repeating myself for the hundredth time.

“Oh yes, there's something else I forgot to mention.” Chrollo hummed. I watched as he turned slightly, pulling out a small box from the inside of his jacket pocket. “I picked this up earlier for you.” He carefully placed the box onto the table top in front of me.

I glanced down at it, unsure of what to make of it. Cautiously, I reached for it, holding onto the small box between my shaky fingers. I stared at it for a few moments, debating on if I really did want to know what was inside.

“Go on.” Chrollo edged, that same shit eating grin on his face.

My lungs expanded as I breathed in deeply, pulling at the ribbon on the top of the box. The wrapping paper fell apart in my hands and I pulled open the box, closing my eyes for a moment. Light flooded back into my vision as my eyes dropped to the contents of the box.

A phone?

I looked back up to Chrollo in confusion. “It’s a phone? Why?” It was the same phone I had previously, but looked slightly different. I knew this was too good to be true and didn’t make much sense.

“It’s the same one you had before, but this one is newer.” Chrollo explained softly, his voice lined with a small bit of amusement.

I clicked open the phone, scanning through it quickly. Everything looked normal. Maybe he was being generous? My gut instincts told me otherwise, he would never be kind without some hidden motives behind his actions. I scrolled through, clicking on every app that was there in search of some hidden deception.

“I managed to back up a few of your photos from your previous phone.” Chrollo and I made eye contact for a brief moment, noticing that he was smiling genuinely this time, I found my fingers navigating towards the camera roll. “I know how attached you are to your personal memories.”

My jack slacked open as the app loaded up, revealing immediately new pictures that I did not recognize. My vision swam as my eyes tried to focus on the series of photos that appeared on that tiny screen that I held in my trembling fingers. The curiosity I felt moments ago replaced itself with utter disgust and fear as soon as I saw the pictures of the mutilated bodies.

The phone slipped from my grip and my hand covered my mouth before a sound could escape.

My… Friends. He…Killed them all. I shook my head, hand still over my lips as I leaned back against the chair. Tears stung at my eyes, my head swam with fear, making it hard to see straight.

“What’s wrong, darling? You don’t like your present?” Chrollo cooed. “Maybe next time you should be more grateful for everything I’ve done for you, hm?” He taunted, making me squeak and shake my head faster.

This is all my fault. He killed them because of me. Every single precaution that I took for them was in vain. I kept them sheltered, hidden from the truth, but it proved to be fruitless. Chrollo inevitably found them and killed them, because he could. This was his payback for me running away. My short lived escape dug me into an even deeper hole than I could have ever imagined.

I choked back a sob, glancing around the restaurant. No one knew what was happening here, they were all too busy enjoying their food or deep into their conversations - while I sat, crying, shaking, furious. This is why Feitan was in town. His torture methods. He helped Chrollo. I gritted my teeth together so hard that I thought they’d shatter.

“You- you- you fucking monster.” I hissed, my red eyes meeting his gaze.

My fists clenched beneath the table, chest rising and falling in anger. “You fucking-”

“My apologies for the wait.” The waiter interrupted me before I could spew out a slurry of curses at Chrollo.

He set down the wine glasses, filling them up with the red liquid. I gagged slightly and tore my eyes away from the crimson liquid that looked a little bit too much like blood right now. My face flushed and I looked anywhere but at Chrollo, fearing that I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back.

“Your food should be out soon, is there anything else I can get you both?” I refused to look up at the nice man, knowing that my expression would certainly have him concerned for my well being.

“No, that should be good for now, thank you.” Chrollo nodded, smiling cheerfully.

I remained glued to my seat, fighting the urge to run away, knowing that it would probably do no good. But I couldn’t fight off the strong desires my brain sent to my nerves to flee and never return.

“Aren’t you going to have any wine? It might calm your nerves.” He spoke, his voice hidden with a small sense of faux concern.

Tears flowed down my face as I looked back up at him. “You are a disgusting human, if you even qualify as human.” I seethed, teeth gritted together. “You’re sick in the head if you think I’ll ever be with yo-”

“Enough.” Chrollo snapped, hushing my next words as he brought the glass of wine up to his lips. “You don’t want to make a scene, it would be a shame to have to kill an entire restaurant, but I’m not against it.” He warned, placing the glass down.

My mouth hung open. “I’m also not opposed to killing a mother and an infant.” He continued, referring to the couple that I had smiled at in the lobby.

A soft gasp left my lips and more tears of hate blurred my vision. I felt my entire body begin to tremble again, whether it was from the hate boiling up in my stomach or fear, I had no idea.

“Now, be a good girl for me and let’s not spoil the rest of this evening.” My eyes once again met his. His hair loosely framed his dark eyes which seemed to read into my mind.

There was no escaping him.

#yandere chrollo #yandere #chrollo hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter #chrollo lucifer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x oc #long reads #obsession #kidnapped reader #phantom troupe #chrollo

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years

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Pamper Night (George Russell)

Little Russel has been tiring their mom out and they're not even born yet

Note: english is not my first language, here is some George content that I hope you like 🤍

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so but know that I'm not certain when I'll be able to tend to them!

Tw: pregnancy

"Text me when you get there okay?", you said after George gave you one last hug, "Of course darling, anything you need call Cara or myself, okay?", he said as he bid goodbye, his car leaving the house so he could join the team for race weekend.

Getting inside with Maya, the cocker spaniel you and George got after four years of dating, she followed you to the kitchen, the constant pregnancy hunger definitely a thing nowadays, "so, baby Russell, tell me, are we feeling some puddding or some savoury pastry?", you spoke outloud, Maya wiggling her tail at the prospect of you letting something fall on the floor before you settled on the pudding, grabbing one of the cocker spaniel's treats and giving it to her before washing your hands and grabbing a spoon, eating the sweet food before heading to the bedroom, needing to get ready for the evenig plans of sitting on your bed and watching a comedy show rerun while you waited to hear from your husband once he arrived safely at his hotel. You got the message 4 hours later, a picture of his face with a goodnight wish, leaving you with a bit smile on your face. Despite missing him dearly when you couldn't be at his races, he was doing his dream job and you couldn't be prouder of him.

You were watching the qualifying laps, the numbers on the TV screen seeming quite good for George, the odds pointing to a start within the first 5 grid places, and given the track and how the car had been performing, it was as incredible result. It wasn't long before Maya needed to go outside ao you got up and opened the door for her, watching her run around for a bit before getting back inside, following you like the little shadow she was. You were in the middle of a shower when you heard your phone ring, washing the rest of the soap suds from your body before getting out, wrapping your hair and body in towells as you made your way into the bedroom, seeing that George had tried to FaceTime you so, placing your phone on top of the chest of drawers, you were putting on your undies while it rang your husband, "Why am I looking at our ceiling, darling?", you heard his chucke through the phone speaker when you noticed the phone had slid down, instead of showing you it was showing him the white ceiling instead, "sorry, I was just having a shower and apparently our furniture is slippery", you giggled, finding a small face towell to create grip so that your phone would stay upright, "Congratulations on P3, my love, we're very proud of you!", you said as you grabbed your body cream, starting to rub it on damp skin like it instructed too while you heard your husband talk about his laps, "we were so sure we would have trouble with the turns but it turns out that the car is doing far better than we expected, which leaves us hopeful for tomorrow's race", he said, a smile etched on his lips when he noticed you bringing your hands to your bump. Your pregnancy was very much wanted between you and George, and he loved it even more when he started noticing the bump grow, an actual visual and touchable sign that you were growing his baby in your tummy, the sight never failed to make him smile and thank his lucky stars, "That's good, you guys deserve it with all the work you've put in", you said, noticing his attention was on your middle section, "Little one has been moving a lot today", you commented as you tapped above your belly button, "yeah? Are they excited for daddy possibly getting a podium tomorrow?", George asked on the other end of the line, "Oh, they know daddy is getting P1 tomorrow".

Texting your husband congratulations after his race win, knowing he still had media duties and meeting to attend, you made your way to the kitchen so you could grab some snacks while you watched the post race interviews on TV, getting a quick text from your husband saying he was boarding the plane and he would be home after dinner time thanks to the race location.

George parked the car on the garage, having noticed the dim lighting from the living room window when he entered the property, grabbing his bags and leaving them at the entrance where he was greeted by an enthusiastic Maya, "Hello Maya, how was your weekend? Did you have fun without me?", he said as he layed on her back, asking for some more belly scratches, George giving them to her before he thought it was odd that you had yet to join them. Your waddling wasn't that slow when he left and it suddenly didn't get slower over four days. Urging Maya to follow him into the living room, he was greeted with a picture worthy moment as you were lying on your side, one arm by your side on the sofa while the other cradled your Mercedes team t-shirt cladded bump, a sudden movement you made making it rise from your thigh and revealing you were wearing one of George's boxers. Taking a picture so he could have the memory forever, George approached you on the sofa, stroking your bump when he felt you start to wake up from your nap, "Hi, you could have gone to bed, you didn't need to wait for me", he said softly, allowing you to get used to the stimuli around you, "you're home", you squealed opening your arms so he could cuddle you on the sofa. Carefully scooting around you, George managed to lay your back on his chest, his hand continuing his previous ministrations on your bump and thighs as you told him about what you and Maya had been up to during the weekend, "and after you said you were boarding I swear I only got up for some food while I watched the interviews, but I was so tired I must have fallen asleep", you blushed, pregnancy really making your fall asleep anywhere and anytime of the day.

Holding his arms so he could help you get up, George laced his fingers in yours so you could both head upstairs to your shared bedroom, his voice soothing as he announced he was giving a pamper night routine, "Do you want to change out of those?", he asked gently, grabbing your pyjamas while he watched the same view he had seen on his phone few days before, "Come here, daddy missed his loves", he said as you layed down on the bed, George's hand easing the pain on your hips and back before rubbing oil on your bump, kissing every each of skin he could, "you're incredible, my love. I'll never be able to thank you for allowing me to experience this with you", he muttered, "Well, if you keep doing these pamper nights I think you're up to a good start!".

#george russell imagine #george russell fic #george russell fluff #george russell × reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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sciderman · 3 months

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I've been having some gender-confused thoughts recently and I've been kinda hoping you could weight in on this (as i kinda see you as an expert on gender™ stuff), as sometimes i kinda think like "I wonder what it would be like to be a girl" or "I kinda wanna try if I'd like being a woman and percieved as such" but also partly i am unsure, as i got noone to try stuff with irl (like make-up and clothes and stuff like that) and my parents, mainly my dad, aren't really the most open thinking people out there, and also because part of me wonders if part of my brain is still sexualizing women because most/basicly all of those thoughts are connected to sexual stuff or something physical (even if just cuddling or making out) so i dunno what to think. Sorry for venting but i dunno who to ask tbh. (Where's a Vanessa where you need one, eh?)

i don't think there's any sort of a thing like an expert on gender™, and i don't know if i could at all really weigh in on the validity of your feelings or whether you "qualify" for the right to experiment with your gender – you really, really don't have to "qualify" or feel like you're any sort of anything! if you're curious about what it would feel like to present as femme, then - by god, try it and find out. it might feel amazing, and you'll do it again - you might not like it, and never do it again. or, it might just be a thing you feel that week, and not the next week, and then you'll feel it again in a couple of months, then not.

it doesn't hurt to just - treat it as something easy and free. it doesn't hurt to - buy something pretty and try it in front of the mirror. you're not signing a contract or applying for status as a full-time trans... you're just trying something new. just like you'll try a new entree at a new restaurant. you might never go back. or you'll love it so much you'll go there every week. until you find a new, better restaurant. it's not an all-or-nothing sort of deal - it's not any sort of commitment at all. it's just clothes, and words, and feelings. they can change at any moment, and you should let them be strange and inexplicable and unexplainable - don't take it too seriously. it's all play. treat it like play.

everything in life should feel like play. i think it hurts everyone - absolutely everyone, cis or trans, or anyone - to think that they have to be a certain way. like they have to be this much of something, and cannot be anything else. be free, be comfortable, and be as much of something as you want to be. you don't have to be more, and you don't have to be less than whatever it is you want to be. just - just be.

if you think it'll be fun to put some tights on, put some tights on. if you think it'll be fun to put some make-up on, put some make-up on - sure, it'd always be nice to have someone to guide you through that journey, but - ultimately, whether you have someone else or not, that journey is going to be initiated by you. you have to want to take that first step - and you don't have to wait for it to happen. you can do it any time, whenever you're comfortable and ready, and feel safe to do so.

i think, also, if you're sincerely thinking about gender beyond the binary and asking these sorts of questions then the issue of "sexualising women" becomes much more multilayered than you think. but i don't really - i don't know, i don't really understand where you're coming from. i think there's a very harmful argument from terfs and the like where - they demonise transwomen and accuse them of fetishising femininity and coopting it as a way to penetrate female spaces and - i don't know, maybe that's a mindset you're internalising? if so, i'd really ask you to reexamine that - if you're thinking that about yourself, are you thinking that of transwomen and other gnc people? just - something to reexamine. make sure you're not internalising a rhetoric like that. i'm pretty sure you're not that horrible bogeyman that terfs like to conjure to get people to fear transfolk. and i'm pretty sure that you taking the time to explore your identity and ask questions and getting to know yourself and your relationship with the world is a pretty harmless and wonderful thing that you shouldn't feel afraid to do.

good luck anon! and don't feel afraid to slip back into my inbox with any exciting updates, if you do decide to be so bold!

#sci speaks #the gender tag

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poledancingdinos · 1 year

Text

You've Got Me Hooked - Post Epilogue Bonus Scene

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Riley McKenzie)

Word count: 2K

Warnings: Sex work, Stripper, OnlyFans, Light Angst, Family Drama

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist:@amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @marytudorbrandon @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @foxyjwls007 @identity2212 @summersong69 @liecastillo @islacharlotte @evansabove1981 @eskiix @lilacwineandthesinkingsunmain @tryingtoliveonmywishes @henryownsme

A/N: My friend convinced me to post this early because we both have no self-control.

If you want to be added or removed from my taglist, let me know! If your name is crossed out, I can’t tag you for some reason.

Masterlist

Riley

I’ve only been able to lightly dose for the past few hours, what with the nurses coming in to check on me or to make sure our baby boy is feeding properly and not losing weight for any reason. Then there’s the fact that we are in an unknown hospital six states away from our home. I doubt Sy will ever stop saying “I told you so” for that one but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity at the contract this firm is offering me.

I love running RD’s for Don because it also gives me the chance to pick up some freelance work now and then. I just wanted to get a feel for this company before signing on for a twelve month contract and I knew I wouldn’t want to travel once the baby was born.

It’s hard to say exactly what it was that woke me up this time but what pulls my eyes open is the sound of a familiar voice out in the hall. The door is propped open, which Sy has been doing whenever he has to leave me alone in the room. It’s not really necessary since I have a call button for a nurse and it’s not like anyone but the other new mothers and fathers in the ward would hear me if I shouted for help but it makes him feel better so I don’t say any of those thoughts out loud.

“I need to call the office and let them know to expedite the paperwork. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes?”

“Yeah, alright.”

A man in a suit speed walks past the door and down the hallway that leads to the elevator. The other man apparently wasn’t in as much of a hurry to leave the building because it takes a few more seconds before he appears in the doorframe.

Like his companion, he’s wearing a fancy designer suit. His sandy blonde hair is neatly stilled but one rebellious lock hangs down over his forehead as he reads over the papers in a manila folder.

He looks older than when I last saw him, although that’s to be expected when you let five years go by between visits. As I stare at his left profile I begin to wonder what his life has become. There’s no sign of a wedding ring and for him to be dressed as he is must mean that he has fulfilled his destiny and become a lawyer.

My thoughts are interrupted when the tiny human by my side wakes with an ear-splitting cry. Immediately, I reach out and take him in my arms, laying him on my chest. I rock him as I whisper what I hope are soothing words and it’s not long before he quiets down.

The next time I look out the door I find chocolate brown eyes staring back at me in shock. The young man opens his mouth as if to speak but no words leave his lips so he shuts it again. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and slowly, he walks through the door. He stops about two steps into the room, staying a safe distance from me and the infant cradled protectively in my arms.

“Is my baby sister really a mother?”

I bristle at his choice of words. “I pushed an eight pound Syverson baby out of my vagina, I’d say that qualifies me for the title.”

Arthur taps the manila folder on his open palm a few times then tucks it under his arm in favor of shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You have every right to be mad at me. I’m really sorry about what happened. I never had a chance to explain.”

I don’t think mad is the right word. Mad implies that I resent being cut off or that I blame him for it happening. He’d already been away from home for four years by the time I got kicked out after high school. It’s not like he could have done anything to help or to change our parents’ mind.

We led separate lives while he was in law school and I was perfectly fine with that. We saw each other once a year at Thanksgiving and that was enough. What hurt was that he told my parents about the porn. That’s what I was. Hurt.

“There’s nothing to explain. You told on me and you joined them in pretending I never existed. Thanks to you the McKenzie name remains unblemished.”

“Riley, please believe me… I told them about the OF because I thought it would make them give in and send you some money. I thought the threat of some bad press would force their hand but I was wrong. By the time I found out what they had done, you’d changed your number and you’d erased any trace of Riley McKenzie from social media. I didn’t know how to find you and I thought that meant you didn’t want to be found.”

No, I didn’t want to be found. I didn’t want to risk people from the strip club finding my real accounts so I deleted them all. I started from scratch as Razzy and even now, I haven’t really gone back.

“Ri? What’s wrong, why are you cryin’?”

Sy’s deep voice startles me out of my thoughts. He briefly stops in the doorway, studying the room then side steps Arthur to come stand by the bed. He places himself between me and the stranger invading his space like the loyal protector he is.

I can’t imagine what this must look like to him. First there’s a man in an important looking suit standing by the doorway of the room and then there’s me — crying as I clutch our son in my arms. Whatever he’s thinking, he immediately goes into Captain mode.

“What’s goin’ on?” he all but barks at my brother.

“Sy?” I wrap a hand around his bicep, partly to get his attention, partly in the hopes of holding him back if he decides to lash out before he gets the full story. He looks at me over his shoulder, keeping his body towards Arthur. “This is my brother. Arthur, this is my husband, Sy.”

Both men give a small nod of acknowledgment but the tension in the room stays high. I told Sy the full story of what happened between me and my parents and the role Arthur played in that. I guess I should say the role I thought he had played. Sy was understandably very angry. He might have also said he would break his nose if he ever happened to see him. At least we’ll be in hospital if something happens.

“How did he know we were here?”

“I didn’t,” my brother explains. “It’s a coincidence really. We’re waiting on a judge to grant the state custody of a newborn down the hall.”

That does absolutely nothing to alleviate the tension in Sy’s shoulders.

“Barely a few days old and you’re already tryin’ to tear a family apart?”

My brother stands up taller, not even flinching at the tone of my husband’s voice. It’s a not so subtle dig but Arthur doesn’t seem to realize that it was meant to be personal.

“She’s a druggie who told a judge in open court that if they took custody of her oldest child she would just make a new one. I don’t know about you but I’d rather give that kid a chance at adoption and a good life rather than leaving them with a mother who thinks of children like they’re a goldfish in a petstore.”

Damn. Credit where credit is due, Arthur has a lot of balls to stand up to Sy like that. He looks at his watch and mumbles a curse.

“Can I see you again once you get settled at home?” I’ve never seen Arthur like this. He looks deeply upset by the whole situation.

“We umm… we actually live near Atlanta. I was only here for work but our son seems to have had other ideas. He’s three weeks early.”

Arthur’s eyes go comedically wide. “Three weeks early and he was eight pounds?” Neither one of us was by any means a big baby. Even now he’s only around five foot ten himself which is considered tall in our family.

“Yeah, that’s all this guy’s fault.” I poke Sy in the arm and he gives me one of his signature smirks though his eyes are all soft, looking at me with nothing but fondness.

Arthur’s phone dings three times in quick succession, causing him to sigh. He ignores it for the moment, instead reaching inside his jacket and producing a business card. He walks up to Sy, extending his hand. It takes him a second but Sy eventually shakes it.

“I’m glad Riley has someone looking out for her. For the both of them.” Arthur sets his business card down on the table by the bed and directs his next words to me. “If I can ever help you, in any way, please call me,” he says, tapping his finger on the card for emphasis.

“I will,” I tell him honestly.

Sy follows Arthur to the door, shutting it behind him. The boy in my arms starts to wiggle and fuss again so I push my top aside to allow him to latch on to my breast. We’re going to have to name him eventually. We’ve discussed a few options but we haven’t settled on anything yet. None of the names we considered before his birth seem appropriate now that he’s here.

Sy sits on the edge of the bed beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders.

“Is there anything I need to know ‘bout what happened before I got here?”

“He said he was sorry about what happened with my parents. That he’d only meant to help.”

Sy caresses the back of our son’s hand going completely still when the little guy moves it away in favor of wrapping his whole fist around one of Sy’s fingers.

“It’s your call, Mama. All I’m gonna say is if this guy is half as bad as me, having a hot-shot Manhattan lawyer on speed dial might not be a bad idea.”

I burst out laughing, leaning my head on Sy’s chest. If this were a cartoon, Sy and I would both have little red beating hearts where our eyes are supposed to be. Baby Boy falls asleep right there on my chest and Sy takes him from me, gently trying to coax a burp out of him before putting him back down to sleep.

“What do you think of Parker?” Sy suggests, walking around the room in small circles as Baby Boy sleeps on his shoulder.

“I was thinking Maddox but I like yours better.” I get as comfortable as I can, feeling the alluring pull of sleep myself.

“Parker Maddox Syverson,” he repeats, testing out the name. “Definitely gonna be a troublemaker.”

Sy kisses my forehead and I allow myself to close my eyes while Parker is placed in his crib with so much care I think my heart might burst from all the love I have for him and Sy.

“Even if he is,” my sentence is interrupted by a lengthy yawn, “he’ll be just fine as long as he has you as a dad.”

Sy pulls the chair closer, folding his forearms on the bed and laying his head over them. I begin to play with his hair, scratching slow circles over his scalp. I love his curls. He occasionally keeps his hair longer than he prefers just so I get to play with it. I hope Parker gets his Daddy’s curls. The motion feels peaceful and meditative, aided by the low appreciative rumble coming from my husband’s chest.

“I love you, Sy. Thank you for making this my life.”

He shifts just enough to reach my free hand, intertwining our fingers together. “Back atcha, Mama.”

#captain syverson #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x ofc

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bolithesenate · 2 months

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Nr. 9 and 10 for Jenza, please 😊

JENZA MY GIRRRLLL

9. Could I be roommates with her?

again, same problem as with Sifo, I don't like to hear people breathe (not a joke, i genuinely hate it. especially at night when everything else is quiet TT)

that being said, flat mates? Oh for sure. I'd love to (based on the little i know about canon Jenza and my copious amounts of hcs on her)

rather, the question should be, could SHE live with ME

10. Could I be best friends with this character?

tricky, since we (again) don't have a lot on her character.

I don't know about best friends, but friends for sure!

(Then again, I don't really know what would qualify a best friend. The person i normally assign that moniker to is someone i see a handful of times a year and only ever befriended me because she was scared of me and figured better safe than sorry and get in my good graces first XD)

At a base level I think we would mesh well. I know decently well how to act in high-ish society irl so at least I wouldn't be an embarrassment to her. Probably.

#i love jenza #underappreciated character fr #so much potential #answering asks #ask game

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9r7g5h · 5 months

Text

Terrors of the Cubical World

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia

Rating: T

Genre: Humor

Summary: All Dairoji wanted was a job. He didn't mean to fall in love with his perfect angel of a superior who was dating the most volaille pro hero in the rankings.

Words: 4,823

Dairoji had known, the moment he read the job description, that this one had to be his.

While sure, the support courses at UA hadn't had anything like "The Big Three" that the hero courses had, he would have certainly qualified for being in the running for the top ten if they had, and his work ever since he had graduated and done his internship had just continued to prove it. He had been instrumental in helping Mei Hatsumi figure out the dissolving compound to clean the city of Grape Daddy's balls before he had mysteriously disappeared on the job, thus rendering their work unnecessary, though it was still used in multiple manufacturing plants. His work spoke for itself, really.

So, a job at a nice, safe office, away from the crazy woman who often forgot mortality was a thing? One that he was more than qualified for, where he would be designing support equipment to be produced en masse, like headsets and night vision goggles and the like? Where the chances of explosions were minimal?

That job had to be his.

And, after a grueling two months of interviews, background checks, submitting proofs of concept, proving he could build prototypes of said proofs of concepts, proving said prototypes of said proofs of concepts actually worked, and answering a strange questionnaire about his knowledge of Silver Age All Might trivia, it was. He was offered the job, full pay, full benefits, and fuck if it didn’t feel good. It felt even better to give his notice to Mei (though his glee was a bit trodden by her questions of “Who are you? Why are you here? Can you hand me that screwdriver?" Thank god for automatic payroll). His first day working for a major corporation, about to contribute to hero society on a grand scale instead of making "babies" for single customers.

And the heavens blessed him, because put in charge of his training and orientation was the most beautiful man he had ever met.

"Hi," the angel said with a beaming smile, his hand held out to shake. "I'm Izuku Midoriya. You must be Dairoji Imai. Welcome to the team!"

He knew, in theory, what happened in the following hours. Izuku walked him through getting his computer set up, showed him his cube and the lab, helped him fill out the forms to order safety gear, all with that smile that kept his heart hovering just on this side of overloading. He knew Izuku had introduced him to some of the people he would be working with on a regular basis, all lovely, friendly people he immediately forgot. Knew Izuku took him to HR to get the packet they were now settling down with, their lunches in front of them, so they could go over the papers he needed to sign. But if anyone asked him any questions about anything besides how bright his smile was, or how his eyes crinkled when he did to hide some of the green, or how his curls shone in the sun and almost seemed to take on a whole new level of color he had never imagined possible, well, Dairoji couldn’t answer them.

Even his homemade bento was perfect. Healthy, obviously delicious from just the smell, and the rice and eggs had been shaped to look like a sleeping bear - far, far too cute.

It didn’t matter that Izuku was his superior, that he had known him for all of four hours, that he didn’t even know if Izuku liked men. Dairoji was in love, and he would marry this man one day.

His daydream about their wedding and future children and Izuku’s explanation of their record keeping system was interrupted by a firm knock on the door. Without waiting for an explanation the door opened, a woman sticking her head in. Her face was grim, even as Izuku perked up in his chair. "I'm so sorry to bother you two," she started, looking the exact opposite of sorry, "but he's here."

If Dairoji thought Izuku's smile was bright before, for a moment it legitimately felt like he had gone blind. He was immediately up and out of his chair, thanking the woman as he passed by her with a quick shimmy that got him out of the room without her having to move, despite the door still only being semi-open. For the first time since he walked in, Dairoji was curious about something besides how Izuku liked his breakfast.

"Come on, kid," the woman said dryly, jerking her head towards where Izuku had disappeared. "Better you get used to this now."

They quickly caught up to Izuku, who had been forced to pause in his run by a trail of carts traveling from one of the labs to a testing room. He adorably shifted from foot to foot, smiling and greeting each employee as they passed, even though it was clear he was impatient for them to pass. The moment they did he continued on, though just slow enough for Dairoji and the woman to keep up with him. Approaching what he vaguely realized was the cube section of the building, where the various employees could sit at their desks and fill out paperwork or draw, Dairoji was surprised as the woman grabbed his arm - he had been focused on Izuku, specifically the fact that he was walking in front of him, and wasn’t that a beautiful sight to see.

“Look,” the woman said, “just don’t freak out when you see him. He really doesn’t like the attention, and gets pissy when people fawn over him. That’s a sure fire way to set something on fire. Don’t ask for his autograph - ask Izuku to ask him to sign something for you, because if you ask him yourself it will get blown up. Honestly, the only other person here who can talk to him besides Izuku is Ms. Honey, and that’s only because she’s been bribing him with caramels for the last seven years. If you don’t have to do otherwise, keep it to the bare minimum of ‘Excuse me,’ ‘please,’ ‘thank you,’ and ‘sorry.’ Otherwise, anything that happens is your fault, and HR won’t help you. Izuku is the best employee we have here, they’ll choose him over you anyday.”

Her words made very little sense until they took that last turn, and Dairoji watched as the angel he'd been following flew directly into the arms of the current number nine hero - Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

What the fuck?

If there was anyone in the world he would have placed as the exact opposite of Izuku, it would have been the prohero standing next to Izuku's desk, hugging the green-haired man tight to his chest. He was well known for being loud, angry, abrasive, for cursing too much even in front of cameras and children. The only reason he had broken top 10 was because he was strong and had an even stronger sense of justice, leading to an impressive record that, even with his off putting personality, couldn't be ignored. That, and, Dairoji had to admit, he was hot too. The few times he had managed to be forced into a photo shoot had shot his rankings right on up there, landing him quite a comfortable position amongst the elites.

But apparently this walking angry ball of TNT was friends with Izuku, friends enough to get an ecstatic hug and a smile that put all the ones Dairoji had seen so far to shame.

"Kacchan! You're here early!"

And apparently a nickname?

"Patrols been quiet. Figured I'd stop in and see how you were." His words were barely more than grunts, the usual Dynamight - or, rather, Kacchan? - signature response. But his hands didn't move from Izuku's waist, and he didn't seem to notice as Izuku's rested on his chest.

"It's been great! I've been training our new employee, Dairoji!" Dairoji's heart swelled at the sound of his name in Izuku's voice, the best sound he ever could have heard. He immediately took a step forward - wrong move, as Dynamight immediately clocked him, his red eyes narrowing, examining, judging. It felt like he was being sized up by a shark, or maybe a lion, some kind of predator that found him wanting as, with no acknowledgment at all, Dynamight's gaze returned to Izuku. "I think he's going to be a great addition to the team, once he's done with the paperwork. I was thinking of getting him started on the more flexible fabrics we've been developing, see if he can figure out the tensile issue-"

"Yeah, sure, sounds great nerd," Dynamight cut him off, and Dairoji had to bite his tongue. Number nine pro hero or not, how dare he talk to Izuku like that? It was so disrespectful! "You get the bento I left you in the fridge?"

"I did! It was great, Kacchan, just like all your cooking is! Kacchan is always the best!"

"Did you actually eat it, or am I going to find out you ate nothing but Ms. Honey's snacks all day?"

"Don't worry, dear," a little old lady's voice said, "I haven't given him any yet. Not that he hasn't tried to weedle some out of me. Speaking of..." From the same cube the two stood by, a lady that perfectly matched her voice appeared, old spotted hand holding out what, as she dropped it into Dynamight's palm, seemed to be a perfectly wrapped square of caramel. "You enjoy that now, you hear?"

"I'll enjoy the cavities and the extra mile I have to run, don't you worry, Grandma."

"And I'll make sure our little Izuku here doesn't get up to trouble, just like always."

Like that it was clear - Izuku had to be Dynamight's younger brother, or some kind of cousin, since that would explain the closeness, the cutesy nickname, everything. He'd never read about the hero having any family besides his parents, but he was exceptionally private about his day to day life. It was only commonly known he was gay because of a support interview he had done a few years ago with some of his classmates, something never discussed again, so it wasn't surprising that he'd wanted to keep such a cute younger brother/cousin a secret. Besides, it was well known that the families of heroes were often targeted by villains with long standing grudges - Dairoji could respect Dynamight, even if he did leave a bad taste in his mouth on a day to day basis.

"Do you have to go back to your patrol?" Izuku asked, his almost pout far too cute.

"Not like I can stay. Just had to get what I came for." Dynamight's grin was, if Dairoji was paying attention, far too wide for brotherly affection, but he was thinking too hard about how he would get the destructive hero's permission to court Izuku to catch it. So, when Dynamight made his move, Dairoji was very much caught off guard.

Caught off guard as Dynamight's hand moved to Izuku's hair, pulling him up into a very much not brotherly kiss, his other moving down to grab and squeeze a handful of Izuku's ass, forcing out a noise that had no place in coming from the throat of an angel like Izuku but that Dairoji immediately wanted to hear again. Ms. Honey, not even looking up from whatever she was working out, let out a yip of excitement, and even the woman standing next to him struggled to fight back a snicker. "Youth is wasted on the young," Ms. Honey said with absolutely no shame as Izuku and Dynamight pulled apart. "I don't know how you two function, when if I was either one of you I wouldn't be able to leave the bed."

"Why do you think I come here everyday, Grandma," Katsuki asked, finally freeing Izuku from his hold. "Not for your shitty sugar, that's for sure. Gotta have something to keep me going until I get home." He gave what could have been a sly wink at Izuku, if not for stupidly happy grin on his face. "Later, nerd. I'm working late tonight, so don't eat anything too shitty for dinner. I'll kick your ass if you do."

"Spank it, more like it." Ms. Honey let out a cackle as Izuku flushed and sputtered at her hypocritically about "decorum," while Dynamight just laughed as he started to walk away.

"Kacchan," Izuku called out, ignoring his cube mate for a moment. "HR wanted me to remind you to please take a few steps away from the building before you fly off. You burned another entrance mat." Without turning around Dynamight just gave a two fingered salute in acknowledgment, disappearing around a corner.

Ok, what the actual fuck?

Looking over at Izuku, Dairoji's heart broke a little bit, because it was clear as Izuku's smile that he was a man too far gone. Even as Ms. Honey continued to tease him from the cube, his face flushed a perfect pretty pink, the grin on his slightly kiss swollen lips was too real. If he thought he had seen Izuku happy throughout the day so far, well, the sight before him, with his curls a mess as he tried to shake himself back into work mode had put it all to shame.

"Izuku, is it ok if I steal Dairoji for a moment?" The woman next to him, previously forgotten, asked, her arm curling around his own. "You can take the time to let the Endeavor Agency know that their order of thermal arm braces will be delayed by a week - they'll be fine with it, if the info comes from you."

"Yeah, of course, I'm sure Shoto will understand," Izuku said. "Just bring Dairoji back when you're done, please, Sakura."

Without waiting, the woman - Sakura - pulled Dairoji along, immediately muttering under her breath the moment they were out of earshot. "I'm sure Shoto is only so understanding because he's waiting for you to drop Blasty so he can tap that ass himself. Perfect sunshine bastard." A couple of turns had them at a different group of conference rooms, these much larger than the ones he and Izuku had been using previously. Opening the door, Sakura pushed him in before her, announcing their entrance to the group. "We got another one."

In front of Dairoji were perhaps a dozen or so people, all wearing the company lanyard he had been given earlier. One of the women waved, though most just shook their heads in a pitying, understanding way. Sakura wrapped her arm around his shoulders and gestured to the others. "Welcome to the 'hopelessly in love with their coworker Izuku' club." Ignoring his sputters of denial, Sakura let him go and flopped into a seat. A blue haired man cleared his throat, at least having the decency to look embarrassed.

"As you can see, your predicament isn't uncommon, and we will do our best to support you as you get used to your affections being unrequited. I know you might have a lot of questions about us and our involvement with Mr. Midoriya, but-"

"He already saw Blasty come by for his daily make out session," Sakura cut him off, a series of grumbles following her words. "Even got in a pretty good grope before Izuku became too embarrassed. Give it another 10 years of him working here and we might actually get a free show."

While the blue haired man looked right about ready to die, a neon red, human sized blob spoke up, wiggling as they spoke. "Get used to that quickly, kid," they said, their voice somewhere between amused and upset. "The media would have a field day if they found out that the great 'Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight' can't go twelve hours without a kiss from his boyfriend. And he'll spend the better part of an hour pouting at Izuku's desk or scaring interns if he's unavailable to give it to him right away."

"You'd never think such a scary pro hero was such a needy fucker, that's for sure." Dairoji couldn't see the person who said it, but it was clear everyone else, on one level or another, agreed. “Interrupts the rest of us, the day would go a lot better if he could just leave us alone for once.”

“Why doesn’t the company just ask him to stop coming,” Dairoji asked. It was clear enough people had an issue with the situation, one way or the other, so it shouldn’t be hard to put an end to it. And if this was a daily thing, well, Dairoji would be more than happy to avoid watching that. He didn’t want to see Izuku make out with anyone, especially his least favorite top ten hero. The look he received, however, made him wonder if he was still speaking Japanese or not. Going off just their faces, he could have just asked them to lick his feet.

“You want the company to ask the hero most well known for his anger management issues and propentesy for blowing shit up to not come visit his boyfriend when our building is literally in the middle of his patrol route?” The gray cat person who spoke up spoke slowly, as if Dairoji was a small child. “He doesn’t even need to do anything himself; he can just wait for the next villain attack and “get here late.”” Their paws flexed weirdly as they put air quotes around the phrase before licking at the back of their paw.

“Same if they try to fire Izuku,” Sakura added. “Not that they would. Izuku joined this place when it was still a startup, and I’m pretty sure he’s the entire reason it’s still standing. Add in the fact that half of Blasty’s old classmates are head over heels for the guy and just circling the waters waiting for blood, and he brings in a shit ton of business from them? Yeah, no, the company wouldn’t care if Izuku did nothing but ride Dyna’s dick all day at this point. He’s still made of gold as far as they’re concerned. Not that he would, the guy works hard and is great at the job too. It's like, six wins, at the cost of a kiss break each day.”

“He’s pur-fect,” the cat person purred, resting their chin on their paws. “And we get him so long as the company stays on top.”

Sakura kicked lightly at his leg from her chair. "So if you want to work here, kid, get used to it. And welcome to the club of broken hearts."

*~*

Dairoji did not, in fact, get used to it.

In fact, the more he worked with Izuku and the more he saw of Dynamight on the news, the more he was sure the couple just wasn't meant to be. Even if Izuku always seemed so excited to see his "Kacchan" at some point during the afternoon, it had to be some kind of act. A plea for help.

There was no way sweet, beautiful, wonderful Izuku could actually be in love and want to be with the arrogant, self centered, two seconds away from commiting murder brute that was Dynamight. So, in perhaps his best idea yet, Dairoji decided to confess, and help his beloved Izuku get away from the man obviously keeping him captive.

He waited until Ms. Honey was at a meeting - he still wasn't sure if he could trust her yet. She seemed close to both Izuku and Dynamight, but who her loyalties were with was unclear. Once the coast was clear, he knocked on the side of the soft panel, the noise just enough to get Izuku's attention from the design he'd been going over. "Izuku, can I talk to you for a sec?"

A brilliant smile, but only a fraction of the one he showed when around Dynamight. But now he was wondering how real it was, in comparison to the one Dairoji saw now. "Of course! Come in. How's the fabric coming along? Are you having any problems?"

"No, the project's going great. That new sample Creati sent over really helped, though there's still a few more tests we have to do to make sure it can stand up to high enough temperatures. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." Dairoji shifted in the cube, glancing around to really take in Izuku's half for the first time. Everywhere was covered in either equipment designs or hero merch, an overwhelming amount of it All Might and Dynamight themed. "No, I wanted to talk to you about something more...personal."

Concern on Izuku's face, he slid a cover over the design he had been tweaking and turned his chair fully towards Dairoji. For the first time he was frowning, a sight that sent pain into Dairoji's heart, though he forced himself to remain strong. This was for both of them. "Of course. I'm always available to listen, whatever you need."

A deep breath. A slow, slightly trembling exhale as he forced himself to be ready. Dairoji bowed forward as he spoke, perhaps a bit too quickly, his ass bumping into something behind him. But he couldn't stop, he had to get the words out, not even bothering to check the thump of something falling. "Izuku, I love you, and I-"

"Kacchan!"

The cry was so heartbreakingly devastated that, for a moment, Dairoji thought something had happened to the hero. Some news bulletin had popped up on Izuku's computer, and his love confession had been interrupted by Dynamight being in the hospital or dead. But no, Izuku brushed past him and knelt on the floor, large tears falling from his beautiful eyes as he gently retrieved the figure that Dairoji had apparently knocked from its stand on a little shelf behind him.

He couldn't help the small jolt of satisfaction at seeing the hero's body in one of Izuku's hands, the toy's head in the other.

“I’m so sorry Izuku,” Dairoji said, quickly covering any offensive feelings as he knelt next to his angelic coworker. “I didn’t realize I was so close to your shelf. I can try to fix-” Dairoji froze under the acidic glare, his blood freezing as the soft green eyes he had fallen in love with almost seemed to glow with anger and malice. He didn’t know his coworker’s quirk, didn’t know what exactly Izuku was going to do to him, but he could feel just how much danger he was in.

“...HR won’t help you. Izuku is the best employee we have here, they’ll choose him over you anyday.”

Sakura’s words, while in a different context, circled through his mind as they crouched there, as he was examined and found so, so wanting in the eyes of the man he had thought he had loved. But now he knew it was a lie, he was only in love with the siren mask that hid whatever this drowning depth was, this pit that wasn’t threatening but just explaining exactly how it would be pulling him under, dismembering and destroying him so nothing would ever be found. And if a trace ever did show up, well, that’s what the boyfriend was for.

“Oi, Deku, Extra, what are you two doing down there?”

Speak of the devil with all his saving grace, the sight of Dynamight sent Dairoji into a frantic crawl, hiding behind the hero’s legs as he looked back at Izuku. The hero was an asshole, and this was his boyfriend, but he still had to save people, right? Even the people who pissed off said boyfriend? He couldn’t just stand by and let Izuku kill him, that wouldn’t be very heroic of him. But it was Dynamight, did he really care?

Izuku looked up, kneeling on the ground, his broken toy in his hands and his eyes wide and glimmering with unshed tears, and Dairoji wasn’t sure he would survive.

“He broke you, Kacchan.” The words were wobbly, his voice cracking, the first tear slowly trickling down his cheek, making the most pitiful scene Dairoji had ever seen. Even knowing his hide was on the line he still wanted to reach out, to comfort him, the fury that had scared him before now replaced with such a deep, beautiful sorrow it hurt. He wiped at his own cheeks, something to keep his hands from reaching out, knowing his touch might not be welcomed.

Dynamight snorted. “Really, Deku? Over that piece of shit? It’s not even official merch; I can get you a dozen better ones by tonight. Just pitch it.”

“Really? They’ll all be different designs and poses? And you’ll sign all of them?” The switch from almost sobbing to overly excited - in any other context - would have been adorable. Now, however, it was terrifying, keeping Dairoji tied to the spot behind Dynamight he had retreated to. How did the hero deal with Izuku’s changes, especially such drastic ones over something as small as a toy?

“Of course, nerd. Now hand it over.” Izuku held out the remains of his beloved figure, allowing the hero to take the pieces from his palms. Dynamight scoffed as Izuku wiped his face clean, examining the figure up close to see just how bad it was. “I’ll never understand why you’d waste your money on this crap when it’s not even that good. Shitty knockoff bullshit.” A small explosion, and the trash can now held a smoldering, melted, ashy mess the janitorial staff wouldn’t be pleased to find.

Izuku just rubbed the back of his head. “They got your eyes right. I love your eyes.”

A long moment where none of them moved, Izuku looking up from his spot on the floor at Dynamight, Dynamight looking down at Izuku, Dairoji looking between them. Finally Dynamight just groaned and shook his head, pulling out a phone from his belt.

“Yeah, it’s me.” The phone hadn’t even rung before it had been picked up, meaning it was probably some kind of direct line. “Yeah, no, it’s about what we talked about. I have the time. That good?” A moment of quiet. “Thanks, I’ll catch you up later.” That phone back into his belt, Dynamight reached over Izuku’s head for his desk phone. It didn’t take long for him to find the number he wanted, dialing it in and listening to the wait tones. “No, it’s Dynamight,” he replied when the other end picked up. “I’m just letting you know that Izuku’s taking a half day today. I don’t know if he’ll be coming in tomorrow either. I’ll let you know.”

“K-kacchan, what do you mean I’m taking a half day? I have work an-”

His protests were cut off as Dynamight scooped Izuku into his arms, a quick princess hold as he pressed a kiss to his lips to quiet him before shifting him over his shoulder, smacking his ass as Izuku squeaked and squirmed upside down. “You can’t say shit like that and expect me to not take you home to wreck you. This is your fault, Deku. Take responsibility.”

Izuku finally stopped resisting and went limp in Dynamight’s arms, laughing hysterically as the pro-hero carted him out of the cube. They took up talking as Dynamight walked, Izuku holding on to his belt to give him arms something to do besides swing wildly, demanding to know exactly what pieces of official Dynamight merch he was going to get later.

Not once did either of them even acknowledge Dairoji existed, as if he had stopped being part of the physical realm the moment they became aware of each other.

“I’m surprised,” Ms. Honey said with a shake of her head, leaning over him to look at the mess in the trash can. “Last time someone broke one of Izuku’s figures, they needed Recovery Girl to pull the pieces out of their ass. Looks like you got off light, especially since you were going after a taken man.” She looked at him over the rims of her glasses, the disapproval clear in her eyes and voice, if not her words. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

That day he put in a transfer request to a different department. There were plenty of projects that he could work on, plenty of projects that would keep him far away from the beautiful, perfect, terrifying Izuku Midoriya and his explosive boyfriend.

Or, well, fiance, as he found out when Izuku returned a few days later with a limp and a ring, the company grape vine (aka the lunch drunk 'hopelessly in love with their coworker Izuku' club) informing him. A fiance that gave him a look he realized he recognized, had seen before in the scariest moment of his life, a look from Dynamight that now meant almost nothing.

He really should have stayed with Mei.

[END]

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