#someone save me from this slump...
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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.6
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.7]
Danny slumped over the table at the library. He’d feel embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the rest of the floor’s occupants. Around him, students were speed running through the five stages of grief like it was going out of style.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”
“Same.” Danny replied, rolling his head to look at Tim. “I’m feeling like an academic victim instead of an academic weapon right now.”
“I should have stayed dropped out of school,” Tim grumbled.
Danny gasped theatrically. “And deprive the world of your awe-inspiring genius on…” Danny peered at Tim’s books and grinned. “On… the Krebs cycle? Seriously? They’re teaching that again?”
“I know! This is like, the third time.” Tim whined.
“At least you’ll be good at it, right?”
Tim scoffed. “I’m gonna drop out of college and become a stripper.”
“They do make bank,” Danny nodded. “But aren’t you like a millionaire or something?”
Tim brightened. “Oh, you’re right. I don’t need education! I’m filthy rich!”
Danny whacked Tim on the back of the head, laughing quietly.
“Whatever. Let’s go take a break. Snacks?”
“I literally don’t know how you eat so much.”
“Snacks have a separate stomach pouch. Normal food goes one place, junk food and desserts in another.” Danny retorted, quickly packing up his stuff. In reality, he didn’t need that much food. He’s half dead, after all. But food also converts to ectoplasm in his body, and ancients knows Danny needs all the energy he could get.
They made their way out of the campus library, passing stressed out looking students on their way to a taco truck.
“Does this even count as a snack?” Tim asked, amused. He tugged on his book bag, readjusting the vigilante pins on them.
“Is the sky even blue?” Danny snarked back, forking over the cash needed for the best fucking tacos on this side of Gotham. They sat on the benches, asking for an obscene amount of extra lime and cilantro before going to town.
“Holy shit, how many of those can you eat?”
“Dunno,” Danny mumbled though a mouthful or carne asada and pico de gallo. “Hungry.”
Tim snorted, pulling out his phone to scroll as he ate. A moment later, Tim showed Danny his screen.
“Hey, you live near here, right?”
Danny, cheeks bulging with food, peered at Tim’s phone and nodded.
“Oh, cool! Have you seen the green guy around?”
Danny squinted at Tim, tilting his head as he chewed.
“You know, the glowing green guy that’s been blowing up the Gotham Bay tag.”
Oh. Tim was talking about him, Danny!
Danny nodded. He quickly ate his food and wiped his mouth before replying. “Yeah, why?”
“Does he seriously just clean up the bay? Nothing else?”
Mildly offended for some reason, Danny shrugged. “I mean yeah? He doesn’t seem to pop up near any of the shady spots- oh, I saw him save someone from a mugging in front of my apartment once! But like, I think all he does is clean the bay. Which is good, because holy heck, that place is nastyyy.”
“Seriously?” Tim leaned in, looking super interested. “So he’s friendly?”
Danny raised a brow. “Yeah, he seemed pretty nice, I guess. Though, that’s not saying much considering your Rogues tend to be pretty chill when they’re not in the middle of a scheme.”
Tim snorted. “True that. You talked to him? When? Outside of his bay cleanings, right? I’ve noticed that he only talks to the Bats during those.”
Danny stared at Tim. “Tim… are you… stalking the guy?”
What Danny really wanted to say was: “Tim, are you stalking me?”
“I’m not stalking him!” At Danny’s suspicious glare, belied by his sauce stained mouth, Tim sighed. “Okay, maybe I am. But only some minor stalking!”
“Uh-huh.”
“But if you have, you think you could introduce us? Maybe he’d want to be friends?”
Was Tim asking Danny to introduce him to… Danny himself?
“Uh. Why do you even want to meet him?”
“Danny, he’s a glowing green guy that does community service for funsies. And he knows the Bats. That’s cool.”
“And here I thought you wouldn’t know cool if it smacked you in the face.” Danny teased. Well, whatever. He might as well do something nice for Tim. “Sure. I’ll text you when he pops up and see if he’s okay with meeting you.”
Tim grinned at him, a piece of cilantro stuck in his teeth. “Thanks!”
——
Danny made a duplicate of himself and went ghost. Danny and his duplicate looked at each other and sighed.
“We’ve done stupider things.”
“But we’re still not telling Jazz.”
“Agreed.”
Danny paused. Did he just make a deal with himself? No, he’s busy.
Doppelgänger Danny went invisible and left the apartment by going through a wall. Danny followed in a sedate pace, the normal way.
Outside, he pretended to catch sight of a suddenly visible Phantom. He’d heard the heartbeats outside his apartment ever since he got home all those days ago, and he’s pretty sure the vigilantes were watching his place ever since. Luckily, he made sure there weren’t any bugs or hidden cameras- Sam beat cautiousness into his head a while ago- before starting the plan.
One of those heartbeats sounded like Tim’s which left some… interesting connotations.
Danny sighed. Who was he kidding? Of course he’d be friends with a vigilante.
“Hey, Phantom!” Danny shouted, waving. Phantom floated over.
“Danny. Hi. Did you need something?”
“Oh, not really. My friend wanted to meet you, he’s a huuuuge fan. Think you’ve got time today?” Danny held up his phone.
Phantom hummed. “I can stay for a bit. Thirty minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll call him. His name is Tim, by the way. Thanks for taking the time to meet him!”
“No problem.”
Danny texted Tim, and minutely frowned as he picked up the sound of Tim’s ringtone. Shit, that pretty much confirmed his suspicions. He got a text back from Tim.
Timsy
[5 nin]
Nin
Nin
Nin
Min
Danny huffed an amused breath. “He’ll be here in five minutes.”
“Alright.”
Danny texted back an okay.
Five minutes later, a flushed and disheveled Tim peeled onto the street and right to the curb.
“Here!” He said as he tumbled out of the car.
“Damn, bro. You good?”
“Fine- oh my god, you’re the green guy!” Danny had to hand it to Tim. If he didn’t already figure out he was Red Robin, Danny would’ve believed the act. Holy shit, wait, he called his friend broke. Hah!
“It’s Phantom. Nice to meet you, Tom.”
A quick sliver of sullenness flashed over Tim’s face. “It- it’s Tim.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, human names sound so similar.” Danny leaned back and hid a grin as his doppelgänger messed with his friend.
“Oh, wow, you’re not human? What are you then?”
“Oh my god, Tim, you can’t just ask him what he is!” Danny scolded. These vigilantes were really similar.
“Sorry…” Tim apologized.
“It’s fine. To answer your question, I’m dead. Ghost.”
“Do you really pay taxes?”
Phantom tilted his head. “Yes, of course.” By the, Danny meant that he paid both human taxes and oversaw the Zone’s taxes. “You know that saying, something about never escaping from two things and that’s taxes and death? You can escape death- might come back a little wrong- but taxes are in the afterlife too.”
“Come back a little wrong?” Tim asked, eyes suddenly sharp.
“Come back a little,” Phantom gestured to himself. “Green. More emotive and prone to irritation.”
Tim stared.
——
“Jason, are you a ghost?” Dick, crouched on the top of Danny’s apartment building whispered.
Red Hood, crouched in the same area, stayed silent.
——
“How did you die?”
Phantom snarled and disappeared.
Tim whirled around, looking bewildered. Behind him, Danny struggled to stay calm.
“Where’d he go?”
“He probably didn’t want to hurt you.” Danny sighed.
“What? What did I do?”
“You asked him how he died. That’s like, the ultimate social taboo.”
“I didn’t know that!”
“It’s common sense, dude. Trauma like that has to be shared instead of asked about. Generally.” Danny sighed. “Come on, let’s get off the street and I’ll give you a crash course in manners.”
——
Bruce, upon hearing about the conversation, dove headfirst into researching the after life.
“No, go suck a goat’s genitals, Batsy, I am not helping you adopt a being of the infinite realms!” Constantine hung up on him.
“Hn.” Bruce will adopt the child and give him a home. It’s only a matter of when… and what inter-dimensional loopholes he could find and use in the relevant laws.
Jason was right behind him, because he was going to get answers, dammit.
#danny phantom#batman#tim drake#jason todd#bruce wayne#dc x dp#dick grayson#red hood#nightwing#bamf danny phantom#sea cryptic! danny au
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⟁ A BULLET A DAY, ft. BOOTHILL.
⠀ — where teasing, annoying, poking and prodding all fall under the same category; flirting.
⚠︎︎ more mechanic! reader, gn, boothill being an idiot, flirting, suggestive, he has fake teeth to me, something about tension + leaving him high and dry is soooo ….
from this request !
it’s a miracle, truly, how boothill manages to be so tempting and endearing yet so utterly irritating and infuriating at the same time.
and it’s hot, sure, but that just makes it all the more annoying, leaves you frustrated and with an odd pool in your stomach.
boothill managed his way into your supply of bullets, happily tossing back the brass casings like a simple snack. it was a genius idea at the time, really, giving him a stomach that can store ammunition. though had you expected him to chew on the damn things instead of swallowing them— you know, like he was intended to— you would’ve just given him a little side bag to save yourself the work.
you half hoped the lead stuffing the things would seep into his still intact brain, but chastised yourself for the thought soon after having it. you don’t hate him that much. your brain should check back and try the thought again in twenty minutes.
“y’know what’d be real neat, buttercup?” boothill’s legs were kicked up lazily on your workbench as he sat next to you, waiting for you to finish a small modification on his revolver. “spikes in my boots.” he lifted a foot up, rolling his ankle a bit. “you know, them retractable ones. be able t’a have some real fun with those things.”
you snorted, his efforts to dodge his synesthesia beacon as entertaining as always.
“since when do i take requests?” you asked, eyes focused down on your work— far too used to his antics to lift your head anymore.
“since when d’you deny gettin’ to tinker with me?”
he brought his feet down to the floor and leaned forward on his thighs, the denim of his pants tightening around them. “what, gonna make me say please and thank ya now?”
you truly wanted to reply, say it wasn’t a half bad idea and that you’d look into the upgrade. until he started shaking a few bullets around in his palm like they were fucking almonds.
now boothill noticed the clench of your jaw, and oh how he revelled in it. he’s fully aware how the crunching of brass and lead peeves you, ie. you telling him to knock it off an hour ago— (“it ain’t hurtin’ nobody, is it now?”—) but you’re just so darn cute when you’re ticked off. he’s gotta push your buttons just a lil bit.
“somethin’ the matter?” the way his sharp teeth gleamed through that damn grin weren’t doing anything to help.
he took a bullet between his thumb and forefinger, the shiny gunmetal digits pinching the ammunition as he held it up next to you. “d’ya care for one, sugar plum?”
fine, you thought. two can play that game.
you tore your attention away from the old steel revolver, finally turning to look at him. boothill prepared for an insult, one he’d tell you was ‘flatterin’ and all,’ but it didn’t come.
you leaned towards his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his that glowed a familiar and faint red.
then you took the bullet between your tongue and top front teeth, gently pulling it out of his hands with your mouth.
his smirk actually dropped— you’d think someone stuck an infected usb into his ear with all the ideas that flooded the forefront of his brain, making his circuits just tingle with excitement. something about the hot single mechanic in his area.
you turned back to your desk, removing the bullet from your teeth and twirling it between your fingers idly as you gave a once over to his revolver, as if nothing had happened.
boothill blinked, chuckling gruffly with a shake of his head as he slumped back in his chair, flicking another bullet into the air with his thumb and catching it in his palm with a gentle clink! the cyborg gave a low whistle as he kicked his feet back up.
“ain’t you somethin’,” he drawled, earning a chuckle from you. “y’sure know how t’keep a man on his toes, don’t ya buttercup?”
“i dunno what you mean, boothill.” you only offered a hum, willfully ignorant to boothill’s colourful imagination.
“oh i’m real sure y’don’t.” he shook his head, another chuckle rumbling his chest and sending a shiver down your neck.
“say,” he leaned towards you, his shoulder to yours, feeling a little lucky and dropping his voice to a knee-weakening purr, “if that pretty mouth a’yers likes metal, i’m more’en happy t’a—”
“all done.”
all bets go down the drain. boothill deadpanned as you clicked the barrel of his gun into place and handed it back to him, standing up to stretch your arms.
“shops closed for today,” you fold them, leaning back against your bench. “you better get a move on before i have to kick you out.”
boothill’s eyes trailed up your figure, taking his sweet time finding your face. the cowboy raised an eyebrow into a cocky arch despite him swearing his body was on the verge of its cooling protocol.
“you keep woundin’ me, sugar.”
“i dunno what you mean, boothill.”
⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?
#‘kawa he doesn’t chew—‘ REALITY IS WHAT I MAKE IT.#plus its funny#boothill#boothill x reader#boothill hsr#boothill x you#boothill headcanons#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail headcanons#hsr headcanons#UNEARTHLY
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hmmm just imagine Jason Todd with a girlfriend pretty and kind like an angel and everyone is just shocked because 'how they're a couple??"
Think I went a little of ask for this one 😂 🦦
Jason calls you his angel for a reason.
You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re downright beautiful/gorgeous and withheld an equally sweet, kind soul that bleeds through everything that you did or said. When you met Jason he was on the cusp of unconsciousness, finding him just slumped at your front door, severely injured. Anyone else who knew better would’ve left him but no, not you. You brought him -THE RedHood- into your house and home out of the kindness of your heart and patched him up as best as you could.
Heaven sent is another name of endearment that Jason called you and it held true on a plethora of occasions where he would find himself being dragged back at your doorstep, and it wasn’t long after that did Jason finally allow himself to pursue a chance at happiness by your side, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t the best decision he’s ever made in his entire life because being with you had been nothing short of a dream for Jason. A dream he never thought he’d get to live with the fucked up ordeal of having came back from the dead.
However when his family manages to catch wind of this because nothing stays secret for long, not by a long shot, their first thought was; how?
This wasn’t a slight towards Jason or his character but they couldn’t help but feel as though they’ve blinked and missed something extremely pivotal for this to have become the end result. They weren’t the only one to share this sentiment though as even Jason would be taken aback by your differences and often wondered if you were too different for your relationship to work.
It does however and it was one of the only times where Jason was grateful for being wrong for getting inside his own head, and just before he possibly ruins the best thing that has ever happened to him in a long, long while by self sabotage too. God only knows how much Jason would’ve hated himself for doing such a heinous thing to someone as underserving of such treatment as you.
So when Dick asks him one day ‘how did you manage to get someone like them?’ Whilst gesturing to you as you talked with the likes of Duke, Stephanie and Cass and getting along. Jason couldn’t think of a clear answer that would be enough to satisfy his brother’s curiosity because how was he meant to answer that question without it sounding generic and unoriginal.
‘Did you use any offhanded tactics to get them to be in a relationship with you?’ Damian asks and Dick gives him a look, only for the younger of the two of them to shrug his shoulders. ‘It was only a simple question Grayson.’
‘Yeah, just not one you ask when your brother comes home for the first time in months, and in a relationship nonetheless with the epitome of sweetness.’ Dick replied before looking over to Jason who was looking over at you with soft yet protective look on his face, but before Dick could say anything about how nothing was going to happen to you whilst in the Wayne Manor, Jason had already found the answer he has been looking for the entire evening.
‘They saved me.’ In the moment he said those words you looked over at him, Dick and Damian and smiled brightly that it never failed to knock the air out of Jason’s lungs upon seeing it. His angel, his heaven sent, the face he is blessed to see first and last thing in the mornings and late nights where he gently scolds you for staying up for him before kisses you in gratitude for doing so anyway.
Dick seemed content with this answer and meanwhile Damian looked visibly indifferent, he made a noise that said that he was also satisfied with this answer, just in time too as you came over to Jason and subtly held his pinkie with your own as you kissed his cheek. ‘You didn’t to tell me how cool your siblings were Jay!’ You began when Dick decided to join in on it too as he looked as Jason, betrayed. ‘You didn’t? Why not? Is it because you want your lovely partner to always be biased towards you?’ He pouts.
You chuckled and patted Jason on the bicep as you addressed Dick. ‘I’m always going to be bias towards my Jason.’ You admitted, causing a wave of warmth to flood Jason’s entire body upon hearing your confident confession. ‘For he is simply the best man I have ever met and that will never change.’
‘Never?’ Dick asked.
‘Never.’ You answered.
‘Even if he may be in the wrong sometimes?’ Damian asked this time and you shrugged, still smiling. ‘Not all of us are perfect beings and that’s a reality I’d accept rather than one where we’re all without flaw, physical or otherwise.’ Jason felt as though he might combust from your words alone but managed to compose himself enough to press a kiss to your temple to whisper against it. ‘Thank you baby.’
‘Anything for you Jaybirdie.’ You responded in kind, feeling him take hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you rested your head against his bicep as you both continued to talk with Damian and Dick.
Yours and Jason’s relationship may not be what many expected it to be or make logical but why should it when you and Jason were more than happy together?
#jason todd x you#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagines#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#dc x y/n#dc x you#dc comics x reader#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fic#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction
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OUR LITTLE DOVE
pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray
summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.
warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal
word count: 3.0k
a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!
he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.
you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.
you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.
you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.
Everyone's born as clean as a whistle
As fresh as a daisy
And not a bit crazy
Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing
she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.
As rough as a briar
Like walking through fire
This world, it's dark
This world, it's scary
lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?
I've taken some hits, so
No wonder I'm wary It's why
I need you
so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.
You're as pure as the driven snow
your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.
your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.
hope could only get you so far.
your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.
what on earth could you provide her with?
“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!
your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.
“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”
you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.
“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”
but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?
his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.
“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.
was this your chance?
you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.
but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.
your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.
even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?
“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”
“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.
you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.
crack.
you’d been found. you fucked up.
“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”
his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.
the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.
you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.
“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”
“she should eat something better.”
“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”
he was smiling, you could tell.
“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”
you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.
“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”
“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”
“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”
coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.
“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”
you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.
coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.
“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.
“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.
his, his, his.
with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.
lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.
your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.
don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.
not with her in the way.
you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.
here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.
obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.
“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”
and you did.
when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.
when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.
through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.
through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.
when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.
when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.
you had no idea why at this point.
for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.
for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.
you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.
and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.
maybe you’d grow up and find love.
maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.
maybe we’ll heal.
you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.
you’ll always be his little dove.
#dark!coriolanus snow x reader#dark!coriolanus snow#dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader#lucy gray x coriolanus#coriolanus snow x fem!reader#coriolanus snow x reader#lucy gray x fem!reader#lucy gray x reader#lucy gray baird x reader#dark!lucy gray x reader#dark!lucy gray baird x reader#hunger games x reader
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the promised knight
knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader
♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you
word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)
genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be
content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch
also on♡— ao3
author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!
Your happiest years were when everyone was together.
Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.
Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.
“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground.
Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”
You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”
Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.
But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.
Everything changed when Kuina died.
She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident.
More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.
The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more.
A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.
“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”
Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”
Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.
“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”
“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”
The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.
There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.
“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair.
It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.
Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.
You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.
On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child.
Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?
You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.
The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.
“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”
Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute.
Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.
So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.
“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”
Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.
“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.
“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”
“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.
“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”
Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”
“Join my knights.”
Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”
“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”
At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”
“Obviously.”
“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”
“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”
Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.
It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—
“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”
When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.
“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”
Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk.
This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.
You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to?
Who is he kidding? He doesn’t.
And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?
After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.
“What do I need to do?”
Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.
“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”
“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?
A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.
“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”
Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”
Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”
“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”
You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”
Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.”
That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?
All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room.
The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.
You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.
But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.
“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed.
Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.
She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.
Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.
“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”
The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.
“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.
Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.
You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.
When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.
But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.
A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.
Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.
You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?
Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.”
How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.
It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”
When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.
“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.
“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.
Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.
You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.
“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.
“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”
You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.
Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head.
Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.
“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.
After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.
Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start.
Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better.
You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically.
“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.
Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.
You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”
“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink.
After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”
“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”
In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.
Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of.
But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?
“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”
Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him.
“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.
“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.
Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.
That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.
The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime.
He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were.
All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.
Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.
“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.
“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.
Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.
The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative.
Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.
Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills?
If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.
Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.
You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.
“Took you long enough!” Or not.
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face.
“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”
Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know.
After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.
It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.
Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.
The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges.
You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.
The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.
“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.
Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.
Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.
When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.
No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.
You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.
“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”
‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway.
“You too, Zoro.”
In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.
“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”
“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”
“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”
“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.
“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.”
“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response.
‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.
“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.
But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.
“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.
“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”
“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”
“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.
“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”
“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”
“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”
Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.
It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.
A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open.
You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”
However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age.
“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.
“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.
“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”
“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.
“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?
A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.
“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor.
“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.
“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”
“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way.
“...Forget I said anything.”
Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet.
Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”
You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”
“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”
“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.
The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.
Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously.
It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.
Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—
…accident?
“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”
“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”
“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”
“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.”
He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—”
Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.”
You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”
“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.”
You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”
“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”
“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”
“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.
“How did your mother die?”
“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”
“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.”
“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”
It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same.
“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”
“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.
“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”
His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”
Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.
“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.
He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”
The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.
Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.
“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—
Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.
“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”
“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”
“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”
You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”
“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”
“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”
“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”
“Selma!”
If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone.
“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods.
“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”
But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.
The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon.
Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.
“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”
“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?
“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?”
Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.
“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”
Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”
“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”
The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.
“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”
“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.
Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him.
“...But of course, we won’t do that.”
Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.
“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”
“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze.
“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.
“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”
Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”
“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?
“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”
“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.
After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”
“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”
Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.
“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”
The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.
But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.
An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.
And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.
The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.
You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.
“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”
Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.
“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.
“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”
There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?
She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail.
Well, fuck.
Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.
You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.
And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.
It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.
“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.
“You will never be queen!” You roar back.
Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.
As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.
While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy.
“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”
The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.
He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords.
No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.
Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.
Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again.
You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.
Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage.
As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.
Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.
It’s done.
Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.
“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”
On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.
“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”
“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”
“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”
“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”
“Goodbye, Mihawk.”
Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you.
Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around.
Like right now. What’s taking you so long?
The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water.
“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”
“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”
Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”
“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell.
He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.
Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”
Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.
“You’re okay.” You murmur.
“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.
“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.
Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.
“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”
He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.
But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now.
You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”
Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”
The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.
Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.
When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.
The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.
Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.
Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.
You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.
“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”
What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.
As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space.
Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.
“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.
“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."
“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”
“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring.
“...Take care of her, Zoro.”
“Of course. I promise.”
As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”
The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”
When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here.
“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”
“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”
Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”
That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.
Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.
“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.
“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”
“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”
“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.
There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.
“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.
“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”
Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.
The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.
Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.
“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.
“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”
Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”
“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”
Many years ago…
The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue.
After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.
Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”
Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”
“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”
Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.
“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”
“Kuina! Get back here!”
read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"
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Forget Me Not
After a night out with your friends, Azriel forgets to take you back home, resulting in a night that will forever change your life and your friendship.
WC: 2.5k
Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. It does not go into a lot of detail but it will in future parts. Blood, injury, death, angst, feelings, unrequited love.
Part 2
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Blood dripped from your fingertips, the hot slippery texture making your stomach churn. You could hear nothing, feel nothing, but the liquid wetting your hands and the clang of the dagger falling to the pavement at your feet.
Your breathing was ragged, the body slumped to the ground two feet in front of you becoming obscured by the cloud of your hot breath in the cold winter air. Oh, gods - oh, gods. You tried to swallow, but your throat stung, it ached, and your shaking hands didn't know what to do, your feet numb and stuck in place.
And all your brain could process at the moment was that despite the cold winds, despite the light dusting of snow intermittently making its way to the rooftops of Velaris, you didn't feel cold. Your clothes were shredded, falling in tatters from your body, your skin wet with blood, tears, and spit. But you felt like you were burning alive.
Rationally, you knew you were panicking. You were going into shock. But what did you know about preventing your body from succumbing to it? What did you know about killing?
"Help me," you choked out, barely a whisper leaving your cracked and bloody lips. "Please, someone-"
And then your shaking body was sliding down the wall it was previously pinned to, the stone architecture scraping against your open back. A hand covered your mouth as your eyes refused to leave the body in front of you, trying to steady your breaths, make sense of the situation that so quickly unfolded after leaving Rita's alone. Tears blurred the sight of the male, but the red covering his neck and chest was unavoidable.
You had gone to Rita's with the group, spending the night sipping on drinks and laughing with Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta, Azriel, Elain, and Mor. It was a night you were looking forward to - you rarely saw Azriel anymore, and this night was a chance for you to soak in his presence again. To soak in the comfort he brought, the feelings of safety and joy, his beauty springing butterflies in your gut and warming your cheeks. But that's not how the night went at all. Instead, couples latched onto one another, Mor left with a pretty female in hand, and before you knew it, you were left with Azriel and Elain, Mor asking Azriel to winnow you home when you were good to go on her way out.
You didn't blame Mor. She had brought you there that night, but she had made sure you had a safe way home. That you wouldn't have to climb 10,000 steps to make it to your bed at the end of the night.
You did blame Azriel, however. Because he heard Mor. He nodded, and then he had left with Elain while you were in the bathroom, leaving you stranded in a newer environment, in a newer city, lifestyle, not nearly comfortable yet navigating through anything completely alone. You had only arrived in the Night Court a few months ago, brought by Mor from the Court of Nightmares. An old family friend who had not forgotten you or your horrendous family.
In those months, you had stayed close to Mor and became friends with the rest of the inner circle, even going as far as having Cassian give you some defense lessons - which might have just saved your life tonight. But it was Azriel who caught your attention, who made your heart yearn and reach out for someone who did not tear his gaze away from the middle Archeron sister.
And tonight was a prime example of that. Of how embarrassing you were. The shadowsinger was obviously infatuated with Elain, to the point of not even noticing your presence. He was a spymaster, and he didn't even see you. He didn't even care about your safety or wellbeing at the end of the night.
Maybe this was what your heart needed to move on. To stop hopelessly longing after him like a little girl with a crush. You had needed him to reject you, to hurt you, to forget about you. You had needed something to disrupt your perfect view of him.
And now you had it.
"Hey, hey-" Someone was gripping your face gently, their thumbs turning your face toward their own instead of the one lifelessly looking at you. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
How long had he been there? How long had he been trying to get your attention? You could only blink at Cassian in response, swallowing hard.
The movement sent a fresh wave of blood trickling down your neck and Cassian's eyes met the movement, a curse leaving his lips. His palm was instantly on the soft skin, putting pressure on the gash the male had left on you. Cassian looked the rest of you over, his jaw tightening at your body more covered in blood than clothes. Quickly, he placed your own palm to your neck.
"I need you to put pressure on that. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" His hand covered your own, pushing hard on your knuckles to show you.
When you only remained locked onto his chest, your attention unmoving since he arrived, he hesitantly removed his grip on your hand, quickly removing his coat to wrap around your shoulders.
You could barely feel the soft material meeting your skin. You felt both cold and on fire, your vision both hyperfocused and wavering, your ears both ringing and too clear.
"I'm going to pick you up now, alright? We'll get you back to the house. You're safe now."
At your lack of response, his brows dipped further in concern. But he flexed his knuckles to control his own worry and fear, slipping an arm under your knees and cradling your back with his other. He was careful to turn you in a way that allowed his body to shield the dead male from view.
Then he was shooting up into the air, his grip on you both tight with protection and light with care, and that's what finally made the tears start to fall from your eyes, a cracking sob breaking from your throat.
-------------------------------------
When Cassian landed at the House of Wind, he rushed inside, hoping Rhys was already there waiting with Madja.
He had been unable to sleep that night, despite Nesta and himself having a good night out and returning semi-early to settle in. So he had taken a quick flight, tried to tire out his wings and body to help him rest easier. Instead, he was met with the overwhelming smell of blood as he flew over an alleyway in Velaris. He wasn't prepared to see you of all people in that alleyway.
Cassian had basically tried to scream his thoughts to Rhys or Feyre, whoever could hear him. Normally Rhys would let his presence known first, as if he had to make an effort, to appear, before the thoughts would drift to him. But Cassian also knew that Feyre had once pushed her thoughts so heavily onto Rhysand that they found him from a different court. So Cassian yelled in his mind. Begged Rhysand and Feyre to wake up and get Madja.
But when he got to the House of Wind, Rhysand wasn't there yet, and you were unconscious in his arms. He wasn't sure if you passed out from your hyperventilating sobs, from the shock, or if you truly had lost that much blood. He couldn't tell how much of the blood on you was yours or the dead male's.
Cassian barged into the main living area, his own dark shirt sticking to his skin as it absorbed the blood on your body.
He had just kicked your bedroom door open with his foot when he heard Azriel appear before him, his hair slightly mussed with sleep.
"What's going on?"
Cassian didn't answer as Azriel took in your form, too busy making his way to your bed and laying you down gently. His feet working before his mind could, storming into the adjoined bathroom to get a small towel to hold against your neck.
"Cassian." Azriel's tone was deeper now, his voice hard and rough.
But then Rhys was there, winnowing into the middle of the room with the healer in tow. His eyes immediately locked onto Cassian, and the general froze in place, ignoring the shadowsinger's plea as he felt Rhysand at the edge of his mind.
Cassian couldn't find it in himself to feel bad for Azriel at the moment. All of his own sympathy and guilt were going toward you, even if his brother looked absolutely grief-stricken.
He showed Rhys what he had seen when he entered the alleyway. He showed him the dead body he saw, still laying cold and lifeless out there on the pavement, a few feet from the gleaming dagger by your foot. He showed him the blood that trickled from your wound, the tattered clothes hanging from you before being replaced by his coat, the shock permeating your features.
And Cassian could tell as soon as he was finished that Rhys wished to go into your own mind as well. But he held himself back. Cassian knew this was for your privacy, that the high lord would ask you once you awoke if you would be willing to share anything, if you needed anything. So for now, they remained helpless.
They remained helpless and angry for their forgotten friend.
-------------------------------------
Azriel stood there anxiously watching as his two brothers conversed without him, as Cassian showed Rhys what had occurred, what he had found. And he was left to stand there and watch as Madja quickly worked over your beaten and half naked body.
Your white cropped sweater was soaked red where it wasn't torn, the comforting fuzzy fabric now matted down. The gash on your neck slowly began to bubble with blood instead of drip down your neck. But this did nothing to reassure the shadowsinger. Your lip was split, your cheekbone and undereye cut open and beginning to bruise. And as Azriel's gaze drifted lower, he physically had to steady himself on his feet. His mind roared, his vision turning red as he took in the sight of your black pants, unbuttoned.
Azriel was breathing heavily, trying to contain his rising emotions. His fists clenched, his feet begging him to move, to do something.
As soon as Rhys' gaze moved to you, his jaw clenching, Azriel was speaking, the words coming out through clenched teeth. "Someone tell me what the hell happened."
Rhys only looked at you. It was silent for far too long before the high lord's smooth voice cut into the once cozy room. "Why was she alone."
The words did not come out as a question but as a demand. A high lord commanding an answer.
Azriel felt his stomach drop. Rhys and Feyre had left Rita's first, followed by Cassian and Nesta. Which left Mor and Azriel responsible for escorting Elain and you home. His mind replayed Mor's request to him as she grabbed her things. Get her home safe, will you?
And Azriel had agreed. He had agreed and then left. The look of devastation and self-hatred on the shadowsinger's face was enough to answer the high lord's question.
"Everyone get out. Let Madja do her work," was all Rhysand said though. And Azriel wished one of them would hit him, because somehow the disappointment drifting through the room was so much worse.
He had forgotten about you. He had been so fixated on Elain that he had left you to walk through Velaris in the middle of the night alone. He had expected you to somehow find your way back to the House of Wind, to climb 10,000 steps after drinking. And someone had...
Azriel felt like he was going to be sick.
He had been late to saving countless people. There were so many deaths and injuries on his shoulders, sometimes he found it difficult to breathe with their weight. But he always tried. He took honor in protecting his friends, in guarding the borders of Velaris, in protecting his court. Never has something of this sort happened because of him.
Azriel felt Cassian's hand grip his shoulder lightly, guiding him out of your room. He wished he could get one last breath of your scent, to make sure you were there and alive and alright, but all he could smell was the metallic scent of your blood. The scent stuck to his nostrils as Cassian guided him out onto the landing of the house, like he knew by Azriel's expression what was coming.
And then the shadowsinger turned to the side, dodging his brother, and emptied his stomach onto the concrete.
There were tears in his eyes when he finished, but he stayed hunched over, gripping his chest. "What have I done?"
Cassian was quiet for a moment before sighing, his grip on Azriel's shoulder tightening. "You are not the male down in that alleyway. You don't take blame for his crimes."
But Azriel shook his head, squeezing his eyes tight as he tried to get the image of your assaulted body out of his mind. "I was supposed to take her home. I left her there, Cassian."
And then Cassian was speechless, his brows furrowing as he watched him unravel, unsure of what to say.
"Oh, gods," Azriel got out, his knees giving out beneath him as the weight of the situation settled over him. His sobs breaking through the quiet night around them.
"I'm sorry-" Azriel repeated over and over, not even feeling Cassian move to crouch next to him in an attempt to comfort the devastated male. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Cassian only shushed him, but Azriel couldn't stop as his chest cleaved open underneath his fingertips, as he imagined the confusion and hurt that flowed through you when you realized he had left, the anxiety and weariness as you tried to find your way home, the fear at the male approaching you.
All while he was with Elain, soaring through the sky and gazing at stars.
He had never hated himself more.
And he could never make this up to you.
#azriel x reader#azriel angst#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#acotar fic#acotar imagine#azriel/reader#azriel x you#acotar x reader
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kosovo maiden (könig x reader)
Well, I did it again, gang. I wrote another story based on a painting. This one is by Uroš Predić in 1919, and was posted to Tumblr here (thanks to arcana-imperii for posting!)
I don't know anything about Kosovo, so the reader here isn't explicitly Serbian ;; please forgive me. Also, apologies for possibly inaccurate ambiguously late-1800s setting, medical information or German. Please enjoy!
2.2k words
There are soldiers in the field.
You heard the sounds of battle early in the dawn, the piercing explosions of gunfire and cannons ringing out as the sun rose. You weren’t concerned at first: it was far enough away that you felt safe enough to carry on as usual. But the gunfire drew closer and closer, and by noon you could hear the shouting and the battle cries, driving you trembling into your attic with terror. Mercifully, the fighting peters out as the sun sinks lower in the sky, but when you finally work up the nerve to peek out of your window, you find to your horror that the grassy field adjacent to your humble little home is littered with the bodies of dead and dying men.
Without a single further thought to your own safety, you grab a lantern and a pitcher of water and rush into the night.
It’s awful. Most of the men left behind are already cold, some whose eyes you have to shut yourself. The ones who were able to be saved were likely evacuated by their comrades, so the only ones left to face the cruel nighttime are the ones who won’t see the morning after. A few are still conscious when you find them, but you have little more to offer them than a gentle touch and one last drink of water. Their eyes are what will haunt you most after today: slick with tears as grown men weep, all semblance of courage and proud masculinity stripped from them as they face down their imminent demise. It’s terrible, heart-wrenching, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’re the only living thing left that can offer them comfort in their last moments.
The jug of water dangles from your hand as you trudge through the field, looking for anyone at all that you can provide help to. You’ve long abandoned any hope of finding someone you can save when you come across him: the giant in the grass.
It’s well and truly nighttime at that point, your lamp the only source of light upon what seems like a sea of human misery. The light hits his face, and you gasp. Your first thought is of how huge he is, at least 200 centimeters if he were standing. Your second thought is of how handsome he is…
You jolt to attention as he shifts and groans. He’s alive! Shaking some sense into yourself, you don’t hesitate to rush to his side. Your hands roam across his body, assessing the severity of his injuries. To your surprise, he doesn’t seem to be mortally injured. They’re severe, to be sure—he won’t be able-bodied for weeks. But he’s far from at death’s door, only confused and dazed…had his comrades only left him due to his sheer size?
Using your hand to support the back of his head and neck, you tip some water into his mouth in an attempt to revive him. The man cracks an eye open, regarding you with feverish wonder.
“Ein Engel…” he murmurs. You’re too elated that he’s alive, so you don’t actually properly hear what he said. With light, deft fingers, you tear strips of his tattered shirt and use the cloth to wrap up a scrape on his arm and stem the flow of a very nasty-looking wound up along the broad plane of his torso. To your alarm, however, the man seems to slump, his head laying back as if he’s about to lose consciousness.
“No, no,” you cry in panic, shaking him without heed of his injuries. “Sir, you cannot sleep here, I am unable to carry you…you will die out here!”
He mumbles something inaudible, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn’t passed out on you yet, but you have to act quickly to properly care for his wounds. You shift your body so you can maneuver his uninjured arm onto your shoulders. Luckily, he seems to comprehend what you’re trying to do, and manages to stumble to his feet while leaning his weight on you.
It’s an awkward, fumbling dance, considering your earlier assessment of his height was correct—he’s a huge man, and his torso alone nearly dwarfs your entire figure. But with a good measure of patience, you manage to get him moving towards your house. It’s high time you returned home, as well: your stomach roils as you remember what happens to corpses left outside for scavengers to find.
The two of you stumble through the doorway of your home, you murmuring soft affirmations and encouragement to the man. He makes no indication that he understands what you’re saying, but he’s nodding along, responding to your gentle tone. You guide him to lay on your bed, his body visibly relaxing as he sinks into the mattress.
You bustle around, lighting candles, stoking your fireplace, and rummaging around for medical supplies. You return to him with a basin of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages—before stopping dead in your tracks.
In the low lamplight out in the field, you hadn’t noticed the color of the man’s uniform, much too preoccupied with his signs of life. But now the truth is laid bare in front of you as you take in his attire, eyes traveling over his broad body—
You’ve just taken in an enemy soldier.
The man has seemingly fallen asleep, likely exhausted by the battle and the effort it took to get into your home. That does nothing to assuage your fear, though: what are you going to do if he passes away right in your bed? Even worse, what are you going to do if he wakes? Will he be hostile? Will he attempt to take you as a hostage to secure safe passage out of his enemy’s territory?
It's clear to you, though, that if you don’t help this man, he will die. His wounds could easily turn septic, and then he’s a goner. You steel yourself and approach him, kneeling at his bedside.
You work slowly and carefully to reveal his injuries, wincing when they’re completely exposed. He’s no longer bleeding profusely, but he will absolutely need stitches. For now, you settle for cleaning them with a damp cloth, trying to keep infection at bay.
He must be well and truly knocked out, because he doesn’t even stir as you wrap his arm securely with clean bandages. You’re much more hesitant to deal with his chest wound: if he wakes and struggles, he could make it much worse. But his unconscious state affords you the best opportunity to stitch him up…
You furrow your brow and go to find a needle.
You’re awoken by a gentle touch on the shoulder.
You stir from your sleep, wondering what your mother could possibly want at such an early hour. At least she put the fire on—you can hear the crackling. But why is your bed so hard? Did you fall asleep on the floor? Actually, now that you think about it, you do recall dozing off on your sheepskin rug last night, because—
Your eyes shoot open to see a huge, hulking figure standing over you.
The soldier startles when you scream, scrambling to move away from him. He cuts an intimidating figure in the early morning light: he towers over you in a state of undress, the bandages you put on him last night splotched with rusty dried blood. But you calm down as you realize he means you no harm, his hands outstretched in front of him as a show of peace: no weapons.
“Wo bin ich?” he asks. You squint at him. That sounds like German, but you can’t speak a word of it.
“I don’t speak German,” you try. He tilts his head, looking as puzzled as you feel right now.
“Never mind all of that,” you say, shaking your head and pushing yourself to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!” The soldier watches with amusement as you press your hands against him, careful to avoid touching his chest where you know his wound lies, in an attempt to get him back into bed. He allows you to do so, lying back down like an obedient dog.
“Muste pissen,” he murmurs as you fuss over him. You shoot him another confused look as you check the stitches you put in his chest wound. All seems well, you note with relief.
“What?”
He huffs a sigh. He gestures towards the door, and then then to his…oh.
“I see,” you say, cheeks feeling hot. You can’t bear to look at his face, but when you do, you find he’s watching you with amusement.
You tap his chest with a finger, then mime a sewing motion. “Don’t get up on your own from now on, you could tear your stitches,” you tell him, pointing to the door and then to patting your own chest. “I’ll help you.”
He snorts, but nods. You start to unfurl the bandages on his arm, heart twinging with sympathy as he grits his teeth in pain. You bite your lip in chagrin as the wound is revealed. It was much less severe than the one on his chest, but it’s doing much worse: pus and fluids are leaking everywhere, and to your horror, you think some parts of the torn flesh might actually be turning green.
“Es sieht schlecht aus?” he asks, concerned. You put on a smile you hope is comforting and rise from his bedside to go downstairs and rummage through your cupboards.
You return to him holding a bottle of liquor, the strongest you could find. He seems to realize what you intend to do, and shifts slightly to allow you better access to his arm.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. “This is going to hurt.” Without further warning, you dump a good amount of alcohol on his wound.
“SCHEIẞE!” The bellow of pain that rips out of his throat seems to shake the very foundations of your home. You wince as he hollers and lays back heavy against your poor little bed, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. That can’t have been pleasant…
“Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen,” he grits. You give him a sympathetic little pat before withdrawing to get the bandages.
He’s calmed down by the time you return to him. He watches you curiously as you wrap him up nice and snug, then turn your attentions to his chest wound. The stitches are still in place—it seems he was careful when he relieved himself—but you still need to clean and dress the wound. He lets out a sigh of relief when you opt for a clean cloth to dab away the dried blood instead of the liquor bottle.
You work quickly and efficiently, worried about him catching a cold with his chest out like this. You also can’t deny that the whole situation is starting to make you a bit shy—a foreign man, and an attractive one at that, is in your bed, shirtless, and you’re all but sprawled out on top of him to get up close to his injury. By the time you’re done, you’re fully blushing at the closeness of the contact between the two of you.
“You should be alright, it’s a good sign that you lasted through the night and haven’t developed a fever yet,” you tell him as you gather up the soiled bandages to be washed. “You’ll need to stay in bed so I can keep an eye on you—”
You’re drawn up short when you look up to see his face. Far from the angry scowl he wore when you disinfected his wound, his expression now is almost…admiring? You shift slightly, caught off guard by the adoration in this stranger’s stare, and your arm brushes against something solid and warm.
You stand up as if burned, turning to see what you just touched. To your chagrin, you find that the soldier is…well, he’s hard.
You whirl around to fix him with an outraged look, but he only laughs at you with obvious delight. What a pervert! You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do or where to look, but you’re stopped by the sensation of him reaching up and pressing a hand to your face.
You stare at him, wide-eyed, as he strokes your cheek with a sort of reverence that stops you in your tracks. “Mein Retter…” he murmurs. “Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders.”
You huff, recognizing that he’s trying to apologize. “You don’t act like an injured man at all,” you complain. A spark of mirth comes into his eye at your pouting tone as he just chuckles at you. You turn to walk away, yelping when you feel his hand brush against your bottom. You shoot him with a deadly look as he laughs again.
You scurry away, feeling awkward and hot all over. You had been so concerned last night about whether you should stay in the same house as the potentially dangerous soldier, pacing the floor and biting your nails as you pondered whether you should give him up to the local authorities. In hindsight, you’re glad you didn’t—they would surely have locked him in a cold cell with nobody to look after that festering gash on his shoulder, to say nothing of his chest wound. It was worth it to risk waking up to a man angry and spitting hatred at you, if you could save his life.
But now you’re realizing that you hadn’t considered the opposite possibility: that the soldier might like you a little too much.
ein Engel = an angel
Wo bin ich? = Where am I?
Muste pissen = had to piss
Es sieht schlecht aus? = Is it bad?
Scheiße = shit
Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen = That hurt worse than getting the damn wound in the first place
Mein Retter = my savior
Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders = I'm sorry. I couldn't help it
Once more, I wrote this in a frenzy akin to being possessed, so it's a little short. But there will definitely be more! Thank you for reading <3
@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely
#könig#König x reader#König x you#konig#könig cod#konig cod#konig x reader#konig x you#cod#cod mw2#call of duty#mw2#I really need to sort out my tag list...#fic: kosovo maiden
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WORK WIFE — KUROO TETSUROU
pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader
content: fluff, timeskip! kuroo (he’s so sexy)
you’re not really sure when kuroo started calling you his ‘work wife,’ but you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. like many of your colleagues, you’ve been taken in by his teasing smile and charm and the way he brings you your coffee and bagel in the morning, just the way you like it. “good morning, wifey,” he says as he hands you your breakfast with a flourish. “vanilla latte with oat milk and an extra shot of espresso and a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese.”
you smile and thank him, sliding the bagel out from the waxy paper bag. you glance back inside and sheepishly open your mouth but kuroo beats you to the punch. “and, of course, your stirrer.” he sticks his hand in the pocket of his slate gray slacks and produces a wooden stirrer.
you chuckle, “you keep those in your pants just for me?”
“a gentleman always is prepared for a lady!”
“‘gentleman,’” you snort.
kuroo presses a hand over his heart. “i am a gentleman through and through!”
“uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.” you take a sip of your drink. “but thanks again for breakfast.”
he pats your head and sings out, “anything for my favorite work wife!”
“i better be your only one!” he laughs loudly at your reply, the sound bouncing off the walls as he heads down the hall to his office.
when lunchtime rolls around, kuroo, as usual, appears in your doorway with his lunch in hand. he never has the same thing, you’ve come to learn; today’s meal is grilled fish over rice, and kuroo asks, “up for a lunch date?”
you try to fight the warmth rising to your cheeks, still not used to his wording despite the many times he’s asked the exact same thing. you shake your head and sigh, “unfortunately, i’m behind on inputting the quarter two estimations so i think i’ll be working through lunchtime.”
kuroo still walks into your office and comes around to look at your computer screen. “have you been doing these all by hand?”
“yeah?”
“here, there’s an easier way to generate these estimates.” with a few clicks and keystrokes, you watch as numbers and figures fill the spreadsheet cells before your very eyes. you slump back in your chair, relieved. you glance up at kuroo. he’s so close that you can very clearly smell the way his cologne mingles with his minty toothpaste. your breath hitches as he stares down at you with pride. “you’re a lifesaver.”
“had to save my lunch time with my work wife.”
you stifle a yawn as you save your last pitch for the budget board and power off your computer. you looked out the window, the sun beginning to set on the horizon. you roll your chair away and stretch your hold body out, humming in relief as someone knocks on your door. it’s not hard to guess who it is. “come in.”
“hey,” kuroo pokes his head inside, blazer folded across his arm and his lanyard in hand. “ready to go?”
“yep, let me just get my stuff.” you gather your things and sling your bag over your shoulder, locking up your office and following kuroo out. you walk side-by-side in comfortable, tired silence until you get out of the building. “how was the merch presentation?”
“oh, it went really well,” he says. “thanks for letting me co-opt your time for rehearsal.”
“you know i always have time for you.”
kuroo gives you a smile that’s almost way too soft and sweet for you to handle, and you quickly avert your eyes to the street in front of you as you two come to the metro stop. he asks about how your younger brother is settling into college and you inquire about his grandparents, and it’s an endless stream of conversation as you two board the metro together.
“oh,” kuroo says suddenly, voice shifting to a quieter tone. “i’ve been meaning to ask, do you want to—?”
you desperately want to hear the end of his question but you’re coming up to your stop and you have to hurry home to walk your dog. “sorry! text me the question?”
he shakes his head. “i’ll tell you later. see you tomorrow, wifey.”
you wave to him over the shoulder as the doors close behind you, and you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest and burning curiosity about what he’ll ask you.
it’s the next day when your boss calls you into her office, asking you to let the newest employee to the sports promotion division shadow you for a little while until he gets the hang of what you guys do. his name’s nakamura eijun and he seems nice enough so you agree.
nakamura’s in your office as you go over how the jva’s filing and record-keeping online works when kuroo comes in with your daily breakfast. you sit up straighter, ready for him to finish whatever question he was about to ask.
he stops short when he sees nakamura and asks, “new guy?” nakamura nods and introduces himself, to which kuroo responds with an enthusiastic “i’m kuroo tetsurou. welcome to the team!” and without your usual banter, kuroo drops off your bagel and coffee and leaves without another word.
he peeks into your office again at lunch and you’re about to wave him inside, but he shakes his head and says, “i’ll come back later!”
he doesn’t. you don’t see kuroo for the rest of the day, which makes your heart sink. it’s the first time in months that he hasn’t followed the unconscious routine the two of your started. you try to look at the silver-lining. kuroo (and thinking about kuroo) is your main distraction of the day, so maybe it was a good thing he didn’t show up so you couldn’t make a fool of yourself.
what unnerves you, though, is that the following days are much the same. kuroo silently brings you your breakfast and peeks in every now and then, smile never quite meeting his eyes as he sees you eating with nakamura in your office. the days stretch to weeks and you realize two things: one — that kuroo’s avoiding you, and two — nakamura’s a lot less capable than you thought he would be, given that he’s still shadowing you after about two and a half weeks.
thankfully, you get a little reprieve when nakamura informs you that he’s out sick for the day. you perk up when kuroo comes in with your breakfast and give him your chirpiest “good morning.”
he leans up against your doorframe, glancing around. “your new work husband’s not here today?”
“what are you talking about?”
he says, “your new work husband. he have some emergency or something?”
you frown at his tone. “sorry, let me be more specific. who are you talking about?”
“nakamura,” he responds. finally, he crosses the threshold and hands you your bagel and coffee, the stirrer already inside the bagel bag. he plops down heavily in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
“you know you’re my one and only,” you say, offering a smile. when he doesn’t reply, your smile fades and you ask, “why do you think he’s my new work husband?”
“he’s been telling everyone that you two spend so much time together that he might as well be.”
you can’t help but roll your eyes and you reach across the desk, tapping your hand on the surface to get kuroo’s attention. he finally meets your gaze and you say, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together because sakura asked me to let him shadow and he’s—” you lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, prompting kuroo to lean in closer, “—not very smart.”
“really?”
you watch as the tension kuroo held in his shoulders disappeared and something like relief washed across his features. you can’t help but laugh a little, “really. is that what got you so grumpy these past few days?”
“hey!” he protests, “i wasn’t grumpy. pouty, maybe, but definitely never grumpy.”
“sure, sure.” you pause and then ask, “why were you so bothered by nakamura saying he’s like my work husband?”
kuroo’s face flushes and with an uncharacteristic shyness, he says, “because, y’know, that’s— that’s our thing. and i’m not too keen on letting someone steal my wife away.”
“good to know you’re a protective husband.”
he chuckles and says, “well, gotta get back to the trenches. those advertisement pitches aren’t going to pitch themselves.”
“don’t i know it.”
as he goes to leave, he hesitates in the doorway. then, he turns back to you and asks, “would you like to have dinner with me tonight? if you’re not doing anything, of course.”
your eyebrows raise but you can’t help the bright smile from breaking across your face. “yeah, that sounds great.”
a year and a half later.
nakamura and you are sitting in the conference room, brainstorming ways to help boost the sendai frogs’s popularity. nakamura taps his pen against his chin and suggests, “maybe we should tell koganegawa to stop yelling so much?”
“no, their fans like his enthusiasm,” you say.
“well, tsukishima’s their most popular player… maybe we can ask him to ramp up the fanservice. as in, do any.”
you snort but before you can make some snarky comment about how that absolutely will not happen, a voice comes from behind you. “you’re signing a death wish with that. no way tsukki’ll bite.”
nakamura’s face sours and he mumbles something as kuroo towers over both of you. you grin at him in greeting and give him a playfully chastising look, adding, “you’re right but you know it’s rude to interrupt a conversation.”
“just making sure my wife—” he gives nakamura a very pointed look, “—knows who she’s dealing with.”
you quirk an eyebrow. “your wife is a very capable woman, thank you very much.”
he smirks and bends down closer, deepening his tone. “oh, i know.”
nakamura scowls. “we get it, she’s your work wife.”
“actually…” kuroo’s shit-eating grin grows wide like a cat who got the cream and simultaneously, both of you hold up your left hands, matching silver bands glinting under the fluorescent lights. “she’s my wife-wife now.”
#haikyuu x reader#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes
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surprise, surprise |eddie munson x reader|
prompt: eddie forgets your birthday. or maybe he doesn't.
my birthday is in a few days and i wanted to write a little birthday ficlet blurb :) no aus, just eddie.
contains: angst/fluff. birthday doom. kinda asshole eddie?? kinda asshole friends?? really fluffy sweet ending. language.
“So,” Heather leaned over, chin propped in her hands dramatically slumped over the counter. “What’re you doing this weekend?”
“Nothing,” You hummed, fingers flicking through the crinkled bills. “Why? You know something fun going on?”
“It’s your birthday.” Heather gawked playfully. “You’re not doing anything for your birthday?”
You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the cash drawer closed. “No.” You shook your head, voice tight.
“Eddie isn’t taking you out?” Heather’s brows furrowed. “Or you’re not going home? Going out? Are you getting a cake?”
Your heart sank, a familiar burn rising in your chest. You didn’t speak about your birthday much, not much of an occasion for celebration to you, more of one that was dreadful. Another year closer to death, you’d grumble cynically. Still, when Eddie hadn’t even acknowledged it, when your friends had all blown you off for other plans, a new kind of ache formed in your chest. The sting of being forgotten, of being unimportant and discarded- on your birthday.
It left a bitter taste on your tongue, sardonic and painful when you spoke about your impending birthdate. “No,” You shook your head, chin ducked to your chest. You had never wanted a customer to come in so badly, save you from this painful conversation with your co-worker. “They’re all busy.”
“Oh.” Heather quipped, face falling at your tone.
“I mean, it’s my fault.” You added quickly- defensively. Why you were so defensive over the people who had discarded you so easily, you weren’t sure. “I should have planned something earlier, but… I dunno, I got busy and life got super hectic and it just slipped past me-”
“-No,” Heather shook her head, curls unmoving with the abundance of Aquanet she used, still. “That’s really shitty of them, all of them. It’s your birthday.”
You stayed silent, wiping the counter half heartedly, swallowing back the familiar burn in your throat that choked you. “I mean, if it was my girlfriend or my friend, I would be buggin’ about their birthday.” Heather shrugged.
“Yeah, me too.” You muttered. Bouts of memories pouring back into your mind. How you’d planned a party for Eddie, baked him some stupid cake from scratch that was in the Lord of the Rings. You’d gone to countless second hand stores trying to find the ancient recipe, and it took you a day to perfect. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to take you out? Get you a cheap store bought cake?
“I’m sorry.” Heather muttered, a solemn, nearly guilty pout on her lips. “Well, you’re off tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I get off at three. What if we go out? We can go to the bar- oh, there’s this new band playing in Franklin. Tommy could drive us.” Heather, ever the bubbly optimist, grinned, eyes shining with pride. It was endearing, made your heart squeeze with an ache you weren’t quite sure how to describe.
“I’ll even get you a cupcake. A good one, from Nadia’s.” Heather added.
“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head lightly. You and Heather were work friends, hung out on the rare occasion after work to bitch about work, about the other coworkers, the pain-in-the-ass customers of the day over glasses of Pinot. Selfishly, it felt nice to have someone excited for your birthday.
You hated that you wished it was Eddie, your own friends.
“What’s your flavor, hm? Chocolate?” Heather pressed, brushing you off cheerily.
“Don’t get me a cupcake. I’ll throw it up if we’re drinking. All the icing and liquor.” You snarled your nose playfully.
“Fine. I’m buying you a drink then.” Heather nodded. She paused, nails drumming on the counter too. “And, I mean, if you want Eddie to come too, of course he’s invited.” Her eyes cut to yours carefully. “I didn’t know if you wanted him to come.”
“I mean, I don’t know if he’d even be able to.” Your lips pursed, a cutting edge of annoyance in your tone. “He’s so busy.”
Heather cringed, shooting you an apologetic look. “Yeah, that… I’m sorry, that sucks.” She mumbled.
A stiff silence fell between the two of you over the whirr of the air conditioning blowing through the vents. “Since it’s so dead, why don’t you go early?” Heather suggested. “I can cover closing.”
“Heather, Mel will be pissed-”
“-Mel will be pissed if she has to pay both of us for standing around.” Heather gave you a pointed look. “And you came in before me. I got it.”
“Are you sure?” You hesitated. “I don’t care to stay in case there’s a rush-”
“-At seven?” Heather scoffed slightly. “Go. I’ve got it.”
“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ll call you when I’m on my way, ‘kay?” Heather chirped.
“See you then.” You waved, cringing at the sing-songy Happy birthday! Heather shouted at you.
You pulled open your cubby, gathering your purse, your umbrella. You wrote your time on the clipboard, the phone taunting you on the hook next to it. Any other day, you’d call Eddie- call home or the shop, wherever he was, just to let him know you’d be home early. He’d always reply with a silly comment that had your cheeks rushing with heat, warmth swelling in your chest.
Tonight, you decided against it. He was too busy, anyway. Too busy at the shop, with his friends, at band practice. You tried not to dwell on it, let your mind spiral and spin down a damning dark hole of what ifs. It consumed you anyways, on your drive home, the radio playing on a static filled station that you didn’t bother to change. Background noise drowned out by your own hammering heart.
Eddie’s van was parked in the gravel of his driveway, leaving just enough space for you to slide in under the covering attached to the trailer. He always let you have that spot, closer to the door, protected from the elements- so considerate.
It was hard to fathom that it was the same boy who had forgotten your birthday, brushed it off like it was just another day.
Your throat tightened around the ever growing lump, hands tight from the white knuckled grip you had on the wheel when you turned the keys out of the ignition. The stairs squeaked under your weight, the screen door hissing with the familiar soft screech when you pulled it open.
“No- Henderson, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Eddie huffed, his voice trailing in from the living room.
You paused, hand catching the door as it fell, quieting it as it latched. The air was thick, warm with a sticky, sweet smell. Music playing in a low hum from Eddie’s beloved boom box he kept in the living room.
“You said to hang it!” Dustin’s shrill tone cut through the air.
“Yeah, hang it high- Jesus Christ, I shoulda just waited until Robin got off.” Eddie was hidden by the wall, but you could practically see him pinching his nose, hand running over his curly bangs. “Can you- Can you go see if we can ice the cake yet?”
“Yeah, what do I do?” Dustin questioned, a silence falling between the two of them. Your lips curled, swallowing a giggle. “What? I’m not a master chef or something. You act like I should know this. There wasn’t a cake making class-”
“-There was, you moron. Home Ec, which clearly, you failed.” Eddie huffed in annoyance. You froze at his heavy footsteps, voice carrying closer and closer.“Whatever, can you- just make it look nice in here? Put the rest of the streamers up and- shit!” Eddie flinched, jumping at the sight of you in the doorway. Wide eyed and still, like you’d been caught.
“Baby,” Eddie’s breath startled. “Hey, uh, what are you- you said you didn’t get- you’re home already?” His voice lifted, carried high in a squeak of surprise.
“Yeah, I got off early. I thought you were working late.” Your brows furrowed at the tear of plastic, leaning to look around the corner. “What are you doing-”
“-Don’t look in there.” Eddie snapped, his hand falling on the doorframe, arm blocking your vision. You jumped, glaring at him with annoyance. “I thought you closed tonight?”
“I thought you closed tonight.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Clearly that’s not true. What is this? Another campaign night?” You rolled your eyes, body burning with irritation, jaw wound tight with it.
“What? N-No, I-I thought you wouldn’t be home until later, and I’d have more time-” Eddie rambled, side stepping to block your view behind him.
“-Ed, I don’t care if that’s what it is.” Your shoulders deflated, a wave of painful exhaustion, disappointment falling over you. “I just wish you would’ve let me know before you invite all these people over to play your game, so I could-” A shimmering glimmer of multicolored sequins caught your eyes, shining in the yellowed light of the kitchen, iridescent hued droplets cast over the cabinets. There, draped over the chair in bright, glittering letters, a small sash that read Happy Birthday! in obnoxiously big letters.
You paused, eyes scanning towards the cake, cooling on the rack next to the mixing bowl of icing, the icing spatula still in it. Paper mache streamers taped to the ceiling, hung in swooping bouts mixed with the shiny streamers and balloons all the way to the living room. Eddie had brought out the folding table from the crawl space, even put a plastic tablecloth from the store over it to hide the yellowing stains that would never fade.
Dustin’s eyes met yours, wide and darting between you and Eddie, still holding the roll of streamers he’d yet to hang. “Uh, Happy Birthday?” Dustin shrugged.
Eddie huffed, shaking his head at him. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry, it was supposed to be a surprise.” Eddie’s foot bounced with anxious adrenaline. “I thought you didn’t get off until eight, and-and I had it all planned, sweetheart, I really did. Steve’s getting the pizza, and everyone’s coming over at seven thirty-ish, and I- I was even going to have them park at Wayne’s in the back so you wouldn’t see.”
Your chest felt deflated, void of any air, words, anything. Eddie chewed on his lip, hands twitching next to his jeans. “It was going to be this whole thing, fuck!” He huffed. “It was going to be a whole big thing, and…”
Eddie’s heart leapt when your eyes finally met his. His fingers still drummed against the rough material of his jeans, veins filled with icy excitement, fear, anticipation? He wasn’t sure.
“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, stepping to hover over you, voice dropping to a soft coo, hands sliding over your cheeks. “I’m- I wanted it to be a surprise.”
You swallowed thickly. Eddie’s touch was soft, but it left you with a tingling burn when his thumb delicately traced your cheek bone. “You- This is for me?” You squeaked.
Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, brows creasing. “Well, yeah.” He said playfully. “Who else would it be for?”
Your brain was deafeningly silent, stunned at every new detail you’d discover. “You said you were busy.” Was all you could muster out, blinking up at Eddie. “You said you had to work late.”
“I might have fibbed a little.” Eddie tilted his head sillily. “Told a little lie so I could get this set up.” He nodded towards the living room, a balloon floating near the doorway.
“I just really wanted to surprise you.” Eddie’s shoulders fell. “I was trying to outdo you. Tryna out do what you did for mine. I called all your friends- even Alexandra,” You rolled your eyes at the mention, she was Eddie’s least favorite friend of yours.
“And I… I just wanted to surprise you.” Eddie blinked down at you. “Just wanted your day to be special.”
Your day, the phrase wrapped around you, swirled through your veins like a warm hug, squeezing your heart.
“I’m sorry, it… I didn’t think about work.” Eddie shook his head, running a hand over his forehead. “I didn’t even think about it, and I-”
“-Eddie,” Your voice caught in your throat.
Eddie tensed, cringing with expectant dread. He’d ruined it, blew it, the tears were coming and they were deserved. You’d done so well on his, surprised the hell out of him with the cake, decorated for his birthday campaign with lanterns and candles you’d thrifted. Gone all out for him, and he couldn’t even pull off a simple surprise party.
“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, head pressing to yours. His eyes cut around the room, making sure a certain Henderson pest was lurking.
“Sorry?” You repeated. “Eddie, I-I am surprised.” You choked out, looking around the room with gleaming eyes.
Eddie paused. “You are?”
You nodded. “Yeah, I thought you’d forgotten.” You admitted. “I thought everyone had forgotten.”
Eddie’s brows pinched in a confused scowl. “You thought I’d forget?” He muttered.
A watery laugh fell from your lips before you could stop it. “Yeah.” You admitted. “You were really convincing.”
Eddie’s chest boasted playfully. “Oscar worthy?”
“You’d sweep the competition.” You jested back, arms sliding over his forearms. His hands found home on the small of your waist, pulling you into him.
“I didn’t forget your birthday.” Eddie said softly. “Just… for the record.”
“I can see that.” You giggled. “Thank you. It’s-It’s really sweet.”
“Yeah? I’m glad you like it.” Eddie’s hands rubbed down your spine. “It would look better but… Robin and Nancy didn’t get off until later, and it’s just me and Henderson.”
“It looks great. Perfect.” Your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His nice shirt, Eddie always called it. Broke it out for special occasions.
“Not perfect. Fucked up the main part.” Eddie grumbled. “I can call everyone, let them know that they can park out front since there’s no surprise anymore.”
“No, don’t do that.” You shook your head lightly, chin propping against his chest to look up at him. “I’ll leave and come back, and you can still do it. I can pretend to be surprised.”
Eddie’s lips curled, pulling back to look down at you. “You’re gonna pretend?” He tilted his head.
“My turn to act.” You teased, brow lifting gently. “Give you some competition.” You poked his tummy playfully.
Eddie grinned, pulling you back into him, lips sliding over yours in a soft kiss you savored. Melting into each other, fusing into a gooey puddle- it was corny, a cliche. One you’d roll your eyes at if it was anyone else.
“Happy birthday.” Eddie muttered, lips brushing and tickling your own.
“Thank you.” You whispered back, hands finding the base of his neck, pushing him back into you. Eddie’s hand fell against the wooden door frame, steadying himself in a rapidly heating makeout.
“Uh,” Dustin’s voice interrupted the two of you, just as Eddie’s hands were sliding under your work blouse. “Yeah, I-I finished with the streamers.”
Eddie glared at him, jaw ticking in annoyance when you pulled away. “I’m just going to grab my makeup bag, and I’ll go.” You whispered, cheeks flooding with heat.
Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes at Dustin when you left. “What? What did I do?” Dustin threw his hands out.
“Such a fuckin’ cock block, Henderson.” Eddie muttered, stomping into the kitchen. “Put the plates and shit out, will ya?”
Your performance was Oscar worthy, Eddie decided later, when you stepped through the door of the now darkened trailer, gasping when the lights flickered on and everyone jumped out. You looked positively radiant, glowing with excitement at the small crowd of friends crammed into the doorway. Eddie kissed you, sloppier than he should have, especially in front of everyone, but he didn’t care. Overwhelmed with affection for you.
He couldn’t tell if you were still pretending when he brought out the cake, the room singing in a harmonious tone to you, candles lit and glowing in the dim light. Eddie didn’t miss the way your eyes sparkled, fingers pressed to your lips at the now iced cake. When your fingers curled under his chin, sharing a fork-full of cake with him, kissing him after so quickly it left his head spinning.
His birthday girl, it was your day. Eddie never thought he’d love a random day as much as he did. He had no idea how important that day would become when he’d first met you, how it would engrave itself in his mind forever.
He was glad it did. Looking at you, giggling with your friends on the couch, then again, the next night, singing with Heather at the crowded bar- Eddie’s chest heart swelled. Proud that he’d surprised you, hopeful that he’d get to for the rest of his life.
Next year, he’d do it right. Really pull off the party you deserved. He’d start saving now, planning too. He decided it that night, tucked between the sheets, your head still on his sweat soaked chest. He could still taste you on his tongue, lips numb from the time he’d spent between your legs. Lashes fluttering in sleep, curled into him, Eddie pulled you closer. He’d get it right next year, you deserved it.
#oneforthemunny#munnytalks#eddie x fem!reader#eddie stranger things#eddie my love <3#eddie x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x fem!reader angst#eddie munson x reader angst#eddie munson angst#dustin henderson#eddie munson fic#eddie munson blurb#strangerprompts#stranger things 4#stranger things#eddie munson fanfic
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heartbreak hotel
- gojo satoru x reader
so you're going on a three-day-two-night getaway trip with the one and only Gojo Satoru. the catch? you two have just broken up.
genre/warnings:
crack, jealousy, a dose of pettiness, hurt/comfort, fluff, zero angst i promise, suguru being a good buddy to his boyfriend best friend
notes:
inspired by a very real life story :))) anyways, it takes place in an au where suguru never left and all is well with our little meow meow catoru
the wonderful colored manga panel by the talented @redbluenight!
this was so much fun to write (that it turned into a whopping 3k+ word, so sorry) and i even made a playlist while on it ;)
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
"He's intolerable!"
There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with Gojo Satoru, but if asked one word to sum it, then that was it.
When you started this thing with him, obviously you had never planned on how it would end―who started a relationship with that sort of mindset anyway? But if you could choose, you definitely wouldn't want it to end with dramatic shouting match that left you in tears.
Anyways, some things were just not meant to be. You refused to spend your whole life crying over that smug bastard, and so you moved on.
However, if there's one thing you've learned about plans, it is that whenever you already make a foolproof one, the world always has some funny way to mess it up.
Like this time.
"I... I remembered saving for months," you stammered dumbly, staring blankly at Shoko in front of you. The realization felt like a spiritual ascent. "I paid for that damn plane ticket and hotel with my whole saving. I can't just throw them away."
How could you possibly forget about this? This graduation trip that had been planned between your group of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and yourself for months now. It was meant to be a getaway, a celebration of your most significant achievement after four years of barely getting by on exorcising curses and not dying in the process. This was supposed to be the ultimate milestone celebration in your life.
"Then don't," Shoko replied simply, twisting the cigarette in her mouth. "I'm still going though. No way I'm wasting that money."
"But!" you vehemently hissed. "He will be there. It means I have to see him for three days straight!"
Your cringeworthy breakup happened just barely a week ago. You had sworn in front of Gojo Satoru that you didn't want to see his face again, and yet in less than a week from now, you and him would literally share the same space―again?
"Can't I get a refund?"
"This late? Nah, it's like yay or nay at this point."
You slumped in frustration. Were the gods making you swallow your own words now? You were left with no other choice. Your frugality and tendency to get broke often compelled you to make the decision.
You were going on this trip whether he was there or not.
Meanwhile, on his end, the said smug bastard was brooding, groaning and pacing over the same predicament. Satoru had two options and had weighed them all, and somehow he still arrived at the more seemingly no-good decision.
"I'm going, duh!"
"You are?" Suguru asked with a hint of surprise in his voice. "Well, might be the first time I've seen someone agree to go on an overnight trip with his ex..."
"Hmph. I just don't like squandering money."
Suguru snorted, unimpressed. “Satoru, you have an entire fortune. The airfare is just an amount you'd donate to charity. Besides, you have wasted more than that.”
“Well, I want to enjoy my youth too! I’m going—who cares if she’ll be there!”
He was still miffed, recalling the day your argument spiraling out of control. How could you say those hurtful things to him?
“You never take things seriously—heck, I’m not even sure if you’re ever taking me seriously at all! Satoru, you’re always acting all high and mighty, but you’re just a selfish little twat!”
No way. The last time, he was left in the dust, not being able to say anything in his defense. So now, he would use this chance to be the one who had the last laugh. He was going, because he was 70% sure that you wouldn’t let your hard-earned money go to waste.
And he was right when two days later, he found you at the airport with a bitter scoff upon seeing him.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he moistened his lower lip in that obnoxious way. “Missed me?”
You walked past him, tone lacing with disdain. “Get lost, Gojo.”
He couldn’t help the prickling sensation in his chest when you dismissed him just like that. And the use of his last name—whereas you used to call him with all sort of available pet names? Now that was just low.
“Nah, you can’t get away from me that easily, Y/N,” Satoru sniggered. “You’re going to see me for the next three days, so suck it up and enjoy the sight,” and then the idiot proceeded to pump his fist in the air. “Wooo! Kyushu, here I go!”
Suguru and Shoko merely observed your icy interactions in silence, occasionally exchanging glances from time to time.
ITINERARY ::: DAY 1 — BEACH DAY @ SEASIDE HOTEL
After the three-hour flight, the four of you arrived at Karatsu, one of the main highlights in your trip—or back then, one you and Satoru handpicked yourselves.
You swore you still had your heart frozen for him, so you didn’t know what stirred it when you saw him giggling and doubling over in carefree delight, surrounded by those beach girls in skimpy bikinis.
“Hey, handsome~ is this even okay?” one of the girls in pink thong scooted closer to him, asking him with this cheap seductive grin. “Won’t your girlfriend be mad?”
At that moment, you could’ve sworn Satoru threw you a glance from the corner of his eye before replying with a triumphant bark. “What girlfriend? I’m wholly and happily single!”
The hell?
A rush of squeals grated your nerves as they swarmed your ex-boyfriend, prompting you to stalk away in irritation.
Absolutely not. You wouldn’t let this fine establishment be your heartbreak hotel any longer.
Gojo Satoru knew fully that he was petty. He let you see that on purpose just to rile you up, because frankly, he still felt like he didn’t deserve your messy breakup at all.
But when you were no longer in his eyesight, suddenly the urge to entertain these strangers dissipated, and what remained was this hollow sensation in his chest. You not paying him attention somehow made him crave it all the more.
He recalled how you pointed out that playing in the clear waters would be your ideal graduation gift. He specifically recommended this place himself and you had agreed. He remembered planning all of this, dragging Suguru and Shoko too just to make it merrier. To keep that cute smile on your face.
You were supposed to fool around with him in the clear waters of Matsubara Beach, splashing and pulling him underwater.
And yet in reality, he was toying with these questionable women and in your eyes, he was nothing but an irritable twat.
He didn’t see you again until evening, during dinner time. And the sight before him made him want to pull Suguru to the side and trap him inside his unlimited void.
"Really?" Your clear voice rang in his ears, every bit the same as when you would energetically question him with those doe eyes of yours, as you peered at Suguru. "We should go together tomorrow then!"
His eyes twitched.
What has his life come to? Reduced into seeing his ex-girlfriend possibly going on a date with his best friend?
He almost hoped that you'd stage up your pettiness level. It was worse because unlike him, you didn't make this up just to gauge his reaction.
That night, in their shared hotel room, he ignored Suguru completely, as well as silently waiting for him to divulge where he and you were going tomorrow.
"Hey Satoru—"
"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."
It was obviously a wrong move, because Suguru apparently caught the hint and stayed quiet as a mouse throughout the night.
ITINERARY ::: DAY 2 — HOT SPRING @ KUMAMOTO
Or at least, last he remembered, that was the agenda.
Until he saw that only Shoko who was there, idling around at the hot spring area.
"Where are the others? Why is it only you here?"
She shrugged. "Geto said he's going to try the local specialties. Dunno where. As for me, I'm going to enjoy this onsen to the fullest."
Shoko noticed his irritated scowl, and a sly grin crept across her face.
"Heh, jealous much now, Gojo?"
Meanwhile, you and Suguru went to various dessert shops in town as per his invitation. Perhaps he took pity on you because you really seemed not to be having any fun at all after you stormed off from the beach area yesterday.
"Mmm! This is tasty!" you remarked, munching away the three-colored dango happily. You were so engrossed in eating today that you no longer had any room to think about anything else, which was a good thing.
Suguru smiled. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself now." However, he appeared to have something on his mind, prompting you to hum and tilt your head in curiosity.
"No, it's just... so it's really over between you and Satoru?"
You let out a snort. "Yeah. Totally. He's an ass."
"He really is miserable, you know..."
"Nah, he doesn't look like it."
Your friend sighed. "Honestly, what was the argument even about? Both of you usually didn't take it this far."
You didn't want to go back to that topic, really. But Suguru was always the one with cooler head, and after his kindness today, maybe you could spare him a detail or two.
"It's a lot of little things that have piled up, you know," you mumbled. "It's probably just how he is, and I know. But I finally reached my boiling point. Why can't he try to see things from my perspective? Everything that's important to me doesn't seem to matter to him, and relationships need two people, not just one who resigns and the other who does anything he pleases."
And until now, you doubted if Satoru even realized what he did wrong. That was what hurt you the most. Like you were so small in his eyes, like he could toy with you and get away with it.
As you expected, Suguru would understand your point. "So that's how you feel... Yeah, I think I get it."
You thought he would end it at that, but then he went on. "I'm not defending him, Y/N. I think some time away from you would do him good, but later, maybe you can talk this to him? See if he will understand?"
"I already did, so many times." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Not to offend you, but it awfully seems like you're defending him, Suguru, despite you saying otherwise."
"I'm saying this because sometimes we can forget that Satoru is different," he explained sympathetically, and to be honest, you were surprised by his statement. "He is born exalted. He has a hard time comprehending things that come to us naturally. I just think it's a pity if... you can actually fix this, but just because bad communication, you lose the chance to."
Have you properly communicated this to him? Now that you thought about it, most of the times you would just get mad and point at the little things he missed, but never actually told him how it made you feel.
Your mind was still muddled with the fact Suguru had shed light on even after you got back to ryokan where you were staying for the night. The two of you were in for a surprise though as apparently there was a festival happening there.
Everything seemed to spark with glitters. The bamboo lanterns, lights, the gentle breeze. It created an undeniably romantic ambiance, to be honest.
You didn't know when Suguru slipped away, but suddenly, you found yourself alone amidst the visitors and dim lights.
And you found yourself to be immensely lonely.
Satoru spotted you in all your solitary glory amidst the sea of people in this godforsaken place.
No, actually it was a pretty great inn and attraction, but this trip had been horrible so far, and so he just felt everything was bad.
But at that moment, bitterness no longer clouded his mind, because you were so beautiful, bathed in the glow of the lights that Shoko had forcibly dragged him to see. If it were up to him, he'd spend the last night sleeping his heartbreak away, but now that he was here, he was thankful to see the dazzling sight of you that reminded him once again just what made him hopelessly in love with you.
And why he didn't get his sorry ass back into your good graces faster.
He retraced everything had brought both of you to this point. Your last fight was about what again? Him not telling you any news when he would be back from a mission?
No matter how he thought about it, it was a trivial matter. So what made you mad? He kept thinking, and then he imagined switching places with you. What if you didn't text him at all for three days straight? How would he feel? Oh, he would be despondent, of course.
Now he was starting to understand. He had done that so many times he could no longer keep count. Granted, you would be angry.
Satoru suddenly know how to rectify this. He can make things right. He would be damned if he didn't. He just had to pull you aside, and he was going to when he lost sight you in the crowd.
Okay, now he was frantic, as the longer he didn't see you, the more his opportunity to make amends slipped away. He moved through the crowd, pushing people in the process, earning ire and questionable glares and yet he cared none for it.
He nearly cursed at how his phone kept vibrating incessantly inside his pocket. Begrudgingly, he took it out and almost gasped.
You are calling him.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
It was so incredibly stupid. You just went to pee for a bit and then somehow got yourself locked in the toilet. It might have been fine, but then the lights unexpectedly went out, scaring the shit out of you.
How could such a upscale inn experience a sudden power outage and have doors that wouldn't budge? It was worse when no matter how many times you punched the switch or banged the door, it refused to turn on or open.
You were trapped. Honestly, it took everything you had not to cry.
And so you did the next best thing aside from forcing your way out. You called your friends. First, Shoko, and then Suguru, but both of them somehow didn't pick up the call even after you had called them three times each.
That left you with one possible person left. In your frenzied mind, it didn't even register in your mind what you were doing as the line connected and the last person you'd call on the other side answered.
"Satoru," you shakily breathed out, almost crying—or were you already? You didn't know as you focused on his sharp intake of breath, most likely surprised at how rattled you sound.
"Y/N? What? What is it?"
"I—" you wheezed, hating how helpless you sounded, yet still forced the words out. "I'm locked, it's dark—and it's just so—help! Help me please! I tried getting Shoko but she didn't—"
"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Calm down, okay?" Satoru's voice brought you some comfort and it helped to reduce your tears, missing how he slipped up by calling you with his usual pet name for you. "Tell me. Where are you?"
"The women's restroom… I think it’s in the east wing."
"I'm coming, okay? Don't panic. I'll be there. Just stay on the line."
You heard his ragged breaths as he muttered several "coming through!" and "excuse me!" from where he was. It made your heart lurch. Despite the spiteful breakup, he rushed to your aid as soon as he realized you were in some kind of trouble.
Was this okay, to let your relationship end just like that?
"I'm outside." And then you heard his voice, much to your relief. "Y/N? Are you there?"
"Yes!" you shouted over the steel door.
You then heard how he rummaged to get the door open, and faintly hear him cursing it. "It won't open."
You wanted to sob, but then Satoru told you with an absolute tone, sounding so sure and demanding that compelled you to comply. "Get away from the door. As far as possible. Take cover."
Oh God, was he going to do what you thought he might do?
...he did. The next thing you knew, the door—and much more than that—was destroyed, and a rush of cursed energy was everywhere. After the blast subsided, you instinctively made a run for it, and you didn't know how, but you ended up stumbling into him.
Satoru caught you in his firm embrace.
"It's okay. You're okay," he cooed, whispering in your ear gently, urging your shivering body to calm down. "You're safe now, Y/N... I'm here. You're safe."
There was always something about your trembling form that made him want to tear down everything and anything in his path just to make you feel secure. And there was always this sense of rightness whenever you snuggled in his arms. Both desires clashed in a contrasting need and want and Satoru could do nothing but keep you close to him, torn between the two.
He kept his hand on your spine, and you clung on him, burying your face in his broad, sturdy chest.
Nevermind the fact that you technically broke up with him. Nevermind that ever since this botched trip started, it was the first occasion in which the two of you held a proper conversation without spewing bravado or sarcasm.
Afterwards, he led you away from the site, and he figured it would be best to go somewhere quieter rather than the festival, and so here you were, at the deserted lounge.
You had calmed down for the most part, and slowly you felt heat in your cheeks. In hindsight, you could've tried using cursed energy to blast the door too, why didn't you think of that earlier?
And yet, unaware of your internal musings, Satoru's thoughts were occupied with another matter entirely, and blame it on his insensitivity—he chose this moment to drop it without hesitation.
"I want you back," he declared, void of any hesitation. "I'll be better, I promise. Those things you hate—tell me, and I'll make sure not to repeat them again."
He wasn't the sharpest when it came to picking up on your feelings, but Satoru vowed that if it bothered you that much, then he would do his best to avoid doing it.
But you... you were still trying your best to grasp the situation. Amidst the plot twist you just experienced tonight, his blatant proclamation was the last thing you expected so you only managed a "What?"
He held your gaze, eerily serious. “I don’t want to break up. It’s hell. We can—I can still fix this.”
He looked sincere, unlike the usual empty promises he’d give you after you went off on him. And suddenly, you understood.
“…really?”
“Yeah. Just give me another chance. I’ll prove it to you,” Satoru said, visibly impatient now. “I won’t give you up. This literally is the fight of my life right now.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite yourself. If there was anything that you had learned tonight, it was that apparently you and him were still salvageable.
“And how will you prove it?”
“Just so you wait and see, sweets. I’m gonna relight your feelings!”
It was beyond corny that he took a line from your favorite song. And both of you burst into a laughter at the sheer silliness of it.
You sighed, but this time of relief, in stark contrast to your earlier sighs that afternoon. You were giddy as a smile perched on your lips. “Fine. Let’s give this another shot.”
Satoru felt the tension in his shoulder melt with your answer. A genuine, wide smile emerged from the bottom of his heart and lit up his face.
“Now, this whole trip has been kind of terrible so far, don’t you think?” He made a brief pouty face for a moment before reverting to his mischievous grin His remarkable expressiveness—reminiscent of a child's, in your opinion—never ceased to fascinate you. “I have a pretty good idea where we should go next.”
You furrowed your brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Tomorrow’s our last day.”
“No freaking way!” he exclaimed, whipping out his phone to launch the travel agency app. “We are going to redo our graduation trip. This time just the two of us!”
There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with your dork of a boyfriend, but as you reflected on it, you realized that there were also many reasons for you to stay together, especially when he reached for your hand and held it firmly in his grasp.
You were unable to contain your excitement and bubbling with melodious giggles that he adored so much as he whisked you away from Kumamoto in favor of the last bullet train to Kyoto, where your long-awaited true vacation would begin.
Epilogue
“I told you this was a horrible idea. I fucking told you.”
"Can you blame me? Dude was about to throttle me in my sleep."
"Geto," Shoko scowled, her disbelief at his simple answer evident as she gestured wildly with both hands towards the wrecked lavatory, emphasizing her point. "Look—now that he had gone and done it, we're the ones footing the bill for the destruction of property!"
Gojo had blasted the washroom with a freaking Red. And the innkeeper promptly held both Shoko and Suguru responsible since their roommates were captured on CCTV and had vanished without a trace.
Suguru rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I genuinely thought it was a good idea. I didn't expect Satoru to go overboard though," then he threw her a stink eye. "And hey, you were complicit in this too!"
Shoko mumbled a string of curses as she pulled out her phone, snapping some pictures of the undeniable evidence of Gojo’s doing, and then made a call. Suguru frowned.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm reporting him to the headquarters!"
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru imagines#gojo fluff#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo fluff#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#hurt/comfort#jjk gojo#gojo angst#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#geto suguru#ieiri shoko#super shy at the beginning until airport is so uncanny idk why#and then seven when gojo fools around at the beach too#jjk fic#satoru x y/n
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Baby-Trapped
This is an Evan buckley imagine requested by anon, I really enjoyed writing this and couldn't wait to post it! So you all have two imagines in one day. Let me know what you think.
Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17
Evan Buckley Masterlist
Summary: (Y/n) distances herself from Evan when the people at her college believe he shouldn't be with someone younger and inexperienced like her. But things change when she falls pregnant.
Enjoy.
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"There's my girl, you okay?"
(Y/n) tilted her head back on the sofa at the sound of Evan's voice drifting softly through the apartment. She smiled softly when she watched him approach from the hallway.
Her eyes fell closed and she stayed still when Evan leaned over the back of the sofa and moved his hands to her shoulders. He gave a loving squeeze and pressed his lips against her temple. (Y/n) could feel each ragged breath he took and how his chest was heaving behind the sofa, against the back of her neck and head.
His lips curved into a smile against her temple and she felt his nose tickle her skin. He was sweating. Nothing new, he had just been out jogging like he usually did after a night shift.
"Hm, good shift?" She squeaked when Evan leaned over her and stole her lips for a searing, panting kiss. While Evan had been on the night shift, he said (Y/n) could stay here at his place, save her having to get the bus home and then come back up this way today for college.
"An easy shift, for a change. I got some sleep too, which is a shocker. Do you want a ride to class?" Evan wasn't used to getting an hours sleep in the bunker room at the station, but it had been such a lovely change to actually recouperate and sleep. He felt more alive for the small callouts they went on and it wasn't all hustle and bustle.
He felt lively enough when he parked up to head straight out on his run and get it over and done with. Now he would have the afternoon to either do some exercises or just relax and wait until (Y/n)'s class was over.
Their schedules hadn't aligned recently, Evan had picked up extra shifts at the station because they were down three people. And his shifts didn't match up with (Y/n)'s college classes. But they were making things work.
"You've just come home, I can walk, it's fine." (Y/n) uncurled her legs and slumped her feet back down to the floor, but she froze when Evan's arms suddenly caged around her. Both arms looped around her upper chest and his chest pressed into the back of the sofa so he could tuck his face into her neck.
When she felt his teeth graze her skin, her shoulders pulled up and she fought off a smile.
"No, I'll drop you off baby." What was the point in (Y/n) walking all that way if Evan could just drive her there himself?
(Y/n) nodded, but she could feel her smile trying to disappear. She didn't want the girls in her class to see Evan drop her off.
Two girls had already twigged that Evan was a firefighter, more specifically, one they had seen being interviewed multiple times on the TV. If he dropped her off, the rumours would get worse.
(Y/n) loved Evan. She loved him to the end of the Earth, he was funny, loving, caring and sweet and he made her feel like the only person worth loving in the world. But he was older than her. Evan had everything sorted, he had a steady job, a home, a car, friends his own age and all of his friends were already settled down and married and happy in their lives.
It never bothered (Y/n), until the girls in her class started talking about her. They seemed to think there was no point in Evan dating (Y/n). They acted as if he was with her out of pity or because he didn't know what he really wanted, and they thought (Y/n) was using him. If he took her to class, the girls would see and then everyone would just agree that (Y/n) was using Evan to her advantage.
"I'll grab a shower and get changed before we go. Care to join me?"
His lips trailed down (Y/n)'s neck until he was pressing wet, hollow kisses over her shoulder. And his hands slithered down her waist and scrunched up her shirt so his cold fingers could travel across her bare skin. His touch made her shiver and she tried to smile. It was tempting. It was more than tempting.
Getting a shower with Evan was always an exciting experience. (Y/n) could still feel the ache in her shoulders from last time where he picked her up and pinned her to the shower wall.
But if she turned up to class with wet, damp hair and smelling of Evan and sex it wouldn't go down well. Taking a shower with him would make her late, too. Time got lost when they were together and (Y/n) didn't want to be late. She only had a few months left of college and then she would have her degree. She could get a job and be done with the people in her class and feel more grown up and more suitable to be Evan's partner.
"No, I don't wanna be late."
"Baby…" He groaned into her shoulder while his fingertips slid into her jeans and wiggled past her underwear. He grinned like a catfish into her skin when she gasped and pushed back against him.
"Later. Go get ready."
She trailed her hand up to card her fingers through his damp curls, scratching her nails down his neck which made him bite down on her neck.
"Okay." Evan pulled away from her neck and moved his hands to her hips, but he could feel his smile fading when she didn't look at him.
She didn't usually turn his offers down. When she saw him after being separated by shifts and classes, (Y/n) usually attached herself to him. He didn't have to try to get her attention or fight for a kiss like this. Evan didn't like how (Y/n) was starting to distance from him. It was just the little things he was noticing and he was sure it was only because she was preoccupied with something.
He pressed his finger beneath her chin and turned her head so he could capture her in a quick kiss before he finally parted and headed upstairs to grab a change of clothes.
(Y/n) packed her notebooks and revision cards into her bag while she heard Evan hop in the shower.
She looped her bag on her shoulder and headed towards the kitchen. Her eyes cast towards the bathroom and she waited a second to make sure Evan wasn't about to walk out before she looked through her bag. Once she found the small square pill box, she popped one of the tiny orange pills into her hand and chugged it down.
She didn't want Evan seeing the box. He was a firefighter, he had medical knowledge and if he knew what she was taking, he would know what it was for. (Y/n) didn't want to tell him yet.
"Alright baby, are we ready?" Evan dragged his fingers through his hair, shaking loose the last few droplets of water before he looked down.
He fiddled with his belt, popping it through the tightest loop he could before he got his trainers on and looked towards the kitchen.
With his keys looped on his thumb, Evan held his other hand out towards (Y/n) and smiled when she entwined their hands and pulled his arm against her chest. She leaned her head on his shoulder and followed him out the apartment.
Evan spared a few glances at (Y/n) every now and then as he drove. He didn't like the distant, somewhat panicked look on her face. She had one hand tangled in her hair and her forehead resting against the window with her other arm around her waist and her knees pushed up.
He ran his hand along his jaw before he dared to reach out and place his hand on her thigh. When she didn't react nor push him away, Evan gave her thigh a squeeze and started gliding his fingertips up and down her inner thigh. He could tell his touch relaxed her somewhat, she stopped tensing her leg so tight and she shrunk down in the seat.
"What time do you finish, I'll come pick you up if you want."
"You don't have to, it's your day off babe-"
"Yeah, and I wanna spend some time with you. I wanna come get you, no one said I have to."
He wasn't asking because he felt obliged, he was asking because he wanted to pick her up. She was his girl and he would rather come get her than her having to walk or get the bus and if she ever wanted a lift, all she had to do was ask. Evan was never going to say no or be angry if she asked him.
"I finish at two." She murmured softly as she turned to face him. "Thank you."
(Y/n) sat forward in her seat and clicked her spine into place when Evan pulled up on the curb. She undid her belt and looped her bag over her shoulder before she turned to lean across towards him.
Her stomach jolted with adrenaline when Evan's hand cupped her jaw and his thumb pulled at her lower lip. His nose brushed hers and he stole a kiss, nipping at her lip so she couldn't pull away without a fight.
"I'll see you later, love you."
"Hm, good." He spoke quietly against her lips, stealing another two kisses until (Y/n) finally gave him a nudge in the chest so she could get out. "Love you too, see you later sexy."
Her lips curved into a grin that morphed with a gasp when she opened the door and felt his hand on her bum.
She gave the door a nudge, tightening her bag strap on her shoulder as she watched Evan drive away. As soon as Evan turned the corner, (Y/n)'s stomach gave an awful twist and she suddenly wanted to call out for him and make him turn around. She wanted to climb back into the jeep and go back home with him when a flock of familiar faces caught her eye.
Oh no.
It was the four girls from her class that (Y/n) tried her best not to hang around. The ones who were like little teenagers, always vying for attention from anyone, any boy, any teacher, any passing person. The girls who acted like gossip was the currency in this place and being nosey was their passtime.
"Hi (Y/n)."
"Hi," Her voice was quiet and meek as she pulled her bag closer and tried to power walk ahead. She wanted to get to class and get sat down before everyone else filtered in.
"Was that your fella?" When (Y/n) nodded, Carla smiled and moved to walk beside her. "He's a looker, how old is he? Looks like he's in his thirties."
(Y/n) cringed and tried to walk ahead, but it was no use. They were all going in the same direction, to the same class. She couldn't run ahead without them without causing a fuss or making them realise they unnerved her and she didn't want to be around them.
"He is, isn't he?" Sandra added in with glee when (Y/n) rolled her lips together and didn't respond.
"He's thirty-one." She kept her voice quiet and her eyes focused on the pavement as they headed towards the college building.
This was why (Y/n) hated being around people like them. They made such a fuss when it wasn't really anything to fuss about. Yes, Evan was older than (Y/n), but he was only nine years older than her. That wasn't such a big gap, (Y/n) knew people with twelve or even fifteen years between them. There was less than a decade separating her and Evan, and it wasn't like it was a bad thing.
(Y/n) wasn't a teenager still in school, she was almost finished with her college degree now and then she would be on the same path as Evan, finding a steady job like he had. And Evan didn't really act his age, nor did he actually look his age like Carla insinuated, she was only probing for information.
"Isn't he a firefighter?" Carla looked over her shoulder as if Evan was still sat there in his jeep. He would be halfway back home by now. He wasn't there for them to ogle at or play twenty questions with him like they were doing now with (Y/n).
They had seen him on the tv.
Evan had done a lot of interviews over the years, mainly just little ones to say the team had gotten a victim out alive or that everyone was okay and they had no casualties. But with all the stunts he had done on the job, he had been in the paper more than once.
"Well that's a way to further yourself."
Sandra's voice made (Y/n) stop in her tracks. She turned to the left and looked over at the blonde as if she had grown a second head. She was the one who kept talking whenever Evan dropped (Y/n) off. She was the one who said she couldn't fathom why someone like Evan was with a 'little girl like (Y/n)'.
"What?" What did she mean by that? What was she talking about?
"You can get to know a lot of people, being with him. I bet he's got a lot of connections. And that's good for your image, upcoming nurse latched onto a hot, older fireman."
"It's not-"
"I bet he's got his own place, right? That's why you always get a lift, you stay at his place?"
Her blood ran cold and Her knees started to shake as if they had turned to jelly. Why was she being like this? Why were the other girls agreeing with her? Why couldn't they just walk away knowing that (Y/n) was happy with Evan? This was nothing to do with them but they seemed to be poking their noses in because they wanted to stir up trouble.
"Because he's my partner." Her voice was low as her words seethed through gritted teeth. Evan was her partner, she had every right to stay over at his place when she wanted to see him and be with him. She practically lived there. Evan was always inviting her round and when he picked her up from class he automatically took her back to his place.
She only seemed to go home if Evan was on a long stint of shifts or if she wanted to get some more clothes and do some washing.
"I get it… you've latched onto a goldmine there."
A wave of sickness washed over (Y/n) and she pushed her feet to move faster before she collapsed down on her knees. She sped away from them and bolted down the corridor, not caring if anyone looked her way and wondered what on Earth she was doing.
It was none of their business about her and Evan. She was with him because she loved him. (Y/n) wasn't using Evan, she wasn't trying to be with him because she thought he would advance her career or introduce her to smart people. Or because he was older with his own money and his own place and a good job.
None of that was true, but it didn't matter because none of those girls were going to believe (Y/n). Not when they had it in their minds that Evan was a successful, handsome fireman who had no reason to be with (Y/n).
***
Sinking back on her heels, (Y/n) slumped her head back against the toilet wall and coiled both her arms around her waist. The back of her throat was aching and torn apart from how much she had just thrown up and the acidic taste in her mouth made her grimace.
She was going to make herself late for class if she stayed in here much longer. But on the other hand, (Y/n) couldn't go into class if she still felt like she had more to throw up. Being sick in class was the last thing she needed right now.
Her hands moved to the wall and she used it as leverage to stand up on shaking legs. She grabbed her bag from the hook on the wall and unlocked the door, stumbling out the cubicle over towards the sinks.
Leaning over, she took a few sips of water from the sink before she moved her bag and rummaged around for the familiar box of tablets.
(Y/n) barely took the tiny orange tablet before the toilet door opened and someone walked in.
"You look rough."
(Y/n) refrained from rolling her eyes and took another sip of water to wash the tablet down. Her eyes widened and a gasp rolled past her lips when Sandra suddenly grabbed the box from her hands.
What was she doing? Why was she taking (Y/n)'s tablets? How rude could she get to lean across and snatch them from her like she thought they were illicit drugs instead of prescribed medication.
"Oh, well done."
"Leave me alone." (Y/n) snatched the box back so tightly she began to crumple the cardboard in her grip. She tossed it back in her bag and closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm and not shed any tears here in front of someone she was growing to despise.
She didn't want anyone finding out. She hadn't even talked to Evan yet. That was why she kept the folic acid hidden in her bag so Evan wouldn't see. If he saw them, he would form the same conclusion Sandra had right now.
(Y/n) was pregnant.
"I didn't believe the others, about your big fireman until we watched him pick you up the other day. Now I know why."
"You don't know anything-"
"I know he's not going to be able to leave you now. A little girl, having his baby. He'll have to stick by you. What a way to make sure that eligible fireman doesn't find someone better, more mature than you. Baby-trap him so he can't leave you."
She wouldn't answer. She wouldn't give Sandra the satisfaction. but she could feel tears welling up in her eyes when she realised the toilet door had opened again. Tina was stood there. At least it was someone (Y/n) knew and trusted. Tina was the only person (Y/n) would trust with this news, they were close friends but (Y/n) hadn't told anyone about this yet.
She hadn't worked out what she was going to do or found a way to tell Evan without him coming to the same conclusion as Sandra had.
Now she was going to go and tell everyone in their class and soon enough it would be all round the college that (Y/n) was pregnant. Everyone would be saying the same thing as Sandra because no one really knew (Y/n) or anything about her relationship with Evan and this was gossip, not fact.
"Sandra, back off with those jealous accusations." Tina folded her arms over her chest but she didn't get two steps into the toilets before (Y/n) ran past her.
She didn't care about class anymore. She didn't care about missing their next class.
There was no way (Y/n) was going to sit there while Sandra spread this news around everyone. She couldn't have them looking and staring at her and whispering behind her back. (Y/n) would rather go home and wallow in self-pity and think what she was going to do.
But she didn't know what she was going to do, or how Evan was going to react to something like this.
***
Evan lifted his gaze from his phone to look ahead of him. He slouched his hips back against the jeep and took a look around. When he messaged (Y/n) last night during his shift all he got was short replies. But he managed to get her to agree for him to pick her up after her class today.
She wasn't out yet. She was usually out on time, she didn't hang around for anyone, she liked to be straight out and back home as quickly as possible.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket when his eyes landed on Tina. Evan didn't know her very well, but he knew her to say hello to, and he knew she was (Y/n)'s closest friend.
"Hi."
"Hey Buck, you're not here for (Y/n), are you?" Her words made his shoulders slump and knots formed in his stomach.
"Why?"
"She missed class today, yesterday too."
That wasn't normal. (Y/n) was never one to miss class. A few months back she caught a chest infection, she could barely breathe or stay awake and she ran a fever. And Evan had to stop her from leaving the apartment to try and get to class on time. Even when she was ill she still tried her best to attend classes so it wasn't like her to not turn up.
And she told Evan she would be at class today. She told him she had gone yesterday and said he could pick her up. So either something had happened or she really wasn't feeling like herself and had decided to skip. Either way, Evan didn't like the thought or the outcome he was going to get.
"She's not been herself lately… has she said anything to you, I'm worried about her."
He didn't like the look he got in return. Tina bit down on her lip and looked down at her shoes before she sighed. Her foot began to tap against the pavement and she slumped her shoulders and dropped her weight onto one leg as her nails scratched along her arm.
She didn't want to have to tell Evan, but she knew if she didn't, (Y/n) wasn't likely to either. And he needed to know what was going on so he could help (Y/n) and try to sort this out with her.
"Some of the people on campus started asking her about you, they um… they started saying stuff, when they found out you're older, and what you do for a living." That was the nicest way Tina could think of wording it without upsetting or angering Evan. And she knew it was never her place to tell him that (Y/n) might be pregnant.
She had tried messaging and calling (Y/n) after class yesterday but she never answered. Considering what Tina had heard in the toilets, she wanted to know if (Y/n) was okay and if it was true, but she'd heard nothing from her.
"What kind of stuff?"
"That she's with you for status and money- stupid stuff that's not true, but it really upset her. I think you need to talk to her."
"Fuck." Evan dragged his hand through his hair and down over his jaw that clicked from side to side. "I know where she'll be."
When he worked double shifts, he told (Y/n) she could stay at his place even if he wasn't there. It was closer to the college and it was somewhere she could study in peace and be alone and then she would be there when he came home. He loved coming home to her.
He had a gut feeling that if (Y/n) was in a state and was this upset, she would go to his place. He prayed that she would be at his place because then he wouldn't have to ring her and go searching for her. He needed to talk to her and make sure she was alright because this didn't sound good, it sounded frightening.
"Ask her to call me, so I know she's alright, please?"
"Course I will."
It didn't take him long to drive down to the apartment and part of Evan wished he had gone home before going to the college. But grabbing a shower after shift and then having a coffee with Eddie and Hen had taken longer than he expected and he thought he was going to be late to pick (Y/n) up. He knew if he was late she would presume he was still at work and try to walk or get the bus home.
Once he got to the apartment, trepidation flooded his veins and he almost didn't want to open the door.
He cautiously headed inside and took a look around. Her shoes and bag were by the door, so were her keys which meant she was here. Thank God. That was one less thing for him to worry about; he knew where she was and that she was safe.
"Baby?"
He headed towards the stairs, about to walk into the living room but he stopped when he heard the tv on upstairs. (Y/n) didn't usually watch tv up in bed in the middle of the afternoon like this. He grabbed the bannister and used it to propell himself up the stairs two at a time.
It didn't take long for Evan to lock his eyes on (Y/n). She was curled up in the middle of the bed, her knees coiled up and her arms wrapped around a pillow that she was cradling to her chest like it was a teddy.
When he walked over, Evan could feel his heart trying to break free from his chest.
She was crying.
Staying silent, he quietly walked over to the bed and sank down on the side. He waited for (Y/n) to acknowledge that he was there before he leaned over her and slipped his hands beneath her arms so he could try and move her. (Y/n) stayed limp and let Evan lift her up so he could lay her over his lap instead and he gently moved the pillow so she could hug him instead.
He was relieved when (Y/n) shuffled round to properly hug him. She imbedded her face into his abdomen and coiled her arms around his waist, digging her fingers into his back.
Evan leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, curving both his arms around her with his hand soothingly rubbing up and down her back.
"Baby, talk to me. What's going on, hm?" He stayed doubled over with his lips meshed into her temple until his back started to ache. When he pulled back, he started to card his fingers through her hair, brushing tendrils away from her face that was still mostly smothered in his shirt.
"Just… just a low mood, I'm okay."
Why was she trying to hide this from him? They didn't have the kind of relationship where they felt they couldn't confide in each other. Evan told (Y/n) anything and everything that was on his mind, whether it was good or bad. He thought she felt the same.
"I talked to Tina today. She told me what those girls in your class were saying." He tried to keep his tone light to make sure (Y/n) knew he wasn't trying to start an argument or come across as rude. He was just trying to understand.
He opened his arms when (Y/n) started to move and waited for her to sit up so they could talk properly. But her shoulders were quaking and tears were now freely streaming down her face. Evan's breath caught in his throat when (Y/n) turned away from him and when she tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed, Evan reached out for her.
He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her back so she couldn't try and leave. They needed to talk, avoiding this conversation wouldn't make it go away, it would only prolong the inevitable.
"No, no baby we need to talk about this. Is this why you've been nervous around me?"
He perched his chin on her shoulder and kept her back pressed into his chest while both arms secured around her waist so she was sitting on his lap. He felt her hands grip his wrists tightly and she tilted her head down so she was looking at her hands. At least with Evan behind her, (Y/n) didn't have to see his face fall when she tried to explain.
"They don't get why you're with me, but- but Sandra thinks I'm with you to use you… boost my image, or something like that." It felt silly to be getting upset over something so stupid, but (Y/n) couldn't help how she reacted or the way she felt.
Sandra's words had cut deep and if she thought like that and so did other people on campus, what were Evan's friends and colleagues going to say? What would his family think of her? Would they all think the same? Would they think she was using Evan? Was he going to end up thinking the same thing?
"They don't get it because this isn't their relationship. I love you, I love how I feel when I'm with you and how amazing and smart you are. Come on, baby, it doesn't matter what they say-"
"Evan I- I care what your friends will think, your team… if the girls think like that then-"
"Hey, they're not like that, I promise. Baby they won't think bad of you, they'll love you like I do. Does it bother you that I'm older? There's not even ten years between us… what's that face for?"
Evan kept his arms around (Y/n)'s middle but he let her shuffle round on his lap so she was facing him this time. He moved his hands to her legs and pulled on them until they were hooked around his torso and she was sat high on his hips with her abdomen pushing into his.
His hands wormed beneath her shirt and spread out on her back while (Y/n) hooked her arms around his neck.
They had never talked about the age difference being a problem for either of them. It didn't bother Evan, it was a number that barely made an impact on either of their lives. It wasn't as if Evan was middle-aged and (Y/n) was a teenager, they weren't at different points in their lives. And no one at the station was going to care.
They loved each other, they were happy together and more to the point, they were both good for each other. That's all the team at the station were going to see and care about and Evan knew they would be fine with (Y/n) and would welcome her with open arms.
"You know it doesn't, but I know what everyone's gonna say when they get to know me, Evan everyone will think I'm tying you down to me… that I- that I'm baby-trapping you. It's what Sandra said earlier."
She could barely breathe.
She'd done it. She'd taken the plunge and told him what was really bothering her and how their lives were now going to change.
(Y/n) could see it now. She could just see all of Evan's friends at the station telling him he was moving too fast with her. That she was a lovely girl, but she might be with him for the wrong reasons. They would think (Y/n) had planned this, that she was trying to leech off of Evan and keep him tied to her by having a baby with him. It was bad enough that everyone on campus was going to think like this, (Y/n) wouldn't have to see them for long before she graduated.
But she would have to see the people Evan worked with and see them stare at her and look her up and down with distaste. She would see them whisper about her.
Tears began to stream down (Y/n)'s face when Evan didn't say anything, he just stared at her with parted lips like he hadn't heard her or she had spoken in a foreign language. (Y/n) tightened her arms around his neck and leaned forward to hide her face in his neck. She breathed in his scent, trying to take deep breaths as Evan's chest rumbled.
"Baby I… I don't know what that means."
He felt the shiver that tore down her spine. Evan worked around older people, barring Ravi, Evan was one of the younger ones at the station. He didn't know a lot of the new terms floating around, it was normally Chris who told him what things meant.
Evan hadn't heard that one before and it made his stomach churn at how upset (Y/n) was getting about all of this.
"It's… it means I'm trapping you in a relationship with me, stopping you from leaving, by having a baby with you." (Y/n) hiccupped through her words, but she managed to say them all without too much hassle.
She leaned her head back enough to see Evan's reaction. She had to know if he was going to be angry or upset or if he might even believe she was baby-trapping him on purpose. (Y/n) couldn't think about anything or what they were going to do until she knew how Evan was going to feel about all of this.
"You're pregnant?"
"I'm so-"
Before (Y/n) could even fumble her way through an apology, a gasp tumbled past her lips when Evan pushed forward and pinned her down on her back on the bed.
He had one arm wormed beneath her waist and the other hand cupped the back of her neck as (Y/n) tried to catch her breath back. But she didn't have chance for a proper breath when Evan stole her lips in a kiss. He laid between her legs that hooked around his hips on instinct.
She could feel his abdomen pressing into hers, his chest meshed down against her own and his elbows jammed down into the bed so he didn't press all of his weight onto her and smother her. But the feeling of him laying on top of her like this was heaven; especially with the force and weight of his lips on hers.
(Y/n) tangled her fingers up in his hair and gave a sharp pull when she felt Evan's tongue slide past her lips with ease. His boney hips pushed into hers, pinning her so far down into the bed that she felt like there would be a mould of her body in the mattress when they eventually got up.
His teeth meshed against hers, his fingers tightened around the back of her neck and his hand pressed into her back, pulling her chest tighter into hers. (Y/n) could feel herself going lightheaded from lack of air and the weight of Evan pushing down on her. She dragged her tongue across his lower lip and finally pulled back for air, seeing black spots dance all around Evan when she tried to look up at him.
His baby blue eyes were a deeper, darker shade now that tears were glossing over his eyes. But it was the way his lips were twitched up into a dazed smile that made (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat.
"We're having a baby?"
"You're n-not mad at me?"
Evan laughed breathlessly and stole another kiss from her lips that felt like glue attaching to him and keeping him close. He moved his hand round from her neck to glide the pad of his finger beneath her eyes, swiping away a few stray tears. And he moved a few loose pieces of pair behind her ear so he could see her properly, fully.
"Sweetheart, this may surprise you but I had something to do with this too, it's not like you did this on your own or decided this was gonna happen. And why would I be mad? You know I love the bones of you… is this what you want?"
A sudden bolt of fear shot through to his heart at the thought that this wasn't what (Y/n) wanted.
But when he watched her lips curve into a smile and saw the tears begin to fall again, he sighed. She was nodding. This is what she wanted. He didn't quite know why she thought he would be angry with her. He loved her more than anything and she was his world. And Evan wanted kids, he wanted loads of them and he knew from the moment they got together that (Y/n) was the one for him.
"You, uh, do you wanna move in with me then, baby?" His grin made (Y/n)'s stomach jump.
This might not be the correct order to do things in, but they were doing this their way. And she practically lived here with Evan anyway, most of her things were here and she barely visited home. Moving in would just make things more official.
"Yes please- what are you doing?" (Y/n) tightened her arms around his neck and leaned up with him when he tilted back. She attached her lips to his jaw, watching him grin madly as he fumbled in his back pocket for his phone.
"Calling Maddie, I wanna introduce you so then I can start telling everyone I'm gonna be a dad."
Evan knew if he told Maddie about the news before he introduced her to (Y/n), she would scold him. He wanted to ask her round for tea, introduce them and try and see if he could hold back a few days, maybe a week. Once (Y/n) had had a scan, then he could go round shouting it from the rooftops and telling all his friends and family that it was finally happening.
He was going to have a baby with the girl of his dreams.
#evan buckley#imagine#911 imagine#evan buckley x reader#evan buckley imagine#buck x reader#buck imagine#pregnant! reader
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Big Boss II
Hardersson x Child!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: You're not just Not-Wolfsburg's Big Boss
You're a very good Big Boss.
You know this because Coach Emma and your mothers tell you so.
Sometimes though, you wish you weren't the Big Boss of Chelsea.
Specifically, now.
You wiggle happily in your seat as you sit in a video review session. The team are playing Arsenal at the weekend and you swing your legs back and forth as some of your favourite players appear on the screen.
"That's Daan!" You tell Jessie and Niamh. "She's so cool!"
Niamh looks at you a little wounded. "Cooler than us?"
You give her a look. "Of course! 'Cause she's Arsenal."
"Maybe tone down the love, princesse," Momma laughs as she moves to sit in your seat, swinging you up into her lap," We're still Chelsea here."
You sigh. "Why? Morsa says that if I love something I should let people know."
"I think she meant someone's cooking or a game, not one of our rivals."
"But why?"
"Well..." Momma has to think for a second. "Because being a good Big Boss means that you have to take into account other people's feelings. Jessie and Niamh might feel sad if you keep talking about Arsenal."
You hadn't thought about that before so you slump in Momma's lap.
"Sorry," You murmur. You shouldn't lie but if it's to save someone's feelings you think it's okay like that time Morsa lied about how your cookies tasted even though you know that you put salt in one of them by accident.
You wiggle on Momma's lap excitedly though at the thought of seeing the Arsenal girls again. Leah and Katie are super cool and Jill's tall so you climb up onto her shoulders so you can be tall too. Beth and Daan are extra special though because every time you see them, they give you a juice box and a snack.
You kick your legs out a little as you wonder what snacks Daan will give you this time.
"That's Leah!" You say before turning around in Momma's lap to peek over her shoulder at Morsa," Is she better than you?"
Morsa chokes a little bit, thumping her chest as she coughs. "What?"
"Cause you and her play the same position," You explain like Morsa's slow," Is she better than you?"
"Princesse," Morsa says in shock," What makes you think she's better than me?"
You shrug. "Dunno. That's why I'm asking."
"Just because she's Arsenal doesn't mean she's better than me," Morsa says," I'm one of the best."
"Was just asking!" You defend, sticking your tongue out," Momma says that if I ever wonder about something it's better to ask!"
When game day rolls around, you're very excited.
You're excited for every match day but especially against Arsenal. You get up extra early and go downstairs to play with your toys while Morsa and Momma wake up. You thought about going to the Big Bed but you know that you would just fall asleep and you want to be awake for the game today.
"Seeing the Arsenal girls," You tell Morsa when she asks what's got you so hyper," They're my favourite!"
She groans like she always does when you proclaim your love for Arsenal.
Momma laughs before going serious. "I know the Arsenal girls are your friends, princesse," She says," But this is very serious, okay? You can't tell them anything about how we're going to be playing, okay?"
Your brow furrows. "Why?"
"Well, because then the match won't be any fun for anyone and we all play football because it's fun, don't we?"
You think about that for a moment. It makes sense. You love playing football. You can't imagine what it would be like for it not to be fun anymore. "Okay, I won't tell."
"You're a good secret keeper," Momma says," I have no doubts you'll do very well."
You puff out your chest in pride as the car comes to a stop and you all get out.
You don't really understand why you all have to check the pitch because it's the same every time but Momma and Morsa make you.
"Daan!" You cry out, immediately detaching yourself from Morsa to run over. You stumble a little bit before crashing into her arms.
"Hey there!" Daan laughs as she swings you around. You settle happily on her hip and she pulls a Freddo Frog out of her pocket that you munch happily on.
She walks you both over to a bigger group of Arsenal girls and you high five everyone.
"That's a nice shirt," Daan says, pulling it down from where it's ridden up," What does it mean?"
"Means I'm the Big Boss!" You boast, puffing out your chest," I'm the best Big Boss 'cause Momma and Morsa tells me so."
"Oh, wow," Daan says with the perfect amount of awe at your status," I wish we had a big boss."
You look around quickly and bite at your lip. Momma and Morsa made you promise not to blab about Not-Wolfsburg tactics to Arsenal but they said nothing about helping them.
"I can be your Big Boss!" You say," But you have to ask my Momma and Morsa 'cause I'm only little and they still make lots of my choices."
Daan laughs but brings you over to where Momma and Morsa are milling about on the other side of the pitch.
"Momma," You say because you know she's more likely to give you what you want," Can I be the Big Boss for Arsenal today?"
She seems to catch on to what you're doing because she shrugs. "I don't know. Why don't you ask your Morsa?"
"Morsa, please?"
"Trying to pinch my daughter, van de Donk?" Morsa says," That's low."
Daan shrugs. "I'll give her back?"
"See that you do." Morsa presses a kiss to your forehead before letting Daan take you away.
You make sure to be just as firm as you always are because Coach Emma always tells you that being firm is the best way to get a team to play good so, just because you love Arsenal, doesn't mean you go easy on them.
"Run! Run! Run!" You order," Hurry up! Stop being slow!"
You cross your arms over your chest firmly and stamp your foot on the ground.
"Faster!" You yell," Or my Morsa's gonna catch you and she's not going to let you win!"
#woso x reader#hardersson x reader#pernille harder x reader#pernille harder#magdalena eriksson x reader#magdalena eriksson#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso#The Big Adventures Universe
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Spiderverse Characters When You get Hurt
Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhnakar x Reader
Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, late night visits, hospitals, injury, sneaking in, flowers, soothing kisses, anger, self-blame
A/N: I wouldn't be me if I didn't put as much angst in here as I did fluff.
Peter brings you flowers, a lot of them, so many that the hospital staff thinks you died in the meantime. He's slumped over in the chair, worried eyes taking in the bandadged spots, the stitches and he can't help but feel like he should have saved you sooner. He doesn't even know you that well, you're a new reporter but you were there with him, for him, for Spider-man. Now he needs to make sure he makes up for this when you get out.
Miles gives it his best to not freak out as he cleans the cuts on your hands. You shouldn't have grabbed the railing like that, you could have gotten an infection. It might be mild compared to some injuries he gets, still he doesn't want to see them on the person he loves. It goes the same for you but its... not as easy. He can't promise you won't ever get hurt if you're with him but he can promise to give it his all to protect you. And with your smile being his ultimate reward he will work even harder.
Gwen nearly has a heart attack when she sees the state you're in when she rushes to your place. Secret identity be damned cause she's in your room, in full costume, scolding you, then crying then kissing you so desperately like its gonna be your last ever kiss. If someone comes in right now and sees her kissing you her secret would be out. She can't think about that now, all she needs is to make sure you're safe.
Miguel is beside himself with guilt that this happened to you on his watch. You can see his eyes, red from both tears and anger,roaming your body along with his hands as he takes notes of every pained sound you make. This is gonna take a while to heal up without a healing factor but he won't let you tell him that he's acting too worried or being too dotting. You act like this when he's hurt, so its only right.
Hobie doesn't get a wink of sleep when he caries you home up until morning when you open your eyes. He's trying to stay positive and maybe even crack a joke like he does to soothe you when he's injured but all he wants is to do is to cuddle up to you, to pull you on top of his chest and listen to your breathing and your heartbeat. Once you get better he will go out and throw both words and fists at the person who put you in this state but until then he is all yours.
Pavitr can't stop the tears from running down his face as he slowly kisses your hands and then your cheek. He was so scared he was gonna loose you. Now you're hospitalized and... he can sneak in if he really wants to, and he will but he would love to be able to give you every second of his day. Since he can't do that he will bring you a get well soon gift every day, and kiss you every day too, it will make you heal up faster. Okay no it won't but it will make you feel better and happier.
#peter b parker x reader#miles morales x reader#gwen stacy x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#hobie brown x reader#pavitr prabhakar x reader#spiderverse x reader#spiderverse imagine#spiderverse headcanon#spiderverse fluff#spiderman fluff#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel headcanons#marvel fluff#marvel x you#peter b parker fluff#miles morales fluff#gwen stacy fluff#miguel o'hara fluff#hobie brown fluff#pavitr fluff#x reader
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Vampire Pancakes
A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire
🥞🫐
No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.
Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.
Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.
Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.
"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"
Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.
"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."
So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.
Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.
Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.
Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.
He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.
🥞🫐
It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.
"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.
"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.
"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.
Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.
He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.
"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.
"Not even a little."
Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.
"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.
"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"
"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.
"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.
"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."
Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.
"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.
"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.
"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.
🥞🫐
In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.
The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.
Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.
He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.
"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.
"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.
"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.
Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.
"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.
"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.
"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.
Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."
And it feels like things are gonna be okay.
#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#steddie ficlet#steve x eddie#steddie fluff#soft steve harrington#steve harrington is a sweetheart#kas eddie munson#vampire eddie munson#vampire eddie x steve#writing prompt#steddie microfic
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seze
seze [ˈsɛ.zɛ] n. blue flower
Anonymous Request: Reader confesses her feelings to Ao'nung and he rejects her pretty harshly, and Neteyam comforts her and eventually confesses to her and she realizes her feelings for Neteyam. When it comes time for them to mate before Eywa, Ao’nung regrets rejecting her, but it’s too late.
1,708 words
He looked me right in the eyes as he said it, with no shame, holding back nothing.
"I could never love someone like you."
He didn't yell it, he didn't even use a particularly harsh tone... he said it as if he was commenting that it looked like it might rain. It was a simple fact, and he seemed surprised that it wasn't something I'd considered.
I knew what he meant by 'someone like me'. Someone of little consequence. Someone with no particular or special skills. Someone on the outskirts of the clan, someone no one had ever really noticed.
Someone unimportant.
Though the words knocked the wind out of me, drained the blood from my face and made me feel light headed, all I could do was nod, turn, and walk slowly away.
It had taken weeks to work up the courage to tell Ao'nung how I felt. He had been so kind to me lately... I thought maybe, he felt the way I felt. Now I realized, that was foolish.
I left the beach for the protection of the treelined, and once I was out of sight, I sank to the ground, and let out a painful, low-pitched wail that I felt through my entire body.
The disappointment was hard, but the embarrassment was almost worse. Of course Ao'nung wouldn't be interested in someone like me; he would take a high-born mate, not a fisherman's daughter.
I cried myself to sleep, slumped against a tree, trying to accept my fate.
--
Neteyam noticed a change in Y/N right away. Though she mostly kept to herself, she was always cheerful and happy. He knew Kiri had a particular interest in Y/N, they had become sort of friends, and so she was around his family sometimes.
Something had happened to Y/N about three days ago, but Neteyam didn't know what. Though she was still around, she didn't speak, or smile, or engage hardly at all.
Neteyam asked Kiri what it was, but Kiri just shrugged and told him Y/N hadn't said anything to her.
He thought that was obtuse of Kiri. Hadn't he noticed the change in her friend? She was quiet before - not absolutely silent.
After another day of this, Neteyam could no longer hold his tongue, and when the opportunity presented itself and he found himself alone on the beach with Y/N, who was braiding a fishing net, he decided he had to speak up.
--
Neteyam sat next to me, lifting the net I was working on into his hands. It was small yet, but would be quite large when I was finished.
"Can I talk to you?" he asked.
I glanced over at him and nodded.
"Actually, I wanted to ask... if you're okay?"
My hands, once busy, settled into my lap, gripping the netting tightly. I was not okay, but I couldn't imagine why Neteyam would care. He had never shown any particular interest in me. In fact, no one had, save his sister, but even she hadn't noticed what was going on with me.
Ao'nung was right - I was not lovable.
A tear slipped from my eye, and I brushed it away, hoping Neteyam hadn't noticed.
"I'm fine," I replied.
Neteyam shook his head. "You are crying."
I turned away from him, pulling my knees to my chest. "It doesn't matter, Neteyam. Don't trouble yourself with me."
His warm, strong hand gripped my shoulder, and without thinking, I leaned over, pressing my cheek to his hand. The contact felt so good, and I tried to remember the last time someone had touched me like this... or at all.
"Tell me."
He pulled gently, and I turned to face him. The look on his face was so genuine, so earnest, and so full of concern. For a second, I wondered if he was teasing me. Maybe Ao'nung had told him what happened already, and Neteyam wanted to make fun of me.
That didn't make sense, though. Ao'nung and Neteyam weren't even close to being friends.
So maybe the concern was genuine.
The words spilled out of me then, like vomit, and I couldn't stop them. I told Neteyam about my years-long crush on Ao'nung, how I had pined for him, imagined a life with him, took his kindness to mean something it hadn't meant, and how when I'd told Ao'nung how I'd felt, he made it clear that I was too unimportant for someone like him to ever care about or notice.
I was crying by the end, fat tears rolling down my cheeks and splashing hot onto my lap, but it felt so good to finally tell someone that I didn't care, I couldn't feel embarrassed anymore. I had suffered enough embarrassment to last a lifetime over the past few days; I wanted to be done with that.
When I finished, I furiously wiped the tears from my eyes, and waited for Neteyam's response.
His expression was... angry. His brows furrowed, his mouth pursed, his eyes focused.
"I will kill that moron," he whispered.
I sighed and shook my head. "He doesn't have to love me."
"But he could at least be kind!"
I didn't reply, because I couldn't exactly argue with him.
Neteyam reached out unexpectedly, pulling me to him, wrapping me in a tight hug. Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around him, scooting closer, our bodies pressed together.
It felt so comforting, so intimate, so nice to be treated like this and cared about, I would've started crying again if I'd had any tears left.
"Neteyam, thank you," I whispered.
He pulled back, looking me in the eyes. "You are important, Y/N. I have watched you. You are kind and thoughtful. You watch Tuk carefully to ensure she doesn't ever get hurt, you treat Kiri with thoughtfulness and protect her when others treat her like she's different, you even tolerate Lo'ak. I have never met anyone so gentle or caring. That someone could hurt you... it makes me want to kill him, Y/N. He had no right to speak to you that way. You are like... you are like a flower, with soft petals. You should be protected, given water and sun, not stomped on."
A flower. This is was nicest thing anyone had ever said to me, and Neteyam was staring into my eyes, so intently. How could someone like him, the son of Taruk Makto, have noticed and felt these things about me?
"Neteyam, I..." I searched my mind for a perfect reply, but could only come up with: "I see you, Neteyam."
"I see you, Y/N."
My lips spread wide in a smile - my first in many days - and Neteyam smiles in return.
--
After that day, Neteyam and I were scarcely ever apart. He became at first, a best friend, my closest confidant, and then naturally, it turned into something more.
There wasn't a moment when I realized it had happened. He just began holding my hand nearly all of the time, guiding me by the small of my back, touching his forehead to mine when we part and finally, one night, he kissed me.
It didn't even shock me. It felt natural, that Neteyam would kiss me. It felt really almost overdue. Neteyam should have been kissing me since the moment we met.
We were completely in step, in sync, together always. Neteyam was meant to be my mate, and I was meant to be his.
He didn't really ask me, formally, to be his mate. He just mentioned once, something about, "when we're mated..." and I agreed.
And the date was set... but we told almost no one, outside of his family and mine. It felt special, secret, just for us.
--
"Kiri says they're very happy," Tsireya told her mother while she chopped fruit. "I think it's nice, that Y/N has found someone. She's always seemed so lonely."
Ronal nodded. "That's good. Good for Y/N. She's a nice girl."
Ao'nung sat across from them, his jaw set in anger. Y/N had done him a kindness by telling no one about his harsh rejection, and he had since realized that.
It wasn't that he didn't like Y/N. He had always thought she was beautiful, and kind, and there was something interesting about her, a quality he hadn't seen in other women in the clan... but no one really knew her, or cared about her. Her parents weren't particularly important to the clan, and neither was she, and Ao'nung thought, as future Ole'eyktan, he should have someone better.
He had come to realize that he had been stupid. Better wasn't more well-known, more talented, more superficial... better was kind, and caring, and someone his mother thought was a 'nice girl'.
"They are to be mated before Ewya," Tsireya said with a blush. "They don't plan to make a ceremony of it, just the two of them."
Ronal smiled. "Beautiful."
Ao'nung sat, simmering in anger at the chance he had lost, thinking of how Neteyam had almost beat him senseless when he found out how Ao'nung had treated Y/N.
He knew now, he deserved it, and he'd missed his chance.
--
When Ao'nung had told me he could never love me, it had seemed like the end of my life. It made me feel stupid, and worthless, and ugly. I hadn't thought I'd ever recover.
Then, Neteyam breathed new life into me. He didn't have to, but he did, and he kept doing it, every single day since then.
We emerged from the water, Neteyam breathless, chest heaving, my mate before Ewya.
He pulled me into his arms once more, pressing a desperate kiss to my lips, holding my face in his hands, then wrapping his arms around my waist.
"I love you," he whispered over and over between kisses, and I thought I could cry with gratefulness and joy.
"I love you, Ma Neteyam," I replied. I pulled away, just for a moment, to smile at him. "Thank you."
He pushed the wet hair from my face. "My flower," he said with a soft smile, as he so often did.
The sting of rejection was long behind me, replaced by enough joy to last a lifetime.
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capitol lights | peeta mellark
peeta mellark x fem!reader
summary: two nights before the 74th hunger games, you enter peeta's room, both annoyed and scared at what lies ahead of you. in a moment, you realize that peeta can't lose you, and you can't lose him.
cw: mention of thg deaths, spicy angst, slight dom peeta, fem!reader
wc: 1.6k
type: ✶ | ✧
"Peeta?" you knock at his door of the large penthouse, and a faint voice comes from inside.
"Come in," he says.
"Hi, Peeta," you say, your satin nightgown loose against your body and the darkness of the room hiding the tangled mess of hair on your head.
The large screened wall of his room was set to the night sky of the city, the people of the Capitol celebrating loudly outside as he sits on his bed, the blankets rumpled underneath him. His posture slumped and knees spread out from his chest, his head turned to the loudness of the world outside.
"They're pretty happy to watch us die in two days," you state bluntly, crossing your arms and staring in the same way Peeta stared out the window, feeling the fire of hatred grow larger inside you.
You felt his gaze switch to you, and you turned your head to meet his darkly outlined face, the bright white lights outside showing off his barely visible features.
"Of course," he chuckled a light laugh, shaking his head and hanging it between his knees. "Isn't that what we are? Just part of the fun?"
You walked lightly over to the side of his bed, sitting gently on the edge and sinking into the heavy mattress, the rich comfort prying to take over your sleep deprived body.
"Come closer," he says quietly, his head now tilted toward you and arm reaching around your shoulder to pull you closer.
You allow his arm to pull you closer, taking a deep breath as his fingers dig into your side.
"It's not just for the cameras," he whispers quietly, his eyes searching your face for some sort of agreement. "I don't want to be part of this stupid game anymore."
His eyes have become sad in the dark room, the weak light of his eyes you saw moments before has come and gone and you now sit next to the boy from District 12 that will soon become a victim to a cruel game.
"Peeta, I won't let you die, come on now," you say, lifting your hand to caress his warm cheek.
You feel the hurt in your heart, watching the boy in front of you crumble in your hands.
You realize then that losing him would be like losing yourself, though you wish you didn't feel that way. He sees you as prey, but someone that could save his life in the arena.
Nothing more.
A weak smile raises on his lips, the corners of his mouth turned just right.
"Your soul is beautiful," his eyes are now boring into yours, a sudden change of mood has constricted your throat and the noise of the Capitol has gotten louder in your ears, your heartbeat beginning to race.
"Peeta," you say, exasperated, the shock of the moment rising a small smile on your face.
"I won't let you leave me."
As he finishes his sentence, he snakes a rough hand around your waist and pulls you tight to his side.
You're almost on his lap.
You feel the sudden butterflies in your stomach, his gaze is darker, no sign of sadness he had seconds before. You feel the sadness as being a lie, something to get you closer to him, and it suddenly makes you cautious of the way you're feeling.
But, the way he's looking at you brings you into the moment, taking away the critical thoughts and survival instincts screaming at you to pull away. His eyes staring into yours feels like glue, it feels like nothing matters in this world but him, his touch, and the look of total hunger and want written across his face.
Your face is beet red, you know it. You could be the next sun with the heat radiating off your face, the eye contact driving you crazy.
You feel the urge to kiss him, to press your lips so hard against his that you can't let go, to hold your body against his muscular one.
The silence of the room, the Capitol screaming with life outside and the steamy ambiance of the room became overwhelming, the grin on his mouth growing to a sinister smirk.
The nightgown covering your body felt like nothing but a light piece of fabric holding you from him, too vulnerable.
But it feels so right.
It feels so good.
He lifts a light hand to your face and strokes your lip with his thumb, pulling it down and bringing his face to yours, his lips planting so softly on yours.
Though so light, it sends an electrifying shiver through your body, your hands desperately reaching for his shirt to pull yourself on top of his lap.
His leg slides so smoothly under you, sitting you perfectly perched on his lap as he drags away from the light kiss.
He knows what he's done to you.
"I would've kissed you like this sooner if I knew it would've put you in such a good mood, Haymitch would be delighted if you were like this all the time."
His signature smile appears, his perfectly white teeth showing through his lips, a small uplift on one side of his mouth.
"Peeta Mellark," you say, his smile raising one to your face. "You will be the death of me."
"Not literally," he says quietly.
His gaze turns down to your chest, studying the nightgown, then back up to your face.
His large hands slap on to your thighs, making a large clap in the otherwise quiet room, and you damn near strangle him.
You don't even think about the sting on your legs, and the possible handprints on your legs that might appear tomorrow morning. You don't think Haymitch or Effie would be pleased that their tributes are about to eye fuck each other two nights before the games.
You grab for his shirt, feeling the muscle right under it ever so slightly.
You bring your face down to kiss him, and he kisses you with such intensity that your face grows impossibly hotter.
Your body is burning, the feel of his lips so amazing against yours that you almost believe you're dreaming.
The passion of the kiss burns bright in your stomach, and Peeta finally pulls away from you when you're struggling to catch a breath.
The way he stares you down with his eyes darkened, watching over you like a hawk and seeing how you react to his lips and touch shows you a side you've never seen of him.
You can feel his fingers gently probing your thighs, and you watch as he licks a small string of saliva off his lips with his tongue.
He lifts a hand from your body, bringing it to your chin and pulling you closer.
You can't help but let his hand take control of you, and he brings you so close to his face that you can see the wetness of his lips in the dark room.
He kisses you with the lightest touch yet again, to the point where if your eyes were closed, you would barely be able to tell he was so close.
He lays back slowly, the hand on your chin strategically moving down to your hip and dragging all the way around your ribcage to your back, pushing you on top of him.
The spark that his skillful fingers send throughout your body is indescribable.
He presses hard against your lips, taking almost all of the control as you feel your body explode with feelings of lust, love, want, and desperation.
Just as your hand starts to grab at his hip for anything like what he's doing to you, he pulls away from your lips.
His lips are plumper than before, and in the small light of the city outside you can see the light red tint on his cheeks.
Both of his arms go around to the small of your back, resting gently above your hips.
His breathing is heavier now, gaze still boring into yours.
"You suck at kissing," he says, a light chuckle escaping his lips.
"Then teach me," you say, trying to hide the fact you're out of breath.
At this, he places a yet another light kiss on your lips, and you fall to his side and curl into his arms, bringing your knee up to rest on his legs.
You rest your hand on his chest, still catching your breath from the kisses, and start to feel the sleepiness catch up with you.
As your eyes are closing, you finally hear him speak.
"Maybe another night, sweetheart."
୨୧ ---------- ୨୧
As you sit down for breakfast, Haymitch staggers out of his room, and you're unsure if it's from alcohol or no sleep, but you'd rather it be drinking, otherwise he would've heard the time of your life last night.
Peeta was sitting next to you, indulging in bread with butter, he's not phased by what he did to you.
But you definitely remember it, as you fell asleep on his chest and woke up the morning after, sort of forgetting you'd just fallen asleep in Peeta's room, but in the comfort of his muscular arms.
Haymitch sits down with a large skid of the chair, pushing it slightly backwards.
"Time of your life there, sweetheart?" Haymitch says, the smile on his lips growing wide immediately.
You feel your face heat up like it did last night, turning your head to Peeta.
His eyes were on you, the same sinister, cheeky smirk he had written on his face the night before.
"Of course."
The smart-ass reply from Peeta was all Haymitch needed to sit down and enjoy his luscious breakfast.
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#peeta x reader#peeta mellark#peeta#peeta's games#peeta angst#peeta smut#spicy#thg#the hunger games#the hunger games fic#fem!reader#peeta mellark x you#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark imagine#peeta mellark smut#peeta mellark angst#lovekendri
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