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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months ago

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Pairing: Russell Shaw xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary: The last thing that you wanted was to be woken up in the middle of the night by Colter Shaw for a favor, but when he shows up toting a ruggedly handsome man with green eyes you decide to forgive him. Reader is the niece of Velma and Teddi!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ just in case I missed anything. Blood, Cleaning Out A Wound, Mentions of Allergies? Gunshots, Some Cursing, A Bit of Sexual Innuendo, Sexual fantasy/reader has active imagination, Self-deprecating Thoughts/Body Issues (reader), Mentions of Infidelity, Reader Is A Single Mom, Appearance Of Creepy-Jerk Ex Husband, Probably a Poor Description Of What It’s Like To Be A Single Mom (I tried my best, please I do not mean to offend anyone❤️), Russell Shaw might be a little bit OOC. Reader is occasionally described as "curvy."

Song Inspiration: Long As I Can See The Light By Creedence Clearwater Revival

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! This is my first time writing for Russell Shaw, so, please be gentle. 😅

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: I finally watched Tracker… Could you tell? 😂

Sunday nights, in your opinion, were the worst.

It was like the last few moments of freedom before you were thrust into a busy work week, like the last few rays of light before the coming darkness that you barely survived with copious amounts of coffee and bloodied fingertips. Monday always loomed, but never as much as on Sunday nights.

The dull thud of your phone vibrating against your wooden bedside table grates on your ears and pulls you from the sweet precipice of sleep before you can fall into the void.

It felt as if you’d just collapsed into your bed and one look at the alarm clock on your bedside table as you blinked your bleary eyes confirmed it. It was 3:58 am, which meant you had been in bed for exactly three minutes.

You were still covered in chocolate cupcake batter, pink frosting, and rainbow sprinkles from the last six hours you'd spent in the kitchen making gluten free, sugar free, and peanut free cupcakes for a bake sale at your son’s school.

Even though you hadn't volunteered Stephanie Jacobson, or rather the wicked witch of the PTA, had cornered you in the pick-up line on Friday afternoon to remind you of your "duties as a parent" and the coming bake sale to support the building of the new gym. And then she’d handed you a list of student allergies and asked you to create something that was safe for everyone.

Taste be damned.

Why the school needed a new gym you didn't know, but the guilt that rose when Stephanie mentioned your "duties as a parent" was enough to make you say yes to whatever she asked you.

You had enough guilt already about raising your kids without a stable father figure, and the last thing you needed was guilt from a stuck up bitch in the PTA.

Stephanie reminded you of the girls in high school that used to pick at their food, the ones that knew exactly what to say to make you feel like a freak, the ones who dated the football players and spent their Friday nights wearing cheerleading uniforms and waving pom poms, and the ones who basically made everyone else's life a living hell.

Everything about her screamed superior. The flawless way she curled her perfect platinum blonde hair, the stylish clothes she wore than never seemed to have a wrinkle or a mashed carrot smeared on the pants, the supple breasts that she swore were real, a perfectly toned stomach that never seemed to change despite her having a child two months ago, and the easy way she handled all of her three children with a flourish of her left hand that housed a 6 karat diamond ring from her gorgeous husband that was so attentive, perfect, and rich that it made you feel sick to your stomach.

All of which anyone could read on her mommy blog that she'd dubbed "Little Mistakes Make Perfect Lessons," and the same blog that she'd created an empire from.

Fuck, you hated her.

Mostly because despite everything you tried you never had enough time in the day to look as flawless as she did.

Your hair never seemed to be as bouncy or perfectly styled, you never had time to put makeup on, you always had mashed carrot on your pants or some form of cheerio or baby food, as many times as you tried to carve out time for the gym you never seemed to make it, the small ring you'd once wore on your finger was sitting idle in your jewelry box upstairs where it had been for the past year after your husband of six years told you that he met someone else, and your stomach and your breasts… you didn't want to think about that right now.

You had two kids and you weren't going to pretend that it did nothing to your body, any part of your body. And as many times as you saw all the other mothers around you who were proud of the way they looked, you never had their confidence, especially not after the comments that your ex-husband had made each time the two of you finally had some time to be alone together.

But that wasn't to say you hated being a mom, you loved it, wouldn't change it for the world. It was just sometimes you wished you had a little help, that, and you wished that Mondays didn't exist.

You groan as you reach for the phone that still vibrates desperately on your bedside table and flip it over to see who's calling before you answer it.

"Colter, why the hell are you calling me at four am?" You half moan, pulling the comforter up over your head as if that'll make Monday go away.

You'd been close to murder several times, first when you found your husband in your bed with his nineteen year-old secretary, second when your local coffee shop was out of espresso and you did your entire shift at the hospital with no coffee, and Colter Shaw waking you up at almost four in the morning was quickly becoming number three.

"Because I didn't want to wake up Emma or Luke. Can you open the door?" He replies, stating the names of your children, sounding slightly out of breath.

"What door?" You groan again, eyes still shut wishing that this was just a bad dream and Colter wasn't calling you because he needed your help… again.

"The front door. Please, I need you to let me in."

"Why are you here? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? Did you try to call Teddi or Vel-"

"I'll explain when you come open the door."

"By doing that I'd have to get up."

"Please."

You hesitate. Colter didn't usually say please, let alone twice whenever he showed up needing your help.

You'd met him by accident.

Sure your Aunt Teddi had talked about the "rewardist" that she and your Aunt Velma worked with, but you hadn't been expecting to ever meet him. But when Colter got shot on a job and showed up at Teddi and Velma's home you'd helped patch him up. You'd been there picking up your six year old son Luke and your three year old daughter Emma, after work. Teddi and Velma watched them for you when your deadbeat ex Lance couldn't be bothered to give you the support you needed.

Which was all the time despite his continuous arguing that he was in their lives enough and if anything it was your fault that he didn't have more time with them.

Each time he said that it made you want to slam his head in the door of his brand new bright red BMW, the one he'd bought right after you found him in your bedroom plowing his secretary now girlfriend Crystal. Or as you liked to remember her, the girl who still believed that Santa Clause existed and that the U.S government was hiding him from the world.

But Colter had been hurt and it was just fate that you were there at your aunts home to pick up your kids.

Being an ER nurse meant that you knew how to patch Colter up and it wasn't long before he went on his way. That was about four months ago and since then you'd talked to him occasionally when he'd pop by at your aunts home or just to see if you could help him with something.

"Five minutes." You sigh.

This time you crawl out of bed, standing just to the side of it for a second shaking your head to clear the sleep, and grab the long sleeved blue colored duster/robe that was hanging on the back of your bedroom door. Navigating your way down the stairs in the dark as quietly as you can, while half asleep was difficult, but somehow you avoid falling to your death.

Unfortunate, because now you have to go see what Colter wants at freaking 4 am.

The second story home had been you ex-husband's idea, stated that the two of you needed "room to grow" and that the two of you were "investing in your future."

You frown at the thought.

Yeah, room to grow right into your fucking secretary.

As if you needed another blow to your self esteem, but looking at the skinny red-haired goddess that he'd traded you in for that was about as dumb as a rock had been enough to send you so low you might as well be navigating the Marianas Trench in a submarine with a Megalodon chasing after you.

Maybe that means I'd get to be with Jason Stratham.

That thought was welcome. Honestly the thought of any man was a comfort, especially in the dry spell you'd been having since -well- since you'd had Emma three years ago.

Not gonna think about that right now.

The smell of chocolate cupcakes hung heavy in the air as you crossed through the messy living room, wafting out through the open concept kitchen into the space. One look into the kitchen would show enough cupcakes to make anyone salivate, and yes maybe you'd eaten a few before going up to bed, but eating the chocolate didn't count if it was on Sunday night and you could always go to the gym tomorrow…

Yeah. Like that'll happen.

You open the front door. "Alright, somebody better be dying Colter or I swear that I'll-" You stop mid-sentence when you take in the scene on your porch.

Colter is standing there, looking worse for wear. His usual black jacket is gone, he's got a black eye and a scrape along one of his perfect cheekbones, but that's not who you're looking at.

Colter isn't alone.

There's a man leaning heavily on Colter, his muscular right arm is thrown across Colter's shoulders and due to the fact that the man is a little bigger than Colter, he's buckling slightly under his weight. The man is wearing a green army jacket that is soaked around his left shoulder in blood, his dark hair is falling long into his bearded face, and his skin is a few shades paler than it should be. But that doesn't make him any less handsome.

The man still manages to throw you a sly grin, brilliant green eyes shining beneath the strands of his dark hair. "I think you got your wish sweetheart."

"You're not dying Russell." Colter sighs as if he's annoyed. "Hi." He directs at you.

You do feel a little bit bad about saying that now, but you shake it off.

"What the hell happened?" You say as loud as you dare and pull the front door further open so Colter can drag the man, now named "Russell" into your home.

"Shoot out." Colter breathes. "Where do you want him?"

"Kitchen table." You say trying to reach for Russell's left arm to help Colter, but he groans low under his breath and you retract your hand.

"You've got to be a little gentle with me sweetheart." Russell laughs more to himself, but it comes out in a choked sound. "But you can have me wherever you want."

"Colter, he needs to go to the hospital." You say, following behind them, keeping your voice down. "I don't think that I can-"

"Can't, they'll report it. They have to report all gunshots, you know that." Colter grunts, helping Russell lay back on the large kitchen table. "Why are there so many cupcakes in here?"

"Bake sale at Luke’s school." You clip while waving a hand and looking down at Russell who is laying on the kitchen table.

You can't deny that he's attractive, even in this condition. Russell has the perfect ruggedly handsome features that would make the smartest girl stupid and combined with the piercing green eyes that shine beneath the hair that's fallen forward into his face, even you could see yourself being susceptible to his charm.

Fuck.

Deep down you know that Colter is right, that if he did go to the hospital they'd be required to report it and that meant police and an official report. You figured that it was the last thing that Colter wanted.

Then again the guy has so many marks on his record already. You eye the man on your kitchen table. Russell kinda looks like he would have a few marks too.

"Don't want who did this to find him." Colter clarifies.

"So instead you brought him to my house where my children are?" You cross your arms over your chest.

The fear that whatever Colter and Russell had stumbled upon following behind them to your home made a cold trickle of fear race down your spine.

"We weren't followed." Colter soothes. "I promise I'd never do that to you. And I've got Bobby doing a trace to make sure they don't come close."

He actually looks a little hurt that you'd think that of him. Colter was a lot of things, but uncaring was not one of them.

You relax, but don't apologize despite the guilt swimming in your gut. "Fine. Give me a second." You leave the room to find the first aid kit in the hall closet, the same one that you'd made for your aunts to keep at their house if Colter showed up in the middle of the night with this exact problem. You'd even been involved enough to show your aunts how to deal with a gunshot wound if you weren't there.

When you get back in the room, Colter is removing Russell's jacket, and Russell grits his teeth when it jostles his left arm.

You set down the kit and reach for the bottom of Russell's shirt to pull it up off him, and he chuckles.

"Aren't you going to buy me a drink first? Better yet we could have a few bottles of my home brew-"

"She's not going to help you, if you annoy her." Colter interrupts.

"I told you that I didn't need anyone's help, I'm perfectly fine- ow!" Russell exclaims when you accidentally yank the shirt over his left arm. "Your bedside manner is a little lacking." He grunts, but his eyes still twinkle with humor.

"Too bad. I'm tired and I've been making chocolate cupcakes for the past six hours, so you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."

"What?" Russell grins at the rhyme that you often tell your children.

You shake your head, and drop your eyes to his chest. There are two perfect circles on his right upper pectoral muscle, but not high enough to reach the collarbone and one in his left bicep where blood seeps around the bullets, but truthfully you're trying not to notice how perfectly muscular he is. There are dark splashes of tattoos against his skin, swirling around other scars that resemble slashes and bullet wounds that you wish to drag your fingertips across to study each mark, to memorize each one beneath the soft pads of your fingers.

How is he just as beautiful covered in blood?

You clear your throat to focus back at the task at hand, examining the current wounds. "Okay. The good news is that the one on your arm is through and through, but these two," Your hand hovers over the two on his right upper chest. "I've got to extract the bullets. Which means that this is going to hurt."

"Been through worse sweetheart."

Your eyes scan the rest of his scarred muscular chest thoughtfully. "Yeah, you have." You murmur it more to yourself than to Russell, but he still grins.

Colter's phone rings shrilly in the kitchen and he groans. "One second. Try not to make her want to kill you Rus."

"No promises little bro."

Oh, so this is Colter's brother.

You'd heard little bits and pieces about Colter's brother, mostly second hand from your Aunt Velma. One of the best things about going over to Teddi and her home was sitting in the living room and hearing Velma gossip about everything she heard from Teddi while drinking wine and eating fancy cheese that you could never afford.

Russell Shaw was no exception.

"Alone at last." Russell says with a wink. "I didn't think he'd ever leave."

"I'm going to get some water to clean these with." You reply, ignoring him, but when you turn away the end of your mouth quirks up into a smile.

He wasn't what you were expecting based on all the rumors that you'd heard from both of your aunts, in fact, you thought he was kind of charming.

You roll up your sleeves and wash your hands before turning back to Russell. He's sitting up on your kitchen table, hands braced on his sides, with his legs spread wide apart. He doesn’t look like someone with three gunshot wounds, and you wonder if this is a regular day for him. Colter certainly didn't get shot that much.

"So are you a rewardist too?" You ask standing between his legs and trying not to focus on the warmth of his breath against your collar bone.

"Naw. I work for a private security contractor." He breezes.

"Oh." You swallow, looking up into his green eyes for a minute. They're even more beautiful up close, green with flecks of gold around the iris that flicker in the light like stars. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

"You don't gotta ask me that sweetheart, the answer will always be yes."

You flush and brace your hand on his left shoulder, before pouring water into the two wounds on the right side of his chest, trying to clean them the best you can before you extract what's left of the bullets. His skin is warm and smooth beneath the palm of your hand and it's difficult to focus.

Just pretend you're in the hospital and you're treating a patient. You take in a shallow breath. He's just a patient and he's not that good looking.

You know you're lying to yourself, but you were trying your best. It probably didn’t help given the current dry spell you were in or the fact that he even smelled good. Something like gunpowder, leather, and a hint of something spicy that you bet was his shampoo. It prickled under your nose, and activated something in the back of your mind that was having a hard time being quiet. You hadn't been this close to a man you found attractive in a long time.

"Okay. This is going to hurt." You say as you look through the small medical kit that you'd grabbed from the hall closet for the tweezers, trying to calm the thudding of your heart.

"It's okay." Russell replies. "Do what you have to baby. I won't stop you."

You weren't prepared for the warmth that bloomed in the pit of your stomach when he called you baby in the wonderfully rough rumble of his voice.

A voice like that could convince me to jump into a pit filled with alligators with no regrets. Fuck. I'd bet that a voice like that could make me- FOCUS. I will focus. He is Colter's brother and he just got shot. He doesn't need you lusting over him.

Extracting the bullets is as painful for you as it is for him. Watching the way his face scrunches up in pain hurts you more than you thought it would. His hands grip the rim of the wooden kitchen table so hard that they're turning white, and Russell's jaw is clenched so tight that you're afraid that it's going to snap.

You squeeze his left shoulder to give him some comfort. "Almost done." You murmur, searching for the second bullet.

Russell lets out a breath when you finally fish out the other bullet and drop it into an empty cup with a resounding "ping" just as Colter walks back into the room looking worried.

"What?" Russell asks him, looking over your head at his brother.

"That was Bobby. He said that the trace we put on the phone just got a hit a few miles north of here." Colter states. "I'm gonna go check it out."

"Alright, I'll come with." Russell starts to get up, but you push him back with your right hand that you've still got pressed against his left shoulder. Difficult given the fact that he was almost twice the size of you and broader than anyone you'd ever seen. And also difficult because of the way you were trying to ignore how good it felt to feel the pull of his muscles beneath your hand.

"No. You still need stitches and I haven't finished patching you up." You clear your throat, but it still sounds a little hoarse.

"Baby as much as I like you ordering me around-“

"It's alright Russell, I've got this. Just stay here and let her take care of you." Colter interrupts.

Russell frowns at his younger brother. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Colter rolls his eyes. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few hours to pick you up." He turns to look at you. "I'm sorry that we woke you up-"

"It's okay." You shrug. "But you owe me."

"Just add it to my bill." Colter smirks.

Honestly, you weren't as angry as you were when you answered the phone. Something about Russell was different and you didn’t mind helping him at all.

He wasn't like anyone that you had ever met, certainly not in the circles you ran with.

All the dads from your mom friends were blue and white collar workers who worked in the big office buildings downtown, wore suits to work and were more straight-laced, but there was something refreshing about Russell.

He was mysterious, sexy, and his had this aura of self-resilience and survival that you found immensely attractive. Especially when compared to your ex, who couldn't survive without his mocha-caramel double shot latte or wifi.

Russell was the exact opposite of him and you found yourself wanting to know more. More about the almost beautiful scars that curved over his muscular body, more about each tattoo that he’d chosen, and more about him.

He seemed like the kind of guy that hid his trauma under easy smiles and jokes, the kind of person that shrugged off anything that seemed remotely serious with a well placed joke, but you could feel that there was something deeper beneath that he didn’t allow many to see.

And you wanted him to show you.

You weren't sure where any of this was coming from. Russell probably was about as stable and consistent as his brother, and you liked consistency. Spontaneity and surprises tended to make you anxious. But not with Russell.

Though the stability might have been an issue. You were a single working mother, which meant that you didn't want to introduce some random guy into your children's life just to have them get attached and him to bail with no strings attached and-

Calm down. You just met the guy, it's not like he's asking you out on a date.

When Colter leaves and after you’ve cleaned around the wounds the best you can with some alcohol, you realize just how quiet it is in your kitchen.

“You know, I think I’ve seen you before.” Russell says breaking the silence while you search for a needle and thread in the medical kit.

“Really? Where?" You ask looking up.

“In my dreams.”

“Wow." You smile at him. "That line is pretty cheesy."

You shift your right hand over to begin to sew up the wounds on his chest. Russell doesn't even wince when you push the needle through, almost as if he didn't notice it at all.

It made sense, given how many scars and tattoos covered his body. You remember what he said about "being through worse" and it made you feel bad for him, to worry about him. Odd given the fact that the two of you had just met.

"Well I'm a little distracted at the moment sweetheart. It's not often that I get such a beautiful woman to take care of me."

"I thought you didn't need my help?" You smirk.

"Maybe I did." He admits sheepishly.

"Mhmm."

"So how do you know my brother?"

“Why?”

“Trying to see if you’re off limits or not.” Russell tilts his head to the side and flashes a charming smile.

You laugh at his boldness. You’d never met someone so upfront before, it was refreshing. Most of the men you’d meet occasionally at work tended to beat around the bush and made you want to give them a map to get to the point. "We met when he got shot a few months ago."

"Oh so the two of you aren't-" He wiggles his eyebrows and you snort.

"No."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I was just wondering why not?"

"What?"

"Well, you're gorgeous, you're smart, and you're not scared of blood or gunshots. Colter really seems to be dropping the ball."

"Colter doesn't exactly have a stable lifestyle. And I'm kind of complicated."

You were, there wasn't any way around it.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I've got two kids."

Russell blinks in surprise. "Really?"

"Mhmm." You hum continuing your task, not phased by the blood at all.

His eyes trace your figure for a minute, making a shiver travel down your spine. It was the first time in a long time that you were okay with someone looking at you like that and to be honest, the first time that you wanted someone to look at you like that in a while.

After everything that happened with your ex-husband and his secretary you were more inclined to sit on your couch with a glass of wine and read away your troubles with a steamy romance novel that did more for you than any of your ex-husband's attempts to satisfy you. It also didn't help that you had no interest in going out with your few friends and meeting someone at a club who probably would never call you again and probably wouldn't be as enthusiastic to learn that you were a mom.

You'd only been on one date since you'd broken it off with your husband with your aunts accountant Jerry, and the date stuttered to a halt when he learned you had two children and weren't interested in having an open relationship.

"I wouldn't have guessed that."

“Really? The mountain of chocolate cupcakes wasn’t a clue?” You arch an eyebrow with a smirk, while gently tying off the string to close the first wound before moving on to the second.

“I thought you just really liked baking. And I’m okay with coming home every night to a mountain of chocolate cupcakes if it means you’re there too.” He winks.

“Not sure you want any of those.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’re gluten free, sugar free, and nut free.”

The horrified look on Russell’s face makes you feel like you’d just told him that hot dogs do in fact contain trace amounts of dog.

“Why on earth would you make them like that?! They're not even cupcakes anymore!" He exclaims.

You found it funny that he seemed more upset over the mutilation of the chocolate cupcakes than over being shot.

Maybe he's always like this?

"I know. I'm a monster." You sigh. "But Stephanie Jacobson said I had to." You let out a frustrated sigh with her name.

Bringing anything other than what she asked for was a suicide mission. The last person who did that was Gale Smith in the great Fourth of July Cook-out calamity of 2021. In Gale's defense, no one though that the bushes would catch fire so fast, but Stephanie had a memory like an elephant so Gale decided to transfer her children to the school one town over. The last thing you wanted was for your name to go down in history for the Cupcake Catastrophe of 2024.

Russell leans forward and lowers his voice like it's a secret. “Is Stephanie your imaginary friend?”

“No!” You laugh. “She’s this other mom at my son’s school who said I wasn’t living up to my ‘duties as a parent’ and that I needed to ‘participate.’”

"She sounds great."

"Oh yeah, we're practically best friends." You continue to work on the other wounds in the silence that follows.

"I bet you're a good mom." Russell says watching you with an unreadable expression. He's leaning a little bit towards you still, making the smell gunmetal, leather, spice, and just a hint of mint come through the space between the two of you.

Damn he smells really good.

"Uh-huh. You've known me for ten minutes and you haven't seen me with my children-"

"I can tell."

"Is that your superpower or something?" You reach for a bandage to lay over the wound in his chest smiling to yourself. "All the other useful superpowers like being bulletproof got taken?"

"I don't think it's useless if it makes you smile like that when I say it, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick upwards to Russell's face. His green eyes are shining in the light of your kitchen, his dark hair still hanging over his forehead, and he is still just as ridiculously handsome as he was the moment Colter dragged him through your front door. You don’t remember why you were so mad at Colter anymore.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too smooth for your own good?" You raise your eyebrow.

"No ma'am." Russell cracks an even wider smile and it makes you loose all feeling in your legs. He was just so effortlessly handsome that it made you want to do something stupid, like have sex with him on top of the same kitchen table that you serve blueberry pancakes to your children.

"Hmm." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Well, now you know and maybe now that you're aware, it could prevent you from getting shot."

"Are you saying I got shot because I'm too smooth?"

"Maybe."

"Because usually it has a different effect."

"Huh. Well in that case, maybe try using some of that to smooth things over and you'd avoid getting shot." You begin to wrap another fresh bandage around the bullet wound on his arm, bracing your free hand against his chest, trying to ignore the way his skin is warm and chiseled beneath your palm.

He had the kind of body that you'd never imagined actually existed. Russell Shaw looked like he walked out one of the romance novels you loved so much.

Hell, they should use pictures of him to make the book covers.

"I'll remember that next time." Russell pauses. "But then it means I wouldn’t get shot and I wouldn't get to have you patch me up."

"I guess not."

You didn't think that you'd smiled as much as you had in the past twenty minutes with him than you had your entire five year marriage. Not to mention that it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't trying to convince you why they should be allowed to have a cookie before dinner.

A charged silence passes through the air between the two of you, his eyes locked on yours sending goosebumps over your skin. You weren't sure if anyone had ever looked at you like that before. You'd noticed that most gave you the obligatory skate over, but Russell didn't. He looked at you as if he was studying you as if he were genuinely curious to know more.

Your eyes trace his broad shoulders, toned abdomen, and muscular arms, noting that he's the kind of strong and broad that was made to handle someone a little more curvy like you. And you'd be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about it more than once since Russell came through your front door.

You felt your mind sink into the fantasy of Russell pining you to the kitchen table and feeling the warmth of his rough hands against your body-

Snap out of it. The guy is bleeding, he got shot. He needs to rest.

"I think you'll survive." You smile pulling back from him to clear your head. It was much easier when you couldn't smell him as strongly. "And if Colter isn't going to be back for a few hours you can crash on the couch. It's not the most comfortable but-"

"I'm sure it's fine." Russell shrugs and stands from your kitchen table.

You try and fail to ignore how his muscles pull with the movement as he reaches for his shirt and you step forward to help him put it on, knowing that it might hurt with his injury. "Okay." You clear your throat, that has become thick all of a sudden. "And if you're hungry I've got plenty of cupcakes-"

"Please don't call them that. They're an disgrace to the cupcake name."

"Yeah, but the ones in the microwave are actually cupcakes. I had to make a few that were edible." You gesture with your hand and laugh at how quickly Russell goes to get one.

He doesn’t even bother to pull away the wrapping before he takes a bite and he audibly moans. Russell looks at you awestruck. "Holy shit, you made this? Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up." You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm serious, this cupcake is my reason to keep living. Here I thought putting sriracha on French fries was the height of cuisine, but damn."

You could feel yourself blush bright red at his compliment. You weren't used to a man going out of his way to compliment you on something other than how you looked, but everything about Russell Shaw was refreshing and nothing like you expected.

"Thank you." You wait another second, watching him eat more of the cupcake and smash icing and flecks of chocolate over his chin. You laugh at him and hand him a paper towel. "You're worse than my three year old."

"Your three year old is a lucky kid, if she’s got a mom like you to make stuff like this for her."

It's like he wants me to fall in love with him. How can someone look so unbelievably cute and sexy while covered in chocolate cupcake?

Don't answer that.

"Sometimes I think I'm the lucky one. I love my kids-" You say before you can stop yourself. You hesitate afraid that it would send Russell for the hills when you brought up the fact that you loved your children.

"Yeah?" Russell's smile brightens as he wipes his face with the napkin.

"Yeah." You blink mildly shocked. Of all the people in the world to talk about your children with, you never expected someone like Russell Shaw. “I do."

Again he was surprising you, and talking to him was just so refreshing and it made you feel like your head had finally cleared, like your chest was lighter and you could actually talk to someone for real without putting out this together image of yourself you thought you had to when inside you were crumbling from the overbearing expectations of the people around you.

The silence is back, filling the kitchen with a palpable energy that you wonder if Russell can feel, but you shake it off.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning. It was nice to meet you Russell, but I'm sorry that you got shot." You smile.

"I'm not." Russell smiles. "I got to meet you."

"Alright Casanova, I need to go to bed, because my kids will wake me up in about two hours." You frown over at the couch. "There's a pillow and a blanket down the hall in the bathroom closet." You gesture with one hand. "I'll see you in the morning." You repeat because you're not too sure what to say.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

You turn and walk up the stairs to your bedroom, feeling the thin blue robe swishing around your ankles as you do.

And as you fall into your bed all you can think about as you start to drift is the ruggedly handsome man downstairs, with the brilliant green eyes that crinkle with his smile, and the large hands rough from hard work, that seems to be more than what meets the eye.

The alarm clock on your bedside table might as well be employed by the devil for waking you up and the idea of smashing it to bits with the heavy metal table lamp that sits beside it crosses your mind. You weren't sure how many hours you'd gotten in, only that they weren't enough, and you were in desperate need of coffee.

You roll over on your back, looking up at your ceiling as you blink your eyes open, following the familiar sweeps of the paint brush that were left behind.

The memory of the night's events come back in full color and you stiffen remembering exactly why you'd gone to bed so late. Images of last night flash through your mind. Colter dragging a bloodied Russell through your front door, Russell sitting on your kitchen table looking much too attractive covered in blood, him flirting with you with a wide smile that made you feel warm from the inside out…

Oh fuck he's still on my couch. How am I going to explain that to my kids?

You dress in a flash and stumble down the stairs as quickly as you can, tripping and falling into the living room, but when you look you realize that Russell isn't on the couch. The pillow and brightly colored quilted blanket he used are neatly folded on one of the plush cushions, but he's nowhere to be found.

I guess Colter came to get him.

You weren't expecting the wave of disappointment that comes with that realization, but as you turn to go back up the stairs to ready yourself for the day, you hear your daughter’s voice.

"Mommy!" She says. "Look! Rus is making pancakes."

What?

You turn to investigate your spacious kitchen. It was still covered in an alarming amount of cupcakes, but that’s not what’s surprising, what’s surprising is Russell, standing at your crowded stove with a spatula in his hand, sliding a perfectly golden brown pancake around in the bottom of a pan.

You blink your eyes to make sure that you’re not imagining it and make sure that you’re not asleep.

"Hey gorgeous." Russell flashes a wide grin. "How'd you sleep?"

"Um-" You glance at where your daughter is sitting with your son, both eating stacks of pancakes at your kitchen table, the same kitchen table that you were fantasizing about Russell and you-

Nope. Not going there.

Honestly, any fantasy you had about him was blown away by the sight of him standing in your kitchen making pancakes for your children. Something so domestically wonderful that turned you on even more than the image of him shirtless sitting on your kitchen table.

This was something even your husband refused to do, cook. Any day that you tried to get him to, he'd said that it was your "job." And here Russell was standing in your kitchen looking even more effortlessly gorgeous cooking for your family without being asked.

"I sleep good. How did you sleep?" You ask taking a hesitant step towards him.

"Good. Better than I have in a bit actually." He turns back to the pan and flicks his wrist, flipping the pancake inside.

Emma claps happily and Luke watches Russell with a look of absolute awe on his face, while you try not to have impure thoughts about Russell in front of your children.

"You didn't have to make breakfast-"

"I did." He plates the pancake and holds it out to you. "I wanted to thank you for patching me up."

"It wasn't a big deal." You shrug, but take the pancake from the plate, rolling it up like a taco before you take a bite.

Russell cocks his head to the side studying you for a moment. "It was to me." His green eyes are just as hypnotic today as they were last night, tracing over your body in a way that makes pins and needles tickle over your skin. "Plus, wanted to make the kids something that wasn't gluten free, nut free, and sugar free. Emma sure can put away some pancakes."

It was odd to see someone so eager to make himself comfortable in your house, especially a man you barely knew and who you owed absolutely nothing to. Not to mention that Russell genuinely seemed happy to be making breakfast for your children as if he belonged there.

It was so different from every other man that you'd ever met, and you wanted to get used to it. You wanted to get used to having a man around again, to having Russell in your home and in your life. You'd never been spontaneous or wanted to jump headfirst without looking at the pros and cons, but watching Russell standing at your stove, with the sunlight coming through the windows behind him and illuminating his broad shoulders and sifting through his dark hair, you saw absolutely no downside.

"Yeah she's always had a good appetite."

"Hope she doesn't lose that. I hate it when women don't eat." Russell shrugs his shoulders and goes back to make a pancake for himself. "Plus Luke needs to bulk up. He said his dad is going to sign him up for baseball."

You stiffen at the mention of your ex, not sure if you should supply the information, or if you should let it slide. Russell's eyes flick down at your left hand for a half-second, so quickly you could have missed it, but you understood what he was doing.

"He's my ex-husband." You murmur low enough so only Russell could hear.

"Good." Russell replies with a knowing smirk. "Means that I don’t have any competition."

You roll your eyes at his reaction and walk over to where your children are eating. Luke is covered in maple syrup as per usual. He had always been a messy eater, but because he insisted on having his hair cropped short, it never seemed to be too much of a problem.

Just as Emma looks like your ex-husband, Lance, Luke looks like you. He has the same eyes and same colored hair, but he'd always been a little short for his age. Lance usually picked at him for that, but you didn't know what Lance was expecting, Luke was six years old, he'd grow!

"Good pancakes?" You ask, trying to wipe at his face with a napkin but he pulls away with an exclaimed "Mom!"

"What? You're covered in syrup." You laugh, raising the napkin again, but Luke dodges your hand.

"Mom!" Luke says again.

"Alright, fine. But go get dressed, your dad will be here to pick you up any minute." You say, urging him with a hand against his shoulder.

Today Lance was taking Luke to school and picking him up after for a baseball game, before staying with him at his apartment. You’d told your Aunt Teddi and your Aunt Velma that you'd help them plant a garden today, and Emma had been looking forward to it as much as you had.

Velma had been talking about it all through last week, and you’d gotten the day off specifically off for it. Emma was also excited about it because Teddi had bought flowers specifically for butterflies and your daughter loved them more than life itself.

You were looking forward to working out in the sun, feeling the healing rays against your skin, listening to the sounds of the world outside your aunts familiar home soothe you, play with the dogs for a little bit, and finally go inside for a few glasses of wine while Velma, Teddi, and you talked about the book of the month. Book club nights were especially special for Emma as well. Velma always poured Emma's apple juice into a plastic pink wine glass that she'd bought for Emma so she could feel included.

This book had been really good and you couldn't wait to share what you'd thought while eating expensive cheese and cupcakes and while the dogs circled below like raptors.

You loved being at their home. It was always such a comfort to be somewhere where you felt that you could be yourself especially after Lance left you. Your mother had died when you were a kid and your dad had never been equipped to handle things like that so your Aunt Teddi had picked up the slack in your early years and now after she'd married Velma, you had another person in your life who supported you and made you feel like you could be yourself. Both of them had been furious when they learned about what Lance had done and sat with you while you cried into a box of tissues.

It had been difficult to talk them both out of killing Lance. Surprising since your Aunt Teddi was usually the voice of reason.

Luke sighs, but listens to you, getting up from the table to make his way upstairs. You can hear his footsteps as he walks down the hallway above and into his room.

Despite his reluctance, he was looking forward to today as well. Sometimes you thought that he felt left out when you all went over to your aunts house. You knew that Luke longed for the attention of his father, and something broke inside of you each time your ex-husband made him feel forgotten.

You turn to look at your daughter. "Good pancakes?"

"Yes!"

"Did you tell Russell thank you?"

"Thank you Rus!" She sing-songs with a wide smile, before moving her plastic fork back into the pile enthusiastically.

"You're welcome sweetheart." Russell says from the stove, picking up the pancake in the skillet bare handed before he puts a generous stripe of maple syrup along the inside and rolls it up just like you did. "Do you want another one?" His gaze turns to you, warm and open.

Fuck, why is he so damn attractive?

"No I'm-"

The knock on the front door interupts your answer signifying the arrival of Lance. When he'd moved out of the house you'd changed all the locks and then refused to give him a key. Something that he'd pouted and stomped about worse than your toddler, but you'd held firm. You didn't want him in your house and you definitely didn't want her in your house either.

"Daddy!" Emma squeals and before you can stop her, she leaps from her chair like she'd been shot from a cannon and runs down the front hallway to open the door for your ex.

You sigh out a breath to prepare yourself for what comes next. Talking to Lance was always tense and as much as you tried to be civil, Lance didn't. He didn't pull punches, and often lacked the common decency that everyone else had.

Russell's studying you again, his easy smile slipping into a frown when he notes the change in your attitude.

"Stay here. This shouldn't take long." You force a smile, but it lacks the enthusiasm you’d had whenever you talked to Russell before.

Sometimes just the thought of your ex took the energy out of you, as if you were on a space ship and all the air got sucked out into the cold silent vacuum.

Lance is standing on the front step hugging your daughter with one hand while the other holds his phone behind her head, his gaze intently on the screen while Emma chatters in his ear. He's not paying attention though. He never was and never did.

His black hair is slicked back over his head and cropped shorter than the last time you saw him. Now it barely touches his collar but hangs long over the top of his head. His brown eyes glint an amber in the light of the sun, and he’s wearing a tailored blue suit with a dark patterned tie.

“Hey.” Lance clips to you as he stands, releasing Emma who is still trying to talk to him, but he ignores her.

You grind your teeth together. “Hi.”

He sighs audibly sensing the tension, as if it’s you that’s done something wrong.

“Emma, why don’t you go finish your pancakes?” You smile down at your daughter and pat her on the head. “We’ve got to go soon.”

“Okay! Bye daddy!”

“That’s nice honey.” He says absentmindedly, still typing furiously on his phone, while Emma rushes back down the hallway and into the kitchen, that is hidden from view of the front door.

“You know you could put the phone down for once. The world won’t implode if you wait a few seconds to answer a text.” You say.

“Don’t start.” Lance rolls his eyes.

The BMW idling at the curb catches in the early morning sunlight and you see a flash of red-hair. Crystal is in the passenger seat, her auburn hair piled on top of her head effortlessly, her lips painted a dark colored red, there’s a pair of heart shaped sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s wearing black dress low cut enough that her ample breasts spill out through the wide V.

She peers at you from where she sits in the car, her phone perched in her lap, and you watch her dark colored lips twitch into a knowing smirk when she catches you looking at her.

Each time you saw her was like taking a punch to the gut. It made you pull your oversized sweater a little tighter over your chest self-consciously.

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying that you should pay more attention to-“ You begin, but Lance interrupts.

“I don’t want to do this with you. I have a deposition due today and I have to finish sending this email.” He snaps.

“Fine.” You sigh, trying to remain calm. You hated when he did this, when he made it seem like no one and nothing else was important except his job. “Luke is getting ready. I have to box up these cupcakes for a bake sale at the school. All you have to do is drop them off and tell-“

“Oh sorry babe. Can’t do the thing today.”

You bristled when he called you babe. You weren't his, not after everything the two of you had been through.

“What do you mean you can’t do the ‘thing’ today?” You plant your hands on your hips trying to comprehend what he's saying.

“With the kid. Sorry. Crystal made plans for us at some fancy restaurant or whatever. Supposed to be the best in the city-“

“What?”

“I can’t take the kid today.” He repeats slowly, this time looking up, but he doesn’t bother to apologize, and his gaze barely meets yours before he drops his eyes back to the hand clutched in his perfectly manicured fingers.

“But you promised Luke that you were going to take him to a baseball game today after school. That he was going to get to spend the night with you and-“

“Sorry.” The apology isn’t sincere and you know it, despite Lance’s attempts to drop his smile into a sympathetic frown. It comes across as more condescending.

Crystal honks the horn of the car as if to tell Lance to hurry up, and it takes a very large amount of effort for you not to flip her the bird.

“No. Luke has been looking forward to this all week! Not to mention I had to ask off for today specifically-“

“And I’ll apologize to him too.” Lance goes back to typing something on his phone. “This dinner means a lot to Crystal-“

“I don’t give two shits what means a lot to that red-haired bimbo!” You snap, the rage and frustration building in your chest. “You made a promise to your son to take him to a baseball game and actually spend time with him and that’s exactly what you’re going to do!”

Lance looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing. “You always fucking do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pick a fight.”

“I am not picking a fight Lance. All you’ve done since you’ve shown up here is ignore your daughter and tell me that you’re backing out of the one thing I’ve asked you to do in months!”

“I told you that I have a meeting and a deposition due today! Damn it, what do you want from me? To quit my big job that pays for this house?” He steps forward towering over you. Lance was taller than you, but he had always been lanky and thin, unable to gain too much weight or muscle at a time. “Why do you find the need to make me feel like my life isn’t important?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything about your life! I’m talking about our son’s life-“ You shout incredulous.

“This is exactly why I got out when I did. Because you always try to control every little thing. You’re so damn OCD that if I did one microscopic thing that wasn’t apart of your ‘special plans’ you’d spontaneously combust! You never just shut your big mouth and let me just fucking live my life! You never let me feel like a man! And Crystal understands-“

“Crystal can’t even understand that pickles were once cucumbers! I doubt she can understand whatever warped reality you’re living in Lance.” You spit. “But I’m sorry that me asking you to be a part of our children’s lives is too much for you. That it’s such a chore for you to make them happy.” The frustrated tears had begun to burn against your eyes.

You didn’t know why you expected anything different. Lance had been doing this since your son was born, putting his career above everything else, working late, schmoozing whoever he could, being so damn selfish that he was willing to throw everything the two of you built together for the woman sitting in the car on the curb watching the two of you go at it with a sick satisfaction.

“Don’t fucking do that!” Lance roars and this time he slams his hand against the door frame so roughly that the glass inside shakes and you flinch. “I don’t know why I even try to talk to you. So why don’t you get your big ass up those stairs and-“

“Is there a problem?” Russell’s voice interrupts whatever Lance was going to say, his body sliding into the space behind you so suddenly that you didn’t hear him walk up.

But it felt good for him to be there, to feel the warmth of his body through the air at your back.

He places his hand on the door to open it up a little wider and to seem a bit more intimidating. Russell is easily taller and broader than Lance.

Lance looks up at him confused, puffing out his chest to look more intimidating. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t use that kind of language around the kids-“ Russell says with a tight lipped smile.

“They’re my fucking kids. Don’t tell me how to talk.” Lance’s gaze flicks to you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“I’m Russell.” He replies before you can. “And if you know what’s good for you I’d take a few steps back from her.” Russell’s large hand gently presses against your waist, a comforting weight that you weren’t expecting, but welcome, nonetheless.

It made you feel a little bit bolder.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Lance snarls. “Is this your boyfriend? Really? You finally decided to go out with someone and that’s who you pick?”

“Look buddy, if you keep talking to her that way, we’re going to have a problem.” Russell sighs. “And I don’t want to get any blood on your fancy suit.”

“I’m not your buddy. And trust me she’s not worth the fight.” Lance sneers at you, giving you a once over that makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Russell’s jaw clenches tight and he takes a step forward, but you hold out your arm to stop him.

“He’s not my boyfriend and even if he was, it’s none of your business who I date!” You snap back.

Lance only shakes his head, ignoring what you’ve said. “I’m serious pal you don’t want to get involved with her. She’s fucking crazy, not to mention nothing special when it comes to se-“

The next words are lost in the sound of Russell’s fist landing against Lance’s face, the sharp crack followed by the inhuman scream of Crystal at the car. Lance stumbles back off the front step clutching a hand to his face while blood streams through his pinched fingers and over his chin.

“I warned you. Now if you keep talking, I'll make your eyes match.” Russell growls, flexing his hand.

I hope he didn’t rip his stitches.

“You son of a bitch.” Lance sputters, his hand still holding his broken nose. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

“It’s worth it, if it shuts you up.” He replies unfazed.

Lance’s eyes narrow with hate as he looks at you one more time, before stumbling back to his car where Crystal has begun to wail over the amount of blood coming from his nose. The car squeals down the street and out of sight, leaving Russell and you standing on your front porch. Thankfully Emma was still in the kitchen eating her pancakes and Luke was upstairs, you didn't want either of them to see Russell punch their dad.

But that didn't mean that you wouldn't mind seeing it again.

You groaned when you thought about your son. You didn’t know how on earth you were going to explain to him why his dad wasn’t going to pick him up or take him to the game.

But at the same time there was a sickening amount of pleasure that bubbled beneath the surface at the thought of Russell breaking Lance’s nose.

“Are you okay?” Russell asks turning to look at you. There’s anger still simmering beneath the surface. You’d never seen him angry in all the time he’d stayed with you. All you’d seen was the funny, easy going, guy with the gorgeous smile, but to see him like this and especially to see him angry over what had just happened…

Just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive.

“Yeah. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize for that asshole. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” Russell hesitates. “Does he always talk to you like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn, should have knocked a few teeth out too. He’s got to learn how to speak to a lady, especially one as beautiful as you.”

You felt your cheeks flush. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful and before you can stop yourself you say:

“I don’t think you’re too bad looking yourself.”

“Oh I know. You couldn’t keep your hands off me last night.” Russell’s grin makes you smile and roll your eyes at him.

Again you’re struck by how charming he is and how kind. He didn’t have to do any of the things he’d done today, but he did anyway. He didn’t have to make breakfast for your children, he didn’t have to step in when your ex-husband got mouthy, and he didn’t have to punch Lance in the face, but Russell had.

He'd done more for you in the past few hours than your husband had done in the six years you'd been married to him.

Behind where Russell's standing, Colter’s truck pulls up to idle on the curb in the same place that the BMW had been sitting moments ago, and you raise a hand in a half-wave to greet him. Colter shoots you a grin and waves back.

“Guess my ride’s here.” Russell says glancing back at his brother over his shoulder before he looks back at you.

“Seems so.” You nod. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check your stitches for you one more time before you go? I mean you probably ripped them when you punched Lance."

“Sounds like you just want to catch another peak of me without my shirt on.” Russell laughs, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and hit him on the arm.

“Ow.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Maybe.” He’s studying you again, the sunlight turning his hair a honeyed brown and his eyes into a sharp jade. The light catches his broad shoulders and traces along his strong jaw that is covered in a healthy amount of stubble that makes him look rugged and more handsome than any man you’d ever met.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “It was nice to meet you Russell. And again, I'm sorry that you got shot."

Russell shrugs. “It was worth it. I got to meet you and I got to punch that asshole in the face so win-win.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did.” Russell’s jaw tightens. “You didn’t deserve any of the things he was saying about you or about the kids.”

“True.” You hesitate.

Should I ask him for his number or is that too forward?

“I’ll see you around.” Russell smiles at you one more time before making his way to his brother’s car, just as Emma joins you on the front step.

“Did daddy leave?” She sounds sad.

“Yeah. He did.” You take her small hand in yours.

“But why does Russell have to go too?” She whines.

“Because he’s going home.”

You felt a twinge in your chest watching him get into the car, knowing that you probably would never see him ever again. It made you sad to know that. You'd been interested in him and you thought he was interested in you, but he hadn't asked for your number.

Maybe he's flirty and charming with everyone.

You hide the frown that comes with that thought. Emma waves goodbye with her freehand, and Russell smiles from the passenger seat, waving back at your daughter, before he raises his gaze to yours again and winks.

Or maybe not.

When you go back inside the house, Luke is still upstairs, and instead of going up to tell him about his father, you turn to go back into your kitchen to clean up. As you near the stove, you notice a bright green piece of paper under one of the magnets on your refrigerator, fluttering slightly in the air-conditioning.

You pull it down to look.

In case you want some more pancakes or if you bake any more of those life changing cupcakes. Give me a call. -Russell.

His phone number was written under his name, next to a smiley face that made you laugh aloud to yourself.

Sunday nights were the worst, but not this time.

A/N: Alright, I had so much fun with this one! I just had this urge to write Russell with a reader who had children and a trash man ex because why not? And I know I said it would be a one-shot… but my mind is already thinking of all the possibilities lol. Mostly because we all know I can’t really write just a one-shot 😅😂

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y’all think!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester

#jensen ackles #russell shaw #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw x you #russell shaw x reader #tracker cbs #tracker #tracker fanfiction #colter shaw #justin hartley #jackles #jensen fucking ackles

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prettylilyanime · 22 days ago

Text

Blooming Hearts ♡ Prologue

˚✿˖ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem reader

˚✿˖ Synopsis: All your life, you’ve had it all—wealth, beauty, and a quirk good enough to secure your spot at UA. But after three years, you still feel more like an outsider than a future hero. Social life? Barely existent. Friends? Who needs them? You’re ready to coast through your final year solo… until fate lands you squarely in the lap of a certain hot-headed blonde—literally.

˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder

˚✿˖ Masterlist ♡ Next Chapter

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The scenery of summertime Tokyo whizzes by from the comfortable leather seats of the private car, the hum of the engine blending with the rhythmic swish of tires on the paved mountain road.

Your chauffeur, Hajime, expertly maneuvers the sleek vehicle, his hands steady on the wheel as he weaves down the familiar route.

The commute from your family’s lavish estate to UA’s campus is always scenic. The meticulously maintained grass and perfectly arranged flowers of your front lawn dwindle in the distance, giving way to the ever-growing density of the city.

From the rearview mirror, Hajime’s eyes flick to yours, a soft grin tugging at his lips. His suit is as sharp as ever, the dark fabric neatly pressed, every crease intentional.

“Excited for your last year, Y/N?” he asks, his voice carrying a warmth you’ve grown used to, the kind of warmth that almost feels fatherly. Or at least, what you imagine fatherly might be.

Navigating parental relationships has always been… complicated. After all, how do you really gauge what a father figure is supposed to feel like when you’ve never known the man responsible for half of your existence?

Still, you smile back, comforted by Hajime’s familiar presence. “I guess. It’ll be weird going back to the dorms for the last time… at least we managed to change the room décor to that baby blue set I saw in Vogue.”

By we, of course, you mean your staff.

The baby blue décor—delicate white bows hand-sewn onto the softest silk curtains, intricately embroidered florals adorning the bedding, and custom-made furnishings crafted by an exclusive atelier in Florence—had been shipped directly to your dorm within days of you spotting it in an Italian photoshoot spread.

The magazine never mentioned it was available for sale; it wasn’t. But one phone call from your mother, paired with a not-so-subtle offer of a generous sum, ensured it would arrive before the school term started.

So cute!!

Hajime’s grin widens, this time tinged with amusement. “Yes, I was surprised you stuck with the pink as long as you did.”

You snort, propping your chin on your manicured hand. “It was cute! And it matched my hero costume perfectly. I couldn’t resist.”

Your eyes drift to your nails, long and almond-shaped, with baby pink French tips that gleam under the soft lighting of the car. They complement your delicate diamond rings, stacked just right to add a subtle twinkle with every movement.

Today, you’ve opted for a casual look—a contouring bodysuit paired with oversized jeans and designer sneakers, On your wrist, a few thin bracelets jingle softly as the car navigates the increasingly crowded streets.

Casual. Perfectly casual.

Before you know it, the car begins to slow, and your gaze shifts to the familiar gates of UA. The towering glass buildings in the distance reflect the midday sun

You sigh quietly, reaching for your purse. “Excited to see your friends, Y/N?” Hajime asks, his tone light.

You hesitate, the forced smile on your face betraying your unease. Friends. You don't want to give Hajime the impression that you have no such thing, so you lie straight through your white teeth.

“Sure, yeah. I guess,” you mutter, barely audible.

Friends. Would you consider any of your classmates friends? Probably not. They’re friendly, yes. They’ll work with you during class, exchange polite greetings in the hallways, and even offer occasional smiles.

But do they sit with you at lunch? Do they invite you to their weekend hangouts? Not really.

Which is fine. It’s fine! Why would you even want to join them?

They hang out at malls where everything is off-the-rack, nothing you haven’t already pre-ordered months in advance. They talk about things you’ve already experienced or grown bored of. You don’t need their friendship. You don’t want it. Not at all.

Why would you want to hang out with them? You don’t. Not even a little. Not even a smidge—

“Y/N?” Hajime’s voice pulls you out of your spiraling thoughts, grounding you. You blink, realizing your fingers have been gripping your purse a little too tightly. The delicate lambskin is now creased under the pressure. Damn.

“We’re here,” Hajime says with a smile as the car comes to a full stop. You force yourself to relax, smoothing out your expression. It’s just one more year. You can survive one more year.

“Thanks,” you mumble as Hajime steps out and opens your door for you. You climb out, standing awkwardly by the car while he retrieves your suitcases from the trunk.

Most of your belongings—clothes, shoes, jewelry—had already been sent ahead when your mother’s staff redecorated the room. These last few suitcases just contain the extras: makeup, perfume, and other necessities. Still, they’re heavy with the sheer amount of product you’ve packed.

“Alright, Y/N, remember to call if you need anything, okay?” Hajime says as he closes the trunk. His familiar smile eases some of your nerves, but not all of them. You nod quietly, watching as he heads back to the driver’s side.

It’s silly, really—you could call him in ten minutes, and he’d come back without complaint. But still, that nagging anxiety creeps up as he slides into the car. Alone again.

Just one more year.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat as Hajime waves one last time before driving off, leaving you standing by the gates. You raise a hand in a half-hearted wave, watching the car disappear into the distance.

For a moment, you just stand there, clenching and unclenching your hand around the handle of your suitcase. Then, with a quiet sigh, you turn toward the dorm buildings. The sight of the familiar brown exterior makes your fingers itch toward your phone, tempted to call Hajime back. But you resist.

You’ll be fine.

At the entrance, the facial recognition scanner blinks to life, confirming your identity with a soft beep before granting you access. The dorm is quiet at first, save for the sound of your suitcases rolling smoothly over the carpeted floors.

Then you hear it—laughter, light and joyful, echoing from the lounge.

The quiet click of your suitcase wheels against the carpeted floors is the only sound until the elevator doors slide open, revealing the lively common area. Laughter and chatter echo from the lounge, but the moment you step inside, the noise halts.

Mina, Ochako, Jirou, and Momo look up from their spot on the couch, surprised gazes locking onto you.

“Y/N! How was your summer?” Momo asks with a polite smile, her tone genuinely curious. The other girls perk up, awaiting your response.

You force another smile, the tension in your shoulders betraying your discomfort. This is your chance. You quickly forget that just minutes ago you were mentally denying any need for friendship.

You traveled all over Europe, met cool heroes, you even picked up little gifts for everyone, trained with new techniques—

But instead, you hear yourself say, “It was fine.”

An awkward silence follows, and you feel the weight of their expectant stares. Ask them how their summer was. You could save this moment, turn it into something meaningful.

“I’m going to go to my room… I’ll see you all in class,” you mutter, stepping back into the elevator before they can respond. The doors slide shut, and you lean against the wall, exhaling sharply.

The thud of your forehead hitting the metal wall echoes through the empty elevator, the sting barely registering against the flood of embarrassment and nerves coursing through your veins.

You let out a soft groan, eyes squeezed shut as you replay the interaction in your head. Why are you like this? You have stories to tell, gifts to give—hell, you even went out of your way to pick up souvenirs for everyone.

The sparkly eye shimmers you bought for Mina in France, the cool music theory books for Jirou in Germany, the pretty pink dress for Ochako in Italy, and the rare fragrance you found for Momo in Spain—all tucked neatly in your suitcase, now practically wallowing in defeat alongside you.

God, you’re such a loser.

You barely have time to stew in your self-loathing before the elevator doors jerk open slightly, blocked by a muscular arm. Your eyes widen in alarm as Eijiro Kirishima and Bakugo Katsuki shove their way inside, sweaty, hulking, and taking up way too much space for the tiny elevator.

You instinctively flatten yourself against the wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Kirishima flashes you a warm grin, entirely unfazed by the tight quarters. “Y/N, hey! Sorry about us. We were just working out. Finally moving in? I think you might be the last one of us to show up.”

Us, as if you were part of them. It’s stupid how your heart skips a beat at the thought.

You force a sheepish smile, nodding. “Ah, no worries. Yeah, just getting settled.”

You try not to look at Bakugo, who hasn’t even glanced your way. He’s standing there in the thinnest, tightest tank top known to mankind, broad shoulders stretching the fabric as if it were struggling to keep up. His arms, toned and defined, catch the dim elevator light just right, and his small waist is framed so perfectly that you have to fight the urge to let your eyes linger. You flick your gaze upward again, heat creeping up your neck as you silently scream at yourself.

You wouldn’t say you have a crush on Bakugo—crush is too strong a word. But god, you love looking at him.

He’s gorgeous in the most aggravating way, and he doesn’t even seem to realize it!

That ashy blonde hair, always spiked up in every direction, looks like it would feel rough to the touch, but you’ve seen him push it back with his hero mask before, revealing the softer strands underneath.

Sharp red eyes framed by the longest lashes you’ve ever seen—seriously, why do guys always have such nice lashes?—perfect skin, a nose that could belong to a sculpture, and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. You could go on and on…

But it’s not a crush. Definitely not.

The guy barely knows you exist, and frankly, his temper is reason enough to keep your distance. You’ve heard the way he barks at people—sharp, commanding, intimidating. He’d probably find you annoying within seconds if you ever managed to get more than a polite nod out of him.

No, it’s better this way: admiring from afar, safe in the knowledge that you’ll never have to deal with his wrath firsthand.

The elevator continues its smooth ascent toward the dorm floors. The faint scent of caramel wafts through the small space, and you catch yourself wondering how the hell Bakugo manages to smell that good after a workout.

It should smell like sweat and exhaustion in here, with two guys practically dripping beside you, but instead, there’s this oddly comforting warmth in the air, sweet yet sharp—like burnt sugar. It lingers just enough to make you dizzy, and you can’t tell if it’s the scent or your own embarrassment that's doing it.

You press yourself harder against the wall, praying for the elevator to reach your floor faster. God, this is torture.

The ding of the elevator cuts through the silence, and the doors slide open. Kirishima gives you one last friendly smile as he steps out. “Well, see you in class, Y/N!”

You lift a limp hand in a pathetic little wave, heart sinking slightly when you realize Bakugo didn’t even spare you a glance the entire time. You watch them walk off down the hallway and into their neighboring rooms, Kirishima’s easygoing energy in stark contrast to Bakugo’s usual sharp presence.

The doors close again, and you let out a long breath, pressing a hand against your racing heart as the elevator raises to the fifth and final floor, where your room is located.

Great. Just great. One more year of this. You try to convince yourself it doesn’t matter, but the tightening in your chest says otherwise.

⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #my hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugo katsuki #x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #blooming hearts #bakugo x y/n #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader #my hero academia x reader

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

tw - unhealthy relationships, financial abuse, reader is implied to be a sugar-baby/sex worker, unbalanced power dynamics.

Mei is a woman who can put a price on anything.

You've seen her talents first-hand. Hell, you'd only gotten together in the first place because she decided you were a commodity worth the expense, or in her words, because 'you'd be more valuable with me than anywhere else'. Some of her earliest gifts were little more to foder to prove that she had enough wealth stowed away to not only afford you, but make you hers exclusively - skin-tight diamond chokers, ornate harnesses strung with crystals and pearls, rings studded with pale sapphires that were nearly too heavy to lift. You'd kept the pricetags from everything she gave you in a drawer in your shoebox of an apartment, and as a show of kinship, she decided to keep you.

Really, you could only be thankful you fell into the hands of someone so appreciative. As someone so easy to buy, you can't think of a customer more suited to you than Mei.

Your relationship's too far along for her to be so blatant with her intentions, now, carrying a pretense of affection that means she can't slip you a stack of bills and tell you, in no uncertain terms, that you'll be spending the night with her, but she still finds ways to mark you, to make sure she's always going to be the majority shareholder of your time. All your clothes are tailor-made, her initials embroidered into everything she has designed for you, and you can't remember the last time you wore a scent that she hadn't personally selected. She's careful with what she owns, but not so careful that she isn't willing to offer you tens of thousands of yen to wear the lipstick stain she left on the side of your throat like a designer product. She has a jealous streak, despite how indifferent she tries to act. That, or she just doesn't like it when other people tamper with her investments.

It's become an ongoing joke between the two of you - her possessive habits and your attempts to provoke them. You'll straddle her thigh and slot your chest against hers and pout as you ask how much she thinks the white-haired man across the room would offer for an hour with you, and she'll purse her lips and assure you that none of her 'coworkers' could afford such a gem. Once or twice, you've managed to pester a real answer out of her, always something in the millions and delivered in a clipped tone that meant it was time to stop asking, but more often, she'll take you by the hips and ask you if you plan on replacing her so callously. It's a fair reaction. You can't say she's ever made you think you might be up for sale.

When you can't bite back your curiosity, you drape yourself across her and ask how much she would give up to have you permanently, to keep you at her beck and call without having to stifle herself with allowances and borrowed platinum cards. She likes that question, practically purrs as she promises that, to her, you're priceless. It should be more comforting than it is, but somehow, you can't shake the implication that it's something she's considered, that if there was an amount she could forward to some unknown account, she would've done it long before you'd ever made the offer. You're glad she came to the conclusion she did. You're glad that, no matter how entitled she acts to every fiber of your being, every second of your time, she knows she'll never actually own you.

You're glad that, if she changed her mind, if she ever put a price on your head and decided it was worth the loss, she's kind enough not to tell you that you've already been paid for.

#woman loving wednesday #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #yandere mei mei #mei mei x reader #mei x reader #yandere mei #yanderecore #yancore

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hannahbarberra162 · 21 days ago

Text

Petrichor (Alpha Luffy x GN Beta Reader)

This is an apology OS for being too horny on main (I'm not sorry). It moves a little fast but this is kind of how Luffy recruited the rest of the crew, so I thought it fit.

SFW, ~3.7k, OS, Luffy x GN Reader

TW: none, Luffy does a smooch <3

“You smell like dirt,” an Alpha said, standing in front of your face. He was wearing a straw hat and an open red shirt and staring at you intently. He and a friend were standing in front of your beachfront stall after strolling down the boardwalk. His friend was a Beta like you, wearing overalls and a bandanna on his head. You thought you recognized him from somewhere but you weren’t sure exactly where. Based on what he’d told you, you weren’t sure you wanted to know him, either.

“That’s rude,” you stated, already turning away from him. You were working so you couldn’t rip him a new one but you wanted to. Some Alphas made it a hobby to be assholes to Betas, maybe this guy was like that. Maybe he was bored, maybe he was a dick, maybe it was the hot weather - you didn’t care why he was being nasty. It was a slow day at the kite store, the dead, stagnant air not helping sales along the beach in the slightest. You worked along the boardwalk, trying to sell kites to kids and their parents for a fun day time activity. Sometimes you did kite flying competitions if there was money as a prize but mostly you liked to make your hourly and spend time on your own hobbies.

“Nah, it’s my favorite smell. Dirt after the rain. You smell like the forest after a big morning rain clears the clouds,” he said, taking a big whiff near you and giving you a bright smile. You were a little weirded out - you were a Beta and it was known that Betas didn’t have strong scents. No one had ever commented on your scent before, much less to say that they liked it. One time when you were a kid a friend came over and said your house smelled like soup, but you didn’t think that counted.

“So whatcha doin’?” the Alpha asked you, his big eyes staring at you over the counter.

“Working?” you replied, more of a question than a statement.

“Is it fun?” he continued, now reaching for a kite’s tail with his fingers. Was this Alpha for real? Was he teasing you?

“No? That’s why it’s called work and not ‘fun-time,” you replied, hoping your coworker wouldn’t overhear you. Not that it would be a surprise, you didn’t think your boss could require you to have fun on the job. Still, customer service was always number one (or whatever).

“I don’t like working. I tried it once at a restaurant with Sanji and it was terrible,” he stated, sticking out his tongue like he’d tasted something bitter. You laughed despite his seriousness. What the hell was he talking about?

“Yeah, I get it. But gotta make money, right?”

“We just find treasure, it’s easier that way,” he said, his arms extending like rubber to touch the top of a kite high up on the wall. Ah! That was where you recognized him from. You had liked his charming smile on his wanted poster, he looked more like he was on a camping trip than a wanted man from his countenance.

“You’re Monkey D. Luffy, the pirate,” you stated, watching as his friend smacked his hands from touching the kite too much.

“Yeah, that’s me! I like your kites,” Luffy said, continuing to touch the most expensive piece in the store. It was a replica of the Oro Jackson but in kite form, it would sail through the skies beautifully when the weather was right. And with your devil fruit power, you could make the weather right whenever you wanted. You ate the Wind Wind Fruit, giving you the ability to control, and turn into, the wind. You tried not to use it much in public since you didn’t want to be forcibly taken as someone’s private bellows or used by the Marines to propel their warships.

“Ah, thanks. I make most of the complex ones here,” you replied. There were regular kites, dragons, birds, boxes, diamonds, the regular kind that kids and adults like to buy but you made the one of a kind kites in the shop. You'd made replicas of a lot of famous pirate ships - you made the Oro Jackson, Moby Dick, Red Force, Queen Mama Chanter, Victoria Punk, Polar Tang, the Numancia Flamingo, a whole bunch of Marine ships and a few others belonging to up and coming pirates. When you were hired at the store you didn’t have much to do when it wasn't busy so you started making them to pass time. They brought people to the store and since you understood the wind so well it wasn’t that difficult for you to make them.

“I think I actually made your old ship,” you said, picking yourself off your forearms from leaning over the counter.

“Whaaaaa - really?! You make these?!” Luffy exclaimed, his hands on his cheeks in shock. The pirate with him was now paying attention to you after looking at some of the kite string for sale.

“Yeah, the ‘Going Merry,’ right?” you asked, looking through the inventory behind the small counter.

“Merry!” the other pirate sobbed as you brought out the kite, reaching over the counter to hold it. Whatever, that one wasn’t worth much anymore as the Strawhats had a new ship made by Franky.

“You can have it, no one’s gonna buy that,” you said, offering the pirates their own kite.

“WHOA REALLY?! USOPP DID YOU HEAR THAT?” Luffy asked, his mouth hanging open.

“How do I fly it? There’s lot of strings and attachments. And wait, why won’t anyone buy it? The Merry was a great ship!” Usopp accused, pointing a finger at you.

“Eh, it’s nothing to do with the ship -customers are fickle. They’ll want a model of your current ship now that you’ve got a new one. Besides, people don’t usually buy my kites, they’re for show and competitions. They’re too expensive for people to mess around with,” you explained. Usopp was holding the Merry kite like it was spun from glass.

“I can show you how to fly it, I’m gonna be on my lunch break in a few minutes anyway,” you offered. From everything you’d ever heard, the Strawhat pirates were a small and rather nice bunch. They didn’t steal people or money from islands and you hadn’t heard of them killing anyone either. Besides, so few people cared about your kites or asked how to fly them it would be fun to finally teach someone the right way to do it. And if there was any trouble, you’d be able to whisk yourself away no matter how strong they were.

“How? There’s no wind today,” Luffy mused, his head tilted to the side like a dog. He really was cute, you thought. He was exactly your type - cute, sweet, strong, and funny. If he wasn’t going to be leaving soon you would have tried to shoot your shot, even if he was an Alpha. A lot of Alphas would fuck around with Betas until someone better showed up and as much as you didn’t like to think of yourself as a second rate option, that was the way things were.

“I’m sure it will be picking up soon,” you replied enigmatically.

“Hey Anna, I’m going to lunch. Be back later,” you yelled at your coworker, who was staring at a telesnail.

“Yeah,” she replied, not even sparing you a glance. Whatever, you’d done your due diligence. Taking the kite back from Usopp, you folded it quickly and put it under your arm.

“Come on, let’s go to the cliffs, there’s more wind there,” you explained, beckoning to Usopp and Luffy. Luffy’s face broke into a wide grin as he linked his arm in your own. You’d never been so close to an Alpha before, he smelled like salt and sunshine and a hint of meat.

“Let’s go!” he yelled, pumping his fist in the air. It felt like the air was charged with excitement, like fun was bubbling up from the ether.

It was a little awkward to walk linked arm in arm with an Alpha so you kept your face down. As you passed all the other shops on the boardwalk, you noticed Omegas preening and pushing their breasts forward to get the attention of the Alpha. It wasn’t their fault, Alphas and Omegas were more beholden to their biology than Betas. They were going to want him and he was going to want them, even if just for a night. Even you as a Beta could tell he was incredibly strong so you were sure they were being pushed by their pheromones to present for him.

“You can look if you want,” you muttered to Luffy. He looked around at the other stalls with confusion.

“Are there other kite stores? Do they have the Merry too?” He asked with a frown.

“What? No, there's no other kite stores. The Omegas, you know, you can look. I uh….I'm sure you want to,” you mumbled.

“Do they make fancy kites too?”

“No - wha- no, only I make unique kites on the island. But they're, yanno, Omegas. And you're an unclaimed Alpha. So like, I get it. You can go talk to them or sniff them or whatever.” Your ego would take a hit but you did it to yourself - you knew how the world worked and it wasn’t his fault if you forgot your place.

“I don't wanna talk to them. I wanna keep talking to you. Besides, none of them smell as good as you do. They smell like flowers ‘n food but none of em smell like dirt,” he said with sincerity. You were a little taken aback, no Alpha gave up talking to Omegas for a Beta, no matter what kind of kites they made. Still, you steeled your heart for the inevitable time when you'd be left on the side of the road for an Omega. It was bound to happen, you had to keep reminding yourself.

Taking the craggly path up to the cliffs, you and Luffy and Usopp chatted, mostly about kites and kite design. They were more interested than you expected, but you enjoyed the conversation anyway. Reaching the summit, the wind has picked up a little bit not much.

“Are we gonna have enough wind to fly this thing? It's pretty heavy,” mused Usopp.

“I think it'll work out,” you replied, already creating a stronger gust of wind. You tried to do it inconspicuously, like the wind had just picked up on its own. The kite fluttered in the wind as the waves below crashed into the rocky cliffs. It was a beautiful day, you could see for miles out into the ocean.

“Oh hey, isn’t that your new ship? The 1,000 Sunny?” you asked, squinting into the distance. With the huge lion’s head on the mast it was instantly recognizable. The design would make a good kite too, you thought.

“Yeah! HI SUNNY!” Luffy yelled, waving his arms wildly at the inanimate ship in the distance. He was a little strange but you found him charming. You'd met plenty of alpha-holes but no one ever like him before.

“So how does this work? I see the main string but how do you -?” Usopp questioned, motioning for you to hand him the kite. Snapping out of your thoughts about the Alpha, you focused back on Usopp.

“Right, uh. Ok. So, it's different from other, simpler kites, you need to use both hands and control the other strings with your fingers and even with your feet if you want to waggle the ship in the air,” you began to explain, unfolding the kite in your hands. You explained by flying the kite and illustrating in real time. Usopp was a quick study, he understood fairly easily what he had to do to get the kite to fly. And you were subtly giving the exact kinds of breezes that would make the kite soar with ease.

“See? You’re a natural,” you said to Usopp. He flushed a little but otherwise kept concentrating on keeping the Merry in the sky. You used your power to make the ship bob in the air, mimicking its motions on the water.

“Like I said, you guys can keep it. I’ll make another one of the Sunny sometime,” you said, about ready to put a cap on this experience. It was silly and cute and you’d fantasize over the Alpha that got away but ultimately it was time to get going back to work and back to reality.

“Too bad we’re not kites,” Luffy said wistfully, watching the kite soar in the sky.

“What do you mean?” you asked, interested again.

“Well, maybe I could sail like that,” Luffy started to say while rubbing his chin.

“DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!” Usopp said, bonking Luffy on the head. Betas didn’t usually strike at Alphas and live but you were starting to realize there wasn’t anything usual about Luffy.

“I mean….we could,” you started, kicking a rock off the cliff in front of you. “I do happen to have a paraglider that I built up here -”

“YES!” Luffy yelled with a huge smile.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Usopp said, crossing his arms in front of his torso in the shape of an X.

“But it needs two people by weight and the two of you wouldn’t know how to maneuver it together -”

“I have a severe case of paraglider-itis,” Usopp said quickly, backing away from the cliff. “You guys can do what you want but I’m going to stay on land….uh, I think I hear Franky calling my name,” he stammered, already running along the path back to town with the Merry kite tucked safely under his arm.

“Let’s do it!!” Luffy yelled, letting his hat hang off his neck. You were starting to get excited too - no one else had ever wanted to be your second, saying it was too dangerous or that you’d fall to your deaths off the cliffs. You strongly suspected you wouldn’t, you were fairly sure your paraglider would work. And if not, well, you could turn into the wind and you’d be fine. Luffy seemed durable, he would probably make it out alive as well.

“Heeheehee, OK! I’ll go get it, stay here!” you said as the wind turned stronger with you0r excitement. You tried to calm down but were too happy to finally have someone else to test your paraglider with.

About twenty minutes later, you’d gotten the paraglider up and ready to go. You’d strapped yourself into it

“So, it’s a giant kite?” Luffy asked as you handed him his harness.

“More or less,” you said, shrugging. “Do you want me to explain how it works?” you asked Luffy, who was struggling with the straps.

“Nah. I don’t really care,” he said, still stuck in the straps. He groaned and tried again before throwing the whole thing down.

“Can’t we just use my body for this? I don’t wanna wear that thing. Feels too tight,” he complained, kicking the harness with a sandaled foot.

“Use your body…?”

And so, with a surprisingly little amount of convincing from Luffy, you’d detached from your paraglider. He’d made his body into roughly the same shape as the sail and was holding you in his arms and had his legs looped around you for good measure.

“If you drop me, I’ll kill you,” you said, giving him the harshest glare you could. You wouldn’t die if he dropped you but he didn’t know that.

“Stop talking and let’s go,” he whined, getting impatient.

“Alright, I’m gonna run and jump off the cliff, OK? And the wind will do the rest. Here! We! Go!” you yelled as you ran as fast as you could off the cliff. Using your fruit, you caused an updraft to pick up Luffy so you soared through the air. Your laughter was ringing through the cliffs towards the sea as you enjoyed the ride. You’d been flying for a little while in your Logia form but it was more fun to stay in your physical body for rides like this. Luffy was laughing too, the two of you whooping and cheering when you made the wind take him higher or push him faster.

All too soon, you were headed towards the deck of the Sunny. With your power you could have probably kept Luffy in the air longer but it had to look kind of natural to ensure you didn’t arouse suspicion. You wanted to land gracefully on the deck and braced your legs for a landing but Luffy snapped back to his regular form earlier than you anticipated, making the two of you tumble one on top of each other until you hit the main mast of the ship. You groaned as the wood from the deck bit into your side but it was Luffy who took most of the hit from the fall.

“Ow, that didn’t go as planned -”

“We can practice so that next time we won’t crash -” Luffy interrupted, excited as ever. Luffy was laying on top of you smiling as you laid on your back. Now that you were up close and personal, you could smell his delicious scent and had the urge to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Instead you tried to dislodge him from on top of you by pushing him off. But Luffy was a lot heavier than he looked and you weren’t able to move him an inch.

“I wanna kiss you,” Luffy said, apropos of nothing. You blinked.

“You don’t mean that,” you replied, unsure of how to leave with your pride still intact.

“I do. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone before but I wanna try it with you,” he continued, now resting his head on your chest.

“I think you should find someone better for that,” you said, trying to wiggle away. Luffy looked at you seriously for the first time since you’d met, the intensity making you shiver.

“There’s no one better. No one else knows how to fly me like a kite,” he said, like that made complete sense.

“Yeah but you're an Alpha and I'm just a Beta. It doesn't - you'll change your mind you'll see,” you said with a little more sadness in your voice than you anticipated

“I told you. I don’t care about some Omega somewhere. I wanna kiss you,” Luffy said, staring into your eyes. You blushed, it sounded exactly like the lines in the romance novels you indulged in secretly, the ones where Alphas forewent their designations in favor of love with a Beta. Even though they were popular reads, you’d never heard of it actually happening in real life.

“I wanna know if you taste like dirt too,” he said, his hands now holding you by your face.

“Uh-? Is that your favorite flavor?” This was by far the strangest prelude to a kiss that you’d ever had but then again, watching a man fly down the cliffs using his own body wasn’t something you saw before either.

“Shishishishi, how'd you know? Good dirt is hard to find,” he laughed into your face. He leaned in so close you could practically feel his eyelashes on your cheek. What the hell, you thought. You closed the gap for a small kiss, hesitant in case you misread his cues. His eyebrows hiked but after a moment he kissed you back. There wasn’t any tongue and he didn’t open his mouth, but he laughed into yours which made your heart skip a beat. A light wind blew his messy hair out of his face as he pulled away, pushing himself up to his elbows.

“That was great! Come with me and join my crew and we can keep kissing. You’re already on the ship, why not?” Luffy exclaimed, hauling you off the ground and into a bear hug. You didn’t quite follow his reasoning but it was flattering to hear it all the same.

“I don’t think you need a kite maker for a pirate crew,” you said dryly, noting the various elements of their ship from your slightly higher vantage point. Adding a tangerine grove to the deck of a kite would make an interesting challenge.

“But I like the kites! And besides, you control the wind. That’s really useful,” he stated. Your emotions went into overdrive - how did he know? Was he going to keep you on the ship to power their sails? You knew you shouldn’t have trusted a wanted pirate, especially not an Alpha who pretended to be so nice to someone like you to ensnare you.

“N-no, that’s not true -” you stated as the wind started whipping the two of you, nearly taking the straw hat off his head.

“Yes it is. The wind changes with your emotions, you need more practice. But you can practice with me,” he replied, crossing his arms with a smile. You bit your lip, your cover was blown. You could deny it but the fact that the wind was increasing moment by moment wasn’t helping your case. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It kind of worked, the wind dying back down to a pleasant breeze.

“Besides, I wanna keep kissing you and tasting your dirt. That’s another good reason for you to come along with us,” he said with no shame whatsoever.

“And what if I wanted to leave?” you said, still unsure about the whirlwind of events unfolding before you. Luffy pouted.

“If you wanna leave and be a master kite maker I won’t stop you from achieving your dream. But I’d be sad. I want you here with me,” he whined at you. You laughed and kissed his cheek.

“No tellin’ where the wind might blow. So, sure why not? But can I at least go get some of my stuff before we take off?”

#alpha luffy #beta reader #op x y/n #luffy x reader #x reader #I couldn't come up with a good ending that wasn't like 10k more words #I just wanted this short fluff #then back to the Yandere #and the Bulls #and the fucked up shit #just a little break in lu lu land

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despacito-uwu16 · 6 months ago

Text

IN THE PAST AND IN EVERY LIFETIME

KENJI SATO X READER

|Fluff |Past Life

“And if death do us part, I promise to find you in every lifetime” - Alex Warren

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

Your fiance kisses your forehead while he pulls you closer to him. You rested your head on his chest while admiring the small diamond ring that glimmered in the moonlight.

“It’s beautiful”.

“I’m glad you like it. When I saw it at the shop, it made me think of you”.

“It’s perfect”.

He lifts up your chin and plants a warm, soft kiss on your lips as the bells of a near by clock tower signals the start of a new year and a new decade.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, and if death do us part, I will always look for you in every lifetime”.

“Happy New Years Y/N”…

“Y/N”! Your friend Asami yells at you, snapping you out of your day dream.

“We’re here”. She points to the bookstore.

“Oh sorry”. You apologized as she drags you into the place.

As soon as the two of you entered the bookstore, the smell of coffee and new books hit your nostrils. There was an end-of-the-year sale at Asami’s favorite bookstore and she insisted you come along. You took this as an opportunity to find books for your research paper for the psychology PhD program. While the two of you were looking at books, Asami caught you zoning out again.

“Y/N”! She snaps her fingers getting you out of your trance. “I’m here”! You said loudly, getting attention from other bystanders.

“Seriously, what is up with you? Did you pull an all nighter again? Like I get it’s your thesis paper, but you do realize sleep is important right”? Asami says while skimming through a random book.

“No, it’s not about the paper. I keep having this dream for like the past month and it’s been bothering me”. You say while skimming through the bookshelves.

“Oooh do tell��. Asami looks at you with curiosity.

“In the dream, I was with a guy and we were at this park filled with snow, and he proposed to me under a tree”.

“Man, I wish I had a dream about a guy”. Asami shakes her head and laughs.

“Asami, I’m being serious. It’s like, the dream is telling me to remember this guy, but I really don’t”.

“No offense but I think you’re reading way too many psychology books. I think it’s time to switch genres”.

"That's not how psychology works". You deadpan.

“Anyways, I gotta use the bathroom. BRB”. Asami puts down the book she was looking at and takes off, leaving you alone to wonder off.

You were walking around trying to find a book you’ve been wanting to use for your paper. After a few minutes of searching, you spot a large textbook sitting on the top shelf.

"Only one copy left".

You notice a step ladder near the bookshelf and begin to climb it. As soon as you reached the last step of the ladder, you stood on your tippy toes and you reached for the book. After a few attempts, you managed to get your book. But before you could climb back down, the screws of the ladder unscrewed itself, causing the step to break. You fall off and braced for impact, only for a guy to catch you.

“Woah, has anyone ever told you not to climb on faulty ladders? ”. The man puts you down before you could get a better look at him.

“Sorry”. You looked down in embarrassment. The man picks the book you dropped from the floor.

“Here, you should be more careful next time”. His speech slowed down as he made eye contact with you. His arm was frozen in place, the book still in his hand. You look at the man and his features. For some reason, he looks so familiar. It feels like you’ve met him before, but you don’t know where.

“Ummm… thank you”. You grabbed the book from him and began to walk away.

“Y/N”? You turn back to him.

“Yeah”?

“I thought I’d never see you again”. He muttered out loud.

“I’m sorry, do I know you”? You ask, feeling really creeped out.

“Oh”. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, it’s just, you look like someone I knew from a long time ago”.

“Y/N”! Asami calls out to you. “There you are! I was looking for you! You have got to stop wandering around girl”! Asami notices the guy and looks up and down in disgust. “Shall we head to the register”? She says, slowly dragging you away from the man.

“WAIT”! You and Asami turn back at the man in annoyance.

“I know we just met, but, I want to take you out on a date”. He grabbed a pen from his pocket, took your book and wrote down his number and his name on the first page.

“Text me and we’ll set something up”. He walked away, leaving you stunned.

“Girl, who was that”? Asami asks.

You look down at the page. “I don’t know, but I think i’m about to find out”.

You were waiting for the mystery guy to arrive. Of all the days to meet up, he picked New Year’s eve. Despite being really busy, he managed to get a reservation at what is coincidentally your favorite cafe.

From the information you gathered from Asami’s stalker account, the man that saved you from falling on your ass at the book store, was none other than Ken Sato. Turns out he’s a baseball player for the giants, and according to Asami, he is LOADED.

You feel a buzz from your phone. Thinking it was a message from Ken, you opened your phone, only to get a text message from Asami.

“I really hope your date goes well! But if he tries to attempt some serial killer shit, it’s on sight”.

“Asami, you’ve been reading too many horror novels. You should consider switching genres. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine”.

As you send the text message, Kenji runs into the cafe. You wave at him, catching his attention.

“I'm sorry for being late”. Ken sits down. “There was traffic downtown. Another kaiju incident”. He huffs.

“It’s, fine. I’m glad you made it”. You smiled at him.

The waiter took your orders and placed some tea in a white porcelain teapot down, along with two white teacups. He leaves with the menus, leaving you and Ken to bond.

“I’ve always wanted to try this place. This cafe looks cozy”. Ken looks around at the aesthetically pleasing decor.

“The food here is to die for! This is literally my favorite cafe since forever”. You said. Ken nodded.

“From what I’ve read, this place has been open since the 70’s”. He begins to pour some tea into your cup.

“I love how everything is so simple”. You take a sip from your tea. As soon as the hot liquid touches your mouth, it stings your tongue.

“Ahh, hot”! You yelp. Ken chuckles as you pout.

“Something’s never changed”. He chuckles as he shakes his head.

You look at him in bewilderment.

“Sorry," He cleared his throat. "I'm probably creeping you out”. He twiddled his thumbs, looking super stressed out.

“I’m sorry Ken”…

“Kenji. Call me Kenji”. He interrupts.

“Okay, Kenji, have we met before? Because when we met at that bookstore, you said you thought you would never see me again”.

“You really don’t remember me”? Kenji says, his gray eyes looking at you with disappointment.

“Well, the thing is, I think you’re the guy that keeps appearing in my dreams . I thought you were someone I made up, but it turns out you’re real, and you’re sitting right in front of me”.

“Am I supposed to”? You ask

Kenji looks down at his tea, the clumps of sugar that he put in a minute ago beginning to dissolve.

“Umm, nevermind. So, tell me about yourself”.

The conversation lasted for hours. Everything felt so casual between the two of you. Kenji told you how he led the Giants to the championships; despite almost dragging them six feet underground. He had to use simpler terms when describing some of the plays since you weren’t much of a sports fan. On the other hand, you were telling him how you were trying to pursue your PhD in psychology, and how it’s always been your dream to get your doctorate degree. Kenji admired the bright look on your face while you talked about your passion.

While you were having a great time with Kenji, you have a gut feeling that he has something to do with your dreams. He knows something you don’t, and you want to know what he’s hiding.

Eventually, the waiter had to kick you out of the cafe because they were closing early for the holiday. As you two stepped out in the cold, the sun was almost gone, and the sky became darker.

“I don’t really feel like going home yet. Wanna head down to the park with me”? Kenji asks.

“Umm, sure"!

As you walk to the park, Kenji grabs your hand. You look up at him and smile. There was something familiar about this warm feeling, like deja vu. When you reach the park, you can see the patch of snow that stretches down for miles. While walking down the semi-icy path, you keep thinking about Kenji's motives. He's not telling you anything, and couldn't take any more secrets.

“Kenji, can you be honest with me”? You blurt out.

He looks down at you.

“How come you remember me, but I don’t remember you? What are you not telling me”?

Kenji sighs and looks at the ground. You stood there, your arms crossed, waiting for him to answer you.

“This might sound weird. Like out of a novel weird”.

“Try me”.

“Okay, but first, come with me”. Kenji grabs your hand and drags you along.

“Where are we going”? You ask.

“You’ll see”.

You both go deeper into the park, where all the trees divide the park and the streets and where there is no one in sight. The more you both go down the path, the more your anxiety starts to peak.

“Oh my God, what if Asami was right? What if he is an actual serial killer and he planned your demise since your first encounter”?

But a familiar setting caught your eye before you could think of any worst-case scenarios. You were standing in front of a tree covered in snow. The same tree that was in your dream sequence.

“Look familiar”? Kenji asks.

“Actually yeah”. You turn to him. “What are we doing here”? You ask him.

“This was the place where I proposed to you”.

“Proposed to me”?

Your brain clicked as you piece everything together. The repeated dream you had was a memory from the past.

“You’re the guy… you’re the guy from my dreams”. Your eyes widen

“So you do remember”!

“Not exactly”. You shrug.

Kenji takes both of your hands. You look up at him. His soft gaze locked onto you.

“Y/N, you and I were together in our past life”.

You stared at him like a deer in headlines. You’ve read about past lives in an article before, but you didn't think it was real.

“December 31st, 1979”. He starts. “I took you to that cafe, y'know the one we went to today, and then we walked down to this very same park and I proposed to you here”.

You still look at Kenji in shock. You tried to say something, but you couldn't form any sentences.

“I understand it’s a lot to process”. Said Kenji.

“No, no I sort of understand now. Although, I don’t remember anything after that”.

Kenji looks down at the ground. “Six months after the New Year, we were in a car crash. I only suffered a broken leg. But your injuries were too severe. You didn’t survive in surgery”.

“Oh”.

“That day, I promised myself that I would find you again, and when I did, I would never let you go”.

Kenji takes out a small black box. He opens it to reveal a small diamond ring, the same one he proposed with all those years ago.

“Kenji”…

“I know we just met again, and I don’t expect you to remember anything, but you are my soulmate, Y/N. I never want to lose you again". Kenji puts the ring on your finger. The small diamond ring glimmering in the moonlight.

Everything comes flooding back to you. The guy was Kenji. He's real. Everything that happened in your dream is real. Kenji pulls you closer to him. Your lips were inches away from his. He closes the gap between the two of you. Your heart swells as he hugs you tighter. The two of you separate, trying to catch your breath. You admired the ring, reminiscing how beautiful it was, how it felt so right on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect”. You smile.

“I know, but it’s not as perfect as you”. He smiles

You blush. “I can’t believe you waited for me”.

“I did promise you all those years ago, that if death do us part, I will always look for you in every lifetime”.

The bells of a nearby clock tower signaling the start of a new year.

“Happy New Year Y/N”.

“Happy New Year Kenji”.

You kiss Kenji again as the sound of the clock tower bells continue to echo across the park.

Alex and Kovur’s wedding is everything!!! I want something like that someday!! Also, the bookstore scene was inspired by a Tinder ad with Lana Condor lol.

IMPORTANT A/N: I will be going international for a few weeks so everything might be on hold for a bit. But I have a few things cooking. Also, stay tuned next Friday/Saturday for a little surprise.

As always, Likes, Comments and Reblogs are appreciated and feel free to request anything!

#kenji sato #ultraman #ultraman x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato ultraman #kenji sato x you #ken sato fluff #soulmates #past lives #ken sato x reader #ken sato #netflix #ultraman2024 #ultraman x y/n #ultraman x you #ultraman fluff #ultraman rising #Spotify

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slaymitchabernathy · 1 month ago

Text

A Rich Man

| "The only way people should know a man has money is when they see his wife." |

Coriolanus sits in an expensive room on an expensive chair while wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch.

Coriolanus Snow is a rich man.

Anyone could see that just by looking at him. He exudes power and wealth from his hair to his shoes, he is the poster child of success in the Capitol. Born into money and made even more of it, carrying his family name like a badge of honor.

But should anyone glance at his wife, then they'd truly be able to grasp how much money he really makes.

He remembers clear as day when he and his friends were discussing how you knew when someone was rich. He argued you could tell when a man had a lot of money based off his the jewwles he adorned himself with. A fancy watch, large rings, golden cufflinks.

It was in the details.

Festus Creed had argued that it was how a man dressed. Expensive suits, nice coats, fancy leather shoes.

Felix Ravenstill insisted that it was where a man lived. If he lived on the Corso, he was well off. If he lived in the President's Mansion, well, he was the richest man ever.

Their Professor who was listening to their adolescent conversation had chuckled at their ideas of what wealth looked like. Then he imparted a small pearl of wisdom that stuck with Coriolanus ever since.

"The only way people should know a man has money is when they see his wife."

His friends had laughed it off but Coriolanus held onto those words ever since. Because he was right. Women were always the center of attention, no one looked at a man's watch when they could stare at a woman's diamond necklace.

Who cared about a man's height when a woman was wearing the nicest high heels in the room?

From that day forward, Coriolanus swore to himself that his future wife would have everything she wanted. The clothes, the jewelry, the handbags, anything she wanted he'd gladly give her. As long as she gave him what he wanted of course. He wanted respect, loyalty, and obedience. He wanted a wife who was perfect for him, who looked perfect with him by his side when they went out in public.

Which was why he married a girl like Soarynn Nightingale.

She was two years younger than him but quite mature for her age. He had first laid eyes on her at a charity auction being thrown by a museum. She had been attending with her father and while most of the girls her age looked bored out of their minds, she was paying attention.

A specific piece of artwork came up for sale, something that caught her eye. Coriolanus of course, bid on it and won after spending a whopping amount of money for it. Later that night Soarynn and her father came up to congratulate him on his big win.

Soarynn had been rather reserved during the interaction, her father doing most of the talking but from what Coriolanus gathered, she was a sweet, quiet girl who would make the perfect wife for him. He offered to gift the painting to her in exchange for a single date, a fair trade in his opinion. Soarynn had reluctantly agreed and the rest was history.

He watches her from across the room, watches how she talks, how she moves, how she softly laughs while her blonde hair falls down her back like a golden waterfall, gleaming in the light. She's beautiful.

She's wearing a beautifully crafted dress, made just for her since she deserves only the nicest things in life. It's a soft pink dress that shows off her collarbones and dips in the back, showing off a tasteful amount of skin. It stops right above her knees, accentuating her smooth legs and showing her black high heels that perfectly match her handbag, designer of course.

Her jewelry is simple despite the fact that it costs a small fortune and could feed an entire District family for years. Her ears are adorned with beautiful gold earrings with real pearls. Her wrists have two gold bracelets each, inlaid with diamonds as they dangle in the air. And her ring, well, her wedding ring is truly the showstopper.

Coriooalnus still remembers the gasps that filled the room at their wedding when he put it on her finger. The rock he bought for her was the most expensive diamond that's ever been sold and it's on his wife's finger.

Soarynn looks classy to put things plainly. Not flashy like the other women at this party, and not like she's trying to fit in like some other women he's seen today. She's complimented for her beauty once again, just another reason Coriolanus married her.

Soarynn has been blessed with perfect skin, not a blemish in sight, not even during that time of the month. Her skin is tan and it makes her blonde hair look even brighter, which draws people to her eyes which are arguably the most startling part of her complexion.

It had taken Coriolanus several dates to realize that they weren't just blue, no, they were blue and gray, a perfect storm for the perfect girl.

She was also gifted with a rosy set of lips and an upturned nose with freckles dotted all over her face, giving her a youthful look despite her being twenty-three years old.

He likes watching her, observing her in social settings to see if anything needs correcting. Once he knew he was going to marry her, he knew he'd need to be strict, not harsh but firm, she wasn't about to walk all over him. Not that she would even think about it, Glen Nightingale raised a quiet, polite daughter who never questioned Coriolanus on his decisions.

If he thought it was for the best, then it was for the best.

She'd once whispered to him that he was the smartest person she knew, how adorable. He was very smart and very ambitious which was once again, why they were the perfect pair.

He was aggressive when needed whereas she was gentle.

He was assertive and she was polite.

He was dominant and she was submissive.

Never posing a threat to the women around her and never giving any man the wrong idea. He didn't want to know the type of man he'd become if he ever witnessed his wife flirting with another man. Right now her back is turned to the nearest man while she talks to her friends, probably about something that doesn't truly matter but he always pretends to listen and sound interested when she tells him about it.

She looks over at him for a split second and he holds his hand out, it's been far too long since he's held her, touched her, been near her. They've been at this party for hours and they eventually went their separate ways to speak to their assigned genders. While Coriolanus discussed politics, money, and business. Soarynn discussed fashion, gossip, and anything that had to do with their social circles.

She immediately excuses herself from the conversation and makes her way over to him, another thing he appreciates about her, she never keeps him waiting. Her hand slides into his and his fingers wrap around her wrist, gently pulling her down until she's seated in his lap. Coriolanus isn't one for obnoxious public displays of affection but people have enough alcohol in them to where this is socially acceptable so long as his hands don't wander anywhere they're not supposed to.

"I was thinking we might leave soon," he says, resting his other hand on the small of her back. He's not really asking and she knows that because she nods, "Whatever you think is best," she softly replies. She's always known what to say. Coriolanus nods, it's best to leave before they get caught up in the crowd, he'd never be the first but he'll never be the last either.

Coriolanus leans in and gives her cheek a gentle kiss, just so she knows he's been thinking of her while they've been apart.

"Are you having fun?" He asks her, lacing his fingers with hers, not really caring about her answer but he listens all the same. "Mhm, Clemmie mentioned something about taking a trip," she tells him, her voice laced with hesitance, "but I think it's in the Districts and I know you don't like the Districts."

Coriolanus looks over at Soarynn's good friend Clemensia Dovecote, a woman who still hasn't settled down and it's painfully obvious to him in the way she behaves. Always sharing her loud opinions, always wanting to run off on some adventure, always pressuring Soarynn to do certain things even though his wife always sweetly declines.

She's been a constant thorn in his side since he started courting Soarynn.

"I do not," he confirms, "and we're going to be quite busy in the next few weeks," he reminds her, "I can't afford to miss anything."

The Hunger Games are a month away and they're always the perfect excuse for people to mingle and talk business. It's an imperative week for Coriolanus when it comes to business and he refuses to spend it in the Districts. "Alright," she replies, "I'll tell her we're busy."

Coriolanus grunts and flags down Festus who seems to be doing a whole lot of nothing, "Both Snows in the same place? Must be my lucky day," Festus playfully remarks, "what do you need Coriolanus?"

"A drink," he plainly states, "then we're leaving." Festus sighs, shaking his head, "Leaving so soon? We've only been here for six hours."

The party they're attending isn't just any party, no, it's a party celebrating the first baby of their entire circle. The Heavensbees welcomed a beautiful baby boy two weeks ago and finally felt it was time for him to be introduced to society.

Coriolanus would be lying if he said that he didn't wish that he was the first of their group to have a child. He's been trying tremendously hard to get Soarynn pregnant, granted it's only been eleven months but still, he's desperate for an heir.

"Get me a bourbon," Coriolanus says, ignoring his friend's joke. Festus disappears and Soarynn turns back to him, "Did you see the baby?" Coriolanus honestly hadn't cared to see the child, not when he had already seen the photographs in the newspaper. But women love babies, always fawning and cooing over them.

"I didn't," he tells her, ignoring the way her eyebrows crease, "but I'll make sure to take a look before we leave," he adds, not wanting to cause a fight. He knows how much Soarynn loves babies, how good she is with children. Which is a good thing since she'll be raising their children. Coriolanus is a rich man but he's also a traditional one and the man of the house shouldn't be chasing around children.

"He's so sweet," she sighs, looking over at Domitia Heavensbee who's surrounded by other adoring women, "and so little."

Festus comes back with a glass of amber liquid and Coriolanus lets go of Soarynn's hand to take it, "You're a good man," he tells Festus, bringing the glass to his lips. "Tell that to my wife," Festus grumbles, "she's all upset because we won't be going to the races next Sunday."

Coriolanus can tell from her body language that Soarynn is interested in why the Creeds won't be attending the horse races with the rest of them, but because she's polite and good, she doesn't ask why.

"Why not?" Coriolanus inquires for both of them. The horse races are always another good excuse to get together and discuss business with a side of betting and entertainment. The Snows have a private box, of course, fully staffed with air conditioning. Soarynn enjoys the races because she enjoys the horses which is good enough for him, better than her complaining about it.

"We're having lunch with my parents," Festus explains, "and if Persephone wants to be able to afford nice things, then she'll come with me."

Coriolanus is glad that he doesn't depend on his parents the way other men do. He comes from old money, yes, but he's made a life for himself, a name for himself. He and Soarynn have dinner with his parents once a month and usually see them in between at social events, the same goes for her own father.

You can't be rich if you're scared of upsetting your banker.

꧁ ꧂

Half an hour later and they're finally leaving the party.

Coriolanus briefly glanced at the child and congratulated the parents before thanking them for a lovely party. Soarynn held the baby boy one last time and it was a picture he could get used to. He just has to get her pregnant first.

They stroll down the street, hand in hand while he thinks about what he could be doing wrong. But maybe it's her.

He looks down at Soarynn who's oblivious to his internal dilemma, looking into shop windows while going wherever he takes them. Perhaps she's infertile, it's not like they're having sex for a lack of trying. And he always finishes inside of her to ensure the greatest chances of having a child.

Coriolanus sighs, he might have to schedule her an appointment with their family doctor if this issue persists. He can't be left behind by his friends without a family to call his own. He's so caught up in his own issues that he doesn't even notice Soarynn coming to a stop until his hand slips out of hers.

He turns and finds her stopped in front of a store window, hypnotized by whatever's inside. He takes a closer look and quickly sees what's gotten her attention.

Kittens.

A pen full of kittens running around, playing with one another.

Soarynn takes another step towards the window and rests a hand on the glass, smiling down at the little animals. Coriolanus joins her by the window and watches as the kittens jump on each other, rolling around and playing. "They're so cute," she says, laughing when a kitten rolls on its back. Coriolanus has never been too fond of pets, he never had any growing up but knew plenty of people that did.

They were all dogs though and they were all tremendously loud. His father was always put off by the idea of dogs in the house, claiming they'd soil the furniture and bite any guests who came over so that was the end of that.

But cats must be different.

At least that's what he tells himself when he sees how enamored Soarynn is by the tiny felines. "Which one is your favorite?" He asks, finding himself caring about her answer for once. Usually, Coriolanus buys Soarynn things without asking. He knows her well enough to know her preferred taste when it comes to clothes and shoes.

She likes pink and blue, nothing gray and she despises the color orange. She doesn't like scratchy fabrics and isn't a fan of stripes. For shoes, she doesn't mind a heel but does not like flats.

Kittens are very different.

Soarynn scans all the kittens until she points at a fluffy white one, the only white one in the pen. "That one," she tells him, "her pink nose is so cute."

Coriolanus hums, storing that information away for another day before taking her hand, "Let's go, darling, I need to get some work done before dinner." Soarynn lets him pull her away from the window, not asking to stay longer or whining, another thing he likes about her.

He's not only rich financially, but in his perfect marriage as well.

꧁ ꧂

After dinner has been eaten and Coriolanus has finished his work, he searches his penthouse for his wife.

Soarynn often disappears after dinner, hiding away in some corner to read the books she can't get enough of. He doesn't mind it though, it's good that she has things to keep her busy. As long as she remains doting and obedient, he has no problem with her love for reading.

He finds her in the library, curled up on the sofa deep into another book, a long one from the looks of it but she's more than halfway done. He knocks on the door frame and she looks up from her reading, "Hi," she says softly.

Coriolanus steps into the library and taps his watch, "Time to get ready for bed," he tells her. Soarynn nods and sits up on the sofa, slipping a ribbon in between the pages and shutting the book. He truly can't imagine marrying a woman who doesn't instantly comply with his wishes.

If he wants to go to bed, Soarynn will come to bed.

If he wants to go to dinner, Soarynn will go to dinner.

If he wants to leave the party, Soarynn will be right behind him.

She's so good for him, if only she could grant him a baby.

Coriolanus walks back out into the hallway and decides they'll have sex tonight, he'll make sure to be deep and thorough when fucking hr, and once he finishes, he'll have her lie there for a while to ensure nothing is wasted.

Soarynn follows behind him and once they reach their bedroom, he sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his cufflinks like he always does, "Why don't you go put on something pretty?" He suggests, eyeing her bare legs. Soarynn changed into one of her many nightgowns after dinner but he prefers to fuck her when she's wearing lingerie.

It pleases Coriolanus to see her dressed so provocatively for only him to see. He loves buying her lingerie, spending his well-earned money on panties he's going to rip off of her later.

Soarynn swallows, immediately understanding what he's hinting at, "Okay," she whispers.

While she's busy in the closet, he's busy taking off his tie and his shoes, neatly putting them at the foot of the bed. Coriolanus likes things to be done in a precise, certain way and Soarynn is more than willing to do things exactly how he wants them to be done.

From keeping the penthouse clean to how she acts in public, she's once again, perfect.

She comes back out wearing the black set he just bought her. She's never looked too comfortable in the lingerie he buys for her but she's also never complained about it either.

This set leaves little to the imagination and makes her look fantastic.

"Tonight we're going to do things differently," he tells her, standing up, "I need to get you pregnant." Not even Soarynn can hide her look of surprise when she ehars him say that. He's not normally this blunt but he has to be if this is going to work. "You've pleased me in every aspect of this marriage," he continues, beginning to unbutton his shirt, "except for giving me a child."

Soarynn stands there silently, accepting his berating words without complaint, "We need a child," he tells her, "a son more specifically and I cannot rest until we produce one."

He looks up to make sure Soarynn is following along with what he's saying and her eyes are wide and her hands are fidgeting, "Okay," is all she whispers.

Coriolanus grunts, it's good that she sees where the fault lies. The fault lies within her side of their marriage and she needs to fix it. "It shouldn't take too long," he says, more to himself than to her, "not if we time it right." A woman's body goes through so many phases in a month, Coriolanus really only cares about two.

When Soarynn gets her period, and when Soarynn begins to ovulate.

Both are very important for different reasons. If they time it just right, they'll have the best odds, the best chances at getting pregnant as soon as possible.

Coriolanus might be rich when it comes to money, but he's dirt poor when it comes to family.

꧁ ꧂

The next morning Coriolanus wakes up before Soarynn which is nothing new. He usually wakes up early so he can shower before work and take his time getting ready but he simply watches her sleep for a moment.

She looks much younger when she's asleep, her lips slightly parted with her hair falling in her face. She's beautiful, no one can deny that.

He gently brushes her hair out of her face, she'll have a busy day today, attending an event on behalf of both of them since he won't be able to make it. He brings his hand down to her stomach, sliding it under her nightgown to feel her flat abdomen. He imagines what it would look like swollen with his child, his heir.

He pulls himself from his thoughts for the future and slips out of bed, he can't run late because he can't get a hold of his imagination. While in the shower he begins to think about what testing she could be subjected to just to make sure that they're doing everything they need to.

His Professor was right, you can easily tell how rich a man is based on looking at his wife and once he gets Soarynn pregnant with his son, people will know that Coriolanus Snow is the richest man in Panem.

Just how he likes it.

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