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imaginestuffs · 8 months ago

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Fresh Out the Slammer- Tyler Owens x f!Reader

Word count:3,858

Warnings: Reader's ex is an asshole, language, fluff, angst? my first time writing for Tyler, might be a bit ooc, sorry.

Summary: The reader gets out of a six-year-long prison sentence (relationship). Tyler is there to pick up the pieces and remind her that life is meant to be lived, not just survived. based on the song "Fresh Out the Slammer" by Taylor Swift

(gif not mine!)

Standing in the middle of a rest stop with your team and a few other groups, your boyfriend decided to go off on you.

Just hours earlier he had made a mistake while chasing a tornado. He told you that he wouldn't get too close, he wouldn’t let anything happen. But, that wasn’t the case at all. He decided to take a chance and get as close as he possibly could, and contrary to his beliefs, he did get too close.

You yelled at him to turn around, just as everyone had over the radio. Yet, he persisted despite your begging to go back. Everyone else in the group had turned around but he just couldn’t face the fact that he was wrong. As the storm got closer you began to cry, muttering prayers and pleas to anyone or anything that would hear you.

He began to yell at you to shut up and stop being a bitch. This only made you cry harder, and just as you dreaded a strong gust of wind followed by quite a large piece of debris hit the side of your truck. It hit the truck hard enough to tip it but not enough to make it roll. And for that, you believed your pleas had been heard.

Now here you were after getting checked out by paramedics, luckily nothing severe had happened. Just a gash across your forehead that needed stitches and a few other cuts and bruises. Your friends were terrified when they found you both and confused as to why your boyfriend would do that.

That brought you to the moment you knew it was over.

“You know, if you weren’t such a mess, none of this would’ve happened.” he sneered.

“I’m sorry, what?” you snapped back. He looked at you and rolled his eyes.

“You heard what I said. You’re a damn mess. You sitting there in the passenger seat crying, pleading with God not to let us die. Like I didn’t know what I was doing.” He took a large step towards you and your breath hitched.

“You weren’t listening to any of us, we could have been seriously hurt. We could have died Nathan!” your eyes were wide, and your heart was pounding.

“There you go again, being as dramatic as you can. You’d do anything for attention and sympathy. It makes me sick, honestly. Get over yourself, no one cares (y/n)! I sure as hell don’t.” he said. Your heart dropped, and your eyes began to tear up.

“Go ahead and cry just like always. I’m done with you and all your problems. It was your fault for the accident. If you weren't being a baby I would’ve been paying attention. Get out of here, we’re leaving. Go home and pack your shit.” his voice was as cold as his eyes were.

He stormed away to where the rest of your group stood. They all looked at him in fear, not knowing how cruel he was.

“What the hell are you looking at? Let’s get out of here before she comes begging for forgiveness,” he said in disgust.

All you could do was stand there, watching all of the people you thought loved you turn their backs on you. Leave you there like you never mattered to them at all.

They drove off and you felt your heart shatter. You didn’t know he hated you that much, and it made you feel sick.

Feeling your stomach churn you quickly ran to the side of the building and threw up. As you were hunched over you felt hands grab your hair and someone rubbing your back soothingly.

Once you had stopped you began to sob, you were completely overwhelmed and in quite a state. You didn’t know who had pulled you into a hug but you held on so tightly you could’ve bruised them.

“Hey, hey. Shh, it’s ok I’ve got you.” the person's voice was something you held onto in your mind. “You’re gonna be ok, I promise,” the man spoke softly letting his hand smooth your hair down.

You weren't sure how long you stayed that way but when you eventually calmed down your grip became lax. You rubbed at your eyes trying to get the world into focus again.

Feeling someone’s eyes on you, you were reminded of the person next to you.

Glancing up you saw a man you’d never expected to see. Tyler Owens.

At that moment you didn’t care who he was, you just knew that you were grateful for him.

You had come across him and his team a few times, and despite him being a little annoying he was always kind to you.

His eyes held a softness you had never seen, and his smile was sympathetic.

You realized then how ridiculous you must look. Dirty clothes mascara trails on your face and puffy eyes. You suddenly became embarrassed.

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I’m not doing this for attention. I just felt overwhelmed, and the crash and everything caught up to me all at once. Honestly, I didn’t mean for anyone to see me like this. I’m so sorry Tyler, You didn’t have to help me-” He cut off your rambling.

“(y/n), listen to me,” he said and ducked down to try and meet your eyes. You turned your head away, so as gently as he could with a firm grip, he turned your face towards him.

You looked at him and saw no judgment or anger. The only thing you saw was kindness, and with his hand on your cheek, you felt how steady he was.

“You have no reason to be sorry. What you just went through is not easy to process. I know you’re not doing this for attention. You’re hurt, and you're exhausted, and I can assume you're still shaken up from the car flipping.” He said with a calmness you never thought of when it came to Tyler.

You slowly nodded your head, trying to calm yourself. “It’s not your fault, none of it is your fault.”

It had been a few months since everything happened, and you were beginning to see all of the things you ignored. With the fog lifted you could see that the way Nathan treated you was beyond terrible. Everything that didn’t go his way was your fault. The way he only said he loved you when you were in front of your families. All the times he chewed you out in front of the team, and then would persuade you to forgive him and believe that it was once again your fault.

Tyler and his team ended up taking you home. He went with you to get your things from Nathan’s apartment. He made things bearable, he made you feel like you were important and that was so new to you.

You became quite good friends with his group as well. They had all checked in on you as much as they could. They’d stop by and spend the night, just keeping you company. They wanted you to feel like you had people who cared for you. Honestly, they all fell in love with you.

Currently, you were sitting at home curled up on the couch with your latest book. A cup of tea sat on the side table, and rain lightly drizzled on the roof.

Hearing cars pull up outside your brows furrowed, and you bookmarked your page before getting up. With the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you made your way to the window. There in your driveway was Tyler’s red truck, and the RV. You saw everyone pile out of the cars and you quickly walked to your front door and yanked it open.

“Guys!” you shouted and dropped your blanket in favor of running down your porch towards your friends. Boone being the closest you crashed into him, your arms around him in a big hug.

“Hey, (y/n)!” he exclaimed as he held you tightly. He swayed you a bit and you chuckled before pulling away.

You went around and greeted all your friends.

“Where’s my hug?” You heard Tyler’s voice sound from behind you. You turned to look at him with a big smile.

You opened your arms, “Right here if you want it,” you teased. He chuckled slightly before walking towards you and swiftly wrapping you up in his arms. You let out a laugh when he picked you up off the wet grass. It was only then that you remembered that it was raining. You felt the water land on your warm face and you scrunched your nose.

Tyler couldn’t help but smile at you, admiring the joy and contentment he could see on your face. It was a peace he never saw you have before.

Setting you down you smiled up at him and grabbed his hand in yours before jogging towards the open door. Everyone else had gone inside to escape the rain, or at least that’s the reason they gave you.

The whole team knew that the real reason they went into the house was to let you and Tyler have a moment. They could tell that something was happening between the two of you.

You closed the door behind you, and Tyler picked up the blanket you had dropped on the floor.

Luckily it wasn’t a full-blown storm so none of you were soaked. Just a few sprinkles on your clothes. You offered your friends coffee or tea, or a beer if they wanted one. Surprisingly they all opted for coffee.

“The fact that you don’t put any cream or sugar into your coffee makes me ill Dexter.” You said jokingly.

“Well, I want coffee not just a cup of cream and sugar,” he said and shrugged. You laughed as you walked into the kitchen to make the coffee for them.

As you walked away everyone turned their attention towards Tyler.

“So, are you gonna go talk to her?” Dani questioned him with a smirk. Tyler raised a brow at them and scoffed.

“We all know you’re dying to ask her out Ty, just go do it,” Lily urged him.

He shook his head and sighed. “You guys are crazy, she just got her heart broken a few months ago. I doubt she wants to jump into something else so soon,” Tyler told them.

Boone looked at his best friend with a questioning look. “Tyler, I swear to god if you don’t go in there and ask that woman out, I’ll do it for you,” he threatened.

Tyler sighed in defeat. “What would I even say?” he asked them all.

“Just talk to her like normal. Just be Tyler, that’s all she would want,” Dani patted his shoulder.

“Shit,” Tyler mumbled before standing from his place on the couch. They all quietly cheered him on as he walked away.

You had music playing as you made everyone’s coffee for them. Swaying around the kitchen you sang quietly under your breath.

“Now pretty baby, I’m running back home to you. Fresh out the slammer I know who my first call will be to. Fresh out the slammer ah,” When the first verse started did a small spin.

Tyler stood quietly in the doorway admiring you in your own world. It was as if nothing could touch you right now. In that moment he realized just how much he wanted to be yours. He knew he could treat you better. He would do anything to see you smile, and to see you without a care in the world.

He let out a small chuckle as you spun. You heard him and turned around in surprise. You let out a breath realizing that it was just him. You smiled and walked over to him to grab his hands.

You began to dance with him to the song. He twirled you away from him and pulled you back in. You laughed and began to sing the song again.

“Now pretty baby, I’m runnin’ to the house where you still wait up, and that porch light gleams. To the one who says I’m the girl of his American Dreams.” He smiled down at you and pulled you in close. Your arms around his waist and his arms around your shoulders. You had never felt this safe before, and it was the happiest you had been in years.

“But it’s gonna be alright, I did my time.”

The song ended and he slowly pulled away. Your smile was soft and your gaze was warm as you looked up at him. He could feel his heart melt at the sight in front of him.

He glanced at your lips, then back up to your eyes. He took a tentative step closer, placing a hand on your waist and the other on your cheek. You took a small step forward, and your smile turned shy. You placed one hand on his forearm and the other on his shoulder.

He slowly leaned in, pausing for just a second, his nose brushing yours. Taking a moment to see if this was what you wanted. He felt your soft breathing against his lips, and he saw that your eyes were closed.

“Please,” he heard your soft whisper, and without a second thought, he pressed his lips against yours.

You immediately pushed up on your toes to press yourself closer to him. Tyler couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt this way for someone. His hand drifted from your face into your hair, gently tugging the soft strands. You sighed into the kiss and he took the opportunity to deepen it. The hand on your waist had moved to your back to keep you flush against him.

The way he kissed you made you feel like you didn’t have to worry about being hurt. You didn’t have to tiptoe around him or be scared that one day he would just decide he didn’t love you. It felt like rain after a drought, sun after a cruel winter, Finally escaping the prison cell you had been in for the last six years.

It felt like freedom.

“Ty! Roll down the window!” you said in excitement. Tyler looked at you with a huge grin.

“You better be careful baby,” he said, with that glint in his eyes.

“Always am,” you winked as you pulled yourself as far out the window as you could. You were practically sitting with your legs in the car and your torso through the window. You held on to the cage with one hand letting yourself feel the rain and wind whipping through your hair. Tyler drove down the road as best as he could while stealing glances at you.

He heard how you laughed and yelled into the wind. It was moments like those when he realized he had found his person. He found the person he wanted to spend forever with.

When Tyler saw the clouds becoming more dense he tapped your leg softly as a way of telling you to come back in. You quickly slid yourself back into the seat with a huge smile.

Your hair was slightly wet and completely wind-swept.

“God, I love you,” he said and you chuckled.

“Why do you say that?” you asked slightly out of breath.

“Because you understand me. I don’t have to explain why I do this, because you love it just as much as I do,” he said and you smiled over at him.

“If it wasn't for you, I wouldn’t have ever done this again. You brought back the love of chasing, I know with you I have nothing to be afraid of,” You told him and leaned over to kiss the corner of his smile.

He placed on hand on your thigh and glanced over at you with so much love.

“Are you guys ready for this?!” Boone’s voice came through the radio loud and clear. A laugh escaped you.

Picking up the radio, you responded. “We are. Are you?”

Boone could hear the smirk in your voice. Lily laughed, “See you on the other side!” she crowed.

Tyler drove further into the storm's path, when he got exactly where you wanted to be, he anchored the truck into the ground.

Tyler looked over at you with the same grin you had seen countless times now. The one that you’d never get tired of seeing, and you imagine your smile mirrored his.

The tornado swirled around you, and the rush of adrenaline you always felt came flooding through you. Tyler's hand was still placed on your thigh, a grounding comfort for you. Despite your love for tornadoes and storms, there was always the smallest twinge of fear. But it was something you had grown to appreciate, it made you have so much more respect for Mother Nature.

It was amazing to see the look on Ty’s face as he watched everything happen around him. There was never a time you had seen him unimpressed by a tornado, a storm, or just rain on a cloudy day.

It was your favorite thing to witness. His passion and eagerness to understand these things.

The tornado had passed and you and Tyler immediately looked at each other and burst into laughter.

You leaped out of the truck and turned to watch the tornado forge its path across the field.

Tyler came up behind you and scooped you up. He let out a shout of joy, and you laughed breathlessly. He set you down.

“Did you see that baby?!” he yelled. He ran a hand through his hair and you smiled.

“That was beautiful Ty! I can’t believe that!” you enthused as you danced around the field. Tyler chuckled and grabbed your hand spinning you around.

He pulls you close to him and you reach up to hold his face in your hands. Your hair was a bit frizzy from the rain earlier and your eyes were bright as you looked at him with so much love.

“Tyler Owens, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” you said and pulled him down to kiss you.

His hand crept under your shirt, and you shivered at his touch. His hands were rough, but it made you melt. He pulled away when a car horn honked a few feet away.

You turned to see who it was. Expecting it to be the crew you were surprised to see Nathan and your old team get out of their cars.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Nathan stormed over to you but Tyler quickly stood in front of you.

“Get out of my way,” Nathan said, trying his best to sound intimidating.

It was true that Nathan was significantly shorter than Tyler, and you had to hold back your laugh.

“What are you gonna do, Kick me?” Tyler questioned with a raised brow.

“(y/n), we need to talk right now,” He used that voice that always used to scare you into doing what he wanted. He sounded pathetic now.

“She doesn't owe you a damn thing Nathan,” Tyler said and took a step closer to him.

You stepped forward to grab Tyler’s wrist and pull him back. Just as you did this, you heard your friends pull up next to you.

They all got out of their cars as well and came over to see what was going on.

When they saw Nathan, they all sighed in annoyance.

“Why is Shorty here?” Dani asked.

Nathan sent a glare their way, and Dani flipped him off.

“Damn it, (y/n), Just let me talk to you!” he shouted angrily.

Tyler was about to step in when you squeezed his hand. He looked down at you quizzically.

“I can talk to him, it’s ok T,” you said and tugged him down to kiss his cheek.

Tyler took a couple of steps back and let you stand in front of Nathan.

“Nathan, what do you want?” you asked him with your arms crossed.

“Why the hell are you with them? Why are you with him?” he questioned angrily.

“I’m way better than him. I knew you were desperate but Tyler Owens, are you serious?” Nathan took a jab, expecting to get a reaction out of you.

You just gave him a look as if asking if he was done talking.

“You done?” You questioned with a raised brow.

He stood there unable to find words, “What the hell is wrong with you?” he ended up spitting out.

You scoffed. “What’s wrong with me? Nothing. But I can tell you what's wrong with you.” before he got a chance to clap back you spoke up again.

“You treat everyone else around you like crap because you're bitter. You take out your anger on the people around you because you can’t face the fact that you’re miserable. You took everything out on me, it was always my fault. Every little thing that didn’t go right in your life, you blamed on me.”

“That’s bullshit!” he interjected angrily.

“Oh, really? Should I bring up the time you told me I was your biggest mistake, that if you never would have talked to me you wouldn’t be having so many problems. You made me believe that I was always the problem.” You stated with conviction.

“Being with you was a prison sentence, if you hadn’t left that day, I would’ve died handcuffed to the spell I was under, lost in the shade of how you were feeling. You leaving me there was the best thing to happen to me,” you affirmed.

“By the way, for every time you called me a bitch, He calls me the girl of his American dreams.”

You flipped him off with the sweetest smile you could muster.

“Fuck you,” he spat at you and you kept a smile on your face. He turned away from you and began to walk away.

“One more thing Nathan! These people that I’m with now, are worth more than 100 of you,” you said and pointed to the whole group.

They got in their cars and turned around as fast as they could. You turned to look at your friends and boyfriend. They all looked stunned.

“What?” you asked with a smile. “That was my favorite thing that has ever happened,” Lily spoke and you chuckled. Dexter walked up to you and wrapped you in a hug, you hugged him back just as everyone else joined in on it.

You laughed with everyone as you pulled away. “I love you guys, what more is there to say,” you shrugged.

You felt arms wrap around your waist and you smiled before turning around to face Tyler. He smiled down at you. You reached up and took the hat off of his head and placed it on your own with a sly smile.

“The girl of my American dreams, huh?” he questioned with a smirk. You tilt your head a bit as you gaze up at him.

“You know it, cowboy,”

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“But it’s gonna be alright, I did my time,”

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spearsillustration · 2 months ago

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°[Younger Cecil Stedman X Secret Wife/Hero Reader]°

Summary - This takes place immediately after Cecil gets hurt, following all the intense surgery and necessary medical procedures to patch him up. The wounds are still fresh, and the lingering ache from the ordeal is a constant reminder of how close things came to going horribly wrong.

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Notes - Okay since this is my first time writing for him it might be ooc, but I’m trying my best. Though after reading all the other fanfics about him (which isn’t enough) I think I did enough research. Plus rewating every scene he’s in I think I’m ready. Alright, enough ranting I hope you enjoy.

P.S. I rushed to finish this after work so there might be some small mistakes here and there. I'll edit it in due time.

Word count: 2,510

Page number: 7

It had been two weeks since I’d heard anything from Cecil. I called and texted him till my fingers went numb. We might go weeks without seeing each other due to work but he’d always try to call or message me so we knew the other was alright. Last I knew he went on a solo mission when they got a tip, but I was sure he would be fine. If it was something life-threatening they would have sent me in to assist as his partner.

After I hadn’t heard back from him I knew something was wrong. I had to keep our marriage a secret for both our safety, but It was hard to keep a level head not knowing if my husband was okay. I made calls asking about his whereabouts in a way that didn’t scream desperately worried.

It was another week before I got any information and…It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I was told the entire mission was confidential information. But was told that Celil got hurt pretty badly. They reassured me of his excellent care, and their voices receded to a faint hum in the back of my mind, the shock numbing my senses. He had been in the medical facility for the past two weeks and I hadn’t been told a single thing. I had to control myself as my blood felt like it was boiling. But the anger quickly passed and despair followed. I thanked them for finally getting back with me.

I asked if I could see him. I joked that I needed to make sure my favorite partner wasn’t dead yet. I worked with most of the higher ranked agents but I worked with him the most. Noone needed to know the real reason, to any if them we just worked well together. It was hard to put on the fake smile and laughter that followed.

They weren't sure if he was ready for visitors. I have to ask someone higher up to get anything done around here. I rubbed my temple in frustration and with a deep sigh thanked them before hanging up the phone.

I had to make an appointment with the medical facility desk the following day and fill out paperwork explaining why I was visiting and so forth. The process was excruciating as it was time-consuming. Guess being a hero who works for the GDA doesn’t get you ahead of anyone else around here. I rushed through everything making my handwriting sloppy as all hell but I got it finished and quickly gave it back so I could see him as soon as possible.

“In a hurry (Y/N).” The person working at the desk joked with a smile.

“Y-Yeah plenty of work to get done, people to save all that,” I responded as normal as possible.

“I understand that. I’ll get these sorted out as quickly as I can for you. But for now, I’ll need you to wait over there for me.” She said gesturing to the seats where I just was.

I held back an annoyed sigh as I thanked her. I returned to my seat in the corner. Every minute dragged on making me worry even more. After a while, I pulled out my phone looking for a distraction so my mind didn’t wander too much. But that made it worse when I ended up opening my gallery and looking at the few pictures I had of Cecil and me. I had some cute selfies of us together, a picture I took when he fell asleep at his desk that he thinks I deleted, date photos, and things he sent me from work.

“(Y/N),” She called from the desk.

My head quickly shot up as I heard my name.

“You can see him now. The doctor says he’s well enough for visitors”

“Thank you,” I quickly responded and I calmly walked to his room, well until I was out of sight then I practically ran.

Once I got to his room I froze unable to move for a moment. It took me a good minute before I brought my hand up to knock on the door. I heard a strained voice.

“Come in,” Cecil said voice sounding deeper than the last time I heard him.

I slowly opened the door expecting the worst.

When I opened his door his face was inflamed and raw from previous reconstructive surgery, marred by a prominent scar that ran across half of his face. Despite the shock and pain, a surge of relief washed over me—Cecil was alive, albeit heavily sedated.

"Cecil..." I mumbled as my eyes watered in relief.

A hoarse, gravelly whisper escaped his lips, his voice cracked and rough. "(Y/N)...?"

I slowly walked over the the hospital bed he was lying in and sat down on the chain that was beside his bed. I gripped his hand with both of mine lovingly as if I was gonna lose him now.

“Yes, I'm here,” I said with a smile as tears fell down my face.

His fingers trembled ever so slightly, but he managed to squeeze my hand. "Don't...cry." he rasped, his expression tightening with effort. "Look...at me."

I looked into his eyes weakly unable to stop the tears from streaming down my face.

His gaze softened as he noticed my tears, a pang of anguish flashed across his eyes. He slowly raised his hand, movement restricted by lingering pain. He gently swiped his thumb against my cheek, attempting to comfort me.

"I'm okay," he whispered, his voice hoarse and laced with weakness. "I'm... here, (Y/N)."

I leaned into his touch and caressed his hand. “I-I could have lost you. I don’t even know what happened to you for two weeks I’ve been driving myself insane not even knowing if you were alive.” I said between weak whimpers almost unable to stop myself from sobbing.

The sound of my voice, trembling and filled with sobs, pierced him deeply. He squeezed my hand again, a silent act of reassurance. Even in his pain-muddled state, he loathed seeing me this distraught.

His gaze bore into me, unflinching and intense. "You...didn't lose me." His voice, though rough, held a steely resolve. "I'm here...I'm not going anywhere."

“I should have been there. You might not be stuck in this damn hospital bed if I went with you.” I said sorrowfully, deeply regretting my absence. “It's never safe to go on missions alone, why were you alone?” I wined out painfully.

His grip tightened on my hand, a mix of annoyance and concern crossing his expression. "Stop." His voice held a touch of firmness. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault."

He sighed, looking away momentarily, his gaze fixated on the sterile, blank hospital wall. "I...went...alone because...it was supposed to be...low risk. The intelligence was wrong."

I looked away in shame. “I still wish I was there for you.”

"Stop," he repeated, his voice stern but not without a note of vulnerability. "You...can't always be there."

He shifted his gaze back to me. "I don't want you...risking your life...just for me. I need you...safe."

“I know, but I was so scared. They didn’t even tell me you were hurt till the other day. I was worried to death.”

He winced at my words, his expression etched with pain both physical and emotional. The intensity in his eyes softened as he realized the depth of my concern.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I...didn't consider...how scared you would be...waiting for me."

“Of course, I was worried. I’m not just your partner Cecil, I'm your wife. It's my job to worry about you. On and off work.”

The corner of his lip lifted in a small, tired smirk.

"Worrying isn’t on the list of your marital duties," he retorted weakly, trying to infuse a hint of humor into the situation.

“Well with you it's at the top of the list.”

His smirk broadened ever so slightly, his eyes softening with affection.

"You're hardly the stereotypical doting housewife," he pointed out.

“Well, a stereotypical wife couldn't handle you.”

A chuckle, low and rumbling, escaped him, though it was followed by a wince of pain. "Ain't that...the truth," he agreed, his eyes gleaming with affection.

Seeing him wince in pain made my smile fall. “How are you feeling... really?”

His expression sobered, the amusement in his eyes fading as he sighed heavily. "Like... I got hit by a goddamn truck," he admitted. "Whole body feels like it's on fire. And my head hurts like a sonofabitch."

“Even with all the painkillers they most likely got you on?”

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Painkillers...take the edge off," he muttered, his gaze distant. "But they don't...fix everything." He shifted uncomfortably, wincing again as the movement aggravated his already sore body.

I scooted the chair I was sitting in even closer to his bed. I’d be in the hospital bed with him if I didn’t have any self-control.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or is it to confidential?” I asked turning to look him in the eyes.

“Look you know I can’t tell you, and…you don’t want to know.” He answered the way I expected him too.

“Then it’s probably for the best then,” I responded meekly but pushed past that feeling. “How much longer till you can leave the medical facility and I can get you some real food?”

“Probably another week before they finally let me go.” He sighed in annoyance.

“Well guess I’ll have to come visit you every day till they finally release you.” I teased knowing he hated sitting around doing nothing in a bed all day.

His gaze fixed on me, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I know you will," he murmured, his voice gruff but lacking any hint of annoyance. "Can't get rid of... you that easy."

“Oh, so you thought getting hurt and almost dying would get rid of me. That some facial scar would bother me. Hell, you married me, and it's gonna take far more than that to run me off. Till death do us part is literal with me sweetheart.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile as I continued. “You’re too stubborn.”

“Well, I have to be when It comes to you or you’d never listen,” I said with a smile before gently kissing the new scar on his face.

He flinched at the touch of my lips against his sensitive scar, though his expression softened as he felt the love in that tender gesture making his cheeks turn a light shade of pink that was almost too light to notice.

"Careful," he murmured gently "It's still a bit tender."

I bit my lip playfully with a wink, “It's kind of attractive.”

He let out a huff of amusement, his smirk returning. "You always did...have peculiar tastes," he said, a slight edge of teasing in his voice.

“Well, I married you if that tells you anything.”

"You must've...lost your damn mind,"

“Maybe a little,” I responded before hearing a knock at the door. I quickly shot up and made myself presentable since our marriage was a secret to almost everyone else.

His attention shifted to the knock on the door, his expression slightly alarmed. Despite his injured state, there was a guarded wariness in his gaze. He discreetly gestured for me to step back, not wanting outsiders to witness the intimacy of your relationship.

I moved the chair back and stood up to answer the door. A GDA nurse entered, her expression professional and her voice courteous.

"Good evening, ma'am. I just need to check on Mr. Stedman's vitals." She briskly moved to the side of his bed, affixing the blood pressure cuff to his arm without sparing either of us a second glance.

"Of course." I stepped back so I wasn't in her way and continued speaking to Cecil but only about the stuff he missed at work while he was gone so we wouldn't give away our relationship.

He nodded, shifting slightly to allow the nurse access to his arm. As the nurse proceeded to take his vitals, he engaged in the conversation with you, keeping up the pretense of a casual work update. His gaze flickered between you and the nurse, aware of the need to maintain discretion.

Once the nurse was finished and left us alone I let out a sigh. As the nurse departed, closing the door behind her, the room fell silent once again. He relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing now that she was gone.

"Close call," he murmured, his gaze flickering from the door to me.

"It not like we were making passionate love to each other." I teased.

"That's not the point," he retorted gruffly, trying to maintain a stern demeanor. "We're trying to keep things... under wraps."

"Trust me I know more than anyone," I responded before my watch started beeping alerting me of trouble. I sighed in annoyance and looked up at Cecil painfully.

He noticed the beeping of your watch and the expression of annoyance on your face. A frown creased his brow as he recognized the sound.

"Duty calls?" he murmured, his voice tinged with resignation.

"At the worst times, as usual, People always need saving at the most inconvenient times I swear," I mumbled. "But I'll be back as soon as I can. And don't almost die on me again while I'm gone please."

His expression softened, his gaze fixed on you intently. "No promises," he said with a hint of a smirk, though his words held a note of sincere concern. "Be careful out there."

“Always am. But let's not forget something.” I quickly remarked before walking back over and leaning in for a loving goodbye kiss.

He leaned into the kiss, his hand gently cupping my chin. When I pulled back, a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

"Don't do anything reckless," he murmured, his gaze locking with mine.

#@ay0nha #x reader #hero reader #so #wife reader #oneshot #cecil stedman x reader #cecil stedman #invincible #younger cecil stedman #cecil #secret relationships #fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #duty calls

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cranberrv · 1 year ago

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enchanted

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston falls for the new girl

( a/n : i love this request sm!! reader is fem by the way, also not proofread also ooc! still cute tho! )

not many people wanted to move to tulsa, but for some people, it was their only option. that was the first similarity spotted between you and dallas.

of course, you and dallas were on different sides of the track, different chapters in a novel. you moved to tulsa for your fathers work, you were perfectly happy back at your old city, but you didn’t have a choice. dallas moved to tulsa to escape from the new york police.

you thought tulsa was bland. it was only your first week here, your first week emerced with all the other teenagers at school, but everyone here was grey. especially the east-side kids, the greasers. they were all broke and it looked like all the life was sucked out of them.

you, on the other hand, were fresh from los angeles, with a feminine flare to yourself and a genuine kindness that was rare in tulsa. even the rich kids were rude, but you were anything but.

it was the start of your second week of school, and your least favourite class was science. not because of the subject, it was just that the people in your class gave you dirty looks and the teacher had a voice that could put you to sleep. and your lab partner in the seat next to you had been away the entire time, leaving you to do projects alone.

today was supposed to be the exact same as usual. at the start of class, you walk in and sit down alone. the teacher does the attendance, and marks your mystery lab partner absent. today is independent work, finishing up a lab report and then doing a worksheet on protons and electrons. you want to fall asleep, it’s so boring. you’re listening to every silent conversation and looking out the window for a source of entertainment. you got your wish soon enough, as the door creaks open.

“hello,” your teacher greets to the boy that enters the room. “you are?”

“dallas winston,” he answers, throwing his burnt-out cigarette in the trash.

your teacher nods her head. “ah, you’re dallas winston,” the voice is slow as she pieces it together. you wonder why the words are said in such distaste.

you’ve given up on your work, watching dallas winston. he looks like an east-side kid, his hair is a bit messy and he radiates confidence. he certainly puts out an energy unlike anyone in this school.

they talk for a bit longer, the teacher obviously telling him it’s not okay to skip class. dallas tries to argue back for a little bit, but eventually gives up and holds his hands up in mock-surrender. the teacher takes a breath then points to you, giving him a worksheet and telling him to go sit next to you. he follows the teachers finger, and he tilts his head when he looks at you, trying to figure out if he knows you or not. his eyes light up a bit when you make eye contact with him. you like the way he looks at you.

dallas walks over, and sits next to you. there’s a few moments of silence as he gets himself settled. spitting out his gum, taking off his leather jacket, and finally landing his eyes on his sheet. he reads over the questions, and realizes has no idea how to do any of this. “you got a pencil?” he asks you.

“yeah, in my pencil case, help yourself,” you answer, and he grabs your pencil case and sifts through it to find one.

he takes one out and hands it back. you say thank you, and he thinks it was unnecessary to be polite about a simple thing but doesn’t say anything. “mechanical, huh?” he says about the pencil, pushing on the bottom to get the lead out. “expensive. what, you a soc or somethin’?”

you look from your worksheet up at him. he has a nice jawline, you notice. “a what?” you ask. an innocent question in your eyes, but one that has a lot more meaning for dallas.

who the hell doesn’t know what a soc is? he stares at you for a second, eyebrows furrowing. not out of annoyance, but out of genuine confusion about why you don’t know about the class-status that built up the entire reputation of tulsa. you know what a greaser is, but not a soc. and you barely know what a greaser is, anyway. you’ve just been told to stay away.

“you know, a rich-kid. a west-side kid.” you still look confused, and he comes to the conclusion that you’re not from here. so when he notices the confused look in your eye, he changes the subject. “where ya from, sugar?”

“i just moved from los angeles,” you tell him. his eyes drift down to your cute lace pink top. he thinks it’s totally something that someone from LA would wear. there’s a speck of silence as he analyzes you, and you feel the need to break it.

“i shoulda guessed,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows. you don’t know if he’s being mean or not. you hope he’s not mean.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean you look like you’re from hollywood or somethin’, with all the lace and the flashy bows and shit..” he’s poking at the lace lining your top. you can see him thinking about something while he’s looking at your lace. “christ, your lingerie collection must be insane, huh?”

there’s a blink of silence and a look of slight disbelief on your face. “what?”

“i’m messin’ with ya, sweetheart,” he chuckles.

“oh,” you say softly, cheeks going a bit hot.

“so,” he starts, switching the topic to a different note. “why’d ya move to fuckin’ tulsa?”

“my dad got a job here,” you explain, fiddling with your pencil in your hands. “why?”

“just curious,” he shrugs. “you know, most people don’t move to this hellhole.”

“you did,” you say, and he tilts his head. you think he’s looking at you because you’re just assuming things, and you’re probably wrong, so he’s judging you. “did you not?”

he cracks a smile. he wasn’t judging you, simply curious as to how you guessed he wasn’t from here. “yeah, i did, sugar,” he nods, leaning back in his seat. “how’d ya know?”

“your accent,” you explain. “very new yorker.”

“yeah? you like it?”

you mirror his smile. “yeah, i do.”

the class falls silent as the teacher insists everyone quiets down and focuses. dally's voice drops to a whisper when he responds, playfully pushing you away. “alright, miss hollywood, go do your work,” he teases. “gonna tell the teacher you’re distracting me,” he threatens, obviously playing around because he knows that he’s the one distracting you.

you smile and turn your head back to your sheet to finish it up. you begin peacefully working. dallas can’t help but stare at you as you do so. nibbling at your pencil while you’re thinking, constantly adjusting your top, brushing your hair out of your face every now and then, he notices it all. he can’t help it, he thinks you’re the sweetest person he’s ever seen.

you look up at him, feeling his intense gaze on you. you make eye contact and instantly turn away again, cheeks going pink like a tulip. why is he looking at you? do you have something on your face? you don’t know. you subconsiously wipe your cheek to make sure, and adjust your top again.

dallas finally looks away, and you take a breath and relax your shoulders. as much as he was acting sweet towards you, you could tell he had this rough edge that you should be worried about. but what truly worried you is the fact that his edge didn’t worry you. if anything, it lured you in. you wanted to learn everything about him. he was like the ocean, he was calm and beautiful but you had to swim out far and dive deep down to find out everything about him. and it felt like no one had, yet. he was a mystery. you liked that.

as you’re working, you hear the rip of lined paper beside you, then the scratch of a pencil. a few moments later, dallas hands you a piece of paper with a note on it.

“how do you do question 1?“ it reads.

you read the note and look up at him, smiling. you write down your answer, saying that he needs a calculator. you hand him yours, assuming correctly that he doesn’t own one.

he slides you another note a few seconds later. “it keeps saying weird shit on the calculator”

“what does it say?” you write back.

he takes longer than usual to write. you wait in anticipation. after what feels like forever (but was probably 15 seconds) he hands you another note. you read the numbers. you don’t understand how he got that answer. you read over it again, and then it clicks. it’s his phone number.

he’s looking at you as you read it. you look up at him and gently nod, putting his number in your pocket. you rip another piece of paper and write down, “i’ll call you.”

he reads it and writes back, and is about to hand it to you, until he quickly takes it back and adds something. then he hands it to you.

“good. (p.s. your little lace top is kinda cute)”

you read his little p.s. and smile to yourself, then to him. you mouth thank you to him. he mouths “anytime” back.

you have a feeling this won’t be the last time you and dallas winston say hello to each other in science class.

#the outsiders #dallas winston #dally winston #dallas #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston fluff #dally winston fluff

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r0tting-rat · 3 months ago

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"Little pest."

Hi Magpie!!! Gift :> Just a lil thing for a very talented someone with an incredible au. Yeah I'm a huge simp for their alien boys what about it /silly

Pairing: Alien King!Eclipse (by @sleepymagpie-draws) x Gender Neutral Reader Warning: None, maybe just a bit ooc (sorry mags) Words: 4000+ Summary: You're bored and can't sleep. Thank god you have someone to annoy to pass the time <3 Heavily inspired by this ask/art!!! Literally died when I saw it he's so beautiful. Additional tags: TouchSTARVED reader. Starved as hell. Also fluff fluff fluff so much fluff. Magpie I love him can you tell. (Reminder everyone that the reader has techincally been kidnapped, but they're pretty chill about it dw)

Who said being kidnapped by aliens is a terrifying and horrible experience? It has already been months since Sun literally grabbed you and brought you with him, and you have yet to be put on a vivisectionist's table. In fact, all you have known since then are silky sheets, soft pillows, ornate plates of fresh fruits you have never seen before, and heavy pieces of jewelry that hang down your neck and rest fresh against your sternum. You live better than you used to back on Earth, spoiled rotten by three royals every single day of your dull life, sleeping in a bed three times the size of a human one, and with countless workers ready to be summoned at your every call. Although, you have to admit that you much prefer the attention of your “captors” compared to the one of their servants, feeling like their soft touches work like a relaxing balm on your mood.

The one of the three brothers you see less is Eclipse, and even if you can bet your money on the fact that he must be constantly busy due to his duties as a king, you can’t help but wish you could spend more time with him, craving the way he gently scratches the top of your head with his claws whenever he manages to stop by and pay you a visit.

Rolling around in the soft sheets of the bed you are resting on, looking up at the dull ceiling, you feel like a pampered and neglected pet at the same time, left to the care of strangers who refuse to speak more than quick sentences to you, covered by precious gifts from head to toe and fed with silver spoons while also being locked alone in your quarters for hours without end.

You complain, of course. To Sun, Moon, and anyone who’s willing to swing by and listen, really. You grumble and whine; you roll on your bed and do your best attempt at puppy eyes, but all the brothers do is laugh and caress your cheeks. There are rules—they say—rules that can’t be broken, and each time they remind you, you roll your eyes. They promised you books and games to pass the time, but as you wait for the shipment from Earth to arrive, you are left with nothing. You don’t understand the language of the heavy volumes collecting dust in the bookshelves of your room, and something tells you you wouldn’t enjoy reading them even if you did.

The part of the brothers’ visits you hate the most is when you see them stand up and prepare to leave, because you know that the very moment the door closes behind them, it locks, leaving you stuck in your room for hours. There’s no real keyhole in your door, so you can only guess how it works, but from what you have gathered so far, it seems like it’s semi-automatic but opens only when you’re coming in from the outside. Listening to Sun and Moon made you realize another thing as well: their rooms seem to be close to yours—maybe even adjacent—and the thought infuriates you. So close, and yet so far! Why do they so rarely visit you if they are so close by? Do they have other places to rest? Do they sleep at all? Are the bedrooms just for show? Drowning in questions, you decide that it’s time to break some rules, and when Eclipse finally stops by to visit you after dinner, you come up with a plan.

The alien is so tall the tip of his crown brushes over the canopy of your bed as he leans over your draped form on the bed. He rests one of his hands on top of your head, brushing your hair back, and you look up at him with a pout.

“Finally decided to pay attention to me?” you say, swatting his hand away and sitting up. You know you’re being a brat, but if they so desire to treat you as a glorified pet, then you might as well show them the reality of owning one. From under his crown, which you consider more like a helmet or mask, you hear the disappointed clicking of his mandibles that translates through your magnetic ring with a soft cooing sound.

“Oh, my pet, are you feeling neglected?” he asks, coming back to gently run his claws through your hair. He loves to do it, and you love allowing him.

“I’m bored, Eclipse.” You have no qualms about calling him by his real name, ignoring any honorific everyone around keeps suggesting to you. “I’m bored, and it’s been almost a week since your last visit.”

You shift back on the bed a little so it doesn’t seem done on purpose, and you watch as the terrifyingly huge alien climbs on the disarranged covers to follow you. He never fully enters your personal space, always keeping enough room between the two of you to keep things “formal,” in a way, but you also noticed how he likes to have you at arm’s length. Every time you are in the same room as Eclipse, one of his four arms is always touching you, resting on your head or shoulder, tilting your chin up, sometimes even running his claws from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck just to see you shiver and glare at him.

“My apologies,” he says, and his words sound sincere, “I promise the shipment will arrive shortly; you’ll have your books in no time.”

“It’s not the books that I want, though,” you reply, leaning closer, and that causes Eclipse to slightly move back, like he’s scared you might end up too close to his face. “You kidnapped me, dragged me here, then proceeded to simply ignore me.”

You weren’t being ignored, of course. You were just acting dramatic so as to get what you wanted.

“I’m sure I do not need to remind you who of the three of us is the one at fault for your presence here. As I told you already, I’m afraid I cannot bring you with me while I work, pet,” Eclipse sighs, “After we expanded on your little planet, both Sun and Moon’s responsibilities and tasks have doubled as well. It has to be said, your fellow humans are quite rowdy.”

You turn your head away, pretending to look saddened by the news—nothing you hadn’t expected, of course, but still.

“Also, the thought of you roaming these halls alone makes us all uneasy,” he adds, “You could get lost, or someone could see you and be scared to the point of calling the guards on you. That’s why we must lock your door, my pet, to keep you safe.”

“Not because you think I might run away?” you question, eyebrows rising up with skepticism, and Eclipse purrs with amusement.

“Run off? And where to, silly?” he laughs, “You wouldn't even know how to leave this place, let alone return to your home planet.”

He’s right; running from them would have been stupid. Plus, you don’t really want to escape—not when you have two princes and a king spoiling you like that—you just need to leave that damned room for at least five minutes so as to not go mad! Is it too much to ask not to be subjected to psychological torture?

“Are you returning tomorrow morning?” you ask, hopeful, and Eclipse shakes his head. You groan, now seriously disappointed, and try not to lean too much into the touch of his hand caressing your cheek. The contact burns, like living embers, and you have to stifle a second groan. It’s been so long since you had some form of physical contact with a human, and something tells you it’s starting to take a toll on you, making you more compliant and demanding of attention. It could be due to the unfamiliar setting, which you simply can’t grow accustomed to despite how much you walk the perimeter of your large room, or the complete absence of familiar faces, but the cause of it doesn’t matter. All you know is that you need to be hugged, to be cuddled, to be held, and to be caressed. You’re touch starved, so hungry for it you could just throw yourself at Eclipse and cling on his neck until he relents and decides to sleep there with you or bring you to his room—either way, you’d get a full night of cuddles; too bad common decency stops you from hugging a king like a koala.

“I have an important meeting in the morning, so I’m afraid not. I’m sure Sun and Moon might be able to clear their schedules in the afternoon, though, so don’t fret.”

His words are apologetic, but you feel as if they were said with the sole purpose of bringing you harm because they do nothing but hurt you.

Eclipse leaves after a while of chatting, bringing all the warmth of the room with him, and you watch him from your spot on the edge of the bed as he walks towards the door. You’re on your back, head hanging down the bed, staring blankly at the heels of the king and mentally preparing your next move. You act fast. The door opens, Eclipse slips away, and right before it closes, you throw a pillow in the gap of the threshold. The noise of the pillow falling is soft and muffled, and Eclipse doesn’t seem to notice that the door hasn’t closed completely behind him; instead, he simply walks away in the white corridor outside your room, and you stare at your successful attempt with surprise. You actually did it! The door is still open, blocked by the red pillow, and you finally have access to the rest of the rooms.

Carefully standing up from your bed, like afraid someone from outside could hear you, you make your way towards the exit and peek out, hoping not to be met with Eclipse’s disappointed masked face. When your eyes travel the length of the long corridor extending before you like a white snake, you find no sign of any alien, and a smile splits on your lips from ear to ear.

The idea of immediately beginning to explore is alluring, but you know better than to leave when it’s still so early. You must wait some time until you’re sure Eclipse must have already retreated to his room for the night, and then enact the second phase of your plan.

Once you’re finally sure enough time has passed since the king has wished you goodnight, you finally push fully open the door of your room, looking around once more to make sure the coast is clear. After that, you put the pillow back to stop the door just in case it couldn’t be opened from outside like you thought, and walk in the direction you’re almost sure Eclipse has taken. During your short trip, you notice the complete lack of furniture or wall decorations in the halls, mumbling to yourself about “rich people’s lack of taste,” occasionally finding a door and trying to open it with no success, and you’re just about to give up when you finally place your open palm against one tall frame and see it move at your gentle touch.

You stare in disbelief at the room opening before you, large and barren at the same time, trying to understand who the place belongs to while lingering on the door sill. In the darkness you see thousands of books neatly arranged on tall bookshelves, with their colorful and ornate hard covers staring at you as if they’re aware you’re a stranger, and as you enter you notice many have a broken spine. Those books, you realize, have been well loved by someone, or maybe simply re-read dozens of times out of need. It doesn’t matter to you, because what you’re most interested in is the second door in a corner of the room, likely leading to the actual bedchambers. It seems like the initial area has been arranged to be used as an office, separated from the personal spaces, but if that isn’t the truth, then you might have simply stepped into a random library and made a fool of yourself in front of the books. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up, and the monkey part of your brain keeps screaming that there’s someone watching you, but the deeper you go in the quarters, the more you keep telling yourself that it’s just your imagination. Your bare feet leave a slight trail on the carpet in the middle of the room as you walk towards the second door.

As expected, the second room is more similar to a bedroom, although it doesn’t seem to gain any form of personality compared to the office you just left, almost as if the owner of the room doesn’t spend too much time in it. It wouldn’t fit Sun to sleep into such a sterile and dark ambience, and you feel like Moon would also take some more care into creating a welcoming area for himself, so that leaves out only one of the three brothers.

The size of the bed confirms your theory: you have ended up exactly in Eclipse’s room, and you’re face to face with his sleeping form. Or, at least you guess it must be him, considering how dark it is in that corner. The only source of light in the room is a large window kept almost entirely shut, not allowing a ray of starlight to enter, so you really can’t be sure of anything.

The canopy bed in front of you is enormous, of a deep burgundy color, and see-through curtains drape over it to hide the figure in the middle. As you study the fabrics with the tips of your fingers, testing the softness, you find yourself enamored by it, beginning to press your open palms in the covers and then your face. You breathe in the scent, delicate while also heavy in your nostrils, and recognize the amazing aroma Eclipse brings with him everywhere he goes. You have no idea if it’s his favorite perfume or simply his natural scent; all you know is that it reminds you of the time you fell asleep on the king’s cape while he stopped for a visit, and the morning after, you found it still draped over you like a heavy cloak.

With your face in the covers, you simply close your eyes and let the memory play in your mind, affection blooming in your chest and throat like a warm flower, not noticing the dark frame towering over you from behind. Eclipse, from the height of his 8 ft, looks down at you like you’re nothing but a silly rabbit caught in a trap, about to be served for dinner to a horde of hungry guests.

“What exactly are you doing here, little pest?” he asks, and his deep growl makes you jump in the spot. When you turn around, your heart is racing, your eyes are wide open, and you feel more like prey than ever before in your life. As soon as you realize that Eclipse isn’t wearing his crown, you suddenly feel your blood pumping in your throat, and your cheeks grow warm at the sight of the red marks around his eyes and the dark color of his face sweetly mixing together, hypnotizing you for a second. All you can think of in that little head of yours is that the male should take off the helm more often so as to let his beautiful eyes see the light of day.

It isn’t the first time you saw him without the headpiece; sometimes he takes it off after he comes back from a long meeting with his advisors, and the sight always strikes you like lightning.

Eclipse—it has to be said—is beautiful. Not only for the eyes, which are of a wonderful milky color that makes you feel as if they’re cursing you with some kind of magic, but also for his soft features, unfortunately hidden for most of the time. Did his citizens even know their king looked like that? Heavens, you suddenly remember why you’re so happy that you’ve been kidnapped.

Eclipse is wearing something similar to a robe that wraps around his torso while leaving his chest open, with long sleeves covering his four large arms, and everything is kept into place by a tie in the front. He must have been on his way to go to bed before you interrupted him.

“It is only polite to answer when a royal addresses you,” the alien angruily reminds you, and you suddenly realize you haven’t said a thing since he entered.

“I just… I wanted, I was…” None of your sentences are making sense, so you swallow the lump in your throat and force your mind to clear itself of all the other distracting thoughts. “I just wanted to spend time with you, Eclipse.”

That sentence paired with some well-played puppy eyes is enough to make the alien sigh and relent, annoyed, probably too tired to argue with you after a long day of work.

“I don’t know how you left your room, but that’s unimportant now. You should return, it’s late,” he says, and you pout.

“Why can’t I sleep here?” you ask, and Eclipse looks down at you like you have grown a second head.

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning. Have you forgotten?” he sounds incredulous, “I’ll wake up early.”

You shrug after fake-pondering for a second. You had already made your decision.

“I don’t mind,” you reply with a small smile, “I sleep for the most part of the day anyway, so I’m well rested.”

Eclipse’s eyes turn into slits as he stares down at you, one pair of arms crossed over his chest and the other pair of fists on his hips. You can’t help but admire the dip of his collarbones as the fabric of his robe reveals more of him.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” he sighs, and your smile widens as you see his resolve start to break. You shake your head, and Eclipse finally relents. “Fine, get on the bed already.”

With a smug expression, you jump on the soft covers, happy with your little win, and you watch from behind the see-through curtain the king as he walks back in his personal library and returns, a moment later, with a book in his hand. You turn around, curious, and realize that the frame you thought belonged to Eclipse was actually just a bunch of pillows stuffed under the covers. Had he put them there because he had heard you come in? That would explain why he was ready to jump on you the very moment you turned your back.

The king motions you to get under the covers, then parts the curtains to slip in himself. Your eyes don’t miss the way his tense frame relaxes once his body finally rests on the mattress, as if the dark red sheets weren’t made of fabric but rippling water of a warm spring. One of his hands wraps around you, caressing your back, and you take it as a sign you can scoot closer and lay your cheek on his chest. The contact is pleasant, sending a nice buzzing of emotions down your spine, and you find yourself leaning onto him more and more every second, warm face resting on a cold and hard exoskeleton with a sigh. His main pair of arms opens the book on a page in the middle, and, with his back against the headboard, he begins reading a book with pages covered in mysterious letters and signs.

You can’t help your curiosity, and the words slip out of your mouth even before you can stop them. You don’t want to bother him, but you crave to hear him talk to you some more.

“What are you reading?” you ask, and Eclipse begins to smile.

“Fiction. After so many hours spent on documents, I need something to distract my mind.”

“I didn’t take you for the type,” you murmur, and your sentence makes him laugh.

“You just don’t know me enough, pet,” he almost purrs, and once again your face heats up. How can he say that as if it was nothing? You do want to know him more—in fact, you want to know everything about Eclipse. You want to know his favorite books, his favorite scents, what he does in the morning after waking up, and what he likes to eat. You want to ask about his childhood, you want to spend time with him and his brothers, you want to learn more about their culture and more about them as well. You want to be able to spend every second with the three of them, but you can’t, so you cherish the moment you have with Eclipse before you eventually fall asleep.

“That’s something we can always change,” you say, nuzzling closer to him and closing your eyes for a moment. You’re so close you can hear the pumping of his heart under his exoskeleton, and the sound of it is almost lulling you to sleep. “What’s the story about?”

“Ah, just a tale about two lovers,” he explains, “It’s tragic, but I can’t fall asleep without reading at least a chapter.”

“I hope it’s not too tragic,” you murmur, “It’d be sad if one died.”

“I must agree with you here,” Eclipse hugs you even closer. “They’re made for each other. If one were to pass away, I have no idea what the other would do.”

You feel cradled by the gentleness in his words, the emotion that you so rarely hear in them, like a hand caressing your cheek and tilting your face up. When you do open your eyes, you find Eclipse fondly looking down at you with a small smile.

“Keep going,” you mutter, fighting with your own heavy eyelids as you speak, “I wanna know about them…”

“Sleep, my dear pet,” Eclipse whispers instead, bending down to kiss the top of your head, “I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

You don’t want tomorrow to come, you know you wouldn’t stand to see him wearing his crown and leave for the day. The thought is so painful you curl up into a ball and groan, and you stop only when a pair of strong arms hold you close to a hard chest, and you realize that Eclipse has fully slipped under the cover and is now gently hugging you, one hand on the nape of your neck, another burying its fingers in your hair, and the last two resting on your hips. Another kiss is placed on your forehead, and you swear you might just start boiling on the spot.

“What about your book?” you ask with a tired and groggy voice, wrapping yourself around Eclipse some more, like you’re afraid someone might come in and untangle you from him.

“It’ll wait,” the king answers.

“But you said you can’t sleep without reading…” Your eyes are closed again, and this time you feel like they might not open until morning.

“This can work as well.”

You finally fall asleep cradled and hugged by Eclipse’s arms, uncaring of his hard shell being so different from any kind of fur or skin humans might find more comfortable, and when you do manage to sleep into your own world, you do it with a smile on your lips. You’re no longer afraid of turning around right after waking up and finding the bed empty and cold, not anymore, not when Eclipse is making up for all the lack of affection you had to endure.

Next time, you’ll try to see if you can rope Sun and Moon into it too. It’d be nice to have a sleepover all together.

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megumimania · 6 months ago

Text

EX FACTOR — gojo satoru

summary: don’t fuck your ex! (kidding) when a booking conflict forces you to room with gojo for the night, will your hatred of him last through the night or will you fall prey to his charms again?

warnings: smut (17+), afab reader, gojo is slight ooc but his slutty ways still remain, gojo and reader trying and failing to stand on business, exes to ???, they still love each other ya’l

ah paris, the city of love.

unfortunately the effects of the city fall flat on you as you’re stuck in a cramped car with a tinny voice in your ear belonging to the strongest sorcerer gojo satoru (aka your ex boyfriend). if shoko and utahime could see you right now they would be laughing their asses off.

initially this mission was supposed to be carried out by nanami and gojo but the night before they were scheduled to leave, nanami caught a “stomach bug.” this was unlike the formidable sorcerer who never ate anywhere that had a below 3 hygiene rating and he always made that fact known. so why would he eat at a low grade sushi restaurant, is a mystery to some.

the lack of readily available sorcerers at hand meant that you were left to accompany gojo on the mission. you were ready to drop everything at a hat for a trip to paris. aside from other neighbouring countries you never really ventured outside of asia and you were excited to explore paris and see what it had to offer

however what people forgot to conveniently mention,(or what you forgot to read) was that gojo would be coming onto the trip and by the time you found out it was too late to object, the paperwork was already signed.

he’s busy yapping away at poor ijichi who is trying to keep his eyes on the road as gojo eagerly shows him something on his phone that ijichi could honestly could care less about. you feel pity for the man, even though his pay is generous it could never be enough to deal with gojo’s antics 24/7.

“what picture should i post for thirst trap thursday?” he practically shoves the phone in your face as he swipes between the two photos. you’re about to curse out his entire bloodline for disturbing your peace but a pleading look from ijichi forces you to play nice.

the man has already been through hell and back from trying to keep you both from ripping each other’s throats out on this trip, so pretending to be amicable with your ex is the least that you could do for his sake. so you entertain gojo’s latest whim as he shows the first picture.

picture one is a classic thirst trap.

he’s fresh out of the shower, hair damp and his towel resting dangerously low on his hips, water droplets decorate his abs and the low light highlights his taut muscles. of course his face is out of the frame. it’s seductive, it’s alluring and it’s—

you’re getting ahead of yourself.

if gojo saw you staring he makes no gesture to acknowledge it.

you clear your throat hoping it’ll dispel the heat that subtly warms your cheeks. thankfully the windows are down as you zip through the busy parisian streets hearing tidbits of french as the wind whips at your skin. its honestly embarrassing how much he still has an effect on you months after the breakup but you couldn’t deny that he is a fine man, even though he looked a bit whorish in this picture.

“is that it?” you say coolly, trying not to seem too affected by the borderline r-rated pic. he pops some candy in his mouth as he passes his phone over to you with a wink.

you almost want to roll your eyes at his blatant attempt to try and rile you up but you are not the woman you were 5 minutes ago, you were not gonna stoop down to his level.

you were way better than that.

“you already know my password,” the way he’s so casual about it throws you off guard. you kinda expected him to be more cagey with something as high regarded as his phone. only god knows the amount of men and women who were in his dms right now, the mere thought of that sending a current of jealousy running through you.

picture two is less obscene but it’s still slutty as hell.

he’s dressed in the fuckboy classic: a plain white tee, grey sweat pants and a gold chain. he sure knows how to work the hell out of the outfit though. everything fits a little bit too well, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“well?” he stretches out the word, snapping you out of your reverie with a smug grin on his face that makes you forget all the reasons why you found him attractive in the first place. “whaddya think?”

“you look like a slutty jack frost,” you replied almost immediately, revelling in the way his smug grin was practically wiped off his face.

humbling him was your favourite past time. after all, knocking him down a few pegs was needed for everybody’s sake.

“why can’t you ever compliment me normally?” he groans snatching his phone from you. you’re more shocked he took your thinly veiled insult as a compliment but you ignore it for now.

gojo knew better than to ever ask you to compliment him normally, especially after the breakup where most of the words you would use now to describe him would probably get you a write up from the higher ups.

yet he still tried as if one day, the words that would spill from your lips about him would be one of admiration and not of hatred. for someone who was supposed to be the strongest and smartest man alive he was pretty naive and pretty fucking stupid sometimes.

“i refuse to feed your fat ego.” you crossed your arms as you looked at the blurring landscape in front of you, ignoring the way your traitorous heart was beating as his leg brushed yours. this was bridgerton levels of depravity that would put anthony bridgerton himself to shame.

god you seriously needed to get laid.

—

luckily curses weren’t as much of an issue in other countries compared to places like japan, so all you had to deal with was low grade curses lurking around touristy areas like the notre dame cathedral and the paris catacombs which made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

the day left you tired, sweaty and irritable. the toll of exorcising curses finally hitting you like bricks, making your muscles sore and achy. all you wanted was to take a nice hot bath and take a nap but of course nothing can ever go your way when gojo is around.

gojo accidentally booked one double room for the both of you and after several minutes of back and forth with the receptionist who made it clear in both english and french that she wouldn’t be able to make last minute adjustments, you had to settle with sharing a room with your ex.

you stalked over to the hotel room and made a beeline for the shower before gojo could open his mouth to make a witty remark.

desperately needing a minute to yourself before you dealt with the situation at hand, the hot shower helped melt away all the stress and tension of the day. a sigh of relief left your lips as you rolled your shoulders from side to side, feeling content and much more like yourself.

it is 11:30pm in paris and you still haven’t slept. you are too busy arguing with gojo about who is gonna sleep where.

“it’s fine, i’ll just sleep on the couch,” you grabbed the pillows off the bed and walked over to the couch before gojo grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him.

“c’mon, you know that if you sleep on the couch that you’ll complain in the morning about how bad your back is!” gojo interjected, still holding your arm but now in an awkward hold once he realised what he was doing. the brief moment of contact sent shivers down your spine.

“and before you start with your line of argument, just remember okinawa 2016.” he smiled knowingly, watching your face twitch at the mention of that godforsaken vacation-turned-mission you took together.

the trauma of that year was permanently etched into your skin. if it wasn’t already marked by the scar , it was marked by the psychological effects of the vacation that still crept up on you.

“fine, you win.” you huffed, releasing yourself from his hold getting into bed with him. it was honestly too late to argue and from what it sounded like you were the only two people on your floor who were still up. plus you didn’t want to unleash hell on poor i

—

the pillow wall between you both could only do so much as gojo’s limbs found their way to yours, as if it was muscle memory. they had you trapped in a deadlock—his arms snug around your waist and his head buried into the crook of your neck, his eyelashes tickling your skin.

the heat was unbearable making sleep practically impossible for you, the constant tossing and turning, dampening any chance of you getting a good night’s rest before your early flight in the morning.

“can’t sleep?” his voice rasped, still heavy with fatigue. maybe it was the sleep deprivation or the way his breath tickled your neck, that made him all the more appealing to you right now.

“nope.” you hummed in response not wanting your mind to focus on how close he was to you. how your bodies were practically flush against each other, how you could feel the faint sounds of his heart beat.

his touch strayed for a second, his fingers beginning to trace circles on your waist. a light innocent touch that was supposed to be soothing, stirred a current of desire you fought to keep at bay. knowing that if you relented for one second that the hatred you held for him would dissipate without second thought.

that’s why this whole thing was a stupid idea, letting him take you on an impromptu tour of paris, agreeing to share a room let alone a bed with him in the dead of night.

how could you claim to hate your ex when you had no qualms about being in his presence for so long? god you were full of utter shit but it didn’t bother you, at least you tried (and failed) to stand on business, not many people could say that.

gojo knew what he was doing his wandering hands trailing down from your arm to the dangerously skimming the waistband of your panties, each touch would send a shiver down your spine and part of you wished that he’d quit being a tease and give you what you wanted but you knew that was part of his charm.

his touch was almost exhilarating, leaving goosebumps in its wake. it was almost embarrassing how he barely touched you and you were already a wreck. “such a needy girl f’me, aren’t ya?” he mused, revelling at how wet you already were from his mere teasing.

all rebuttals were squashed when he attached his lips to your sweet cunt, throwing the duvet off of you, leaving you exposed in the moonlight. the sudden dip in temperature making your nipples harden, you call out for his name several times whilst he ravishes you without hesitation, even having the cheek to spell his name with his tongue.

“fuckkk right there.” you pant out, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to which he lets out a low growl at the sensation, slurping up all of your juices with a fervour that was almost primal, animalistic to say the least. your orgasm crashes over you like a freight train leaving you heady and slightly dizzy.

he looks up from where he is, hair tousled and his signature cerulean blues taking on a more darker hue as he reaches up to kiss you, his lips and cheeks stained with the glossy sheen of your release. his hand tweaks your nipples earning an impromptu moan from you that he swallows up as he deepens the kiss, rutting his hips into your thigh.

it was no surprise that he was already hard, he often joked that eating you out was his favourite past time besides going out to eat at his favourite sweet shops, which made you question if he had an oral fixation. to which he replied if it

gojo pulls down his boxers, his cock springing up against his washboard abs, the sight alone is enough to make you drool. you forget how pretty his dick was, his mushroom red tip that was leaking with precum to the prominent veins that ran on the underside of his cock.

“open your mouth f’me.” he asks and you oblige his request as he stuffs your mouth with his cock. the warm velvety confines of your mouth is enough to make him cum already but he holds out, not wanting to ruin the fun just yet. “missed that pretty mouth of yours, taking me so well.” he groans, holding your head as he fucks your mouth, the sound of you gagging on him is enough to make him lose control.

whilst gojo loved to brag how he found better, truth was that nobody could compare to you—hell even elicit the same sounds he was making when he was with you. sure his hookups and short lived relationships were enjoyable they lacked the electricity that passion he was searching for, the one that came naturally to the both of you when you were together.

“fuck princess you’re killin’ me over here.” he heaves before pulling out of your mouth entirely letting the tip of his dick rest pretty against your lips. you whine at the loss of contact but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, teasing your entrance.

“quit being such a tease.” you said annoyedly, before the air was knocked out of your lungs as he fully enters you in one fell swoop, your jaw slackens as you try to accomodate his size. he tuts, giving you a look of mock disappointment. “my, my, didn’t they teach you that patience is a virtue?”

he grins placing a kiss on your shoulder as he began to move in and out of you slowly, drinking up all your whines and moans as he picked up the pace, his hips driving into yours at a brutal pace. your tits jiggling with every sharp thrust, your hands find his way to his back to steady yourself.

“shit ‘toru, mmph!” his hand clamps over your mouth watching your eyes roll into the back of your head as he fucks you senseless, bullying your pretty little cunt. “shh, you gotta be quiet princess, ijichi is a couple doors down and you’re not doing a good job at hating my guts right now.” he says with a smirk.

in the midst of all this passion you forgot that you weren’t the only people on this floor, you knew that you and gojo were gonna be public enemy number one by the morning.

strands of his hair is stuck to his forehead as he thrusts gets more sloppy, his hips stuttering as your cunt milks him dry. god he’s missed this, missed you and your pussy that was truly made for him. at this point he has devolved into common man, becoming more pussy drunk as he tries to delay his orgasm so he can see you cum again.

“you gonna give me what i want?” his voice sounding less demanding and more desperate, his hands snaking down to your clit to coax one more orgasm out of you whilst trailing kisses down your neck. the sensation is dizzying: his presence, his words, his touch—all leading to your undoing as one last orgasm rips through you, leaving you spent.

his orgasm follows shortly after yours, collapsing on top of you with a sigh. the two of you stay like that for a while, not wanting to ruin the post coital haze with discussions of what this meant for you both going forward.

so you dont.

but ijichi does take note of the sudden change in atmosphere in the car on the way back to the airport. it’s more quiet, less bickering and shenanigans. gojo is less annoying, hell he’s even asleep!

he knew something did happen in the last night, it wasn’t like you two kept it discreet by any means but when he catches a glimpse of your hands interlinked together it all makes sense.

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #gojo smut #vina writes: jjk #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #vina writes #gojo x black!reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #free ijichi!

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year ago

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I don't know if your request is open can you write Creator reader who favorites Zhongli, Venti, Nahida?

They need love ok 🙄

Yep yep, got it! Lemme see what I can pull off :)

Favoritism! With The Archons (Discluding Ei and Furina—)!

(Warning: Might Be OOC!)

Nahida

She honestly loves the attention you give her! She's really happy to get to spend time with you, and really get to know you and who you really are despite your title as the Almighty Creator.

Loves it if you play with her—and especially loves to learn the kind of games that you played before you re-descended down to Teyvat. There's UNO...and that's pretty much all that I can remember but you get the idea—

Loves visiting you in your dreams to see what you dream of. The Almighty Creator would surely have dreams of all forms filled with creative and inspiring ideas!

Nahida would 100% try to ask you to hang out with her through the streets of Sumeru. She has no shame :D And, if anything, her people would see this as a blessing.

"Come on, Your Grace! I want to show you somewhere I found!" Nahida would also take you to the Aranaras, where you would eat fresh fruit, make flower crowns, and even play some hide-and-seek.

She loves making and meeting new friends, the Almighty Creator is no exception! Spend some time with her as much as you can, Nahida will cherish it!

Venti

Hohoho, you're down to hang out with this carefree bard? Well, the first hangout will definitely be inside the most extravagant tavern of all time!

Yes, he means Angel's Share. Or the Cat's Tail. Man has his standards and he ain't afraid to take you there. Prepare for the best wine you'll ever taste, because Venti sure as hell is proud of the wine of Mondstadt.

Loves to share ballads and songs with you. Some of them are even based off on you! Loves when you give him your feedback as well.

Give him apples. He'll be happy—that's not saying a lot. Any apple dish, he will eat. Even if the apple is very little.

"Yahoo, Your Grace!~ Wanna hear a ballad this amazing bard has made for you?" Would absolutely perform these ballads during Windblume Festival, so please praise him :D

Zhongli

OSMANTHUS WINE TASTES THE SAME AS I— *Aggressive Truck Noises Driving Pass*

Take him out for food, buy him any gifts, ANYTHING. This man loves anything you'll give as well (trust me)

Just take some time to spend with him. Strolling through the area, the market, it doesn't matter—he cherishes all moments with you, as you are a friend (and more cough cough)

Osmanthus wine. Yes.

"Ah, Your Grace. I am blessed to know that you have the time to spend it with me. Please, allow me to pour you a fine cup of tea." If you're a tea lover, you both are gonna have a really good time.

Zhongli loves to share stories, so if you like to know more about Liyue's history, you came to the right guy :)

He's also a good listener, so you can also share stories and he will be rapt with attention. He loves every single story you tell.

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: My procrastination is impeccable. I'm on a living streak, clearly. Welp, I hope this satisfies you—hopefully, the next request doesn't take too long (watch me eat those words).

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #sagau x reader #genshin self aware #sagau #sagau genshin #yandere sagau #genshin cult au #sagau brainrot #sagau cult au #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin imact

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sleepingdeath-light · 1 year ago

Text

having a gomez and morticia-esque dynamic with his fem overlord s/o hcs ; alastor

requested by ; anonymous (15/02/24)

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; alastor

outline ; “So good to have you back!

Can I request Alastair with an fem Overlord! Reader? Like they have a relationship similar to Morticia and Gomez Addams, especially when Mortica says “Don’t torture yourself Gomez, that’s my job.” Reader is just elegant and classy in a sense with her man 👀”

note ; there are some potentially (very mildly) ooc bits here and there for the sake of filling the prompt, but otherwise this is exactly what the outline requested as best as i could write it lol ^^

warning(s) ; references to canon-typical levels of violence, but mostly fluff!

the two of you are, to put it bluntly, a match made in hell — which is rather fitting as your first meeting occurred in hell itself shortly after alastor’s reign of terror as ‘the radio demon’ had first began

very few people are aware that the two of you are in a relationship, or that you know each other at all, and that’s simply because neither of you see the point in broadcasting your attachments and personal lives to the entirety of hell — your husband may be an egotistical radio broadcaster with a kill count that most sinners can only dream of achieving, but he preferred to keep his private life private and your marriage was just one of those things

(of course rosie is keenly aware of the two of you and teases alastor relentlessly, and lovingly, for how utterly in love with you he is — but he lets it slide because he knows she means well and wouldn’t dream of causing you harm)

but when you’re together it’s plainly obvious, even to those who don’t know you well at all, that the two of you are deeply obsessed with each other — that’s mainly down to your unusual, and yet somehow not at all surprising for the two of you, displays of affection which most would find deeply off putting

of course your alastor is a gentleman and can appreciate the more traditional romantic displays — he never fails to greet you with a kiss on the back of your hand and a bouquet of the finest flora hell has to offer, and he’s always ready to offer you his jacket if you complain about the weather — but it doesn’t just stop at those more ‘normal’ acts (something that you come to be more and more grateful for as your relationship progresses from courting to dating to something resembling marriage without all of the formal paperwork)

there are displays of affection that are more reliant on his more cannibalistic side, for one: diligently licking any and all of your wounds clean whilst earnestly complimenting the rich flavour of your blood (after dealing with whichever poor soul decided to go after you in the first place), talking cheerily about all of the ways he’d prepare your flesh if ever you let him (and listening with rapt attention as you discussed your own plans for any errant limbs or slabs of flesh that he may lose in battle), making sure to get to rosie’s cafè as early as possible to ensure that you only get the best of your favourite baked treats, and staring hungrily down at you as you gingerly wipe the blood from his lips and cheeks with your fingers and lick them clean in a way that most anyone else would find disturbing

there are shows of love that lean more into your mutual sadistic tendencies: kissing sweetly whilst the blood of your victims is still fresh on your skin and clothes, slow dancing to whatever song he’s broadcasting from his radio on top of the corpses of your slain targets, wistfully admiring each other as you rage and show your full demonic forms to anyone who dared to cross you (a precursor for plenty of compliments and private affection later on, i’m sure), and you stepping forward and coaxing him out of a violent episode by insisting that he should torture you instead with that sweet tone of voice that you know he can’t say ‘no’ to

there are acts that are a mixture of the three — such as you calling each other the sweetest pet names in a mixture of your spoken languages (‘love’, ‘cher’, ‘dearest’, etc.) before going on to say something truly monstrous that would have everyone else in earshot staring with a mixture of horror and disgust, or him taking you out to get your tailored clothes repaired since he so loves taking care of you after a spat with another (now likely very dead) overlord left your clothes torn in places and stained with all sorts of viscera

and, of course, amongst all of that you can guarantee that alastor is being nothing short of encouraging, adoring, and protective over you (read: quick to threaten anyone who intends to cause you harm into silence and slaughtering anyone who refuses to comply with that warning) and your honour as you go about your life as an overlord alongside him — he knows you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, but he was raised to be a gentleman and he’s certainly not going to stop being one just because he happened to go to hell

truly, it’s like the two of you were made for each other

#sleepingdeath #female reader #fluff #fluff hcs #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel alastor x reader

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zombiec4ke · 3 months ago

Text

Before I knew you

soap x reader

CW: canon-typical violence, blood, probably ooc, summary: word goes after a mission goes south that a mole is among the base...when tensions rise fingers are pointed part 1-

The mission was shit, to say the least. Gaz caught a bullet in his side – nothing too major, thankfully. Soap barely moved out of the way just in time to avoid having his head blown off by a sniper. Ghost and you were the only two who came out of it completely unharmed... well, also Price, but he'd stayed back for most of the mission, saying orders from afar.

The worst part of a failed mission wasn't the pain nor the scars, It was the silence that filled the heli on the way back to base..usually soap was chirping random pick-up lines and jokes as Ghost groaned and rolled his eyes under his balaclava. But now Soap was quiet and Gaz was pale, clutching his side, his breaths shallow and uneven.

"Situation report" the sound of the Capt's voice tumbles through the silence and everyone's head turns to him as he spoke. Ghost sat up even straighter if that was even possible, the man sits like he has a metal plate in his back. "Mission failed, Gaz sustained a gunshot wound, but is now stable" he pauses to look over at Gaz who gave a shaky hand wave before looking back forward and continuing, "We extracted, but the enemy was expecting us, Too much intel on their side..none on ours" you silently nodded as Ghost spoke, the stoic Lt was the most mature of the Task force, somehow beating Price in the contest. but even the least mature knows how to read a room when it's needed...the sound of the heli's descent made you breathe a sigh through your nose. Price however held a hand up causing you to sit back down and he clears his throat. "After action reviews will go along as always, Gaz hit the medbay and everyone report to the briefing room, I want to know what the hell went wrong. You may go now" Price finishes and you stand back up and the hatch of the heli opens hitting you with the fresh (not full of death) air

you move to help Gaz up from the seat but it seems as if a medic was informed earlier because a petite woman was waiting by the hatch with a med kit. "One of our not-so-pretty mission eh Soap" you shoulder bump the scot who lets out a deep sigh as he brings a hand to ruffle your hair "Hey! I already have my own sweat in my hair 'dont need yours too" you swat soaps hand away with a playful glare before shutting up as Ghost actually glares at the two of you "Oi, stop your quarrel and get to the briefing room...now" ~ magic scene change ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The briefing room was silent, except for the low hum of the pipes. You found a seat near the back, next to Ghost, who was surprise surprise, montone as always... Soap, on the other hand, was fidgeting, his leg bouncing, his eyes scanning the room.

Price stood at the front, his once calm ocean eyes were now a raging tempest and you all were the boats stuck in the middle of it.

Price began to pace, his boots thudding against the tiled floor. "This was a disaster. A complete and utter failure. We walked into a trap. They knew our every move, every plan. Someone..." he paused, his eyes going to each teammate "someone betrayed us." "Y'mean there's a mole?" Soap stops his foot tapping looking up at the room and Price nods causing Soap to mutter a scottish curse word.

"Precisely, we'll run checks, cross-reference intel," Price continued, his voice low "Until then we are issuing a lockdown, no leaving base at all." as soon as the words left Price's lips the air in the briefing room thickened with suspicion. Every glance felt like an accusation, every silence a loaded question.

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling the weight of the room pressing down on you...everyone's gaze wasn't friendly..wasn't familiar...it was full of disgust and anger. "Everyone will go to their barracks, curfew is now added..no going out after 21:00" Price doesn't add anymore and just gets up and leaves.

The crowd started to get smaller as soldiers leave, and you took a moment to gather yourself. As you were about to make your way to the door Ghost’s presence loomed beside you.

He didn’t say anything, but you felt the familiar weight of his gaze on you. It was unsettling, the way he could make everyone seem so small with so little effort.

"Right then, I'm off" Soap’s voice cut through the silence. He forced a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He clapped a hand on your shoulder, "See you later lass?" he asks and you return the smile before walking out bumping into the same nurse in the process "Op- sorry miss, hows Gaz?" you didn't wanna keep her away from her duties but you just felt that you needed to know "You can call me Ann, not miss," she replied, looking up from the chart she was holding. "Gaz is stable, but he's going to need some time to recover..I'm going to have to keep an eye on him for a bit, make sure he doesn't strain himself too much." you nodded and Ann just walked away...

the walk to the barracks was short due to it being fairly close to the briefing room and you open your door flopping on the bed not bothering to take off your blood soaked uniform. The bullet proof vest you were wearing wasn't the comfiest but you didn't have the energy to change before drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ the time was about 01:00 when you heard a pound on your door, expecting someone like Johnny to be at your door asking random shower thoughts or just sleepwalking but to your surprise you open the door to see Ghost. "What's up, LT? Did you get a bad dream or somethin'?" you ask yawning as you lean against the door frame what you failed to notice in your sleepy dazed state was the glare of disgust Ghost gave you as he spoke up deadpanly "we can do this the hard way or the easy way" he says and you tilt your head in a confused matter...what was he talking about?? Your lack of silence though seemed to anger the lieutenant as he snapped out your actual name causing you to raise your hand in surrender "woah, touchy touchy, did you get a stick up your-" you were cut off by the cold barrel of the gun pressed against your temple and you could barely hear Ghost over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ear "we have evidence proving you're the mole" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: Whoohoo!!! Part 1!! I am surprised so many ppl liked the idea I had in my head :3 I suck at writing long fics so I'm trying my best...:') see you in part 2!

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riddlemethis-or-riddlemethat · 1 year ago

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Hello! If u don't mind i would like to req Tom Riddle x m!reader where reader is an exchange student and surprise surprise he's a parselmouth! So let's say, speaking with animals r common on where he live, n obviously Tom was intrigued

U can do anything w this prompt, sfw, nswf, whatever! I js need to feed my TR brainrot

omg yes!! this is a brilliant idea!!! thank you for requesting, I love this prompt so much

the TR brainrot is so real😔

I made the reader confident, because I felt like they would be interesting to someone as narcissistic as Tom, and he'd probably feel more curious about the new boy who seems so oddly comfortable in what should be this new, unfamiliar environment.

hope you enjoy!

tags: x male reader, kinda ooc Tom? (not really though, this is how I imagine he would act around others at Hogwarts, seeing as he was supposed to be charming and perfect, you know?), suggestive thoughts (Tom has pretty interesting thoughts about reader 😏), cocky!reader, use of y/n, not beta-read

word count: 1564

Fresh Face - TR x male!Slytherin!reader

The Great Hall buzzed with chatter, friends catching up after the holidays, first-years being welcomed to their new houses, excitement and general anticipation for the new year. Tom sat, surrounded by his friends, making idle small talk with a pleasant smile painted on his face.

Suddenly, McGonagall stood at the podium, gesturing for silence. A respectful hush fell over the Hall as people broke off their conversations to tune in.

Some keen individuals began to notice that the Sorting Hat was still out. Other even more observant students noticed the figure stood off the side of McGonagall. Some particularly enterprising students made the connection between these two observations, and concluded that this figure was a new student, about to be sorted.

But that still left the question: why was he separated from the first years?

Only one specific student, Tom, noticed that the figure was a young boy, around his age, who stood with confidence and a calmness that was odd for someone clearly in an unfamiliar environment. Tom also noticed that the boy was dressed in brand new school robes, unmarked but pressed and proper, high quality and perfectly tailored, highlighting the boy’s long legs and muscular chest and strong thighs and-.

Tom moved on.

He noticed more. He noticed movement.

Movement?

Yes, right there, on the boy’s shoulders, around his neck (and what a lovely neck it was, Tom wanted to know what it would look like bruised and with his hands wrapped around it-). A dark, sleek thing, winding about the boy, a small, narrow head, a flicking tongue...

A snake?

Tom watched, in curiosity, as the snake shifted, pressing its face close to the boy's ear, hissing something Tom couldn’t hear, too far away. He watched, in shock, as the boy chuckled, slanting a gaze towards the snake and rolling his eyes (Godric, what Tom wouldn’t give to see those gorgeous eyes roll for another reason-).

Bloody hell, what was with him today, these cursed thoughts were getting out of hand.

Tom watched, intrigued and definitely not obsessively so, as the boy (a parseltongue?), turned back to the podium, attention back on Professor McGonagall, who had finished her speech.

Tom was ashamed to realise he had heard absolutely none of it, and he could only watch as McGonogall turned to the mysterious boy, calling him up.

“Y/n Y/l/n, if you could please come up.” McGonagall called out.

Well, at least he knew his name.

Tom watched as the boy strode up the stage, nodding politely at Professor McGonagall, a small gesture of respect and deference that detracted nothing from his confidence. The snake was still on the boy's shoulders, mostly hidden by the boy’s robes.

The boy, Y/n, sat down on the chair, elegant and comfortable, waiting as McGonagall placed the hat on his head. Y/n’s eyes slipped shut for a moment, a small smirk spread across his face as he opened them again, a loud declaration of “Slytherin!” ringing out across the Great Hall from the old hat.

Tom found that a small, barely noticeable twitch had occurred on his own lips, tugging them slightly upward in a mirror of Y/n’s smirk. Tom quickly reigned in his features, unfortunately not before Mattheo, his younger brother, noticed it, a teasing smirk spreading across his face, an expression promising misery later.

Suddenly, gasps rang out across the Great Hall, and Tom watched in awe as the boy gracefully stood from the seat, each movement powerful and controlled. That wasn’t what the mindless fools about him were gasping at, however. They were gaping at the beautiful, gorgeous snake on Y/n’s shoulders, uncurling from where it was looped about his neck, baring its head and hissing out at the crowd.

“Look at these idiots.”

Tom raised a brow at the snake’s rather offensive comment.

Y/n chuckled, a hand lifting to stroke at the snake’s head, a languid smirk on his face as he walked off the stage, joining the Slytherin table amidst hesitant cheers and staggered applause.

“I know, Nyx, I know. But it’s rather funny isn’t it?”

Tom could barely hold back the smirk as he heard your response.

“I suppose...”

Tom grunted in surprise, glaring at Mattheo, who had elbowed him in the ribs, and at Theo and Enzo, who were snickering behind their hands and avoiding his gaze by collapsing into each other.

“What’s got you gawking, Tommy?” Mattheo asked, a cocky smirk on his face as he avoided Tom’s retaliation.

“None of your business.”

“Aww come on, don’t be like that Tommy. I’m your little brother, it’s practically my duty to make it my business.”

Tom scowled, swatting at Mattheo’s head and slapping him, hard.

Mattheo whined, rubbing his head and glaring at Tom.

“You’re mean. And your boy is staring at you.”

Tom was embarrassed at how quickly he turned his head, the tips of his ear flushing slightly and a scowl fixing on his face as Mattheo cackled with Theo and Enzo, laughing at him.

All thoughts of revenge and fratricide were chased out of his mind as he looked at you, your (beautiful, merlin) eyes already staring at him, meeting in a thrilling clash of wills.

The snake, Nyx, flicks its tongue, looking at Tom assessingly.

A shame you were seated so far, Tom had no means of speaking with you right now. Whatever, he was a Prefect, and in your new house. He’d find time.

You smiled passively before turning away, paying attention to the young boy engaging you in conversation.

Tom, too, turned back to his brother and friends, scowl returning as he watched them falling over each other and howling with laughter.

****

You were reading peacefully in the common room, catching up on topics covered at Hogwarts your old school hadn’t covered, when you felt a presence approaching you, and the cold nose of Nyx, your pet snake, pressing against your neck. You look up, seeing Tom Riddle, Slytherin’s perfect prince, heading towards you.

You slid a bookmark into your textbook, marking the page before closing it and setting it aside. As Tom approaches you, he smiles pleasantly, eyes calculating as he greets you.

“Y/l/n, right? Nice to meet you, I’m Tom Riddle, the Slytherin prefect.” He extends a hand, elegant, pale, and slender. You take it, shaking it in yours and noting how cool it was to the touch in contrast to your own warmth.

“Yes, nice to meet you, Riddle.”

Nyx raises her head, peering at Tom.

“Hello, speaker.” she hisses, and you turn to the snake, brows lifting in surprise. You had been warned that Hogwarts had no speakers.

“Hello, I am Tom Riddle, what is your name?” Tom speaks back, calm and collected.

“Nyx. You seem more intelligent than the buffoons around us.”

You laugh, fond amusement at your snake’s discontent with the lack of intellect surrounding you.

“Sorry about her, she’s crabby about the move.” You hiss, speaking to Tom as you pet Nyx’s smooth scales.

“I was told there were no speakers at Hogwarts. That it was considered... Dark arts.” you speak, tone questioning as you raise a brow at Tom, your eyes appraising.

He just smirks, his eyes equally calculating. “It is considered Dark, yes. And no-one but my closest friends and trusted know of me. You are quite bold to have revealed your... talents, so readily to the whole school, Y/l/n.”

Tom was intrigued, fascinated, curious even. (obsessed~ sings a voice in the back of Tom’s head that sound suspiciously like Mattheo)

“They can’t do anything about me, and I refused to leave Nyx lonely and unattended.” you shrug, smiling at Tom.

“You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?” Tom raises his brow, smirking at you.

You smirk at him as you pick up your book, standing and walking past him to your dorm room.

“I’ll see you around, Riddle.” You call out over your shoulder.

Tom chuckles to himself as you walk away (and salazar, that ass-), before turning away to return to his dorm for the night.

The minute he walked into the dorm, he was greeted by jeering and snickering from all fronts, Mattheo, Lorenzo, Theodore, the assholes three.

He ignored the hollering of the three idiots, and strode into the en suite bathroom, showering and getting ready for bed.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, it was to be met with Mattheo and Theo looping arms around his shoulders and walking him over to their bed, one either side, and Lorenzo sprawled on his bed, laughing his head off as the Theo-duo menaces traded matching smirks and launched into a merciless interrogation and endless teasing.

****

After substantial ribbing and general bullying from all three fronts, and Mattheo being dramatic and snuggling with Theo and Lorenzo cooing over him in a bed together after Tom hexed him, Tom settled into his own bed, his eyes slipping shut as he systematically went through the memories of his day, filing them away as was demanded.

Eventually, he fell into his memories of you.

Y/n Y/l/n.

Parseltongue, exchange student, smart, snarky, confident. (hot, gorgeous, delicious-)

Curiouser and curiouser.

Tom smirked to himself as he crafted a new room in his mind, one just for you.

He fell asleep with one thought in his mind.

This was going to be interesting.

****

Word Count: 1564

I might do a continuation of this eventually, it's a great idea! thank you so much for the request @prettorett I hope you enjoy this!

🥰🥰

tag: @helendeath this is the fic haha

#tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #slytherin boys #my fic #fanfic #x male reader #male y/n #tom riddle x male reader #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #reader insert #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader

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alexa-yukiyu · 10 months ago

Note

If your requests are open, how would you feel about child reader being found by Garp, Helmeppo, and Koby?

(Maybe their crew thought they were on the ship and accidentally forgot them on an island or something idk, I just want grandpa Garp with his new grandbaby)

New Apprentice (Koby, Helmeppo x gn!Child!reader x Garp)

A/N YA’LL I COOKED HERE, highkey worried that they are ooc here but other than that I LIKE, proud of how this one turn out, let me know what you think of it. Big brother Koby and Helmeppo 🥹, guys am I the only one picturing that being one of the most wholesome things?

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Koby, are you even listening?!”

“Haha, I am Helmeppo”

“Seriously, you have got to start….

Koby let out a nervous laugh as Helmeppo began going on a tangent, scolding him as he focused on the path ahead of him, paying little attention to his partner’s rambles, only giving out the occasional quip here and there to keep him appeased, which did, until he spotted something in the path that got his attention.

He frowned, kneeling down to look at the object, catching the attention of Helmeppo, who watched over his shoulder.

“Huh, is that a stuffed toy?” He asked, looking at the dirt-covered wolf as Koby picked it up, wincing at the red splashes matting its fur

“Yeah…has blood on it.”

“Maybe it’s from someone who left it long ago, maybe from a kid who tripped?” The blond suggested

“No, it’s way too much to be from a scrape, and look,” he said, pointing at the path.

Helmeppo frowned as he spotted the small tracks that cut through the path leading out into the small forest that surrounded it.

“It rained earlier today, so these had to happen recently, and the blood is fresh, too,” he muttered.

“Let’s go,” The pinkenette announced, following the direction of the tracts, letting himself be guided by the disturbed soil, broken branches, and the occasional drops of red that colored the ground.

“Hey do you thi- Hey! What the hell, Koby?”

“Wha-? What’s wrong Helmeppo-san?”

“Don’t give me that you just chucked a stone at me!”

“What are you talking about Helmeppo-san?” Koby asked, confused as he stood up from his kneeling position as he looked at the tracks

“If it wasn’t you, then wh-OW.”

“I -I will hurt you, s-so go away!” A small voice cried, chucking a rock at the marine

Koby let out a hiss, rubbing his head and turning to the voice, easily finding the culprit standing in one of the tree’s lower branches, a small child holding a handful of stones in their hands.

“Hey, how about we put those down?”

“No!” They cried, throwing yet more rocks at both of them

They squeaked as Helmeppo pulled out his swords and easily cut through the stones set his way. What most caught them off guard, however, was Koby’s sudden disappearance. They stared at the spot he had stood at confused, looking around to see where the man had went with no success.

The child released a surprised gasp as they soon found out the man had appeared beside them on the branch.

Koby enveloped the child in a tight but gentle embrace and jumped off the tree; before he had a chance to address the kid, he found himself stepping back, a shocked look on his face as the child pulled a small knife, trying to stab him.

He frowned, watching as the kid took the opportunity to run behind the tree.

“Koby, wait,” Helmeppo called, putting his arm on his partner’s shoulder to prevent him from pursuing the child.

“Helmeppo-san? We should get the knife from them; they could hurt themselves or hurt someone.”

“I think we should try a different way, look,” he said, gesturing to the crying child peeking out of the tree.

“They aren’t trying to hurt someone; I think they are just scared.”

“Ah, I’m sorry! I don’t want to hurt you; I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Koby cried, taking in the child’s state, letting another cry as the kid ducked behind the tree when he reached out to them.

“Ah, I must have scared you, right? I didn’t mean it; I really am sorry for that,” he apologized, a nervous smile on his face as he sat down. Helmeppo followed suit and sat next to him.

Dokucha popped their head out again, watching as the men sat cross-legged, ways away from the tree.

“Umm, we found this earlier,” Koby tried, showing them the wolf plush.

“Ah! Mr.Okami!” they exclaimed, stepping away from the tree and trying to reach for the stuffed toy, only to realize their actions and quickly step back.

“It’s okay; you can have it back if you’d like; how about we trade?” Helmeppo suggested, pointing to the knife

They seemed to think about it, glancing at the knife in their arms and Helmeppo’s awaiting hand to the stuffed toy Koby was offering to them. Finally, as they slowly made their way to them, they placed the knife on Helmeppo’s hand. The former gave them a small smile as they then walked in front of Koby and grabbed the stuffed toy, hugging the toy tightly as they sat in front of them.

“H-hey, you’re bleeding!” Koby exclaimed, apologizing when they flinched at his tone

Koby glanced at Helmeppo, wondering how they should approach the situation.

“Hey, how about another trade? Your wolf looks like he needs a wash, right?” Helmeppo asks, glancing at their plush

Koby catches on quickly and looks at them with a smile.

“How about we wash him for you, and you let us look at your wound?”

“Y-you’ll keep him safe?”

“The safest,” Koby reassures with a smile.

“Okay”

“Hey, Mister Koby?”

“Yeah?”

“How..umm…how did you disappear before?” They question, looking away as he glanced up at them from his bandaging work

“Disappear?”

“Yeah, when I umm, when I threw a stone at you, you disappeared.”

“Oh, that? It’s a fighting technique; I didn’t disappear; I just moved really fast. It’s called Soru,” he explained with a grin, his attention back on the bandages being applied.

“I uh- I think it was really awesome.”

“Haha, It was nothing; many marines can do it; Helmeppo can do It too,” he brushed off.

“You’re being too modest, Koby,” Helmeppo sighed from his place at the sink, trying to wash the grime and blood off the stuffed toy.

“It’s going to have to soak for a while to make him all clean,” he called, drying his hands off and walking closer to the pair. Seeing the look on the child’s face, he pulled something from his pocket and handed it to them.

“Here, you can take care of our Den-den Mushi for now.”

“It looks different,” they muttered.

“What do you mean?” Koby asked as he clipped the bandage and stepped back

“It looked different in the ship; it was black and white.”

Koby and Helmeppo pause, glancing at each other at the kid’s comment

“Ship?” questioned Helmeppo

“Y-Yeah”

“What did you do at the ship?”

“T-they made me clean the ship, but sometimes they would make me fight o-others or test things for them.”

Those words were all the pair needed to grasp where the child might have come from and what their job at the ship could have been.

“Is that how you got that?” Helmeppo said, pointing to their now bandaged wound

They shook their head at that but made no move to explain themselves.

“Could you tell us about it?” Koby prompted

Once again, they received all but a shake of their head.

“Why?” questioned the blond marine, a frown on his face

“I don’t w-want them to hurt me.”

“They won’t,” Koby answered with a grin.

“We’ll protect you,” Helmeppo confirmed with a slight smile.

“Pinky promise?” they asked, holding out their pinkies.

The two let out a small laugh but nodded and interlocked their fingers with theirs, their pinkies enveloping the child’s much smaller ones.

After sealing the promise, Dokucha proceeded to tell them what had occurred. It seemed like the man who they worked under was dark and twisted, enjoying the creation of painful and deadly viruses and, even more, testing it on the child, letting them reach the verge of death before finally giving them the antidote.

Despite this treatment, it was this same man’s love for pitting his subordinates against each other in a deathmatch that caused them their current wound. As they had refused to hurt the other subordinates, they had found themselves being punished for insubordination by the man.

Koby and Helmeppo listened intently to the child’s story, horrified at the treatment they had endured, and drove the two to tears and sniffles as they embraced them and repeated their promise.

Dokucha’s lip trembled as they sat on Koby’s lap, Helmeppo sitting next to them, an older man sitting in front of them listening as his subordinates filled him on what had happened and why they had returned with a child.

“Wahahaha! Another one?!” he laughed, his booming laugh echoing around the small office

“What about you, you little brat? Do you want to be a marine? Or do you want to be a pirate and have me beat that out of you?”

“Uh, Vice-Admiral Garp, I don’t thin-

“Eek! I- umm- ah-

“Spit it out!”

“Umm, I- I’m not very good at fighting, and I don’t like it either, but I want to be with Koby and Helmeppo!” They exclaimed, apologizing and returning to their timid state once they had realized their outburst

“Wahahaha! That’s a good answer, you squirt. I think I’m going to like you! In that case, you will train under them.”

“T-Train?! Vice-Admiral Garp, I don’t think we are ready to train someone.”

“Don’t worry, Koby! You and Helmeppo will turn them into a fine marine!” He exclaimed with a booming laugh

"How about it, kid?!”

“…” They stayed quiet, unaware of the sudden shift of attention, quiet with a strained smile on their trembling face, eyes blown wide at the interaction

“Uh, Dokucha?” Helmeppo asked, leaning closer to the kid, trying to get their attention

“He was asking you,” he explained

“Yes!”

Koby let out a laugh at their rushed answer as he, too, leaned toward them

“He asked if you would like to train with us, to be a marine.”

“I can be with Koby and Helmeppo?”

“Yes, you would stay with us.”

“I - I really would like that,” they answered bashfully

“Good, I‘ll come by from time to time to check on you and give you some private lessons,” he grinned, smashing his fist against his open palm

“No!!” They screamed as they hightailed it out of the office

“Ah, wait, Dokucha, come back!”

okay I really struggled with the Garp part and the timeskip leading up to him, so do let me know if you liked it. I really struggled him adding him so hopefully it checked the box of Garp and Grandbaby interaction 😂

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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bisexualiteaa · 1 year ago

Text

Mornings Like These

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader

CW: slightly NSFW, established relationship, mentions of sex, sexual daydream, OOC Cooper, Cooper in a frilly apron cooking, cursing, slight deviance from the canon, more domestic Cooper because 🥹❤️

AN: Had the most wonderful request to do something a little different than what I’m used to! I know it’s out of character for our cowboy ghoul but I just loved the concept. This is a continuation of my last work, so it is set in the same Fallout TV series and Fallout 4 tense. Breakfast is served my lovely Cooper simps, hope I did your ask justice @morrrrow !! Hope y’all enjoy!

“God damn this fuckin’ thing” spoke the ever recognizable southern twang of Cooper from the kitchen. You woke up to hearing a few pots and pans clank together as he removed them from the cabinet, and his not so quiet curses in frustration that he was a man who failed at being quiet. Outside of bounty hunting of course. You were still in bed, having just barely woken up as the sun poured in through the windows, making you rub the sleep from your eyes. You padded into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about, seeing him trying to work the stove that you both bought off of someone that was supposed to be repaired and in working order. “What a fuckin’ rip off” he said angrily as he threw the towel down on the floor that was resting on his shoulder, then leaned over the sink to breathe, doing his best to try to control his anger before he started breaking things. “Stove givin’ ya trouble, hun?” You asked, your voice carrying a sleepy rasp to it as a small playful smile stretched to your lips, making him look over at you. In that moment, it was as if all the anger inside of him had just melted away upon seeing you, clad in just a tank top and underwear, hair slightly messy from sleep. You were truly a sight to behold at all hours of the day in his eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry darlin’. I wanted t’ surprise you with breakfast but this damn thing won’t work. Shoulda known it was a fat load a shit when he said it was workin’” he replied, defeat and agitation still evident in his tone, making you walk closer to him and grab his hand. “Hey, it’s okay, Coop. I think it’s mighty sweet you wanted t’ do that. Can I take a look? Maybe a fresh set’a eyes can help?” You asked, watching as his shoulders dropped a little bit as the tension left him at your touch, a small smile reaching his thin, marred lips as he looked down at his girl. “Go ‘head” he replied, starting to follow you and what you were trying to do but you stopped him before he could do anything. “*You* have a seat and relax, I’ll take a look, ‘kay?” you said, your hands resting on his shoulders to make sure he listened to you, knowing well and good his stubbornness was his biggest attribute. He gave a grunt before giving in, recognizing that you just wanted him to relax after being all worked up. “I’ll take care of it, promise. I’m a big girl, but if I need anythin’ I’ll holler for ya” you said, smiling up at him sweetly once more as you rubbed his shoulders a little before kissing him softly. His hands rested on your hips for a moment as you kissed, and in that moment, everything felt at peace in the world. As you parted from the kiss, you turned and moved out of his way before coming to take a look at the new appliance. Well, maybe not *new* but new for post war standards. You took a look at the wiring, noticing that it looked pretty good for a shit box that survived a nuclear bomb or two. No rust, no corrosion, hell even the paint didn’t look half bad. Cooper knew he had to get it for you the moment your pretty eyes lit up with excitement upon seeing it, going on about how much you missed making homemade pies, casseroles, and bread. He knew you were one hell of a cook with the passion you put into making some iguana, or even your famous stew he’d grown to love that was made from just about anything you could get your hands on. He swore you put some kind of drugs in your food with the way he craved it all the time, he’d joke that you could put cyanide in it and still manage to make it taste delicious. And that was just over a fire, he could only imagine the creations you’d put out if given the right materials. Seeing you working a stove, in a house that was starting to get pretty settled into, would be one step closer to the dream of having a domestic life with you when the rest of the world had gone to shit. He wanted to see you happy, because when you were happy, everything was alright in the world in his book.

You opened the door to the stove, bent over and examining the inside for any reason as to why it wasn’t working. The broiler seemed good, all the coils were there, nothing was rusted or corroded so you weren’t quite sure what the issue was. Cooper however, was in a whole other world looking at you. Had he been the man he was before meeting you, he’d have had half the mind to fuck you right then and there while your body was half way in the oven. He gave a groan at his own daydream, watching you with your ass in the air, clad in just the panties you were wearing, making him shift in the small, dining room chair he was sitting on as his pants began to grown uncomfortably tight. You always had a way of getting to him, whether you meant to or not, that man stayed feral for you all hours of the day. He wondered if your moans would be muffled or amplified with your head stuck in the oven, how you’d squeeze him tight with the slight sensory depravation. What he really wanted was the memory to play in your mind each time you’d use it, for you to bend down and remember the way he used you in that same position as you’d slide a casserole in the oven. He was broken from his daydream when you called his name, finding that you were no longer in the kitchen but outside checking the power source. He stood up and walked towards the front door, leaning in the open doorway as you stood outside, looking to him with a relieved smile as you found the solution. “Was wonderin’ why it was so hot in there” you thought out loud, explaining that it was a problem with the power source, not the stove itself before flipping a few switches and connecting a few wires then hearing your electricity hum back to life. “‘s ‘cause you’re here” he joked flirtatiously, sending a wink and a smirk your way, making you giggle. “Wasn’t the stove, was the power. Radstorm must’ve knocked it out last night” you said as you both came back inside, plugging the stove back in and sure as shit, it turned on. You dusted your hands off, standing there proudly in front of your new, working oven. He was thoroughly impressed. “Well I’ll be damned, when’d you get so handy?” Cooper asked with a teasing grin, making you smile as he looped an arm around your waist proud that his little lady was able to fix the problem. “Since I had to start fixin’ things ‘fore you break ‘em” you teased, coming up to kiss his cheek as he swatted your ass affectionately in retaliation.

“Ya know, before you start cookin’ I have the perfect thing for you to wear” you said, slipping from his grasp for only a moment, making him raise a brow at you as you giggled and treaded into the closet of what you called your bedroom. You opened it, finding a frilly white apron you used to own back in the day when you would bake and cook everything by hand at home. You smiled as you grabbed it, knowing full and well you’d have hell to pay for this little stunt, but when has that ever stopped you before? So you snatched it up, leaving it folded before coming back into the kitchen and handing it to him. “A good cook needs a good apron, and I just know this one would look damn good on you” you said, handing it to him with the most mischievous glint in your eyes and grin stretched to your lips, leaving him to unfold it and look it over. Now this was where you were expecting to get in some serious shit. To hear a chide comment or a “never in a million years, sugar” but no, this man looked at you like you’d handed him a challenge, and he was going to take it in stride. So with a smirk, he set it aside and started to shake his duster off from his frame. “I’ll do ya one better there, little lady” he said, that look in his eyes told you he was up to no good and it had you curious. He started working his shirt off and you’d be damned if you weren’t enjoying the sight of him shirtless and just in his pants, the decorative buckle on his belt helping him maintain that rugged cowboy look. He noticed your stares, giving a dry chuckle. “Like whatchya see, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice dipping a little lower but he didn’t need you to say anything, he already knew the answer. “Always” you replied, a half lidded expression on your face as your tone dripped with something a little less pure. What you really hadn’t been expecting was when you saw him take his pants and briefs off before you, a slack jawed grin coming to your mouth as he tied the apron around his frame. Completely naked underneath. You gave a laugh as you watched him wear it with pride. “You sir, never fail to surprise me” you said, making him chuckle but you spotted the tent that started to poke at the apron where he was getting hard underneath. “Think you’re right, it’s a pretty good look” he said, turning to face away from you and you gave that same crude whistle he’d always give you when he liked something you wore or did, because you had an eye full of ass standing right in front of you. You walked up and stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and laying kisses to his shoulder and back. “On second thought, who needs breakfast when you look this good? Hell, I think you pull it off better than I ever did” you said through a giggle, feeling him swat at your grabby hands the way you do when he gets handsy with you. “Can’t disturb a chef when he’s cookin’, sugar” he said coyly, making you chuckle as he started frying a few slices of Cram in the skillet. “Oh but you can disturb me when I’m doin’ laundry? I see how it is” You said playfully as you took a seat down at the dinner table you two found, it wasn’t much, but it was nice all things considered. Gave that homey touch that was missing from the house when you two first put together the settlement. You watched as he romped around the kitchen, going out of his way to put on a show for you and get you as worked up as you make him. “You are such a tease” you said, making him grin as he had his back turned to you, fully focused on making a good breakfast for the two of you to enjoy. “Welcome to my world, sweetheart” he said, making you laugh. You could certainly get used to this.

#fallout #fallout x reader #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout smut

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ctrlsatoru · 11 months ago

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DIABLO CH2 - TOJI FUSHIGURO

content: techbro billionare!toji, reader is gojo's little sister, age gap (toji's in his mid 30s, reader in mid 20s) kind of ooc toji, suggestive themes, no smut yet. protective!toji and also asshole!toji. warnings: 18+ only. suggestive themes. explicit language, references to being roofied. toji being toji. minors do not interact. pairing: toji fushiguro x afab gojo!reader word count: 8k tags: @liitlesushi a/n: ok so this might be longer than I anticipated and also semi slow burn. it'll be worth it, trust. summary: It's Gojo's anniversary party, you're doomed by your Satoru's whims, haunted by your father's scheming, and now a devilish third player appears: Toji Fushiguro. And he's here to collect.

Toji opens his eyes, manually focusing on the ceiling above him. The strange pattern spun in slow circles, and then it settled.

This bed is not his own. The pillow feels too flat under his head, which is throbbing painfully. He feels like a dozen horses ran over him. A voice, distinctly female, unnecessarily loud, makes him wince and curse under his breath.

“... If I agree, and I haven’t, you’re not picking my outfit. Know that .”

This is unlike him. He can’t remember a thing. The one good thing about not recognizing the bed is that he’s not gonna have to deal with a strange woman in his place–

“Because your conception of what’s socially acceptable to wear to a formal function is not tethered to earthly reality, Satoru.”

Oh.

It’s you .

You’re on the phone, standing by floor-to-ceiling windows. The sunlight casts off your ring like white laser when you turn, blinding him.

“Mornin’” he croaks, pushing himself to sit against rough the rattan bed frame. The room moves from side to side, like you’re both stuck in a boat, and not in one of Haibara's many guest rooms. It’s all coming back to him, the party, watching you and your boyfriend’s fight, the deck–

“Oh. Hey, buddy.” you say idly, looking over your shoulder as you sit on the other side of the bed, your ring-covered finger tying some slutty sandals around your ankles like some kind of shibari countess. The strap of your top falls as you lean over. Toji’s buffering.

His ears must be fucking deceiving him.

Buddy?

The fuck?

He can’t for the life of him remember anything after the deck. You’re zooming through the room, texting furiously. On top of that, you look fresh and plump like lettuce out of the fridge, don’t you? But he had to blink several times to break through the layer of crust around his eyelashes, and his body is telling him you two fucked like animals for the past 12 hours.

Or he spent the weekend in the trenches.

He feels wildly unprepared for this morning after, and it’s a just fucking relief that you’re keeping your distance until you start tap tap taping your little heels to the door.

“The hell do you think you’re goin’?”

You stop, surveying him over your shoulder like he’s coming close to being some sort of inconvenience.

And then the corner of your lips lifts, the mole on your cheek jumping with the motion.

“It was fun.” Your phone starts ringing again. The sound drills a hole into Toji’s temples. “Too bad that it never happened.”

With that, you’re gone.

You abandon Toji with a bunch of unconscious people scattered around the house and Haibara, who’s still young enough to not know what a real hangover is. The kid will just not shut up about some hardcore surveillance system he had installed around the house recently after he noticed someone was stealing from his Kaws collection.

Toji listens to the whole story, sipping on the cold pressed green juice Haibara made himself, simply refusing to use the crystal straw, and makes a promise to himself. You’ll pay for whatever it is you did to him.

Even if he doesn’t remember what that was. Yet. It doesn’t matter. You’ll pay anyway. Nicely.

“Say, kid.” he asks Haibara, licking the green foam off his lips and putting down the empty glass on the counter. The juice tasted just like it looks, which is cow puke, but his mind is somewhere else. Machinating. Scheming.

“This system of yours, does it cover the whole house?”

Here’s the thing.

There are many things Toji isn’t.

For starters, he’s not easily bothered by most things, a trait that people usually mistake for a personal attack, like it has anything to do with them and isn’t just the hand that he was dealt. People assume others, in this case him, think about them more than he can be bothered to.

He’s not a control junkie either, not anymore. He left those days behind.

Control isn’t something he needs to worry about anymore. He has plenty of it. If something gets out of line, it gets back on it automatically. That’s just the way life is. Sure, he had his vices back then; lactose, gambling, adrenaline, women.

But the thing is, you learn a few things with age, right? Shiny things lose their sparkle. The excitement wears off. Nothing is safe from becoming predictable, not even the rush of hearing bone crack under his fists or the juiciest, tightest pussy presented to him on a tray.

And this sheds a light on the fact that he’s way past the age of being pussy whipped.

“You cannot be serious.”

So why the fuck is Shiu Kong looking at him like that?

And who does he think he is standing next to him, all up on his screen, and mind you, only alive thanks to the fact that Toji has lost some edge from his gory days?

He shuts down the tab like a kid who got caught watching porn on the family PC.

“You listen to me. Don’t you ever fucking do that–”

“The Gojo kid?”

Toji’s eyebrows dig into his face because you’re certainly not a kid. No. Kids don’t look like that. Kids most certainly don't go around passing people horse tranquilizer or whatever the fuck it is you fed him with that glossy mouth of yours.

And that’s what you did. That’s as far as he can remember.

“Is that what’s been–”

“I’m gonna stop you before you say some dumb shit and piss me off any further.”

Shiu’s been pestering him for days now about the upcoming iteration and the threat of several deadlines. Toji has been brushing it off. No nagging back or shutting down his complaints.

Somehow, his silence only pushes the stick further up Shiu’s ass. Like he’s his sexually neglected wife of 40 years.

Truth is, he hasn’t given the dynamic with his CFO/best friend much thought lately. Why would he when there’s an infuriating, mouthy woman with siren eyes that somehow look down at him even when he’s about two heads taller than–

You.

“–stalking the poor girl on the desktop version of Instagram.”

Toji returns to the conversation. “I don’t stalk people. I’m a grown-ass man.”

And you’re not a girl either. You’re something else. He hasn’t figured what yet.

“Mm. So am I.” Shiu says, still standing there with his hands in his pockets, head tilting down at some forgotten paperwork on his desk. “And even I know looking at someone’s profile on a desktop computer is a concerning level of unemployment, which you’re not at. Yet.”

Toji’s not that thick-headed. He knows he’s been distracted, but he can’t just brush that night at Haibara's away.

You pop up in his head unannounced and make yourself comfortable, rent fucking free. Like a little squatter. In the middle of meetings, when he's driving back home, at the gym, when he’s at the club with a gorgeous woman on his lap.

It’s becoming so frustrating that he’s started to despise you for real, and not just the made-up version of yourself he created when he met you and decided you were an ill-mannered bunny that he wanted to toy with for a bit.

In this scenario, of course, he was a wolf.

No one ever talks about how sometimes the bunny knocks the wolf out and bolts the morning after.

Days pass and his mind is blank of memories, no glimpses, no time-stopping sex flashbacks, just a bunch of strange vivid dreams about you that would make any mid-century french cult film director weep and the Soviet Union recoil. They distract him to the point of him nearly knocking the front teeth off his trainer’s face, or spilling orange juice all over his clothes this morning.

Toji’s positive you didn’t fuck. Sure, you had a bit of bed hair, but your face lacked the I-was-fucked-by-the-Toji-Fushiguro glaze he's used to seeing in women and takes pride in. You looked perfectly fine, collected enough to be giving your dimwit brother hell on the phone and fuck with him before disappearing.

It was fun.

He was also wearing underwear, and you walked just fine. No wobbly legs or tilted hips. No bruises on your neck or scratches on his back–

Too bad that it never happened.

You had shared a bed, that much he knew. He caught a whiff of your perfume after you left. He had cursed you then, feeling like a pathetic fucking dog sniffing up some pillows, but now the confusion and annoyance faded to a curiosity that extends past the time in his head he gives to the best lays he’s had.

So today he put up an incognito tab and looked you up hoping to find something annoying, corny or pathetic about you to make you unappealing, and somehow he landed on your personal IG profile.

You posted a set of pictures three days ago of meaningless corners at some random location. The fourth picture is a snap of what looks like your desk. There’s a polaroid of you and your fiancé next to a stack of notebooks.

You’re standing in front of him, leaning your head to the side with his chin resting nice and cozy on your shoulder, his nose pressed against your neck. Toji's lip curled in distaste.

He found your twitter account as well, because why not? And found nothing of particular interest. You stick to promoting your work and that's the end of it. Other people in your circle, on the other hand…

Toji went through a twitter phase not too long ago. He found endless amusement in pissing people off with less than 140 characters and replying to those who enjoyed his work. He uninstalled the app the second he found people selling mugs with screencaps of his tweets.

Safe to say the decision made Shiu’s and the PR team quite happy.

He’s out of the loop with the overall discourse, but it’s clear that you have farmed your own dedicated micro following online and your boyfriend is some kind of A24 flowerboy on the rise.

Toji heard of him before meeting you. His newfound success is the byproduct of his dreamy looks, a melancholic breakout role and the occasional activism, something that's been often questioned due to his relationship with you, and the consequential ties to your family.

Both of you, as a couple, act like viagra for a very specific, insufferable and presumptuous crowd. They’re hyper-focused on the fact that you haven’t posted him on your stories for weeks, that Hiroki allegedly deleted some posts with you on Instagram, and that he's been caught dreamily staring at his female co-star during press conferences.

Why people choose to waste their time with their noses up stranger's ass is something Toji does not understand, life being as short as it is.

“Please tell me that’s not her twitter account,” Shiu says. Toji inhales sharply. “This is more pathetic than I thought. No wonder you haven’t gotten anything done in days.”

He kills the rest of the tabs, spitting over his shoulder “I can’t very well do my fucking job if you’re breathing over my fucking shoulder, can I? You know how I fucking feel about people standing behind me when I’m trying to get shit done.”

“Twitchy .” Shiu notes and takes his sweet time walking around his desk, plopping down on the chair.

“Yep, take a seat, why don’t you.” Toji grumbles.

Shiu drums his fingers against his knee, a sign that he’s craving a cigarette, surveying him.

“So I’m gonna take a leap of faith here and assume this is some kind of executive-level scheming, and you’re just exploiting a vulnerability.”

Toji’s face twists like he sucked on a lemon at the mere thought of it.

“You know damn well the day I do business with that old cunt will be the day your ex-wife comes clean about what she did at that yoga retreat in Bali and asks for forgiveness.”

“Figures. So?”

“You’d probably take her back. Fucking cuck.”

“She really got under your skin, didn’t she?” Shiu notes, unbothered by the unprovoked attack.

Toji sniffs, comes down from the spike of anger, and finds a more comfortable position on his chair.

“She owes me.”

Shiu leans his head back, mildly amused.

“You adding usury to your ledger now?”

“Not money.”

“Alright then, I don’t want to know.”

Lies. But Shiu knows better than to push too much. Toji’s the type to hoard details not because he’s afraid of compromise, just to be an asshole.

It’s refreshing to see him almost… desperate. If you were anything like your brother, Shiu thought, you might be just the perfect little karma agent for his best friend.

“Fine. You get that business sorted. You’re no use to me if you’re distracted.”

“You worry about sorting your own business and I’ll worry about mine, Kong.”

Shiu stands up, fighting back a smile until he opens the door, stopping at the sight of Toji’s assistant about to knock.

“What is it?” Toji asks, scratching his eyebrow, already exhausted.

Keiko looks down at the tablet in her hands, hesitant.

“The team at Gojo Corp has reached out, sir. It seems Gojo Shinobu would like to invite you to dinner next week.”

The look on Shiu’s face as he slowly turns to face him is priceless. Toji rests his elbows on his desk, a sinister smile pulling at his scar.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?”

“Interesting indeed.” Shiu agrees. Keiko eyes them skeptically, because her boss smiling like that cannot mean anything good for society, or her sleep schedule.

“I better get to work then, eh?”

“Anytime would be nice, yes.” Shiu says, turning to Keiko. “I guess I’ll finally find out about Bali, then.”

So you might be thinking, look at him backtracking like that.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s nothing like that.

Toji’s sitting across from Gojo Shinobu, the man, the myth, the bigot himself, with absolutely no intention of making business with him.

He’s just sniffing the territory.

In person and up close, Shinobu's a disturbing aged mix of you and your brother: the hair and the uncanny valley eyes went to him, but the eyebrows, the slope of his nose, it’s you. Even the handshake, firm and tight like a war general, reminds Toji of you.

Gojo Shinobu’s old as the fucking bible. His eyes are graying, eyelids sagging but it's clear that grandpa's still sharp.

For the record, Toji doesn’t like the old fart. He represents many things that he despises about older generations, and his business model is one of the many reasons for the country living in the past, but he’s not about to get political.

Not liking Gojo Shinobu doesn't mean he has no respect for him, so he’s honest and immediately shuts down the proposal of Gojo Corp. being involved in future Diablo releases.

Dignified, not happy, but never one to accept a no, Shinobu just smiles, brushes his beard like a Ghibli villain, and switches the subject.

Alcohol involved and pretending to put business talk aside, the conversation flows easily. Your father has a surprisingly entertaining dry sense of humor. Toji supposes you stop giving a shit when you have one foot in the grave, he also imagines the borderline cruel wit had something to do with your mother getting knocked up with you at the peak of her career as an actress and sex symbol.

“I hear you have a kid.”

“Two.” Toji corrects, remembering that he’s supposed to pick up Tsumiki in an hour. Ballet class. She’s getting rather serious about it. “A girl and a boy.”

“Ah, good balance.” Shinobu nods with a knowing smile. “They listen to you? How old are they?”

“15 and 16. And they do.”

They don’t, because they’re teenagers, not soldiers. Megumi and Tsumiki are good kids, certainly better than he was at their ages, they don’t need him ordering them around, watching their every step.

“Dangerous, dangerous age.” your father hums. “You make sure they do that, save yourself the bitterness in the future.”

Damn. Alright. Toji lifts his eyebrows and leans back, listening. That’s all it takes.

“You’d be surprised. You get a little too light handed, and a perfect sapling can get ruined just like that.” he snaps his fingers. “It’s harder to straighten them up as they grow up.”

Toji takes a long, good sip, fighting back a chuckle. He has no concerns when it comes to who or how people choose to fuck, but the blatant homophobia is always amusing.

“And then they gang up on you.” Shinobu scoffs. Toji can imagine you and your brother scheduling a year worth of publicly terrorizing Shinobu. “No wife? You raising them on your own?”

“I am.”

“Good man. It’s hard, honest work. Make sure you look for a good one to settle with, not all of them are in touch with their motherly instinct.”

His assistant comes in, tells him someone has arrived, and Shinobu makes a noise with his nose or mouth that reminds Toji of an exasperated horse.

“Take the advice from me. You see–”

He leans over the table, brushes his beard.

“If, and I am not wishing this upon you, your daughter comes of age and– after years of picking up and dropping all sorts of interests with no interest in commitment,"

He pauses, chuckling humorlessly.

"–comes to the conclusion that she wants to waste her life playing with cameras and hanging out with gender-bending creatives,”

The word is said with so much despise Toji feels like there should be a new phobia for it.

“You have to sit down and choose what’s more important; letting her waste her potential away, or being in her good graces. More often than not it can’t be both, that’s just how it is.”

Perhaps Toji hasn’t given you enough credit. You could’ve ended up a lot worse than you are. Knocking him out was nothing. You could’ve chopped him up, kept his dismembered body in your fridge, and he’d see where you're coming from.

“But when she tells you she wants to let some vulture into your family and make him blood, you take matters into your own hands.” he nods firmly, like it’s Toji he’s mad at, and finally looks over his shoulder, nostrils flared.

Asaya Hiroki approaches the table. Jetlagged eyes, tail between his legs.

“Fushiguro, this is Asaya Hiroji, my daughter’s boyfriend.”

Hiroki looks like he has half a mind to correct him on either the name or relationship status but he’s too fond of keeping his head attached to his body.

Hiroki’s pretty. Toji can’t compete in that department. He looks like he puts sugar and milk on his tea and smashes the china on the floor when he’s told he can’t have more, like a psychotic puppy.

In other words, you make sense together.

You like to look at pretty things so your boyfriend’s cute. No harm in acknowledging that, though he remembers Tsumiki mentioning that when noses dip down like that it means there’s some kind of prosthetic.

And if you pay attention, really read between the lines of his 90’s film heartthrob face, something’s off with him, isn’t it?

But what does he care? A nose job is no crime. Hiroki has other flaws to offer. For example, he has a rather shitty way of hiding the fact that he’s doing something he’s not supposed to.

Perhaps, even, going behind someone’s back.

And the guy calls himself an actor.

Satisfied with the results of what he thought would be a waste of an afternoon, he excuses himself. He’ll be just in time to get to Tsumiki’s class before it’s done and have the other kids’ moms and nannies ogle at him. Tsumiki hates it when he does that.

“Don’t be a stranger, Fushiguro. I’d like to keep this channel between us open. I hope to see you at the anniversary party.”

“Pardon?” Toji stops, surprised.

“The company’s anniversary party this Friday,” Shinobu says, like it’s obvious. “I’d like you to meet my son, and well, you’re already acquainted with my daughter.”

Hiroki’s round bobba eyes follow him all the way to the grand crystal doors. Toji has the distinct feeling that he was just part of Shinobu taking matters into his own hands.

He’s both disturbed and impressed. He never mentioned meeting you, and he’s pretty damn sure that this detail didn’t slip from your lips either.

Every year the company throws an anniversary party, and you and your brother and every high-level employee have to attend and listen to your father’s rendition of why diesel was better and how you’re all wimps for being born after the extinction of smallpox.

The one year that you didn’t attend, because you were stuck in Norway with a canceled flight, your father spent exactly 11 months reminding you of it like you had any say in the weather conditions of the North Sea.

Tonight might be his last speech as chairman, since he’s about to step down from his position after growing health concerns. The company has gone all out; live music, huge venue, ice sculptures, people are dancing. They've put so much effort your father's probably more annoyed than anything.

Suguru approaches you at the empty family table and sits down next to you with a knowing smile, like he's thinking the same thing as you while you're watching people waltz. He’s looking as handsome as ever, you just miss the bangs framing his face.

“So, when do you think he’s going to publicly execute the medical staff that diagnosed him with Alzheimer’s?”

“Probably after he declares war on Gretha Thunberg.”

You’re wary. He might have everyone convinced, but it’s not like him to step down quietly. Your instincts are telling you to expect shenanigans tonight, and they’ve never once failed you.

“Seems too good to be true, don’t you think?” you say, eyeing the crowd. “I don’t know how Satoru’s so cool about it.”

Suguru sighs, craning his neck. “I wouldn’t say he is.”

And that’s when your brother slams his palm on the table, making you jump in your seat. He leans over the two of you, eyeing the room like it’s the school cafeteria and he’s the king of prom.

And he kind of is. Today your father will officially name him his successor, so the sour look in his face makes you and Suguru share a look.

“Do you see Hideo Kojima on steroids hanging out with Nanamin? I guess next year we’ll have the Yakuza on the jazz band.”

You laugh, only half weirded out. Suguru looks up at your brother, confused.

“Who? ”

“Toji Fushiguro. ” Satoru drawls, icily amused, and your neck turns so fast Suguru worries it’ll break. “And his underling.”

Remember your intuition? Red sirens start ringing in your head, and the edges of your vision start staining in with a deep burgundy color.

What on earth is he–

“Dad invited him.” Satoru says, still not sitting down, still scanning the room with deadly eyes. You feel the urge to look around and pinpoint his exact location, but you wait for him to point with his chin. “They’ve been seeing each other. Mimosas and manicures, I heard.”

You find him across the room, several tables between you, just over the elevated candles in the middle of your table, talking with Nanami and some man you don’t recognize.

You fight the weak but sensible urge to look away when he suddenly turns to your table and lifts his glass in your direction, like he felt the shit talking from a distance.

The room is vast, but you recognize the feeling of his eyes looking straight at you. Your brother is too occupied cursing under his breath while he mockingly lifts his glass to notice you gulping.

“You think dad’s hitting that?”

You try not to gag. “You’re sick.”

“Cause someone will owe me a loooot of money if that’s the case.” he taunts. You both placed a bet on whether your father is bisexual or not years ago. “Look at him, standing there like he’s threatening to swipe all the fertile wives in the room. Freak.”

You snort. A bit of your goes down the wrong pipe, Suguru helpfully pats your back.

“You better hold on to yours then.”

“Nah, he’s locked in. Ain’t cha , babes?”

You roll your eyes, feeling Suguru shake his head with a lovesick smirk. Your brother replies with a wink, lazily dropping his weight on the chair next to you, like you need to be in the middle of all that.

You lean back, stretching your neck and stranding up. “Ok, you can back up a little. It’s embarrassing enough to be matching with you.”

Satoru stretches his arm over your now empty seat. They’ve been purposefully keeping a distance, him and Suguru, people assume it’s for appearances' sake, but you know them better than that. They’re playing some game tonight, and you’d rather pluck out your lashes one by one than learn the details.

“And I distinctly remember asking you to stop feeding into those fucked up theories online about me terrorizing you as a child, but you had to take those creepy family portraits with the heads cut off. We don’t always get what we want, sis.”

And don’t you know that. Tonight was stressing enough without 6’ something with a lip scar, ever so subtly following with his eyes as you make your way around the party. Not too obvious for an outsider to notice, but just enough to make the exposed hairs at the back of your neck stand up.

You’re a little too energized. Like too many shots of espresso and Ritalin after an allnighter.

It makes no sense to start feeling threatened by Toji Fushiguro tonight, when he’s in your territory, but you do.

But you weren’t raised under the same roof as Gojo Shinobu and Gojo Satoru to be so easily intimidated, so you mingle, let people stop you for quick, boring catch ups and questions about being excited about your brother and what-have-you-been-up -tos, even those whose faces or names you can’t recall.

You smile, entertain and even ask people about their whereabouts, until you’re out of social battery for the rest of the season.

“Took you long enough.” you say, making a point of not looking at him.

His voice comes closer than you expected or feel sane about. Smooth and dark, in through your left ear.

“Patience is a virtue, haven’t you heard?”

His presence is more unnerving than you geared up for, and just like the first time, a shiver cuts through you. Something urges you to move and take a step sideways, out of the magnetic pull around him.

You finally take him in. Tailored tuxedo, slightly tousled black hair that you know for a fact is unfairly soft, exuding confidence. Never in your life had you encountered someone as infuriating and intoxicating as him.

“So, are you my new stepdaddy?”

A slap to his face would’ve stunned him less. Hell, he might’ve enjoyed it. You don’t give him a chance. His pants have no business getting tighter from that fucking question. Toji buffers again.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

He hums, hands in his pockets.

“Depends.”

You tilt your head.

“You into that kind of thing?”

You scoff, dismissive as always, but suspiciously purse your lips to one side before taking a sip of your drink. Perhaps gatekeeping a chuckle.

Head held high, nose up in the air. Toji takes your profile in. The light bouncing off the high points of your face, the deliberate, doll-like curl of your lashes, the soft slope of your neck and the dips and curves of your shoulders. Your dress painted a nice image in his head of your body from afar, so he refrains from going past your collarbones like the honorable man that he is.

“What? No backtalk? I’m disappointed.”

“I didn’t expect to see you any time soon.”

“Like I said, patience is a virtue.”

You roll your eyes and laugh dismissively. “You don’t believe that.”

“Bold assumption.” he counters. “I wanted to see how long you’d last entertaining guests, but then your right eye started twitching and I suppose took some pity on you.”

“Aren’t you an empath.”

“Even to those who don’t deserve it.”

Your chin quivers, but you keep the smile to yourself with a quick sigh. Toji could look down at the way your chest rises and drops, but he’s not in a rush here.

“Why are you here?”

“Is that any way to speak to a guest? I’m sure Shinobu raised you better than that.”

Name dropping your father gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“Why are you here?” you repeat, enunciating slowly, but the words you want to say are don't fuck with me right now.

But you’re too precious for him to deny himself the pleasure. Not when your eyebrows tremble like that.

“Your father was kind enough to invite me. It would’ve been rude to turn him down.”

“You’re not here to entertain him. He’s stepping down soon and you can’t stand him.”

“Doesn’t mean that I don’t respect him. Why else would I waste a perfectly nice friday night surrounded by a bunch of suck ups? Are you suggesting I have some ulterior motive?”

Your squint at him, like you don’t believe he has the guts to say it.

“Did you perhaps assume I’m here for… you?”

Toji wonders if your silence has anything to do with the white haired manchild looking your way for the second time.

“We do have something to settle. You owe me something, if I remember correctly.”

“I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Nice try. An explanation, does that ring any bells?”

Your head snaps up to him, the wisps of hair hanging from the sides of your face flow with the movement. The tip of your nose and your cupid’s bow catch the light, if he couldn’t see your face this close he’d mistake that for sweat.

He’s reminded of how you looked at the deck in contrast to the sight of you right now. A sheer layer of sweat was covering your skin, your plump thighs spilling on the wood surface, he'd kept his hands in his phone and held on to his own sanity.

“What is there to explain? Nothing happened.”

Toji tilts his head. “Lying is a bad, bad thing,”

“We didn’t do anything, Fushiguro.” you insist, lowering your voice. Toji looks over your head, bored with your attempts at gaslighting. “If you–”

“You wanna dance?”

The nonchalant act drops, you unconsciously lean back and open your mouth like there’s not enough air in the room. Toji smiles at your hesitation, cold and challenging.

“It’s in your best interest.”

“How?”

“Because the old cunt that kept kissing your hand earlier is coming our way and I’m about to leave you alone with him” he lies and you don’t dare look over your shoulder to check, not wanting to risk making eye contact with the slimmy fucker.

It’s a bad idea. Being near Toji is a bad idea, dancing with him is the equivalent of putting on a vest bomb. Your father is somewhere in the room and your brother might act aloof but not a single interaction of his interest is going unnoticed.

Putting your hand in his is a bad, bad idea. The worst. But you suspect figuring out Toji Fushiguro’s intentions will take some compromise on your part, so you don’t hesitate when you grab his hand.

With his arm around you, he's reminded of a particularly striking dream he had about you days ago. The first thing he did when he woke up from it was open his app notes and write two words, perverse angel.

Now he knows it was actually deja vu; you close your eyes for a bit, the breathing image of reminiscing. This isn’t your first time in his arms.

The melody gets rather slow. You hold yourself with all the poise of a reluctant little heiress, defiant but serene as you look at him, arm resting over his.

While he’s growing quite fond of the sight of your neck exposed, he’d rather find the main pin and let your hair down. Let you get comfortable, not taut like you are in his hold.

“You look like a tall pint of guinness.”

Toji could do this all night. Just watch your expression drop, annoyance pinch at your temples.

One ankle betrays you, but he’s not about to let that happen. The arm around your waist keeps you steady, moving along with him. His grip is firm, but not overpowering.

“You’re an asshole.” You say like you just discovered it tonight.

He’s right. You know it and you hate that he described it so right. You’re dressed in a black, sleek and form fitting dress that goes down to your ankles and the top is made of an off-shoulder white band that wraps around your shoulders.

Toji laughs with that shark grin of his, his scar stretching.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” He adds helpfully, hand coming up to straighten the white fabric around your left shoulder. The air turns colder with the absence of his arm, but it returns to the spot in no time. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice, granted, but it’s a lovely dress. Perfect for a night at the pub, watching the game with the boys.”

“I think I’ll pass on the unsolicited fashion advice, thanks.”

“Come on. You can never go wrong with a red dress.” he counters, eyes dropping briefly. You wrinkle your nose, he takes offense. “What?”

“Not my style” you shrug.

“Now that’s just tragic.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure to wear one to your funeral.”

The couples closest to you turn with different looks of controlled distaste. Toji laughs heartily, head thrown back and everything.

“I’ll hold you to that. I might just return just to see it with my own eyes.”

“Not sure doors open both ways in hell, but hey, more power to you.”

“So you wanna hear my theory?”

You sigh. “Nothing happened, Toji. I mean it.”

What a terrible liar you are.

“I think you had a little alcohol in you, were fresh off a fight with your boyfriend, and just couldn’t help yourself because you have a thing for problems.”

You nod sarcastically. “And of course, you’re the problem in question.”

“Well, yes.” he blinks. “And also, you don’t have half the self control you believe you have. So you freaked out and put me to sleep to stop yourself from doing something you thought you might regret.”

This is how it was. You had forgotten the rush, despite replaying time and time again your past conversations. Interacting with Toji Fushiguro is like playing five finger fillet, thrilling and grueling and high risk, but it’s a whole other thing with people around you. You can’t let up, all your senses need to be on guard.

“Aren’t you too old to be throwing a fit because I gave you more than you could handle?”

Toji’s eyes dig into yours, a hint of amusement and something else.

“Here’s a piece of advice: choose your words very, very carefully. They might come back to haunt you. ”

“It never happened. And it won’t.” You repeat with a cool tone. The pulse on your wrist drums against his own.

“I have to say, you’re a better actress than he is.” he mentions. “But denial does not suit you. We’re gonna have to do something about that or things will get very awkward real soon.”

“Actually I think we should focus on your rejection issues first.”

“I’m not a problem for you to solve, sweetheart.” he chuckles darkly, eyes knowing, never leaving yours.

Years of practicing the art of bullshitting in your household could not help you deny the fact that you're maddeningly, disturbingly attracted to him.

“What you see is what you get. And you could, if you stopped being a little coward.”

He makes you turn effortlessly, that’s when you see him. Hiroki. The words die on your lips, your stomach drops, all resolve wavers. He releases you and your arms hang limp on your sides.

He licks his scar and smirks sideways at you, eyes twinkling. You could push him off the roof of the building.

“You should fix your face, angel, ‘cause I won’t behave if he wants to pick a fight.”

You’ve always liked Nanami Kento. He’s one of your father’s closest, youngest and less... spineless advisors, the pathological victim of your brother's pestering, and always impeccably polite to you, sweet even.

But right now, when he’s introducing Toji Fushiguro and his friend whose name you didn't catch to Suguru and Hiroki, you’d love to hit him in the head with a hammer.

At least your brother is nowhere to be seen.

"Pleasure to meet you." Suguru says.

Hiroki has his arm around your waist. He's not looking at you. You know what the dimpling of his cheeks mean.

“We’ve met before actually, haven’t we?” Toji turns to him, brow burying into his face like he’s not too sure, shaking his finger in the air. “Correct me if I’m wrong. I don’t remember too well.”

Your heart is stuck in your neck, threatening to crawl out of your mouth. Suguru gives you an odd look.

“We have.” You don’t see the look on Hiroki’s face when he replies, but his tone is controlled.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

Shiu Kong says something, and Suguru responds another thing. It's all noise to you.

You grab a drink from a passing tray and the corner of Toji’s mouth tilts, his attention on Suguru’s conversation. You feel irrationally mad, like slapping him, but then he’d probably fix his jaw and look at you like you should've gone rougher and–

There’s something seriously wrong with you. Officially.

You grab Hiroki’s hand and pull him with you.

He’s confused, but follows you nonetheless. “Can you just wait for a–”

“We should ditch the party.” You tell him, but he doesn’t agree like he usually would and grabs your arm, stopping you at once, brown eyes searching yours.

“You’re not even gonna ask why I’m here?”

“My dad invited you?” you reply, confused by the offended look on his face.

“No. Why would he? You know how I feel about this kind of thing.”

Now you’re confused. You smell his breath and notice his flushed cheeks. “But you’re here.”

“Wow. Try to contain the excitement, why don’t you.” he scoffs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fly across continents and interrupt whatever the hell that wa–”

He’s starting to raise his voice, drawing attention, usually composed demeanor nowhere to be seen. You catch a whiff of alcohol on his breath.

“You’ve been drinking.”

His face drops. The volatile look in his eyes is not something you can deal with tonight.

You’re forever grateful for the woman announcing your father’s speech. Hiroki’s expression clears up, but he gives you a look that says you’ll resume the conversation later, soon, tonight.

Then he pulls you to his side and leads you closer to the podium.

Your father looks into the crowd with piercing blue eyes. You, like you have for the past few months, have a bad feeling. Like if you were to take a picture right now, it would later be displayed as the moment before hell broke loose.

“... And as many of you know, the time has come for me to step back and allow a new generation to lead us forward."

The crowd hangs on his every word. You scan the room for the 10th time, looking for a head full of white hair.

Hiroki notices your unease and looks down at you, rubbing your arm. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t see Satoru.”

Your father continues, voice unwavering.

"It is with great confidence and optimism that I announce my successor, a person who embodies the values and vision of our company."

You finally find Satoru at the back, he’s with Suguru and Nanami. Waving his arms around him, hair a mess, pissed.

"Please join me in welcoming our future CEO, Noritoshi Kamo."

The room bursts into applause, but before his words can fully register in your mind, a sudden, sharp crack echoes through. For a split second collective confusion takes over, and then it turns to full blown panic.

You watch your father duck under the podium. Your legs move on their own.

Gunshots.

People are running, crawling and diving for cover all around. Tables are overturned, glass shatters. It's all white noise.

"Get down!" someone shouts.

Something slams into you.

Toji picks you up from the ground. Exit located, going for it.

“My dad," you protest with wide eyes, hastily trying to look over your shoulder. Toji has half a mind to throw you over his shoulder.

“He’s fine.” he assures, hand covering your head, pushing it down.

Security sprung into action in no time at the first gunshot, formed a barrier around your father and hurried him down the stage. Toji saw it with his own eyes right before he caught you running like a tweaking baby reindeer, right before some piece of shit shoved you to the ground.

You keep protesting, resisting, trying to go in the opposite direction, so Toji has no choice but to lift you up and thrown you over his shoulder.

A colorful string of panicked and enraged expletives follow. You’re livid, fists slamming into his back without mercy. Toji pays no mind, pushing through the crowd, making his way to the emergency exit.

He doesn't put you down until you're both alone in the emptiness of some sterile corridor. And you're still rambling.

“Shut up for a second, will you?"

That does it. You're flabbergasted, opening your mouth again in full Karen fashion.

Toji doesn’t care for it. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” you reply furiously, fist tight on your sides. You catch your breath, step down from your heels and start to speed walk down the corridor. “I have to find my father– I need to– Satoru–”

“They’re safe.” Toji catches up to you in two or three long steps. “Gojo’s security doesn’t fuck around. I mean– yeah, they did fuck up letting a guy bring a gun inside the premises, but they were quick with it.”

Your nostrils flare. Toji hears voices at the corner and pushes you behind him. He sees a couple of guys in black in the reflection of a fire extinguisher cabinet. Dressed in black, wired ears, walking like they know they might lose their jobs tonight.

“Hey, I got the heiress here. She’s looking for her old man.”

They escort you both, eyes hopeful, looking at you like you're their ticket out of unemployment. Your father and his people are gathered in some conference room one floor above. The altercation can be heard from outside.

“It’s for the best. You're too out of it to see it now, but you will.”

The room is packed. Your father, his disciples, your brother and his boyfriend, a very uncomfortable looking couple of cops. A woman approaches you, asking you if you're ok, but your eyes and attention at stuck on your father and your brother dueling for the whole room to see.

Your brother stops his pacing and turns to face Shinobu.

“No, that's not it. I see it, I see you. You’re too prideful to let me clean up after you.”

Getting caught in a family brawl was not in Toji’s plans tonight, but he stays put, watching you approach them with confusion all over your face. They don’t seem to notice you.

Gojo Shinobu levels his son with warning eyes, finger pointed at him. “Watch your words, Satoru. You don’t know what you’re talking about. My decision is final.”

He turns around, beckons the woman who approached you to him, but your brother is not done.

“You know I can do it." he says, your father stops and turns to him with death in his eyes and his lips pressed into a thin line. "You know I can. You just can’t stand the thought of me succeeding where you fucking failed.”

The look on your face says it all, you don’t know what your brother is talking about, and that you’re in no headspace to ask either. Satoru's not just pushing the limits, he just sped past them.

The words hit your father square in the chest.

Things are about to get bloody.

“You’re nothing but a spoiled, entitled brat who thinks he deserves everything handed to him on a silver platter. Look at what you’ve made of your life, acting like everything is a fucking game. You think I’ll let someone like you lead what I spent my life building?”

You turn to him, mouth falling open. “Jesus christ, dad.”

“Over my dead fucking body.”

Your brother’s face contorts in rage. He -predictably and unpredictably at the same time- lunges forward, fist aimed at your father’s face.

The room springs into action. Your father's guard dogs, the cops, Nanami Kento, you beat them all to it, but it’s ultimately Toji who gets to him.

In another situation, Toji would've found a comfortable seat for himself, perhaps a drink, and watch the havoc unfold. Let the son champion the decade long cause of union workers, environmental hippies, human rights, consumer advocacy activists alike, and punch the lights out of his father's smug face.

Then he'd spare no details for Shiu over a nice dinner.

But he grabs Gojo Satoru's arm instead, stopping him mid swing.

Blue, crazy and uncanny eyes land on him.

As a general rule, he avoids getting involved in other people's affairs, especially when it comes to love spats or family drama. However, when he says,

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

He means it.

Your father chuckles dismissively.

Your brother watches as he walks away, chest heaving up and down.

“Toru?”

Surely those two syllables did not come from you. If denial did not suit you, this uncertainty is just disturbing. It’s not right.

“What was that?” The question comes from the depths of your throat, voice nothing like Toji has heard before.

“Not now.” your brother snaps, turning around and walking out. Geto Suguru on his side.

Toji’s phone starts ringing, he tries to shake off the unsettling image of you before walking out of the room to answer.

It's Shiu. He's waiting outside, watching the police drag the gunman into a car, and wondering where he is. Toji sighs, comes to terms with the fact that he's on a streak of sorts tonight, because once again, against his own code, he tells him Shiu to leave without him, not answering any questions about his whereabouts.

People have dispersed with your father gone from the scene. Toji walks back inside, pocketing his phone, and finds you by a corner of the room. Your boyfriend has found you again, fuck knows where the came from.

He's pulling his phone out, ready to call Shiu and tell him he's on his way down, but you're shaking your head, running your hand through your hair like you forgot it's pulled back.

Hiroki gets in front of you when you try to walk away. You put your hands between you, like the last thing you need is someone coming close. You must've just said something nasty, hit a tender spot, because he freezes where he stands.

Toji drops his arm.

Once again you try to walk around him, but this time Hiroki gets a hold of your arms.

“Why?” he asks. You’re looking at him like he grew a second head. “We talked about it all the time, we always said–”

Toji's wandered close enough to catch your reply.

“What do you mean why? Have you lost your mind? I can’t leave Satoru alone right now, Hiroki.”

“In case you didn’t notice he just fucking left you here.” he snaps at you.

You flinch. Recoil. Push against his hold.

“Let go. I’m sorry but I can’t deal with you tonight.”

“You can’t? Right. You can’t. Tell me something, do you have any idea what kind of shit I’ve had to put up with–”

You snarl at him, baring your teeth, bare feet stomping on the carpeted floor. Hiroki doesn’t even sway with your attempts, or flinch at the near animalistic way you look at him.

“I fucking don’t. And I don’t want to know. I didn’t ask you to be here tonight.” you reply, tone vicious, jaw locked. “You don’t get to hold it against me.”

The next thing Hiroki says pours out of his mouth like it’s a known fact, or an acceptable thing to say to the woman you’re going to marry.

“They don’t give a shit about you. You know that.”

By now, you two have caught Kento Nanami's attention. He wraps up whatever he's discussing with a couple of men and approaches the scene.

Hiroki does not let up, it's easy to see that he will not. He fixes his grip like you'll turn to liquid and spill between his fingers if he gets distracted.

You wince.

Toji walks over with four or five committed strides until he's between you two. The abrupt interruption and breach of personal space startles Hiroki, gives you the chance to step back.

“I think that’s enough.”

“Well, this is just great.”

Hiroki chortles, looking away like he’s collecting his thoughts. Biting his lips in contemplation. Nodding to himself once or twice. Toji regards him coldly, lets him gather his thoughts, or the guts to attempt something idiotic like, who knows, get himself pummeled to the ground.

“You know, I keep seeing you everywhere lately, why is that?”

Toji shrugs, uninterested and unintimidated. Hiroki won't get his face cut even if he deserves it, and it's not that Toji's against the idea of being a vessel for some sort of long time coming retribution. In fact, he'd be doing it just for his own satisfaction.

But the night should end now. He’s gonna have a hard time forgetting how you looked earlier when your moron of a brother stormed past you and left you standing there, in the middle of a room full of people that did not care about you, heels hanging from your hand, shoulders sagging.

Doesn’t mean he’s not gonna give the boy something to pop a vein about.

“Why don’t you take a guess, hm?”

Something snaps behind Hiroki's eyes. Toji's front row this time, and he confirms everything he suspected about him.

And he makes his mind up.

Hiroki looks at you, lids heavy, ears red. “Are you fucking him?”

How predictable. Toji looks at you over his shoulder, and somehow, you understand. It's barely noticeable, but you shake your head.

“You have to leave.” you sound a lot more like yourself this time. Only tired. Really exhausted. Like your feet are about to give out under you. Toji's not blind to the way you’ve been putting all your weight on one foot.

Hiroki pauses, realization lands on him that you’re talking to him, and not Toji.

“Get on a plane, fly back to Spain, and stay there for as long as you have to.”

“This is fucking unbelievable.”

“I disagree. Have a safe flight.”

Hiroki stomps out, shoulders past unfazed Nanami Kento, who looks at him like he’s a speck of dust. He approaches you, asks you if you're ok.

You ask about your dad, he tells you he’s currently talking to the police and insists on getting you a car and someone to accompany you. Says you should rest.

“I can take her home.” Toji says. You peer at him like that's the last thing you were expecting to hear, and then you nod.

Nanami watches Toji carefully, studying him intently. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Keep me posted?”

His features soften just a bit, he touches your shoulder, promises he will.

He doesn’t keep his eyes off Toji until you two make it to the door. Toji might find the guy agreeable, stick up his ass and all.

#toji fanfiction #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro #toji fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut

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radioisntdead · 10 months ago

Note

You know that trope of “I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy-” so on and so forth? Well, that, but it’s actually true because reader wants to help his best and closest friends at the hotel. It can be a bit of found family fluff, and include whoever you want, you got free reign here toots.

Some examples are Angel getting more time off work because reader ‘knows a guy’, Husk getting more premium alcohol because reader ‘knows a another guy’, Nifty getting better and higher grade cleaning equipment, Charlie and Vaggie getting better advertisements, Alastor getting fresh boars and Pentious getting new parts.

When directly confronted about it, reader just gets all coy and says, “I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows another guy, who knows a guys cousin, who knows a girls aunt, who knows-”

Good evening my dear! I had so much fun writing this! Lowkey based the reader off of Todd from Bojack horseman also my apologies for this being a little short.

Oh, I know a guy!

Hazbin hotel x reader,

Warnings: shenanigans! Mild ooc Also the ending is a little muddled because my brain stopped working because it's 3 am and I'm hungry.

In hell, pure unbridled and unchained loyalty was hard to gain, and genuine friendship was harder to find.

And someone like you, someone filled with simple kindness, someone who just did things for others expecting nothing in return was nearly impossible to find.

You accidentally befriended Sinners and hellborn alike, and that granted you with connections a ordinary sinner wouldn't have!

You found the Hazbin hotel after an incident where you were shot out of a circus canon and crashed through one of the walls, and you decided to stick around!

You get a free hotel room and there's a chance of redemption and to seeing the pearly gates of heaven? That's a pretty good deal in your book!

You gave no warning for when you'd use for connections to improve the hotel or to just make things better for your fellow hotel residents!

Husk complained about the horrible quality of alcohol?

The next day a shipment of high quality luxury alcohol came in, at first they thought it was a mistake but were assured that it wasn't, The imp who delivered it greeted you with joy as you addressed him by name and began to ask how he was, how his wife and kids were, etc etc.

You accidentally ran into Charlie and Vaggie during date night? You call up a guy and get them VIP seats for a sold out show they wanted to see.

One of Alastor's old radios break? And he's about to murder someone? You know a guy who can fix it right up, make it good as new!

Niffty's cleaning supplies are beginning to break? you make a phone call and suddenly industrial grade cleaning supplies are delivered to the hotel, She's filled with pure unbridled glee!

Angel dust is complaining about Valentino overworking him? No worries you know a guy! Valentino is shot dead the next day.

Sir Pentious needs a very specific, very outdated and extremely hard to find part for something? You know a guy who can get you one for dirt cheap!

Eventually after you had gotten the hotel a whole build board advertisment the residents came together to discuss what exactly you did to get them what you did, because as far as they knew you weren't an overlord or even threatening for that matter! Angel dust swears he saw you cry over accidentally killing a bug once!

Several theories were made, Niffty and some of the egg Bois stalked followed you for a time!

And you didn't even notice! Honestly they were concerned about that because the egg Bois weren't exactly... Discreet, several of them died.

Eventually they just decided to rip the bandaid off.

"Okay guys so, hear me out on clown dentists, I know some clowns that could be great dentists!" You said waltzing on into the hotel, to be greeted with the people you have begun to regard as your friends, and dare you say, family, circled around the lobby couch like they were preparing for an intervention.

You tilted your head confused and before you could open your mouth to say anything you were grabbed like you were being kidnapped by a slasher killer and thrown onto the couch.

"That's an idea but let's put a pin in that for now because we have a couple concerns about how exactly you get some stuff, like that build board for the hotel!" Charlie started up carefully before Vaggie continued,

"And the time you got us free tickets for that show, thanks again for that but those tickets are expensive."

You shrugged, "I know a guy who's sister's boyfriend's cousin's aunt's poodle is in the build board business, and it's no problem, if you wanna see another show just let me know and I can get you two more tickets! It's no biggie! I know a guy!"

An eyebrow was raised "For completely free? No tricks?"

"Or at a huge discount! And no tricks!" You innocently grinned,

"What about the luxury alcohol you got the bar?" A glance was given to the cat that ran said bar, who was drinking a bottle of said luxury alcohol,

"I know a guy who's married to a Alcohol maker's daughter's daughter in wrath! They have loads of extra alcohol just laying around!"

"What about the parts you got for Pentious?"

"I know a guy who's married to his brother's girlfriend's twice removed cousin's poodle's dog Walker's mother's-" "This is getting ridiculous," "gREAT GREAT GRAND MOTHER'S Chewbacca's queer icon nephew's unicorn who owns a shop."

Were you joking? Or were you complete serious? They genuinely couldn't tell.

"Ya' got the purple pimp killed, I owe ya' one and I don't care whatcha' do in your free time but it is a concerning because ya' know the other two Vees?'' Angel popped in.

"I know a guy who knows a girl who knows a Chicago deep dish pizza who knows a new York style pizza guy who knows a cannibal in cannibal town who knows Rosie's hat gremlin who knows another hat gremlin who knows about hat creature that had a vendetta against pimp grimace!"

"What the fuck."

"Don't question it! I don't mind using my connections for you guys! Your practically my family anywho!" You get up from the couch, "I'm gonna go put together a sinterest board for my dentist clown idea, bye!" You said before booking it up the stairs and into your room, leaving confusion, a very touched Charlie from being called family, questions technically answered and concern for what the fuck clown dentists were.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed this! It became a little funky with the dialogue but that's alright, Either Mob Alastor headcanons or an angst fic is coming up next so tune on in for that! As always thank you for tuning in and goodnight!

Pssssst, you should totally join our discord server

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you

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obamas-eyebrow · 3 days ago

Text

Eclipse

Sejanus plinth x Tribute! Reader(f)

──────────────────────

Warnings; No reader body/race descriptions (if any pls lmk) A little ooc. NO USE OF Y/N. English is not my first language. Anything that applies to thg, mentions of kys. Flashbacks in italics. Not proofread.

A/N: dk. Bro just re-wrote the 10th hg as a reader insert lol.

Wc: I was bored, 18.6K

Summary; childhood best friends/tribute au

He was silent, unmoving, watching your poker face on the screen, while he was frozen with helplessness. You didn’t look that different, still the same kind eyes despite your best effort to look intimidating. You were still the girl who came up to him that night in the shelter, taking his mind off of the sound of bombs. The scarf on your head was the same one he recalled your mother would wear, for good luck, not that it helped today. A voice called out to you from the crowd, your sister, he presumed. You didn’t even spare her a glance lest it be your breaking point. The scar by your brow was now only a faint white line he wouldn’t have caught had he not been there when it was fresh and red, a testament to how much you’ve changed since you last saw each other.

To be assigned one of the district 2 tributes was one thing, to have to mentor the only person he felt was ever his friend was another. Sejanus would’ve liked to crawl into some small hole somewhere to rot in this very moment, rather than even think about the task to come. Oftentimes, he finds himself thinking about the war, how relieved he would’ve been had he been killed by a bomb rather than live in shame of his family name.

Marcus, the male tribute.

Fate couldn’t have planned it any better.

At the call of his name, you let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream, bringing your hands to your head, rubbing your temple as if ridding yourself of a headache. Marcus all but marched up onto the podium, a woman’s wails serving as his soundtrack. You two stood side by side, intertwining your hands gently with his as you observed his face, but he only had his eyes fixed on the distance horizon.

And then the broadcast cut to the next set of tributes.

He didn’t know whether to scream or cry, what good would either do, anyway?

He wondered if either of you would even recognise him, unsure of how much he’d changed here in the Capitol. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to face you.

…

The ride to the Capitol was unfitting for how glorious you’d thought the place would be, unable to even spare a proper train for the condemned. Your head hurt, and you were so so tired. Marcus hadn’t bothered to speak a single word to you the whole way here and you didn’t push it. He’d helped you down from the stinky train cart onto the station floor, nodding over to a boy- no older than you- in a ridiculous red uniform. He was chatting with one of the female tributes from the other cart, a rose in his hand. You couldn’t even begin to attempt to guess what the hell he was here for.

You found out soon enough, though, as you were herded like cattle into a small car made for zoo animals. Mentors, whatever that meant. You were not really interested in the coup against the schoolboy, nor his explanations of what the games will be like, too focused on observing the place you’d heard so much about growing up.

Disappointing, to say the least.

You’d expected streets lined with gold and diamond encrusted statues all around, not this sea of greys and blacks. You hadn’t really thought about how the war must’ve affected the Capitol, clearly, they’ve taken quite the hit as well. The cool metal of the car’s bars served only as a temporary relief to the scorching summer sun, heat you were not used to, having lived in the mountain shade your whole life. The Capitolites that you’d spotted on the way to your destination looked sickly, malnourished, much like the boy in the car with you. You bit back a smile, they ain’t as high and mighty as they would like the districts to believe.

They’re just as hungry as you are.

Good.

By the time they’d finally dumped you at your destination, your muscles were sore and achy, having been used to some form of a soft mattress for bed. A luxury most couldn’t afford. Your throat was dry, stomach grumbling as you sat back by Marcus, watching the district 12 girl and her mentor. She was a natural born star, you’ll give her that. Your eyelids felt droopy at the feeling of soft hay on your back, it’ll do. Marcus was still sat rigid as a soldier, eyes fixed on the zoo’s entrance. There were a few watchers around the cage, along with a camera crew that was fixated on any tribute willing to talk.

“You remember when the tributes usually go into the arena?”

“Ain’t it the next morning?”

You felt sick. Of course it was. You’d forgotten, having spent years blocking out the noise from these things. Your death was sooner than you’d anticipated, though it makes no difference.

“I’m going to sleep.”

Marcus nodded as you settled down by him, the buzz of the zoo goers serving as less than ideal white noise, but you’ve slept through worse.

Your own body woke you up, stomach aching for a morsel of food, anything to quieten the groaning. You didn’t bother getting up, your eyes finding that it had gotten a lot busier than it was earlier. It was late, do these people have nothing better to do than gawk at you like some spectacle? Do they not have jobs?

You rolled your eyes, surveying how the other tributes were adjusting, when you realised that they all now had some food in their hands. Marcus, who had remained in the position you left him in, sat empty handed.

“Where’s our share?” You sat up, worry filling you that you might have missed an important event or something. Marcus only shrugged.

“What the hell Marcus? When did they give food out?”

He sighed, finally turning his head to look at you. He nodded his head slightly to a figure standing by the bars as close as he could get to the two of you. The boy had his head rested between two bars with his eyes shut in desperation. Marcus had waited for recognition to dawn on you, but it was clearly taking a while. You furrowed your brows in confusion, shaking your head at him.

“How many capitolites do you know, genius?”

For a second, you attempted to jog your memory as to who he could be referring to, biting your lip in concentration. When it hit you, your eyes widened in surprise.

“Plinth?” You half exclaimed, half giggled, so giddy at the familiar face.

“In. The. Flesh.” Marcus crossed his arms against his chest, tongue hitting the side of his teeth to control his anger.

“So, you didn’t get us any food, cause Sejanus was the one giving it out?”

He nodded and you hit his arm, earning an exaggerated ‘ow!’ from him, “I’m starving, Marcus!”

“Doesn’t matter, don’t think he’s got any more, so don’t bother.”

“You’d seriously rather starve than swallow your pride?”

“Look at him! He looks ridiculous!”

“Bein’ angry at him won’t change your fate. Ain’t like it’s his fault!”

“You were always sweet on him,” He rolled his eyes. “By your logic, we should forgive every single Capitolite but some, since all of em are so ‘blameless’.”

You ignored his words, dusting yourself off and getting up to approach a still distressed Sejanus, lost in thought with his head down, on hand rested on the bar. It was a dizzying sight, knowing that, had it been a different roll of dice, he might have been in the cage with you, rather than on the opposite side. As you approached his position, you took a moment to compare his features to those of the boy you last saw him as.

“Plinth?”

His ma’s head jerked up at the call of her name, previously having been lost in worry. Your ma stood firm, but apologetic. His father had not made it to this shelter, but they’d received news that he was at another one close by. It was quiet in there, save for some whispered prayers. His ma’s hands were trembling, fearsome that she’d be left alone if his father didn’t survive. She was trying to slow her breathing down, keep it together for her boy, who was bundled under her arm, face red with tears. He hated loud sounds, hated the bombs. The shelter was so stuffy, despite being one of the nicer ones, making it difficult to take a proper breath in.

The alarms, his ma’s panic, it all got to him. He must’ve been sobbing for close to an hour now, his ma too nervous to even attempt to comfort him. She took a spot in the corner, walking with her head held down, hoping her boy won’t hear the sly comments or see the side eyes they get. They gave out food and water, but she was too frozen with fear to get up to collect their share, and no one would extend a helping hand to the Plinths. After all, they’re well fed and heavy rested, so why should they?

It was cold that night, people huddling for as much warmth as their shared bodies could put together. He began to shiver, despite being so tucked into her warmth, but the cold wall on his back had stripped him of most of his body heat, with his nervous system so dysregulated, it was only inevitable. His ma looked at her boy, biting her lip in an attempt to keep her own tears at bay. Surely, someone here has got a spare blanket, but who would offer it up to them? She’d pulled him in ever closer, rubbing his back for some heat, when your ma took initiative and approached her.

His ma looked at her warily, unsure of whether there was an ulterior motive to this kindness she was showing her, hand extended out with a blanket and some food, the other supporting a tightly wrapped bundle to her shoulder, a warm smile on her face. As soon as his ma accepted her generosity, she lowered herself slowly to sit by her, which was a difficult feat to do for a woman who’d just recently had a baby. Sejanus watched the woman from behind his ma’s clothes, observing as she repositioned the small gray roll onto her lap. Not a roll, a newborn. The whole gesture was as if they had been friends forever.

“They told me your sister is fine, Marjorie. Don’t fret.” Your ma put a comforting hand on her knee. Of course, your ma had worked with his aunt.

His ma let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you,”

Tears sprung up into her eyes, overwhelmed with your ma’s kindness. Though it wasn’t grand, it was rare. Sensing his ma’s emotion, his own lips began to tremble once more. She undid the blanket, bringing it over him, as your ma leaned a bit so that she could see him.

“Your boy?” Your ma smiled, “Think my girl goes to the same school, Sejanus, right?”

He nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh you are just as sweet as your aunt says,” She reached her hand across to squish his chubby cheek, chuckling a little. The action allowed his ma a moment of grace to collect herself.

“And where is your girl?”

Your ma opened her mouth to reply, but, seemingly on cue, a loud ‘roar!’ echoed across the room. Not that of a bomb, but that of a rowdy child. She then pressed her lips into a thin line, dropping her head down with laughter as she held his ma’s gaze.

The sound of your giggles from around the corner became louder, causing some people to tsk and grumble. When you finally came into view, you’d jumped up above a person’s leg, parkouring and dodging across the sea of bodies. Only a few paces behind you was one of the peacekeepers, bringing his hands together multiple times in an attempt to catch you. But alas, you were too quick. You sprinted the final distance to half hide yourself behind your ma’s body, just as the officer had caught up to you.

“This your kid?” He said angrily.

“I have never met this child in my life.” Your ma said with so much seriousness that, had he not just spoken to her earlier, he would’ve believed her.

You slapped her shoulder playfully, your voice still laced with giggles, “Ma!”

She suddenly grabbed your shoulders and pulled you infront of her.

“I don’t know you! Officer, please take her away!” She shook you, only earning more laughs from you.

“Ma’am, we are trying to get our job done, please keep her under control.”

You turned around to face the tall guard, and with a mean furrow of your brow and a quick salute, you gave him a “Yes sir, officer, sir!” Mocking the way they spoke. The peacekeeper marched away as you turned back to your ma. He took a chance to observe you from his hiding spot, finding that, despite it being well below freezing, you had sweat beaded on your forehead and were panting like a wild dog. You leaned down, giving your baby sister a soft kiss so as to not awaken her. Your ma grabbed the end of her top, her other hand holding your head in place as you struggled against her wiping your face clean.

“I was playin’ with Mr. Crow's cat, and then it led me to where the peacekeepers stayed! I snuck into the room, they had soooooo much stuff in there, but then the cat slipped out of my hand and and I chased after it, then the officer saw me, then he chased me, then Mr. Crow yelled at me cause I lost his cat then I came here so I can hide.” About two words into your little ramble, your ma had turned slowly to face his ma with a ‘this is my girl, yeah.’ expression on her face, which caused her to laugh a little.

“Anyway, I have to go now! I have to find whispers!”

“Whiskers, sweatpea.”

“Yes, whiskers. Bye, ma!”

“Ah ah ah,” She tsked, causing you to straighten up immediately, “Say hello to Ms. Plinth, first.”

You sprung into action immediately, grabbing his ma’s hand and shaking it with heavy force for a small frame. “Hello, Ms.Plinth! Bye, Ms. Plinth!”

His ma chuckled, “Please, call me Marjorie.”

“Okay, bye Marjorie-” “No-”

But you had turned on your heel to embark on your next adventure. As you were turning, however, your eyes met his for a split second, which is what caused you to turn back around. You looked at him with excitement, seemingly recognising him from class. To you, it just meant someone to play with. At the sight of your wild eyes, Sejanus hid himself further behind his ma. You stepped closer, cocking your head with exaggeration, so he pushed his face into her clothes. His ma’s shoulders dropped, recalling her husbands words of,

“You made the boy too soft!”

That’s how he winded up learning how to handle a gun so young, but anyway. She turned to look at your ma, who gave her a knowing look.

“Why are you hiding?” You dropped to your knees in front of him.

“I’m scared.” He didn’t bother moving.

“Of what?”

Of what? Of what? What do you think?

“Of the bombs.”

“Where are they?” You looked around, not mockingly, but reassuringly.

His ma pulled him away from herself, forcing him to face you. His face was probably pathetic, but you didn’t comment, much to the relief of his ma. He pouted, crossing his arms angrily over his chest. You made it sound like he was just being ridiculous.

“We’re safe here, sweetheart.” His ma soothed.

You had a sickeningly beaming smile on your face, “Plus, if a bomb comes, I doubt your ma’s body could give you much protection..” Your ma glared at you, “..I mean..Wanna help me find whispers?”

“Whiskers, sweatpea.”

“Whiskers, yes.” You got up, extending a hand down to him, which he eventually took you up on.

You kept your tight grip on him as you pulled him through the crowds to where you’d last seen the cat.

“Just so I’m sure, could you remind me of your name? I mean, I know it, I just want to be sure.” You tried to sound convincing.

His nerves were a lot more at ease now, allowing him to giggle at your ramble.

“It’s-”

“Sejanus?”

You placed your hand gently on his, pulling him out of his spiral. His head snapped up, having been previously oblivious to your approach. “Hey, stranger.”

He smiled, and it was one of the things that had stayed the same, though his eyes seemed to have gotten more sad. He had changed quite a bit from that teary eyed chubby kid you last saw, growing into his features. He looked a lot more like a man now, standing a palpable height above you. But that’s what happens when you have the money to get enough nutrients.

“Hi,”

“Almost didn’t recognise ya,”

He tried to find something to say, unable to come up with words to express how happy he was to see you again, even with the given circumstances. But it was easy for him to say, being the one not on deathrow. He couldn’t tell you how refreshing it is to hear his own accent spoken back to him, though he’s sure it has been diluted by now.

“Are you goin’ to say somethin’ or are you gonna js stare at me like that?”

He let out a small laugh. To you, he must’ve been stuck with a giddy face as he studied your features, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Sorry- I just-” He leaned his cheek against the cool bar, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Sej.” You poked his side playfully.

You two stood there for a moment, watching eachother with stupid smiles on your faces.

“You hungry?” He straightened up at his own words, crouching down to rummage through his backpack. “My ma made these, fresh this mornin” He grabbed two carefully wrapped sandwiches and a matching pair of plums, holding them out to you.

You were starving, but now, faced with this choice, you hesitated. Sejanus saw this uncertainty, recalling how stubborn your mother was back in 2, taking offence when his ma would offer her help in terms of money.

“We ain’t a charity case, Plinth, put your money away.”

It was the only time he’d ever seen you cry, trembling lips and arms across your own frame for comfort. The room smelled sterile, a variety of medical equipment neatly labeled across the room. The bed was too high up, making you swing your legs out of habit. In terms of lighting, it was one of the only spots in 2 that had the luxury of strong bulbs that didn’t depend on a generator, so that it can function continuously, but the bright white light was giving both of you a headache. No kid likes the clinic, doesn’t take a genius to make a statement like that, the fact that the professional on sight was your ma didn’t help it either. A retired war medic, she was. Not exactly the most gentle hands, but they did the job right.

You two had been playing together when you tripped, hitting your head on the edge of a stray brick out by his house. It lodged itself in, forming a ragged cut that extended a centimetre above the mid part of your brow. You checked your reflection in the window, turning to him in fear.

“I think I’m gonna need stitches.”

He scurried in to inform his ma, who rushed you both to the little clinic where your ma worked. She looked tired, already upset about some other altercation that happened earlier. When she saw your injury, she only sighed and motioned for you to hop up onto the table.

“Are you going to keep still, or should I call her in?”

You were still trembling, having not even processed the question. Your ma wasn’t mean, she just had limited resources, that's all, so she couldn’t waste them.

“Sweetpea,” She tapped your knee, pulling your attention to her as she leaned down to meet you eye to eye. “Want me to call her in?”

“No…I’ll keep still mama.”

Your ma turned to the supply closet, pulling out the stuff she needs. Sejanus couldn’t tear his eyes off your frame, so small and defeated, unlike he’d ever seen you before. He didn’t understand anything, only that, the bravest person he knew, was terrified.

“You..ain’t gonna use painkillers?” His ma whispered, causing your ma’s hands to still with the supplies.

“Not all of us have that luxury, Marjorie.”

“Haven't you got any to spare?”

“No, only for the important cases.”

“This is your girl-”

Your ma turned to her abruptly, tears brimming in her eyes. They looked at each other, the only sounds in the room being your quiet sobs.

“If this is about money, I could-” his ma reached into her purse to offer it up.

“We ain’t a charity case, Plinth, put your money away.”

“It’s ain’t like that!” His ma pleaded. “Don’t let your pride hurt your girl, please-”

“If you’re going to be a bother, I suggest you step out. Especially if you don’t want to scare your boy.” Your ma deadpanned, causing his ma to wince. Ultimately, it was you or her son, and the choice was obvious. She tugged on his arm, motioning for him to step away with her out of the room. Your eyes were fixed on the floor, fingers softly rubbing your arms. You couldn’t even look at him as he walked out, eyebrows furrowed with concern as the room door shut softly, isolating you. He was none the wiser as to what the whole situation was as he headed for the clinic doors with his ma, but you’d been here before, owing to your clumsiness. He was almost at the exit when he heard it, a sound so unfamiliar that it sent chills down his spine.

Your scream.

It was short and faint, given how far away he was from the room, but he recognised your voice, forcing him to turn around to the source. He froze there, grip on his ma’s hand weakening as he stepped back. She pulled on him gently, but another sharp yell gave him the push he needed to let go of his ma’s hand, rushing back to your room. He all but burst the door open with as much might as a 7 year old could have. He kept up the pace until he was by your side. You were sat up with your eyes shut as your ma worked the first suture closed. He climbed up next to you, putting his hand on top of your which had a tight grip on the white sheet. His ma made it into the room shortly after, but he paid her no mind.

You hadn’t really noticed before how much his presence would comfort you. And he stayed there, warm hand on your trembling one as your ma worked 3 more stitches by your brow. Tears were streaming freely down your cheeks, and you felt so embarrassed to have been crying like this in front of him. His warmth kept your screams at bay at least.

With the final tug, your ma let out a sigh, placing the needle down by her side. You have her no chance to dress nor clean the stray blood before you bolted out of the place, Sejanus springing to his feet a few seconds behind you. He heard his ma start something with yours, but he was too determined to find you to stop and listen. You manoeuvred through maintenance doors and dull corridors from memory, having spent summers here assisting your ma, making it up a flight of stairs then into a small storage closet that hadn’t been used in ages. Even back then, when the sounds of sickness got too much, you’d hide up there for hours. He almost missed your little detour, ready to continue out into the sickrooms had he not heard the soft click of the door.

Without much thought, he opened the door following you in.

It was stuffy in there, dim, and no place for a child, let alone two. You had your back to the wall with your head on your knees, crying quietly. He inched towards you carefully, plopping down and sprawling his legs out by your side. Whenever he was in pain, or sad, his ma would always find the right thing to say to make it all better. But it seems like that was not a trait he inherited. Instead, he pulled you in, rubbing your back softly. Who knows how long you two stayed like that, until all your tears were dried up.

When you lifted your head to look at him, he noticed a bit of dried blood on your lid below the wound. He pushed himself off of the floor, quickly popping out to grab some wipes from a nearby cart, before making his way back in. He held your face softly, tongue sticking out a little as he focused on keeping the swab away from the open tissue. You sighed, pulling him into a tight hug. There were not many words exchanged between the two of you that night, but something had changed.

It would be the last time he saw you cry, because it would be a few short months before he left for the capitol.

And here you were, faced with a decision of whether to swallow your pride or hold onto it. You bit your lip as you ultimately took the food from his hands, your head hung low in shame. You tried to pace yourself as you carefully unwrapped one of the sandwiches, bringing the delicacy to your lips. Meat was a luxury, even back in 2, even when you weren’t doin so bad for yourself. It wasn’t something you could just buy according to your desire. Had it been up to you, you'd’ve cut it out of your diet ages ago, saving money, but you needed the iron. And here he was, giving it out for free. You tried to savor the bite you took, evening your breaths out so as to not let resentment towards Sejanus bubble through.

It ain’t his fault.

“Marcus…wouldn’t take it from me.”

You looked over to where your friend sat, unmoving from the position you’d left him in. “He’s…goin through alot. Needed someone to blame, you fit the right criteria. Nothin’ personal.”

Sejanus nodded, eyes still watching you attempt to consume the food slowly. He often

wondered how different his life would’ve been, had he had the option to stay back in 2.

He wondered what you two could’ve been.

“The zoo will be closing in 10 minutes.”

A big voice boomed over the speakers, rattling the bars. Sejanus placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve got to go, I’ll see you tomorrow, though.” He nodded.

“Tomorrow? Won’t we begin the games tomorrow?” You furrowed your brows.

“No- they changed it. Trying to get more people interested. I’m, uhm. Your mentor, I’m your mentor.”

You looked past him into the distance, seemingly trying to figure out what he meant, before meeting his eyes once more, “Don’t know what that is.”

“I’m supposed to-”

What is the nicest way to tell someone that you’re tasked with marketing them to a group of stuck up, wanna-be rich folks so that they can bet on them with money he could use to deliver you sustenance to delay your death in the upcoming battle royale. All for a number on a paper for his final school project.

Asking for a friend.

“I’m supposed to help you win, one way or another.”

“Sounds important.”

“It is.”

“You have to wear those hideous colours for it?”

Your quip caught him off guard, having been previously wallowing in self pity. It’s great to see that the days have not stripped you of your sense of humour.

“No, this is a fashion choice actually.”

“What? Skirts for men?”

“It ain’t a skirt!”

“Sure looks like it.”

He licked his lips, biting them to prevent a laugh from slipping out of him, which would give you the satisfaction. “You’re still such a bully.”

“Sir, the zoo is closing, you need to leave.”

He sighed, swinging the limp backpack over his shoulder.

“I’ll miss you,” You cocked your head, smiling shyly.

Sejanus mirrored your expression, “I’ll miss you too.”

With that, he was escorted out by a peacekeeper, having been one of the last people at the zoo. You watched as he walked in step with that repulsive boy from earlier. Rain, or whatever his name was. You almost laughed out loud at the height difference between them as you walked back to Marcus.

“I bring a feast, one sandwich and one plum. Can’t get any fancier!”

Marcus made no move to take the food from you as he watched Sejanus’ retreating figure.

“He ain’t around, Marcus, you can eat it, he won’t know. It won’t make a difference anyway.”

Still, nothing.

“You have 3 seconds to take it or I’m rubbing my spit all over it- one…, tw-”

“Fine! Fine!” He grabbed his share from your palm as you settled by him once more. “What were you talkin’ bout?”

“Just…catching up,”

“You seemed very…dotty with him.”

“Dotty?”

“Yes,”

“Don’t you got a wife? Why’re you worried about me?”

“Don’t like what you’re implying there. But I just mean- don’t you think we’ve got bigger problems on our hands?”

“Than what?”

“Than your little crush,”

“Oh it ain’t little,”

“Gross.”

You laughed, “Why does it bother you? We’re both dead anyway, let me have some fun!”

“Oh, I plan on makin’ it out. Just don’t like seein you with a capitol boy.”

“And I’m makin’ sure you will, Marcus, but please take one good look at him and tell me which part of him looks capitol.”

“He’s been here a decade, you don’t think it got to him? Even a little? All that food, warmth. Things that not even the richest man in 2 could afford; freedom?”

You sighed, unsure what you could say to that.

“You could keep grumbling on about Sejanus all you want, but I’m going to bed.”

“Again?”

“Do you have something against me enjoying my final nights alive?”

“By sleeping?”

“I don’t get much of it back home, plus, why do you care- you know what? If you don’t die in that arena, Marcus, I’m killin’ you myself.”

“You won’t be able to.”

“Okay I’ll reincarnate as your son and make your life hell.”

“He’s already been born, I’m pretty sure that his soul is already determined.”

“Fine, I’ll just haunt you the old fashioned way then.”

“How terrifying.”

“Goodnight.”

…

They herded you off the following morning, and for a second, you thought Sejanus might have made some mistake. But instead of an arena, you were brought into a large hall with neatly arranged tables.

You watched him march in with the rest of his peers, sticking out like a sore thumb. He had a bag on him that you could only guess was likely more food. Some of the other students had bright smiles and a skip in their step, not him though, he looked like he’d been reaped with you.

He plopped down in the seat opposite to you and you straightened your posture, ready for your close up. He then placed a neatly wrapped sandwich in front of you as he readied the papers.

“Ready to start?”

“Well, good morning to you too.”

“Sorry,” He bit his lip. “Nervous.”

“Why? S’ just me.”

Yeah, alright.

“Okay, I’m just gonna fill out everything I already know then-” He scribbled on the blank lines before bringing the sheet up to his face to inspect.

“How’s your family?” He looked up at you from behind the paper.

You chuckled softly, leaning back and crossing your arms across your abdomen. Or at least attempted to, the chains hindering your movement. He lifted his head back up to look at you, finding you staring at him with a warm smile on your lips.

“They’re as fine as they could be,” you tore your gaze away from his face, hoping that your expressions don’t give too much away. Life is tough in the district, and you bore first hand witness to what it could do to people, but you opted to not pour your heart out to him in the short time you’re spending together. “My ma says hi.”

He knew she didn’t really, it was a saying they used when they meant someone missed another. Thoughts of your ma came rushing back to him, the sweet, determined woman she was and her quick healing hands. As far as his memory serves, she was wonderful. A woman that saw his ma; a frazzled young mother who’s district shut her and her son out like a witch on trial for her husband’s actions, and opted to give her a shoulder to cry on instead. She kept by her side, blocked both of their ears to the nasty words people threw at them and shooed hecklers away for years. She stayed despite the nonstop news of his father’s company and their work, only turning her back once word of their impending move to the capitol got out.

He doesn’t really know why he remembers that particular night so well, the way your face dropped when he told you he was moving, the chill in the air as you two attempted to eavesdrop from behind the thin door. Your ma’s face, red and hurt, as she ordered you to bid your last goodbye. Even in her final moments, she allowed him the grace of innocence and spared him from any blame. He remembers watching his ma watch you two walk away, no slammed doors or shattered glass, just a quiet exit. He could still feel the wetness of his sweater as her tears stained his shoulder, inconsolable, beaten to her very weakest.

He swore he’d grow up then, for her.

He shut his eyes, trying to regain his bearings, the smile still present on your face. “I’ll tell ma she did.”

You nodded slightly, eyes going quickly down to the paper on the desk then back to him.

Right, the interview, or whatever this was.

“Do you work?”

“Yes!” That seemed to get you excited, “I work at the clinic. Of course- no degree so not a Physician per se, but close enough. I’m still train’ though.”

You were beaming with pride, Sejanus couldn’t help but mirror your wide smile.

“And how is it?”

“S’ fine, nothin’ fancy but it’s honest work. Marcus said it must be awful, for me to be the last thing a person sees.” At the mention of Marcus, you turned your face to look at where he was being interviewed. Or refusing to. “Your friend ain’t having much luck with him.”

Your face held a pained expression towards Marcus, knowing exactly what the kind of things going through his head at the moment.

“You two together?”

You raised an amused eyebrow at the question, watching Sejanus’ eyes look anywhere but your face. “Js’ askin about marital status, s’all..”

“No, can’t stand him.” You chuckled, sensing the relief in Sejanus’ shoulders as he looked at you once more.

“Really? Last I saw you, you were practically head over heels ready to have his children.”

“We were 6 and he was the fastest boy on the playground, I think we all had a crush on Marcus.”

“And now?”

You weren’t ever going to deny that Marcus was good looking. Strong, tall for someone so under-fed, too. It was no secret that most of the women back in 2 would give their finest possessions for a chance with him. But it wasn’t even that his eyes were solely for another that killed your crush on him, it was because he will always be the Marcus that chased you around with a beetle when you were kids, scaring you to tears.

Sure, he was a gentleman and any girl would be lucky to have him, but to you, he was still that kid snacking on his boogers, but even he doesn’t know you’ve seen him do that. Plus, you were quite fond of his wife.

As if this point made a difference in anything, anyway. As if Marcus was the last barrier standing between the two of you, and not the impending games of certain death. You shook your head.

“He…uh. He leaves behind a wife an’ kid. Newborn. Don’ think they even named ‘em yet. He begged me to be the one to deliver it, most folks can’t afford a professional at the birth. Hell- I can’t even afford my own services. He told me he’d pay me back eventually. I told him that all I request is for the baby to be named after me, even if it’s a boy. He told me he’d rather die.” You laughed to yourself, “Look at us now.”

Sejanus looked over to Marcus, who was deep in thought.

“I don’t know how she’ll get by without him.” You sighed, realising exactly what Marcus had lost out on, his family.

“I’ll…see if there’s anything I can help with.” He swallowed thickly, hoping he wasn’t promising on something he couldn’t deliver. “Right. Any talents?”

“Talent?”

“I don’t know, anythin’ you could do? Anythin’ that could help you in the arena? Anythin’ to make the Capitol love ya’?”

“Sorry, I ain’t much a performer.” You shrugged, eyes falling on the district 12 girl.

“S’alright, I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

“What’s the point, m’ dead anyway.”

The light atmosphere from earlier had suddenly shifted, weight and discomfort raining down on either of you. Sejanus tried to come up with anything of comfort, anything at all, but turned up empty handed.

“It gets ya’ sponsors, so I can send ya food and water in there.”

“That’s only delaying the inevitable, why bother?”

“Don’t lose faith so easily,”

“Sej, the truth ain’t pretty,.”

“You’ve got Marcus, that’s somethin’. A lot of em are afraid of him.”

“It’s because of Marcus that I’m not making it out.”

“What?”

You sighed, “All I want in there is to make sure he makes it home. Simple enough, two minds protecting him instead of half of one. Anyway, it’s easier for me this way, keeps my head straight, keeps me from going crazy.”

He paused for a moment, taken aback by your complete willingness to lay down and die.

“What about your family?” What about me?

“You’re only twistin’ the knife-”

“You need to understand that it ain’t your fault he got reaped, so this pacifist route you’re goin for won’t get you nowhere. Inside, it’s different.”

“I’m not a killer Sejanus, with or without Marcus, I’m dead. Might as well reunite a family in the process. Die a hero.”

He shut his eyes, shaking his head dismissively at your words. You leaned forward, and he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He curled in on himself, as if trying to appear smaller, which proved difficult, giving his build. Suddenly, the air between you two felt heavy, something so bittersweet about reuniting with your childhood friend in your final days alive. And not only that, he was also basically to see your execution. If you were in his shoes, especially knowing how sensitive he is, you would’ve lost your mind. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he hadn't really found his people here.

“How are you liking it here?” You asked with genuine curiosity. There was nothing else to talk about for the interview, so why not catch up?

“What do you think? They hate me here just as much as they hated me back home.”

Poor Sejanus, always alone.

You spent the rest of your allocated time exchanging stories of your adolescence, with him telling you of what the capitolites were like and you telling him about how much 2 has changed since he left. It all flowed so naturally, like you two were just conversing over dinner.

“I just want to go back.”

“You probably could, with all that money of yours.”

“But there would be nothing left for me, no one waiting for me to come home.”

You knew what he was implying, so you looked away to keep your sadness from showing.

He placed a gentle hand onto yours “Please- just think about it, you could make it if you try. I want to go home, and I can only do that if you’re there.”

These were pretty big confessions, even for him, but it was nothing either of you didn’t already know. “I’m begging you- for once, think about your own self-”

“Sej-”

“Times up!”

Within less than a few seconds, the peacekeepers that had been lining the room sprung to action, undoing the chain that kept you in place and beginning to line you up to go back to the zoo.

…

It was later in the evening when the visitor count rose again, most bearing some form of food for the tributes, though they were often too afraid to step closer to give it to them. The 12 girl and her mentor seemed to be doing great work with the crowd, reeling them in. It did everyone a favour, allowing the others to juggle and flip for their share.

It made you sick.

You hung back by Marcus, watching as a tribute pulled off some impressive moves for an apple from a watcher, earning a round of applause with it. You kept a permanent face of disgust as you watched how the Capitol was treating you. Animals. Circus animals, you were. Your jaw was clenched so tightly that you thought it might pop out of the joint socket, stomach rumbling but too proud to sing and dance for your food.

“Hey! Psst!”

Your position by the back gave you some protection from the observers, barriers making it impossible to get too close to you, though some did try. You two were likely the oldest tributes inside, along with some sporadic ones from other districts. You looked over to the source of the sound, a boy, no older than 14, standing with his face squished into the cage as his friends hung back a step behind him. He was waving some sweet around, it looked fancy, pricey, begging for you to take it. Something about the mischievous smile on his face had you thinking there were some ulterior motives, so you ignored him to look at Marcus.

“I keep thinking- this whole thing is filmed, no? I keep thinking, what would he think when he grows up, sees his pa so pathetic like this.”

“Don’t-”

Your words were cut off by a sticky substance hitting your leg, the stupid kid had thrown a chunk of the desert at you to get your attention. You grimaced, fighting the urge to scream, opting only to shoot a pointed look at him, but it only caused him and his friends to dub over in laughter.

The other tributes’ attention was suddenly grabbed by a new attendee, Sejanus, who, as usual, came bearing bags full of food, no performance needed. He caught sight of you hanging back, not attempting to get up to talk to him again, and tried not to let his disappointment show. You were still a little weary from your previous conversation, not wanting to get another lecture on survival. He hoped you’d come around eventually. You turned back to Marcus.

“Don’t think they show em this part, only the games.”

He sighed, nodding a little.

“Have you picked a name-”

This time, the sweet hit you straight in the face, a little bit sneaking into your eye. You could see Marcus seething, but not more than you were. With everyone's attention on Sejanus, you stood up abruptly, wiping your face as you stomped over to the boy, who was too deep in his laughter to notice your approach. You stuck your hand out, grabbing him by the collar. He was shorter than you, which made this a lot more intimidating.

“What? Ain’t laughing now?” You spat at him, though his eyes were frantic and fearful. He tugged on your grip, but you were no stranger to holding down stubborn patients.

“They ain’t teach you manners here, boy? Want me to teach em’ to you?”

You sounded more threatening than you intended, reveling in the feeling of having him so under your mercy. You hadn’t noticed that the zoo went quiet, or that everyone was watching your every move. Or sejanus rushing to where you were to attempt to preserve your image. Or the peacekeeper who was matching towards you. Or Marcus, who was trying to make it there first to keep you from getting hurt.

Not until the gun was pushed into your side.

“Put the boy down.”

Time stood still, you looked at the soldier from the corner of your eye that still had some frosting on it, then at Sejanus whose jaw was clenched in worry. He gave you a sympathetic look, hoping you’d let go of the boy.

And so you did, your hands unclenched from around his shirt and he dropped the short distance to the floor and you remained in position, moving backwards slowly so as to not startle anyone. Marcus’ hand was around your arm, guiding you away.

But teenage boys never know when to quit it, do they?

As one final act of defiance, the boy spat at you, landing hot saliva to be mixed in with the cream. And that was it for you.

All it took for you to lunge forward, landing a quick punch on him through the cage.

But no good deed goes unpunished.

Before Marcus could pull you away, the peacekeeper slammed the end of his gun into your face, drawing blood from your lip. He would’ve landed a second one had it not been for Marcus’ quick, strong hands pulling you away behind him.

“Step. Away.”

Didn’t look like it was going to end well for you, but you didn’t want him to get caught up in your mess.

“Was just a misunderstanding, she won’t do it again.” He bargained.

Like hell you won’t. You’d do it a thousand times over just to wipe that smile off his face.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sejanus rushing over to some higher up, whispering something to them. Trying to diffuse the situation.

The soldier in front of you received some orders through their earpiece, circling around you before making his way back to his post by the side of the cage. You hate to admit it, but if it weren’t for him, you’d probably be dead. The girl from 12 began singing, then, re-drawing the attention back to her. It gave you the grace of finally being out of the limelight. You puffed, pushing Marcus’ hand off you to head for the small water faucet to clean yourself, earning angry looks from the other tributes on the way. Likely for killing their chance at more food, at least for the night.

Your face burned, half from frustration the other from the impact of the gun. You were sure there were angry red scrapes all over your jaw. Having an open wound, no matter how small, isn’t an advantage in this situation. You preferred to keep things sterile.

You saw his shoes first, polished and new. Some of you were in here barefoot. You didn’t bother looking up, deciding whether you wanted to hear whatever speech he had planned out for your little stunt or just make your way back.

“You looked like your ma just then, for a second.”

You coughed out a laugh, having not expected him to say anything like that at all.

“Scary woman, she was. I remember when she used to keep me still, for the vaccines. She had that same look in her eyes.”

Your hand came up to cover your mouth to attempt to stifle the laugh, he sounded so serious. You cleared your throat, trying to remain neutral. You looked up to where he was, finding a small first aid kit in his hand. He nodded over to where you two could be more at eye level so that he could clean the mess you made.

“You’re much better at this than I am.”

He held your chin softly with one hand, angling your face away as he tried to soldier on through your hisses and twitches as he disinfected your skin.

“You’re doin’ fine…you won’t tell me off?”

“I’m not your father, so probably not. But you ought to be careful, trust that they’ll kill you if they want to.”

He pulled your face back to him, grabbing a fresh wipe to dab away at your lip. He was crouched down, leaned in with trust way too close to the cage. Had you been anyone else, they would’ve probably torn him apart.

“You won’t tell me I ruined my image for sponsors, or whatever?”

“If anything, people think you’re tougher than you look now, so they’re more willing to take a chance on you.” He sighed, aware that you won’t like how your rebellion was taken. “You were always the brave one, anyway. So I wasn’t really surprised. He had it coming.”

He put the swabs away, digging into his bag to grab a special container out. Inside, a small slice of his ma’s peach pie.

“She saw you on tv. Said you looked like a woman now, reminded her of home. She made this specially for you.”

Fruit was a delicacy back in 2, especially the nicer ones, like peach. The first time you’d tried it at his house, you loved it so much you ended up eating almost the whole tray with no regard for anyone’s feelings. Shortly after, your mouth began swelling up and your body became itchy. That’s when you found out you were allergic to peaches, but only mildly. The symptoms were just annoying, not grave, and they were definitely not going to keep your grimy hands away from the fruit whenever it was offered to you.

The fear that had overtaken the place was now long gone, other mentors showing up to chat with their tributes. One particular one having a picnic in front of the cameras with hers. It gave you a moment of privacy within the open air to observe Sejanus freely.

“Your ma said anything else?” You took a small bite, making sure to keep the fruit away from your open lip so that the inevitable allergy doesn’t drive you insane.

“Yeah,” he laughed a little. “She said if I keep looking for Capitol girls that are like you she won’t end up with any grandkids.”

“Like me?”

“You’re tough competition to beat, unfortunately. Beauty, brains and brawns. Triple threat.”

You giggled at his shameless flirt. “I’d kiss you, but then you’d get peaches all over my skin and I don’t want to itch.”

He tried not to show his fluster at your words, the comment about the kiss playing in his mind, the way you slipped it in so casually, like you two had ever kissed before. He bit his lip at the thought, smiling like an idiot as he watched you eat.

He was about to say something else, when his thoughts were cut off by loud shrieks from the crowd, his classmate fell over with blood pouring out of her neck.

It all happened so fast, the screams, the bullets, Coriolanus’ run and your spring to action.

You made your way across the cage, ignoring the protests from both Sejanus and Marcus, asking you to keep away from the trouble, but it was muscle memory. The blond had his classmate clutched in his arms dramatically, like some hero, your calls out to him fruitless as you stepped beside the girl from 10. Nothing you could do for her now.

“Lean her forward! Lean her forward!”

If he’d listened, it may have given the girl some time whilst the medics arrived, but he didn’t respond to you, too stunned to actually take any action but making himself a martyr. But you could tell it was already too late.

The peacekeepers yanked you away from the bars, lining you up with the rest of the tributes in the back. You were shacked, faced to the wall with your knees kicked in so that you were on the floor. You heard them over by the other side pulling the mentors out of the zoo, which meant Sejanus was likely now gone, and, despite everything, his absence made you feel vulnerable.

…

You watched as the hook dug into her flesh, watched as they hoisted her up high for everyone to see. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her as you were shackled tightly once and ushered into yet another uncomfortable position. Her blood dripped slowly onto the ground below as the car moved at a snail’s pace.

If you were in her position, you aren’t sure if you wouldn’t have done the same thing, put that girl back in her place. It was people like her that kept the divide between you so drastic, people who were adamant on displaying their superiority based on where they’re from. Had things been any different, you would have been hanging up there. In death, she looked very peaceful, just a child. Just a hungry, angry child. You all were, in one way or another. She had a family back home, dreams, aspirations, no matter how small. She didn’t even get to try.

It was subconscious, the way the tears began flowing down your cheeks as you watched her body sway with the movement. So weightless, her presence extinguished within seconds. Sure, the Capitol girl died as well, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.

Oftentimes, in the medical field, you find yourself absolving yourself of any biases when treating a patient, no matter how often they throw insults at you. At the end of the day, they were scared and in pain, and you were their lifeline.

You feel guilty for not caring about this girl, your morals having been so cemented in for so long. But the way she gets a parade in her honour whilst the other girl’s body gets disrespected like that…maybe she deserved it.

Sejanus caught sight of your face on the screen, bruised and tired with tear stained cheeks. It was an awful sight, all of it. He stood a bit further back in the crowd, having not been that close to -nor liked by- Arachne, as he cast his eyes to the tribute at the top. That could’ve been you, with your sudden movements and fistfights. Maybe he should tell you off.

…

You spent the next few days in the same routine of seeing each other through the bars, with him desperately trying to convince you to keep hope and you pretending his words don’t cut straight through you. At least they fed you, but you wished they just got things over with already, the anticipation of your death was almost enough to kill you.

Almost.

But on the whateverth day, they once again herded you away, with the plan of giving a tour of the arena…?

What good does that do? Intimidate you, definitely. When you arrived, they had already been waiting on you in the scorching sun. Sejanus wore the same strained expression that he had on since he greeted you first, sweat beaded on his forehead. He wasn’t as talkative as he usually was, walking in step with you through the rubble of the arena in uncomfortable silence. You were each in your own world, but you were reeling from the feeling of being inside, in person. It was much, much more intimidating than the clips you saw in passing. Something about not being able to see everything from a wide-shot view, made your fate much more real. All you could think about, is with how small the place was, you were going to tear eachother apart within minutes. You hoped that you would just find a peaceful passing. Sejanus looked equally distressed, and it was always nicer to focus on others' discomfort, which often made you forget your own momentarily.

“You okay?”

It was ironic, touring the place you were going to die in a few days time and asking him if he was okay.

“Yeah” He sighed. “I’m sorry, this is all awful.” He was uneasy, looking around for any out or hiding spot you could wiggle your way into. He stuffed some food into your pocket, ignoring your protests as you tried to form a plan for the games. It had all gotten too real, too suddenly.

Though your hands were shackled, you managed to grab his arm, exchanging solemn looks before your moment was cut off by a loud explosion.

You were far enough away to not be seriously injured by the initial impact, but the rubble that scattered afterwards managed to knock you off your feet. A large rock landed on top of your foot, it was heavy enough that you weren’t able to move it due to your recent weakness, but not disabling enough to cause you any permanent damage. Sejanus rushed over to you, helping you up to your limping feet. Your ears were ringing as you held onto his upper arm for support, he was shaking you, trying to get your attention with words that you could not hear. He was pointing over to where Marcus had made his way out of the arena into the arms of freedom. You were coughing, watching his figure speed away from the peacekeepers attempting to catch him. You smiled, fastest boy on the playground.

Sejanus grabbed your face once more, speaking with urgency that you could not place. Run, he wanted you to run.

You looked back over to where Marcus and a few other tributes had managed to reach a fence, before two of them were shot down with way too many bullets for a single body. Your feet were frozen in place, whatever bravery you held before was now long gone.

But just as fast as you’d gotten to your feet, you were knocked back down, dirt and dust making its way into your eyes. The peacekeepers dragged a protesting Sejanus away from you as they cuffed your hands behind you.

Once you were back at the zoo, the pounding in your head didn’t stop, made worse by the hits you received from the peacemakers for resisting. They dumped you all back in the cage with no regard for those who were injured or even dead. Your ankle hurt, but it was only just a sprain to go with the miscellaneous bruises and cuts all over, others weren’t so lucky.

You tried not to think of the fact that Marcus was gone, that you were now completely on your own. You’d hate to admit it, but Sejanus was right. Even if you didn’t expect Marcus to lay his life down for you, just his presence kept you shielded from any stray thoughts the tributes may have. You were the only woman here alone. You just hoped that, when you died, you’d have a dignified death in some way. You weren’t mad at him for not looking back, you just wished you would’ve gathered your thoughts a little faster, maybe having a chance to actually make it. Now, in a day or two, you will be entering the games all on your own.

And it was only then you realised that you were terrified.

Marcus’ presence was quietly comforting, it meant you had someone to watch your back, someone to rely on, someone to ask how you were doing, but his absence opened the possibility of making it out alive without guilt.

You had a chance to live, and that thought filled you with even more fear, because now, death wasn’t as inevitable as it was before. Now, survival was an option, and it seemed more difficult than to just lay down and die.

…

The zoo must’ve been closed off to the general public for these 2 days, since Sejanus didn’t come to visit you, and you only saw him again at one of those stupid mentor-tribute meetings.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Sejanus placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, knowing that it was unlikely that anyone else had asked you that question yet.

“Fine. Just a sprained ankle, I’ve been through worse.” You huffed. “Have you heard anything about Marcus?”

He sighed, “No. They can’t find him, which is good. But I doubt they’d tell me anything.”

He watched as your eyes went off him, going out of focus as you began to think of Marcus again, or at least his absence.

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence.

“Why didn’t you run?” He clenched his jaw, and you could feel your composure slipping away.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know, why didn’t you run?!”

“Sejanus, please.”

“The opening was right there, you could have made it!”

“Stop.”

“What are you going to do now that he’s gone, huh? You got what you wanted. Now what?”

“I don’t know!” You yelled, not a care in the world for anyone who might hear. “I was frozen, I couldn’t move, I don’t know why.”

“Okay,” his voice was calm, an attempt to bring you back down to his level. “What do you plan on doing in there because- being alone ain’t an advantage. I’m sure their might be others but-”

His insistence on repeating your most awful thoughts back to you over and over again got to you, bringing your hands up to cover your face as your body was overcome with sobs.

For a second, you looked like you were that girl in the storage closet again, breaths out of control as you thought about your coming fate.

“Hey, hey- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to upset you.” He moved to crouch at your side.

He stayed there, like he did the first time, unable to grant you any comfort but his hand on your back. He spent a minute or so trying to coax you to look at him, knowing that you two only had a limited time slot at the moment, and who knows if they’ll re-open the zoo.

Eventually, after who knows how long, you lifted your head up, looking over to him with teary eyes.

“Sejanus?” Your voice was hoarse.

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared.” The tears began flowing again. “I’m so, so scared. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how the hell I'm supposed to even try to survive in there. I’m scared I’ll die, or worse-”

You cleared your throat, “I’ll be torn apart. I’d ask you to put a bullet in my skull right now, had I not been more scared of death in general.”

He would have asked you what happened to the original plan, had he not put it together himself.

“Hide.” He spoke with much more seriousness and authority than you’d ever seen him muster up. “Hide, don’t let them see you, don’t try to fight. Run and hide. If you need something, find a camera, I’ll know.”

“That doesn’t sound like advice that would last very long.”

“Trust me.”

You sniffed, wiping your face with shaky hands, “I wanna see my sister again, Sej. I miss her so much. I miss my ma.” You began sobbing again, head in your hands as you struggled to pull yourself together.

He could hear your muttering between sobs, I want my ma, over and over again, and he was struggling to keep his own tears at bay.

“You will, I promise you, you will. You won’t be alone in there-okay? I’ll be watching your every move and I’ll be doing everything I can to keep you safe. I promise.” He knew his words likely meant nothing to you, remorse making its way onto his face. He wished he could do more.

You looked at him, his brown teary eyes meeting yours. He looked so guilty, so unsure of his own words while he begged you to trust him.

“And if that doesn’t work? And if I get cornered?”

“You’ll figure it out, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. More clever. Pretty quick on your feet, too. Just keep that in mind. Trust me.”

You chuckled at his seriousness. “You remember what happened last time I trusted you?”

A small smile broke through both of your features.

“I can’t believe you’re still holding that over me.” He shook his head.

“I really liked that necklace!”

“I replaced it though, didn’t I?”

“That’s not what trust is about.” You sniffed, looking over to where some of the other tributes were-namely reaper, who had such a threatening presence in context.

“Do you…still have the one I got you?”

He tried not to let the smile grow, remembering how upset he was when he ran to his ma, distressed that he’d lost your property. He only borrowed it from you so that he could see it for a second, but it dropped from his hands into the rushing drain water, gone forever. She turned it into a little outing for him, taking him to the finest jeweler that remained open in 2. He spent hours picking out something that both replaced the one he lost and reimbursed you for your troubles, eventually settling on one with a small precious stone in the front, with both your initials engraved in neat handwriting in the back.

“What? Of course I kept it! It’s not everyday your crush gets his name permanently engraved next to yours.”

“Your… crush?”

“I think the whole town knew.”

“Wasn’t it Marcus?”

“Again with- Sej. I only very briefly had a crush on Marcus when we were 6, otherwise it was you.”

This was all news to him, “I had a crush on you too!”

“I knew,” You snorted.

“Hey! Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“We were 7, what did you want me to do? Ask you out?”

“Fair.”

What were you two even talking about in the first place?

“It’s in a small box, under my bed, along with other scraps I collected from our time together.” You didn't know why these confessions were coming out now, but it all felt so natural. Like you two were just two friends catching up. “I used to-” You giggled, “I used to bring it out on your birthday, after you left. Wear it the whole day and pretend we were celebratin’. Till I got old enough to get reaped, then I had bigger things to worry about….”

You trailed off, unsure where these confessions were coming from. He looked at you, an unreadable look on his face, but it mirrored yours, neither of you sure of what it meant.

In another life, that’s what it meant.

He got back into his seat.

“The interviews they wanted to do are now on a voluntary basis, would you..?”

“No.”

He sighed, having already anticipated that answer.

“Well, with the zoo closed indefinitely, I won’t be able to see you again until just before your games. If you agree to the interview, we’ll see each other basically daily for the week.”

That was a tempting offer, but you couldn’t picture yourself at the end of that week, standing in front of a live audience while your opponents sing and flex for them. You also didn’t have anything to show, and it’s doubtful that any of the viewers would care about your job or desire to live if you couldn’t put on a show.

On the other hand, the very real fact of only seeing him one more time didn’t sound pleasant. Even if he couldn’t really do anything for you, your short chats brought you comfort. When he was around you could close your eyes for ten minutes and pretend that there was a possibility of seeing him again on the other side.

But if you were going to die, you wanted to do it with dignity, not after begging people to take a chance on you, however indirect.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it.”

He nodded softly, shoulders dropping in defeat as he came to terms with the fact that he’ll only see you one more time.

The week went by quicker than he hoped, with no new mentor tasks and the lack of other significant assignments, he spent the better part of those days rotting in his room, high on sleep meds and antidepressants prescribed to him by the therapist his ma insists he sees. It was futile, talking to someone who couldn’t grasp why you were the way that you are, but he soldiered through the sessions for her own peace of mind. The pills helped, more than he would openly admit. They kept all thoughts -good or bad- far, far away. He didn’t want to think about the countdown to your likely demise. Truth was, he didn’t have much faith in your survival, the competition far too nasty, but he had to keep up appearances for you. He spent all those years away from home fantasizing about the moment he came back, about how you’d react to seeing him again, but that seemed so impossible now. And no matter how much he pleaded, begged, or even bribed the zoo security they wouldn’t let him in. You mentioned that they had been feeding you, which kept that part of him at ease. Family dinners had become strained, and his appetite had basically nonexistent, he couldn’t stomach a single bite of food, no matter how much ma insisted. It was a miracle his father hadn’t found a reason to lecture him yet, maybe he felt bad. But all his anger was bound to bubble through the surface at some point.

On the rare occasion where they huddled around the tv as a family, they watched the tribute interviews from the comfort of the couch. Some gave a convincing performance, others struggled through basic information that definitely didn’t interest the audience. His peers gave some performances as well, putting on confident voices for even the meekest of contestants. Snow’s girl, Lucy Gray, was obviously the night’s winner, with her heartfelt melody and honey laced voice, no wonder he had been parading her around.

The only reason he got any form of sleep was those pills, the same ones he was cursing at for making him doze off the morning of your final meeting. He was only a few minutes late, but every second counted when he wasn’t sure if he’ll see you again.

He caught a glimpse of you as they authorized his entry, clearly hurt by his apparent abandonment.

You were curled in on yourself, heart heavy as you tried not to let the idea of Sejanus being unable to face you one last time get to you. All the other mentors were present, but your hope was dwindling with every tick of the clock. But then, the call of your name, frantic and guilty, made your head shoot up.

He rushed to his seat, a string of sincere apologies and excuses spilling from his lips.

“It’s okay, I’m glad you’re here.”

He tried to catch his breath, wiping a hand over his face to regain composure.

“How are you feeling?” Great, now he’s starting to sound like his therapist.

You couldn't spare him even a fake chuckle, mind too preoccupied with the feeling of fear.

“What’s our task for today?” You peeped, trying to steer the conversation away from your thoughts.

“Nothing, just final advice, I guess.”

“Okay. Anything for me then?”

“You’ll be okay.”

Now that made you chuckle, but you knew there wasn’t anything he could add to be of use. If he was worried for you, if he had no faith in your survival, he definitely kept it hidden, remaining as stoic as he could be. The silence was uncomfortable, and there really was nothing to say at this point, other than tearful goodbyes.

“Did they show you the interviews? If you manage to find a good spot, you could outlast most of the others. You know like-”

“Sejanus?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got a necklace on, could you take it off me?”

“Right now?”

“Yes please.”

He didn’t question it much, getting up to fulfill your request. His hands were gentle on the back of your neck as he undid the worn clasp, pulling the piece off and placing it in front of you before he returned to his seat.

“Will you give it to my ma?”

Now he understood what this was.

“You’ll give it to her yourself.” He sighed.

“Don’t be cheesy, Sej. Please, could you see to it?”

His eyes traveled down to the pendant, a locket. Curiosity got the better of him, his hands softly wrapping around it to pop it open. He took a second first to wipe his thumb over the engraving on the front which read dearest in fine cursive. Inside, a picture of your family, small and the details were beginning to get lost to time, but it was endearing. He felt his calm start to fade, the realisation that this was the last time he’ll see you pushing to the front of his brain.

“I can’t promise you that, you have to come back. Make sure I did it.” He placed a comforting hand onto your trembling, cuffed ones. “Hungry?” He always had snacks for you, just in case, but you shook your head.

“Hey-” He urged you to look at him. “You’ll be okay, and this will be some story you tell people, I promise okay? Eyes on the prize.”

You nodded wordlessly, eyes drifting up to him. His eyes gave him away, gave his worry away, but you two had no other option but to pretend. The minutes were up before either of you would’ve hoped, and he pulled you in for a tight hug as the peacekeepers urged him to let you go. His shoulder felt like a safe space, a bubble no one could hurt you in. But it was all over as quickly as it began.

He watched your retreating form, all other tributes also walking with their heads hung low. His classmates were whispering about some goodbye; a kiss Coriolanus had exchanged with Lucy Gray, and all he could think about was the possibility of not having a chance of doing that, too.

…

Lucky tried to get some final comments from the mentors, which made him grateful to arrive so last-minute, intentionally of course. He couldn’t keep anything down that morning, and the only reason he slept the night before was those wretched meds. They were asked to be there early to kick off the 10th games with as much mentor-tribute coverage they could milk out of them. He decided he’d hang back a little, only arriving at the last moments so he wouldn’t see the excitement in the hall. Starting today, it’s mostly up to how the dice roll, and the odds weren’t often in his favour. They took their seats, and the discomfort among the mentors was palpable. Whether it be in competition or fear, he wasn’t sure. The lights dimmed and the broadcast started, opening with a wide shot of the arena, before the camera zoomed in on tribute after tribute. You were in frame last, and by that time he had gathered that something wasn’t right. Some of the other tributes were distressed, more than the expected amount.

And then, there you were.

Hunched over yourself, clutching your stomach with your face contorted in pain. Tears. You were crying, but he still wasn’t able to figure out what was paining you this much. The countdown ended, and most tributes, including you, managed to scurry away into the tunnels.

He wasn’t left to wonder for long.

With no tributes in the visible arena, the camera panned out to the gruesome scene, and audible gasps washed over the hall.

Marcus was caught. But not just that, it looked like they took all their fear out on him, his body battered and bruised and clearly barely functioning, if at all. Had it not been for the slight movement of his lips, Sejanus would have thought him long gone.

He was struggling to keep it together, and by the time the camera found its way back to the weapon cornucopia, you were back in the daylight, surveying the leftover bounty quickly.

He watched you, rage still coursing through his veins as you picked up a small knife and some other weapon he couldn’t make out. Then you jogged over to the beam where Marcus was still being tortured as an example.

You don’t know whether it was sheer determination or the strength you’d built up from moving heavy patients around, but you made your way to the very top, leaning over to talk to Marcus.

He couldn’t hear you, but your lip movements were obvious enough.

Marcus!

He moved his lips, but Sejanus couldn’t figure out what he was saying.

I’m getting you down…I’ll- figure something-No! Please Marcus- don’t…

Overwhelm had taken you once more, the cameras fixed on the scene with nothing better to show. You began sobbing, then screaming, both falling on deaf ears.

I can’t, I Can’t!

Then, more things were said that he could not figure out.

I’m Sorry,

You repeated, bringing the knife to end Marcus’ torment in one swift motion. Your hands were stained, his blood, made worse by your muscle memory bringing them over your face. Your choked on your breath, beating yourself up for not doing more, trying harder to save him. Eventually, you leaned over his suspended body, ugly crying at the death of your long term friend. You wanted to leave this arena clean, should you leave it. But now, dead or alive, his blood was caked beneath your fingernails.

The scene was filled with emotion, just what the capitol craved. The screen cut over to Flickerman, celebrating the first kill of the games. It left a sour taste on his tongue. He wanted to yell again, to fight with everyone entertained by your weakness, but he didn’t want to risk causing more trouble lest he get kicked out of the program, then he’d be leaving you to fate, and he would hate that. Lucky commented on the obvious connection you and Marcus had, reducing you to a pair of unfortunate lovers. Sejanus knew they’d cut to him the minute they got done with his classmate’s comment on Marcus’ death. He looked over to his communicuff, finding a grand total of 0 gifts you’d received.

The first kill, no matter how passive, was still something. He could play it up, pimp you out to sponsors so that he could send you water to wash your hands clean, or some food-who knows when you ate last. Maybe even some bread to sprinkle on Marcus, something you’d likely be very upset you couldn’t do at the moment.

It would be in ill faith- no doubt.

In fact, if you knew he did that, you’d hate him forever, but you'd starve if he wasn’t able to scrape something up. Then again, he watched you, still on that screen, your body shaking with guilt for blood that wasn’t-isn’t on your hands, not that you’d ever swallow that, and he knew you would prefer he tell them exactly who you two were. Neither of you had interacted with the general public, this was his moment to let them see you.

“Mr. Plinth- any comments on this surge of emotion we have flowing? Seems our two lovebirds were-”

As he expected, the feed cut to his poignant face.

“They were not together.”

The silence in the hall meant everyone wanted to hear what he had to say.

“They were friends, back in 2. My friends. Marcus leaves behind a son, whom she delivered as a favour. She’s a physician, she left so much back home, but she was ready to give it all up if it meant Marcus made it back to his newborn. He and his wife had not even named him yet. Tell me Lucky, what was his crime? Hoping he sees his wife and child once more? Trying not to end up a distant memory in his son’s life? Is that worthy of crucifixion?”

His own words had brought his anger back up,

“Marcus had not taken a life, had not terrorised a citizen, all he wanted was to go home.”

His voice was getting louder for every word he punctuated.

“Monsters!”

He rose suddenly, grabbing a chair and tossing it and the screen.

“You’re all monsters here!”

He marched out of the hall, gasps and whispers all around him at his blatant display of disrespect, live for all the viewers at home. No doubt, word would get to his father, and there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be less than at home. At home in his luxury apartment with enough food to feed a district and more indulgences than you would ever get to see. He felt like he was choking on the fresh air around him, marching angrily with no destination in mind.

Not only was Marcus’ death unjustified and exaggerated, but it will most definitely throw you off your game, cloud your vision, at least for the night. But you had no support in there, you were going to have to wobble back upright all on your own. And here he was, outside in the arms of safety, unable to come up with a single angle to help you in there. Out here, with all the freedom to run anywhere, his hands were tied.

Or were they?

…

Your hands tightened around the knife, trembling in fear. Whoever it was hadn’t spotted you yet, but your spot had no other exits, which made you cornered. Just as you’d feared.

Your eyes were swollen from the amount of crying you’d done. You had no doubt that your weakest moment had been at the centre stage for the capitol, the thought making you want to end it all with a show for the cameras, give em something to remember. The stranger kneeled down by Marcus, attempting to cross his arms for a more peaceful rest, but rigor mortis had already set in. The actions brought a furrow to your brow, not recalling any friends that Marcus had made in your time here. Then, he pulled out a small satchel, sprinkling what looked like-breadcrumbs!

You let out a reflex gasp which caused the figure to turn to look at you. Unmistakable, even in this darkness. A faint ray of a distant bulb illuminated the face that you’d been searching for in every crowd since you were 6.

“Sejanus!” You whisper-yelled, crawling out from behind the debris before crashing into him as his arms came around you to steady you. The arena was colder than the capitol, and his warmth brought a much needed reprieve from that. This would be the first time since you were kids that you’d managed to embrace so freely, no restraints, no peacekeepers.

And then the tears came again.

“Sejanus, Marcus! He…he wanted me to, I…” You could barely get any words out, sobs too strong for you to fight against them.

“I know, I know.” He comforted, rubbing your back softly as you cried into his chest.

When you finally calmed down a little, you pulled back, realising the oddness of the situation. He reached into his bag, pulling out some wipes that he began using on your bloody hands.

“What are you doing here?” you sniffed.

“What I promised you.” To keep you safe.

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

“No.”

“Not even your ma?”

“...No.”

You smacked him with your freshly cleaned hand. “What the hell, Sejanus! You need to get out!”

He ignored your protest, hands continuing their work on your other palm.

“What good am I out there?”

“Alive! You can’t have me worry about you in here!”

“You don’t have to worry about me, m’ just making sure you get home.”

“Sej…please…”

His hands stilled as he shut his eyes softly, your pleading tearing away at his defences. But outside, where he is safe, he’d been utterly useless, unable to deliver you neither food nor comfort.

“You’ve got…zero sponsors.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know you don’t, I do. Because I wanted to send you a water bottle to wash your hands clean, or breadcrumbs to sprinkle, both of which I couldn’t do! And- and then I kept thinking, how the hell is she going to sleep with no one keeping watch?”

That caught you off guard, it had been weighing on you since Marcus’ disappearance. The thought of being so entirely vulnerable like that didn’t sound great, and it didn’t help that your head was pounding from dehydration, and here he was, with all the solutions. Water, food, safety.

You cupped his face gently as he leaned into your touch.

“You have to be out there Sej, its where changes happen. In here, theres only one outcome but you’ve got money, influence, wether people stomach it or not. In here, you’re killing everyone’s chance of finally having someone on the inside.”

He smiled “You want me to lead the rebellion?”

“No. I just want you to live long enough to inspire someone to.”

He sighed, taking in the weight of your words. You were right, as usual, but the dark circles under your eyes made this decision harder.

“Fine I’ll leave, but not until you rest a little.”

“Sej-”

“I’m not debating. The sooner you sleep the sooner I leave.”

You wanted to protest, but your muscles were so weary, and sleeping in his comfort didn’t sound so bad.

“Fine. But not for long, and wake me up if anything happens, please.”

You shuffled to a nearby wall where you were able to keep your faces towards any entryway for danger. It didn’t take long for you to doze off, his shoulder making a surprisingly comfortable pillow as he sat silently listening to your breaths.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but it definitely did some replenishing on your energy. You were woken up by a quiet conversation between Sejanus and the other mentor you’d seen around.

How many capitol kids are they letting in here?

You shot up in confusion, their conversation pausing as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Your gaze fell on Sejanus first.

“Okay. Your turn.”

He sighed, shoulders slouching in defeat. He wobbled up from his stiff position on the ground then helped you do the same.

“Okay. But I want to take Marcus out of here.”

His friend did not hesitate to support him, his fear showing through the full suit of armor he had on. Before they went on their way, he pulled you in for a tight bear hug.

“Take care, please.”

If you shut your eyes hard enough, you could imagine a different scenario in place of where you were now, a different life. You could even allow his words to bring you comfort, peace, as if nothing in the world could reach you here. You hugged him back, squeezing as tight as your body would allow. Who knows when you’d see each other again? Who knows if.

They grabbed the corpse carefully, one at the foot and another at the shoulders, the stiffness in the muscles making it a difficult task. They had just about gotten to the end of the tunnel, just about to leave your line of sight when Sejanus mumbled something to his friend, placing the body softly down before running back to you.

He all but crashed into you, cupping your cheek to bring you in for one hell of a goodbye kiss. Here, away from all the watchful eyes and the fake tears. You were both out of breath, and you hadn’t even noticed that he’d started to cry. Some pair of unfortunate lovers you two were. He kept his hold when he pulled back a little, both of you unable to find the words to say. You only stared into his eyes, mesmerised by the emotion he always seemed to bottle up in them. He gave you one more quick peck to the forehead before letting go.

No words were exchanged, there were no more to be said anyway.

He marched over back to where his buddy was very clearly irritated up to his knees..

And that's when you saw them.

The tribute pack that had formed unexpectedly, closing in on your position. They had seen you, seen them, too. You all looked like easy prey. You didn’t give much thought as you bolted to where they were still carrying Marcus, yelling.

“Run!”

But the pack was a lot faster than you’d expected, with impeccable aim. One of them had managed to throw an axe that sliced Sejanus’ calf, causing him to lose his balance, dropping the body. Another was able to slice the blonde’s shoulder, making them both liabilities in this moment.

“Come on!”

You pulled Sejanus up first, habits. Then moved to his friend quickly as you all got to your feet, scurrying through the dim tunnels as you mindlessly followed the blonde, who seemed to know the way to the exit. One of the pack had managed to find a different way through, lunging on top of Snow while he attempted to kill him. Instead, the blond flipped the table around, grabbing a nearby brick and smashing the young tribute’s face to irrecognizability. You watched in horror from over Sejanus’ shoulder as he brought the brick down, time and time again. All you kept thinking of, was that that could be you, with any other tribute around. Your hands shook as his eye popped out of its socket before Sejanus was able to pull his friend off the kid. They both stumbled towards the final stretch, but you were frozen by the body. You then realized, if you made it all the way to the exit with them, there would be no escape for you. You’d be backed up against a wall, but there was no time to discuss this with them.

Without a final goodbye, you wordlessly bolted into a different tunnel.

They made it out safely, well, as safe as they could have been anyway, and laid there for who knows how long. He watched the pack bang and bite at the barbed wire, your absence only now registering. You must’ve parted ways with them in the rush of it all, which would’ve comforted him, had the tributes not pointed in the only direction you could have went in, sprinting to catch up with you.

The blood drained from his face, they were going after you, and it was all his fault. They wouldn’t have found you if he wasn’t in there, you would’ve been able to hide it out. Instead, he brought you to death’s door. Who knows if you’d be able to outrun them? Oh, he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, you were all he’d be thinking of.

They wheeled him into the ambulance.

She could be dead.

Then they stitched up his calf.

She could be dead.

He rode home in silence.

She could be dead. My fault.

He didn’t know which was worse, the thought of your final moments being of his own doing or the fact that he may not know whether you were alive or not for a very long time. Would the game makers know if your last breath was taken in complete darkness? Oh, he was so stupid. Emotional. Some hero he is, showing up to-what? Clean your hands and give you food? He had not even thought to bring you anything of use, a better weapon, a warm jacket, anything that will last. No, he went in there, selfishly wanting to see you once more, mourn with you. And now he may have led them right to you.

He opened the house door hesitantly, unsure if he was quite ready to face his parents. The living room was dark, save for his ma rocking herself softly by the phone in front of the television. His father sat by her, not comforting her but with his head in his hands in shame.

Shame, that’s all he ever brought home.

She heard the door shut softly behind him, which caused her to jump up, rushing towards him. She pulled him into a wobbly hug, and he tried to keep himself together as she rambled into his shirt.

“I was so worried! What were you thinking?! You could have gotten hurt!” She pulled back, grabbing his face into her hands.

“I’m sorry, ma.” He really was, for causing her so much distress.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Just my leg.”

“Oh my. Oh! I can not believe you, Sejanus, what has gotten into you-”

“M’ tired ma. I’m sorry. M’ goin to bed.” He cut her off, too tired to hear her attempt at disciplining him at the moment.

She stuttered, watching as he limped away towards his room. His father didn’t look at him, didn’t spare him a glance as he walked past him. No lecture, no screaming match, nothing. Just disappointment.

He won’t hear the end of it, he was sure. He would need to come up with something to reimburse the capitol for their troubles of seeing him lash out that morning, and buy the academy’s silence about his little adventure, no doubt.

Money, money, money. That’s all his father talked about. Money and status and image and pretending they were something they were not. He sees the way they look at his father, roll their eyes, clutch their pearls at his very presence, and if his father doesn’t mind, then he does. What could he have possibly done in his life to deserve treatment like this, and what could possibly convince him to long to fit in with people like that.

Doesn’t matter, this is an argument they’ve had more times than he would care to count. And they will have it again, definitely before he leaves for the mentorship in the morning. But his father’s lack of anger could only mean one thing.

He was scared, even relieved at Sejanus’ return, even if he would rather die than embrace his boy.

He made his way into his room, shutting the door behind him before collapsing face-first on the plush bedding. Sleep would not be finding him anytime soon, despite how tired he was. Silent tears stained the pristine sheets beneath him, his head more pounding than ever.

This was not the life he’d pictured for himself, not at 8 years old and definitely not now. Which is why he walked into that arena with no intention of making it out, ready to end it all there and then, make a statement. You convinced him to try again, to walk back out. You'd never know it, how you’d saved him tonight, in more ways than one. He felt as though he’d owe you forever.

He told himself, no matter the games’ outcome, that he would not be in the capitol by the end of the month. Whether it be in 2 or 6 feet under, that depends on what happens to you, but all he knew is that he was done with trying to make it here.

It was a little before dawn before he was finally able to muster up the energy to shower, warm water washing away all evidence of the night’s activities along with the soreness of his muscles. He stayed beneath the stream for some time, allowing the pressure to keep his thoughts quiet for once.

He inspected his face in the foggy mirror, a few bruises here and there with a cut on his nose, nothing major, but it was eye catching. He wouldn’t attempt to cover it, let them know. Who cares anyway. He got dressed in a clean uniform before making his way to his parents’ room. The door was opened only a little, allowing him to watch his ma’s sleeping figure. Even in rest she looked worried about him. His father was nowhere to be seen, so he tiptoed in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead, a token of his appreciation for her, which would never be enough.

The fridges were always stocked full with food, both home cooked and easy meals. His father would sometimes scrutinize his ma’s cooking. Not the taste but it’s frequency, and the lack of necessity, considering they had avoxes to prepare meals on her behalf. He was usual joking, in his own weird way, but Sejanus never liked these jokes. If cooking is what keeps his ma’s thoughts at bay, then so be it. He’ll eat all she makes even if his waistbands keep getting tighter and his pants shrinking. He served himself some pastries for breakfast, settling down in front of the T.V. to watch the games while he ate, in case you made an appearance.

He didn’t dare tear his eyes off the screen, not all morning, not back at the academy either. The only casualty announcement that day morning was bobbin, who was killed at the hands of Coryo. Not much else happened for most of that day aside from Reaper patrolling the stands from time to time. He thought that would surely be it, that you’re dead somewhere in there, cold and alone.

It wasn’t until late in the evening, when the sun had begun to set and the student body was gradually thinning out, that you made your appearance. He let out a shaky breath of relief, attempting to be as quiet as he could in his thankfulness. You were moving stealthily, having spotted a snoozing Reaper up in the stands. He then noticed the blood on your clothes that definitely wasn’t there when he last saw you. Whatever happened during the night, in those tunnels, he was just glad you were able to wiggle yourself out. Lucky made the passing connection between the blood and the mysterious kill, wondering if it could be pinned on you. He quietened again, the screen zooming in on your exhausted face as you selected a new weapon from the centre, having seemingly lost the ones you had already. Once you had a steady grip on a bat, you rose slowly, glancing over to where Reaper was. For a second, he thought you might go for that kill, resentment towards the sleeping tribute for his mind games back in the cage bubbling through.

“So- Mr. Plinth, could your tribute really have been the mysterious killer all along?”

He stared off into the distance beyond the camera, weighing his options carefully. Last he checked, his cuff still indicated no gifts, and he needed to get you something, anything. There was no one willing to take a chance on someone who’d opened up her games with such raw vulnerability.

“That’s the only feasible story, isn’t it?”

So what’s a little white lie?

“Riveting! Did you know she could do something like that?”

“What?...Kill?”

“I suppose, yes.”

“I doubt….that that was her first time, so…yes.”

Kill…fail to resuscitate…all synonyms, no?

“Woah, the field is on fire! What could you possibly be implying here?”

“Oh, no. I mustn't incriminate her now.” He shrugged with a laugh, sauntering off back to his seat before the interview could go on any further. Coryo watched him as he settled into his seat, side-eying him for that insane play he just made, taking credit for something like that. But he could only laugh at his audacity.

Just as he’d hoped, his cuff pinged with a few sponsors, which he wasted no time in putting to good use. Some bread and a nice bottle of water to keep you company. You almost missed their arrival, having satisfied whatever goal you had of stepping out into the fresh air momentarily. And when you received them graciously, you stood for a minute with a huge smile on your face, waving to the drones as they disappeared from view.

You were waving to him.

He adjusted in his seat, contempt with the gifts he delivered you and comforted by the fact that you were still alive.

These were the longest games to date, and the game of grim musical chairs wasn’t helping. Every morning, with the announcements of any deaths and the absence of your name, he would let out an unsure sigh of relief. The numbers dwindled down, leaving only him and Clemensia, who did not look well herself. But it meant that the final match was you against Reaper.

Dawn of the final day.

The lack of action in the tunnels was likely what drew you out of your hiding spot. You looked paler, your skin having missed the warm sunlight. Reaper was asleep up in the stands, giving you the ability to survey the area freely. You inched towards his makeshift graveyard, counting the tributes carefully to come to the same conclusion that Sejanus already knew.

You took in a deep breath, looking back to the one thing standing between you and freedom. All in all, he was not a bad person, just as frightened as you were. All in all, you were not a killer, so you had no idea where to go from here. But you had to make a decision fast, since your opponent was now waking up.

“Just us, doc?” Reaper’s voice was faint due to his distance from the mic, which only picked up his words because he yelled them to you.

“Looks like it.” Your voice was a lot more clear, but also more shaky. “You don’t have to do this, you know?”

“What other choice do I have?”

You didn’t have an answer to that as he inched closer to you, and Sejanus had to hold himself back from screaming at you to run.

“I don’t want to die here.”

“Did any of them?” Reaper shrugged solemnly and you could tell that he was a good man back home. “I promise, I’ll make it quick.”

You shook your head, not good enough. ANd before any other conversation was made, you bolted back into the tunnels with him hot on your tail.

The final battle will be taking place away from the cameras, and the whole hall was silent. The cameras were now fixed on his and Clemensia’s faces, him more tense than she was. He tried to keep two things at the forefront of his mind.

You knew the tunnels better, since Reaper resided outside most of the games.

You were better fed, Reaper was essentially surviving on the fat on his body this whole time.

But it didn’t really ease his nerves. A whole minute had passed. Then three. Now five. Nothing, not a peep, not a victor nor loser. He doubted it would last that long, which caused the gamemakers to send in peacekeepers to extract the winner.

Heavy boots emerged first from the tunnels, shortly after, the body of the tall tribute was deposited for the cameras, and you wobbled out of the shadows, victorious.

The capitol celebrated with him that day, your unexpected win.

He didn’t even bother going home, rushing straight to the medwing where they kept you. But they wouldn’t let him see you, however much he begged. He could hear your cries and protests as they tried to manage your injuries, and he all but broke the doors down to reach you, before he was escorted away and banished to his house.

…

One of the many things people hated about this job was how packed the clinics were on most days. You did too, at some point, but you were now a changed woman and the steady, heavy flow of patients kept your mind off of the previous events. Your family gave you a tearful welcome back, of course, even celebrating with some fresh meat for dinner. But all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and bask in the sun for the next 5 years or so. You didn’t talk it out with anyone, but the threat of the hunger games had now become way too close to home. Oftentimes, the unlucky families think that the chances of it being them is slim to none. You know, because you were one of them, and all you could think about now were the odds of your sister following in your footsteps.

Every night you closed your eyes to find yourself back in the endless maze of damp tunnels, air so humid you could barely take in a full breath. And every night, without fail, you woke up hourly to your own screams. The more you stayed home, the worse it became, so the clinic had basically become your reprieve from that cycle.

“..and there’s a new peacekeeper, need you to do his eval, okay?” Your ma handed you the papers without giving you a second to process

“What?”

“Peacekeeper eval, bed 3, any questions?”

“Yes! This is lackey work, why am I assigned to this?”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Because I said so,”

“But-”

“Didn’t you want more cases?”

“Yes, real cases, not paperwork!”

“Well it’s already been assigned to you, see to it. And since you’re so on edge today you have the rest of the day off.”

This was very odd behaviour, especially for your ma, who promptly rounded the corner without giving you a chance to protest any further.

You were practically stomping through the halls, huffing and puffing as the familiar sterile smell made its way into your angry lungs. You whizzed past trains of blurry faces in white coats, hoping to get this out of the way so that you could fill your time with something more useful. The clinic’s bottom floor was always busy, always wreaked of sickness and asepsis, but it was the most convenient for quick cases. You rummaged carefuly through the stacks of different forms to find the peacekeeper eval, pushing it into place on your clipboard as you made your way to the bed. It was rare to not have at least an 80 percent occupancy rate for the triage beds, which kept most of the staff busy with quick assessments.

You pulled the curtain open slightly to allow entry, pulling it closed right behind you. The man shifted from his comfortable lay on the bed to swing his legs over the side, but you still had your eyes on the empty paper infront of you, trying to recall the procedure you hadn’t done for years.

“I will be your evaluator for this evening, first and last name?”

“Sejanus Plinth.”

The voice sounded like him, but you still didn’t believe it.

“Real funny, I’ll ask again, f-” You lifted your head up to your patient, the words getting caught in your throat.

Sure enough, there he was, buzzed hair and a fresh set of uniform. There was a surprisingly large grin on his face, one that most peacekeepers don’t ever seem to posses.

“Sejanus!”

You dropped the stupid clipboard, abandoning all codes of conduct as you basically threw yourself onto him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. Strong arms wrapped back around you, rubbing your back comfortingly. You squeezed him so tight, afraid that when you let go he’d be gone.

Again.

“You’re back!” You were getting tearful, head still snug in his shoulder. “You’re back! What happened?”

“A long list of things actually. But, to sum it up, I am officially a capitol traitor.”

Both of you were pressed up against the room door, trying to decipher the argument outside.

The last night he saw you.

When it proved futile, you perched onto the little window ledge, watching the rain pour down the glass.

“When are you going to be back?”

“Probably never.”

Your shoulders dropped in defeat. Back then, you really didn’t quite believe it, the idea of never seeing him again, it never clicked.

“Do you think they’ll like me there?” He picked at his nails.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to go?”

“No.”

“Why are you going then?”

“Ma says that things will get worse here now that the war is over. Because of them, because of the capitol.”

You sighed, recalling your parents’ endless rants as they listened in on the radio news reports.“I hate the capitol,” It was taking away your closest friend, and crush. “Sejanus, you have to promise me you won’t be like them, okay?”

He shook his head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“You have to promise you won’t be stuck up like them, you know, like we hear on the transmissions, the threats they make.”

He didn’t know at all, actually. His parents did a very efficient job of sheltering him from the world around him, and the war was just bombs dropped by ‘bad guys’ as far as he was told. Your words meant nothing to him, not in that moment, but your time together was cut off by your maforcing the door open and ordering your last goodbye.

So you hugged him, pulled him tight because it would be the last time, whispering “Promise me,” in his ear. So he promised, unsure of what exactly tht entailed, and bid you farewell as your ma ushered you away. That night ended with his mother’s head on his shoulder, begging him for forgiveness, repeating apologies he did not know the reason for yet.

She always had a feeling.

You pulled your head away from him, “How long are you staying here for?”

You knew the answer, you just wanted to hear it.

“For good, I hope. Wanted to give this back,” He fished into his pocket to return the locket around your neck, clasping it too quickly for you to react. You stepped away, clutching the pendant in overwhelm. “Are you okay? I watched everything, every moment you were in there I could barely function, you have no ide-”

You cut him off by grabbing fisfuls of his collar harshly, pulling him in for a kiss. It caught him by surprise, but he matched your desperation quickly.

“Wait-” You pulled apart slightly, looking at his eyes. “Did you put my ma up to this?”

“Yes” He chuckled.

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