#or raise his eye brow much due to the scars

[frankenbuggee]

90% stoic + 10% a little more expressive at home/with close few = Devious 🖤

Also, please do not wake him up before 11am. He will hate it and be the grumpiest git for a while.

[yoditopascal]

Home

“I made it, I'm home.”

Or

Four times Sanemi wants you to use his first name and the one time you do.

pairings: shinazugawa sanemi x fem! reader

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, slight angst, sanemi is bad at feelings and communication, slight sanemi/giyu if you squint

a/n: first sequel is up! My Nemi is 18+ so minors DNI

The first time Sanemi crossed paths with you was the day you were introduced to him.

He’d recently become the Wind Hashira and you were requesting to become a tsugoku.

They were all gathered for a hashira meeting to discuss the next training procedures for the lower ranking slayers. As time drew on, Shinazugawa found himself mentally thankful as the meeting drew to an end.

“Before we draw this to close, I’d like to bring one last thing to attention.” Oyakata-sama paused before continuing as you stood behind him head bowed in respect as he spoke

“I’m sure you’ve heard of a demon slayer who has been performing above expectations,” Oyakata-sama said gently. “She’s an exceptional swordswoman and has been recommended by Tomioka-san.”

The training grounds remained silent as the nine hashira waited for their master to continue.

“After some thought, I have reached the conclusion ….” Oyakata-sama smiled. “I’m assigning her to one of you as a tsuguko.”

“Shinazugawa-san,” he offered Sanemi a kind smile. “Since you both trained under the same master I think she would be best in your care.”

“Not interested.”

“Maybe Tomioka-san would be interested then since he-“

That got his blood boiling.

If he didn’t want to do it, why the hell should Tomioka be the one to replace him?

“With all due respect sir,” he said, Tomioka’s head tilts in his peripheral. Sanemi’s index finger plays with the hilt of his sword. “I don’t think Tomioka can cut it.”

“Why does it matter to you Shinazugawa? You already said you weren’t interested.” Uzui raised a brow at him, a hint of teasing behind his words. Obanai nodded his head in agreement in the background.

“It's because I doubt she can handle my training.”

“I’d like to prove myself to you if you’d let me Shinazugawa-sama, '' you said, stepping forward. You were significantly shorter than him, probably around Obanai’s height.

“Cut the -sama bullshit.” He fired back, also stepping forward. He practically towered over you at this point. You were cute he had to admit albeit a little annoying.

You had to admit from your distance you thought he was attractive too. His lilac eyes and fluffy white hair were striking, his scars added a liveliness to his features that you also liked and don’t get you started on his muscles that he proudly had on display.

“Fine then if you think you can keep up with me I’ll take you.” He said snapping you from your thoughts.

“Very well, then.” Oyakata-sama said, pleased. “She will continue training from here on as Shinazugawa’s tsuguko.”

“I can’t wait to work together, I’ve heard so much about you from Giyu-san!”

Giyu?

Why the hell were you already on a first name basis with him?

“It’s Tomioka to you brat.”

“My apologies I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t let it happen again.”

The remaining hashira grinned teasingly in the background, at the commotion. For someone who had claimed to hate Tomioka’s guts he sure was defensive about the first name thing.

But that wasn’t it at all.

Did he just take on an apprentice because he didn’t want Giyu to have you?

Yes, yes he did.

Did he also correct you just because he didn’t want Giyu to have the satisfaction of being on a first name basis with you?

Of course he did.

He was Sanemi Shinazugawa after all and he had a reputation to uphold.

He had no idea how you two had even met each other with your breathing styles being so different and all or why the hell you two seemed so close to begin with but if you were to train under him he had to squash that in the butt right here and now.

Sanemi was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize that the meeting had officially ended. As the hashira began filing out of the courtyard you approached him startling him from his inner monologue.

“Are we ready to begin training Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked

“What the hell did I tell you about that honorific shit?” He groaned.

“Fine then how about Shinazugawa-sensei?” You replied cheekily

Knowing that he wasn’t getting through to you he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He decided then that he doesn’t like being called Shinazugawa by you.

The second time

“Fuck off.” He rasped. You had just reached the inn you were staying at when you noticed him wincing.

“You’re hurt.” You mumbled, noticing the blood dripping onto the floor beneath him.

“‘m fine,” He shook his head, but the state of him said otherwise.

The blood around the wound had already started to congeal, sticking to his skin and clothes. He was starting to go dizzy from the blood loss.

“No, you’re not,” You frowned

“I told you I’m fine.”

“If you’re as fine as you say, then you won’t mind me taking a look.” You persisted with a grunt he submitted to you and your examination

You were looking at the cut now, nose wrinkled as you assessed the damage.

“Well the good news is you’ll live.”

“Oh joy.”

“The bad news is this’ll probably scar up pretty bad” you said standing to gather the necessary medical supplies before returning to his side. You two had foregone bring Kakushi with you this time as you weren’t that far from the butterfly mansion.

“Let me bandage it up so it doesn’t become infected.”

Wringing a rag out, you forced Sanemi to sit as you began to dab at the wound cleaning it, little sparks of pain ate away at him at each stroke of the cloth, his muscles tensing under your delicate touch.

“Sorry sensei, I’ll get this done as fast as I can.”

Again, there it was.

“I told you to drop the formalities.”

You pulled the clean bandages tight as you began to wrap his torso with a small uneasy chuckle.

“Force of habit.”

You were warm and he could smell the soothing scent of you with how close you were to him, the proximity was getting unbearable, a knot was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

As your fingers gently brushed against his chest with such tenderness he wasn’t used to since Kanae, Sanemi felt a jolt of electricity in his chest.

What the hell was that?

“There, that should do it.” You smiled to yourself admiring your handiwork as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll get Kocho-san to take a better look at it when we return tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” He brushed you off but all you did was smile your same smile at him.

Realizing the close proximity he felt another pang in his chest as his cheeks began to dust pink.

Was he developing a heart condition? He’d have to ask Shinobu about that the next time he saw her.

Easing up from his place on the ground he stood with his back to you hiding his flustered expression.

“Get some sleep. We’re leaving early in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?” You teased.

“Just shut up and get some rest.”

The third time

Sanemi pulled off your haori and tied it to your torso trying to staunch the bleeding. The feeling of the warm, sticky blood dripped down your side as you approached the Butterfly estate.

He could feel the warmth from your blood soaking through your uniform, staining his own.

Shinobu, who had been tending to the grounds outside rushed to his side at the sight of you and ushered him to bring you inside. It was hard to separate him from you, he was holding on so tightly, his grip almost like an iron vise.

A strong hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and got him to loosen his grip. He looked to see it was Rengoku who had also just come back from a mission and was having his own injuries tended to. “Kocho’s got this Shinazugawa.”

"Don't worry, I’m sure she’ll be fine."

He didn’t know that, how could he?

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know that she’s in good hands here. The same hands that treat you and all the other Hashira when we need it most.” Rengoku said, placing a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder which he shrugged off immediately. “So just try to keep a clear head Shinazugawa.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Sanemi said, storming off in the direction they took you, feeling more irritated than he was before speaking with the Flame Pillar.

It had all happened so fast.

Both you and Sanemi had been chasing after a demon who had been kidnapping and eating children. The absolute worst of the worst.

You were losing your temper and fighting brash, something he’d never seen from you before but not something he was new to entirely.

Just like Masachika.

You were so blinded by rage over the fact that the victims were children that you could barely hear him as he directed you to coordinate your attacks.

The last thing he remembers is going in for the killing strike when suddenly the demon throws a kid at him, a little girl. He stops his attack mid swing to catch her but in doing so he leaves himself wide open to the demon.

Fucking idiot! He thought as he tried to move out of range in time, before the demon could sink her claws into him he felt a hard push and the next thing he saw was red.

Blood.

It was your blood. Dripping onto the ground forming a dark red puddle around your feet.

When had you gotten there?

You had pushed him out of the way at the last second and had taken the brunt of the attack, your side torn almost clean open.

The smell of copper fills his nose completely and he almost chokes on it.

“Shinazugawa.” Shinobu started firmly sitting at a desk chair snapping him from his thoughts. She had just finished stitching you up and had sent Aoi and the others to get you situated in a bed after you had passed out. “If you need to talk…”

“I don't need to fucking talk,” he said pacing grooves into the the wooden flooring of the hall of the Butterfly estate. “She was a fool for jumping in like that.”

“I know you’re worried about her but-“

“I’m not fucking worried!”

He was but he’d never tell Shinobu that.

His anger clouded his senses, sure he was worried but he was mad more than anything.

Who gave you the right to step in and put yourself on the line like that? For him of all people.

No. To Shinobu he wasn’t worried, he was pissed.

You’re met with the sight of a starch white ceiling as you came to, head pounding you slowly, sit up looking around the room, no one was occupying the other beds. Your body ached at even the slightest movement. For a moment, you thought you were completely alone until a familiar voice greets your ears.

“You finally awake?”

Sitting on a chair next to the bed was Sanemi, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared.

"How could you be so fucking stupid, you brat?"

“It’s okay Shinazugawa-san,” you sigh, “Kocho-san was able to patch me up.”

Shinazugawa-san. As if he wasn’t already irritated enough with you.

How annoying.

“Okay, my ass,” Sanemi grumbled, “and drop the -san.”

“You’re a Hashira sensei, your life is worth at least a hundred of mine.”

“You’re an even bigger moron than I thought if you really believe that shit!” Sanemi snapped “Don’t be so ready to throw your life away!”

“I guess I’m your dumbass then.” You mumble under your breath

“What?”

“Nothing, don't mind me.” You said waving your hand in front of you as if to dissipate the tension in the air.

Silence filled the space between you two.

“I won’t let you die. Not for me.” Sanemi said somberly, refusing to look you in the eye.

“That’s the only way I’d like to go,” you sighed dreamily, only half jokingly.

“Don’t say dumbass shit like that.”

“You’ve made bigger sacrifices. Let someone else make them for you for a change.” You nodded contentedly at what you said. “You deserve to live a full life just as much as I do so let me help you live it to the fullest.”

You would have thought that was the end of your conversation if Sanemi hadn’t stood with such force it knocked his chair over from your bedside.

“Don’t gimme that bullshit!”

“You think you’re so high and mighty talking about sacrifices when you really don’t know shit about sacrificing anything!”

Before you could say anything more, he stormed out slamming the infirmary shoji doors behind him.

He was right, what right did you have to tell him of all people about sacrifice when you knew about his past?

Sanemi hadn’t told you much himself but when you asked Oyakata-sama about him he had reluctantly told you about Genya and his mother.

If anyone had known anything about sacrifice it’d be him.

Slowly getting up from your bed you found yourself leaning against the wall as you limped through the halls searching for your teacher.

The wind whipped through his white hair as he sat in the garden attempting to meditate. He had initially come out here to cool his head by slashing at the training dummies but when he saw other slayers out there training themselves he opted to go to the other side of the grounds just to have some alone time.

He hadn’t meant to snap at you like he did, gods know you weren't wrong no matter how much he hated to admit it, so why did it piss him off so much to hear you talking so easily about throwing your life away for him.

You deserve to live a full life just as much as I do so let me help you live it to the fullest.

You reminded him so much of Masachika it made his head ache.

The wind picks up once again carrying with it the smell of wisterias and…something else he couldn’t quite place.

It was almost like it was trying to tell him something, like he wasn’t alone.

Whipping around just as the sliding shoji doors open up, Sanemi jumped up and made it to you just in time to catch you as you slipped and fell out into the garden having lost your grip on the wall.

“Dumbass! What the hell are you doing up?!”

“I was looking for you!” You cried “I’m sorry Shinazugawa, you were right, I had no right to be so ignorant!” You tried to bow but the searing pain in your side said otherwise.

He tsked as he went to sit you down on the engawa. Setting himself beside you so you could lean on him if you needed to.

“You really aren’t that smart are ya?” He asked roughly trying to lighten the mood but the way it came out made him wince at the harshness.

Thankfully after months of training at his side you could tell when he was trying to lighten the mood, so you simply smiled and closed your eyes savoring his warmth. “No one’s ever accused me of being a genius.”

It was then that he realized you hadn’t called him sensei, or by any honorific. He was simply Shinazugawa.

Maybe he was finally getting something through that thick skull of yours.

The fourth time

When the two of you arrived at the swordsmith village you split off almost instantly Sanemi muttering to himself something about needing a drink. You were so excited at the promise of hot water on your aching muscles that you hadn’t thought to ask Sanemi if he planned to bathe too.

Which was how you two found yourselves in your predicament.

This was good. Way too good. The hot springs were perfect. From where he sat Sanemi could see the steam rising off from the clear water. The atmosphere around it is breathtaking, decorated with rocks, and lush plants. The scent of it was intoxicating.

He can already feel the relaxing effects of the mineral waters soaking into his bones as he sinks further in. Sanemi’s entire body felt overly warm, whether from the springs or the sake he drank earlier that evening he wasn’t sure.

Something like a splash echoed off in the distance and Sanemi turned toward the sound only to find you, sitting with your back to him, eyes closed as you groaned in pure bliss, the hot water easing your sore muscles.

“The hell are you doing here?!” He screamed jumping up to point at your naked form forgetting to cover himself up as he did so.

“Same as you Shinazugawa-san, taking a bath!” You smiled cheerfully “you’re naked by the way.”

You said averting your eyes from his very bare form.

He quickly sank back down into the water, cheeks turning a bright red before he rolled his eyes at you.

There it was again. If you said his last name like that one more time he swore he was going to-

But before he could finish that thought he caught a glimpse of your back, almost completely unmarred and blemish free save for the gnarly scar that twisted up your side and shoulder as you moved to grab your rag to wash yourself.

Sanemi had never seen your body so exposed before, he hadn’t meant to look, he swears he hadn’t but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

That was my fault.

“It’s not your fault.” Your voice brought him back to reality before he could get lost in his thoughts.

“Huh?”

Now you were sitting next to him, back resting against the warm boulders that surrounded the springs, arms folded, covering your amble chest from his view.

“It probably would've happened either way. I was being too reckless that night.”

“Doesn’t stop me from feeling any less shitty about it.”

A silent blanket fell over the two of you, the rippling of the water beneath you two the only sound that could be heard.

“Don’t get hurt again.” The request came in a tone you’d never heard from your teacher before. There was an emotion in his voice, one that you couldn’t quite place. Fear? Pity?

Nonetheless you smiled at him with a reassuring smile before answering back “I’ll try my best.”

“Good,” he began cheeks tinging pink once again as he looked away from you. “now get the fuck out.”

The one time you do

When the battle with Muzan and the remaining Upper Moons was over and the Corps had officially dissolved, you took your time to heal from your injuries, paid your respects to the fallen and moved back home.

Your childhood home looked more or less the same since you’d left, but it felt different. You couldn’t put your finger on it, maybe it had changed somehow or maybe it was just you that had changed but something felt like it was still missing.

Once you were settled in you resumed work in the family’s tea shop, your family thankful for the extra help. Soon you saved up enough to get yourself a little home on the edge of the village.

It wasn’t a spectacular abode but it reminded you of the Wind estate you stayed at when you trained under Sanemi. A place you like to think of as home.

Speaking of the devil, the arrival of Shinazugawa Sanemi to your village was a spectacle. He sent whispers and murmurs everywhere he went, the town buzzing with excited chatter and imaginative speculations but to you it fills your belly with fluttering butterflies.

You hadn't seen him for months since the final battle, a battle you hadn’t even had the luxury of sharing with him since you were with Shinobu at the time. Had he changed at all? Would you remind him too much of the past? What if he didn’t want to see you? Had you changed?

All those thoughts gripped at your head as you walked home from the store, groceries tucked tightly under each arm. It’s as you approached your home that you stopped dead in your tracks nearly dropping your bags.

There, standing in front of your door, was Sanemi himself.

He was thanking an old man, a regular of yours at the tea shop, on your front porch.

“Thanks for helping me find the place, old timer.”

“It’s no problem, oh there she is now!” The old man waved you over.

“Welcome home! I bought you a visitor!” The man cupped his hand around his mouth shouting excitedly as you approached.

“I see, it's been a long time Shinazugawa!” You smiled at them.

Sanemi looked different, he had even more scars and was missing fingers on one of his hands. Even though he appeared more battle hardened there was a surprising gentleness to his features now. As if there had been a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“It’s good to see you too.” He replied, surprising you with a soft smile.

“You wouldn’t expect it by looking at him, but Shinazugawa is really good with kids.” The old man, who you both realized was still there, teased. “We found him helping out some of the village kids before he asked for you.”

Face reddening, Sanemi ears tinged pink.

“Shinazugawa-san, you’re blushing! Ah I remember my first love…” the old man trailed off, his expression dreamy despite yours and Sanemi’s vehement protests in the background.

“I’ll leave you to youngsters to it then.” He waved you two off as he turned to leave, you quickly pulled Sanemi inside, cheeks equally as flushed as his own.

You invited him in and ushered him towards the back before the old man could say anything more. The two of you soon found yourselves resting on the engawa outside as you served him and yourself tea and ohagi, attempting to awkwardly catch up with one another.

You can tell he’s tired from his eyes as he spoke, and he has every right to be. The battle was hard fought not without great sacrifice even if it was months ago, Sanemi had a lot of recovering to do still.

The two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours admiring the beautiful scenery around you. More than once you caught Sanemi’s gaze lingering on you but he always caught himself and looked away before you could say anything.

“Forgive my intrusion.” He broke the stifling silence first.

“There’s nothing to forgive, I’m glad you came to visit.”

“I really wanted to see you, I even thought about coming to visit your estate but I figured, after everything….” You paused

Maybe you didn’t want to see me.

“You might have needed some space.” There’s a pause before you continue. “Have you been to see him yet?”

“I visit his grave as often as I can,” Sanemi says with mournful eyes that can’t quite meet yours.

“It’s all my fault… Genya….” His voice sounded watery as he trailed off. “I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Please don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It feels like it is. Maybe if I hadn't pushed him away…”

He’d still be here.

If only he had taken his place. Sanemi thought as he swallowed thickly trying but failing to hold back tears.

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, we all make mistakes, it’s what makes us human.” You said placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

How was he supposed to be going about doing this?

All he wanted was to come visit you, see how you were doing, not spill his guts out to you in the courtyard. He never meant for this to happen.

“I can see the love you had for him. I know he saw it too, otherwise he wouldn’t have fought so hard to get your approval when you pushed him away. People have different ways of showing affection." You started, Sanemi remained silent, his eyes fixed on you as you spoke.

"Genya might not have chosen the path you wanted for him, but he was with you all the way until the end and that’s what matters."

"He was a dumbass," he muttered, wiping stray tears from the corners of his eyes.

"He was your brother, and he loved you to pieces. He forgave you even when you couldn’t forgive yourself. I think it’s time you started trying to forgive yourself too." You smiled warmly. “You’re not alone in this sensei. I'm right here with you.”

“Drop that sensei crap. We’re both civilians now, we’re equal.”

“Sorry, old habits.”

A thick silence envelopes you two once again, this time a little less awkward than it was before as a hint of sadness lingers in the air.

“Please allow me to accompany you on your next visit, I’d like to see him too.” You said leaning into his side.

“I think I’d like that.”

It was getting late, the sun was starting to set over the mountains surrounding your village. The two of you had retired inside your home where you offered to make him dinner. Sanemi accepted and the two of you ate peacefully while you reminisced.

After clearing and cleaning up a bit you returned to your engawa where you sat in a comfortable silence just enjoying each other’s company.

Refusing to meet your eyes, Sanemi moved to place one of his hands over yours. The gesture has your heart thumping wildly in your chest, his too. “I very much wish… to see you again.” His words came out as though he was struggling to say them.

“I’d like that too…Sanemi.”

His name falling from your lips makes him stop in his tracks, looking up at you instantly.

“Say it again. My name.” He breathed out, he wanted to say more, but he’s too caught up in the fact that you finally called him by his first name.

“Sanemi.” you said tested it out on your tongue once more, pronouncing each syllable

At that he smoothly bridged the gap between you, pressing his lips softly against yours.

You almost forgot how to breathe. Cradling your face, he reaches his right hand around you and pulls you closer, deepening your kiss, relishing in the feeling of you.

It was then that you knew what was missing all those months ago when you returned home. It was him, he was your home and your village just didn’t feel like it had a place for you without him.

You're the first to pull away from the kiss, lungs not at all what they used to be back when you had to constantly use Total Concentration breathing, resting your forehead against his you stare into his lilac eyes with a shy smile.

“Stay with me tonight Nemi,” you murmur, fingers lightly tracing along his cheek as he hums in contentment. “Let me take care of you.”

Sanemi does not answer you, instead settling to pull off his haori while going in for another kiss, this one a bit rougher.

You admit to yourself right then that the name Sanemi rolls off the tongue so much better than Shinazugawa does.

[blueariel3-blog]

Cookies

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You attempt to make a welcome home gift for your mate, but it doesn't go as planned.

A/N: This is my first time writing something for ACOTAR, let me know if you like it! Just something sweet and short. I could definitely use this right now :)

Azriel had been gone on a mission for several days across the sea and you were missing him terribly. Every time you caught his faint scent, found a clothing item of his stuffed in the bottom of the laundry basket, or spotted his favorite book lying on the coffee table, your heart ached a little bit more for him. It was hard to be away from your mate but you knew his job was important to keeping your court and family safe. 

You glanced at the clock again, noting that it was still relatively early in the night and he wasn't due home until tomorrow afternoon. Needing something to occupy your time, you decided to try some baking. Elain had bought you a cookbook for your birthday a few months prior after you admitted that you didn't have a knack for cooking and struggled to come up with recipes. 

You pulled the book from the top shelf of your pantry, lightly dusting it off and laying it on the smooth countertops. You thumbed through the soft pages and noted the little details Elain had written in and smiled at her thoughtfulness. Little notes like "Try this one!" and "Make on a cold winter night!" were scattered throughout the book. She even went as far as starring her favorite recipes. 

You found a recipe towards the back of the book for chocolate chip cookies. Despite being a very fit Illyrian male, Azriel had the biggest sweet tooth. He was always eating something sweet or drinking something sugary; you're honestly not sure how his teeth didn't rot out. You smiled to yourself, already feeling how happy he would be to come home to one of his favorite treats. 

An hour later, flour littered the countertops along with several different types of sugars, chocolate chips, salts, flour, and butter. The first batch you made was still raw on the inside so you quickly threw them out. The second bath had cooked too long (you were afraid of another raw middle) and were so hard, they didn't even budge as you banged them against the countertops. 

The third batch had too much flour and immediately crumbled when you picked it up. After each failed attempt, your irritation grew until you had finally had enough and sent the pan of unedible cookies flying off the counter and towards the front door. It happened to be at that moment that your mate walked through the door. 

His brows furrowed as something hit his leg and then crumbled into a heap by his feet, the smell of something burning filling his nostrils. He raised a singular eyebrow as he looked towards you in the kitchen, only to find tears welling up in your eyes that you were desperately trying to keep from falling. 

He was quick to drop his weapons and reach for you. His scarred hands were gentle as they grabbed your waist and he slowly pulled your body towards his. He noted the baking ingredients on the counter, the dirty apron covering the front of one of his t-shirts you wore, and the sweat coating your brow and came to one conclusion: you were trying to bake. He fought back a smile as he slowly tucked you into his arms, your forehead resting against his chest. 

You breathed in his scent and instantly relaxed. His arms tightened their hold on you and you relaxed further, slinging your arms around his waist and peeking up at him. His nose brushed across your cheek and then across your nose as he rested his brow against yours. 

"Hi," you whispered to him. Your cheeks were slightly tinted pink as you rested your chin on his chest to stare into his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ears and his eyes seemed to melt as he took in the sight of his mate. 

"Hi," he whispered back. Your soft giggle warmed his heart and he couldn't stop placing a sweet peck on your lips. "What's going on in here?" His tone was light and playful, afraid of sending you into another meltdown. 

You sighed heavily, pulling away to look at all the failed attempts at a welcome home gift scattered throughout the kitchen. 

"I was going to make you some cookies to come home to but I couldn't get the recipe right. The first ones were still raw, the next ones were too burnt, and the ones that I accidentally flung at you had crumbled because they had too much flower." 

As you recounted the day's activities to Azriel, his smile only grew out of the love he had for you. You felt the warmth through the bond and melted further into his chest. He placed another kiss on your brow before pulling back and going to retrieve the cookie sheet from the doorway. 

"Well, let's bake them together." He gave you a soft smile as he dumped your cookies into the trashcan. 

"Okay," you smiled as he organized the ingredients on the counter. He carefully read the directions and his shadows would bring you the ingredients one at a time as needed. They tickled your arms and legs as you two stood side by side and you giggled, brushing against them lovingly. 

When the batter was done, Azriel helped you carefully scoop each cookie out and place it on the tray. You placed them on the rack in the oven, dusting flour from your fingers as they set to bake for 15 minutes. 

Azriel pulled the apron off of you and chucked it behind him as he reached down and scooped you into his arms. You yelped as his hands found your bottom and squeezed playfully. 

"What are you doing?" You laughed as he walked further into your house. 

"Spending time with my mate," he replied as he settled you both on the couch. He was lying on his back, holding you tightly to his chest. You felt something soft against your skin and looked back to see the shadows placing a blanket on top of you before darting off to the kitchen. 

You folded your hands across his chest and then placed your head on top so you could see him properly. He gave you his best grin, the one you only ever got to see. It was reserved just for you. 

"Sorry I didn't have them ready before you got home. I thought you wouldn't be home until tomorrow." He brushed the hair away from your face as he flooded the bond with warmth once again. 

"It's quite alright. It was the thought that counts. Besides, I like baking with you." 

"Oh, do you now?" You grinned and tilted your head, watching as a smirk pulled at his lips. "And why's that?" 

He quickly leaned up to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. 

"Because that means I get 15 minutes with you, uninterrupted, while we wait for them to bake." 

He wiggled his eyebrows and you burst out laughing. He gently gripped your arms and flipped you so he was hovering above you. He placed a kiss on your cheek, then your other one, then your forehead, nose, chin, neck, and finally on your lips. 

You sighed as you melted into him, arms coming to wrap around his neck. You had been thinking about doing this since he left for his mission last week. His hair was soft as you carded your fingers through it, lips firm and accepting as he poured his love into you. 

Azriel laid his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you softly brushed through his hair. His shadows whispered that there were only a few more minutes until the cookies were done, but there was enough dough for at least 4 more batches. 

He smiled and sent them back to watch the cookies. His hands squeezed your sides lovingly as he closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of finally being able to return home. 

[pinievsev]

FEAR

(as always requests are open and masterlist is pinned)

Pyeon sang-wook x GN! reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of death, a tiny kiss at the end.

Notes: thanks to my pooks @il-i-sam for helping me edit this, I wrote this at school and it was really rushed and had grammatical mistakes! You're amazing MWAH MWAH MWAH!

© The-Lemon-Boy on Tumblr

Pyeon sang-wook was always a man of few words and actions. He always believed relationships to be unimportant. Especially now.

Sometimes, he didn't want friendships either. He liked being alone, at least most of the time.

There had been times when he'd thought of getting up and joining the others during "dinner" but he was afraid. Afraid of what they saw him as. A monster, a murderer.

So even if he actually wanted a friendship (or more), he didn't have anywhere to start. Well, that's not entirely true. But again, he was afraid. Of what? He wasn't sure either.

But he knew that you'd be his starting point. Though he didn't know how long he had, since he never showed any signs of accepting your silent invitation to a friendship. You'd been there for him since he joined the group, everyone was afraid of him, made remarks about his scars.

But you didn't. You never said anything bad about him, he even heard you defend him once. You'd defended him multiple times. He just happened to have heard you once.

..

"Oh my god... I can't stand seeing his face. It looks so scary... Who knows what it's from?" The lady with the dog had said.

He'd heard her, but just as he was about to get up and leave, he heard you too.

"With all due respect. You don't know what it's from. And you shouldn't judge. You're a full grown adult woman. And yet you still make assumptions based on someone's appearance." It was what you had said to her.

He left after hearing that. A small smile formed on his face, which he forced down after realising.

..

Right now it was dinner time, he had stopped eating with everyone a while ago. He didn't mind not eating, but you did. You'd always get him a plate and find him, wherever he was.

He was sitting in the grave room, staring at the ground, when you walked in. You walked over and kneeled down in front of him, handing him his food. You had learned not to try to start a conversation, he wasn't much of a talker. You noticed.

You sat by him, leaving enough space for him to be comfortable. And started to eat.

Imagine your surprise when you heard his voice. Directed towards you. "Why don't you hate me? Like everyone else. I don't need pity."

You shook your head and moved closer. "I don't pity you. I know you can handle yourself. I just cannot stand seeing people be treated in a way they don't deserve. And you don't deserve to be seen as a scary murderer. Even if you don't think that."

He raised a brow at your words, still not looking at you. "I murdered someone. With a hammer right in front of you." He pointed out the obvious.

You turned fully towards him, placing your food down and sitting crisscross. "Most people here are scared of you because they believe the man you killed was innocent."

Now interested in where this was going, he turned his upper body to face you. "And you don't?" He questioned.

"I've lived here since I was little. I remember when he moved in, when my mum sent me to bring him a cake as a welcome gift, and when I found his door open and walked inside that room..." You hoped he'd understand; you hoped he'd seen the room, and you didn't have to explain.

And based on his reaction, he did. His eyes widened—the most obvious showcase of emotions you've ever seen from him.

"I've never run out of a room faster in my life." You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But he just shook his head.

He was glad someone understood him. You stood up. Stretching. "You should eat." You pointed out before going towards the door, but before you exited, you turned back. "Oh, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, it shouldn't be too hard to find me."

..

About a week passed, and he did talk to you almost every day. Even though they were just general chats, it felt good for him to be able to talk freely to someone again.

Right now, you sat there, talking about what you did before this whole ordeal.

Well, more like him hearing you talk. But he didn't mind; he loved listening to your stories.

But your talking was cut short by a terrible screech coming from the hall, accompanied by Su Yeong's screaming.

Immediately, you stood up and rushed over, seeing Mr. Han shooting at the spider like monster that was chasing the young girl. You rushed and picked her up. "Come on!"

You shouted to Mr. Han, who followed you as fast as he could in his wheelchair.

You ran down a ramp, but Mr. Han's wheelchair got stuck, and he fell off of it. You placed Su-Yeong down and told her to go into the room where you previously were with Sang-Wook.

She wanted to help Mr. Han, but you assured her that you'd help him, and she rushed off into the room. You heard her crying to Sang-Wook. Asking for his help.

You spun around on your heel and bent down, helping Mr. Han back into his wheelchair. You ushered him inside the room as well. As soon as he entered the room, the monster quickly jumped on you, stabbing one of its legs into your torso.

You screamed out in pain, but you fought back as much as you could. But the pain was unbearable. You were about to pass out, and the last thing you saw was Cha Hyun-Soo coming to your rescue, and you heard Su-Yeong screaming, everyone else gasping, and Sang-Wook calling out to you. Then it all went black.

Once you regained consciousness, you saw Yu-ri sitting next to you, patching you up.

"Oh, you're up. How are you feeling?" She asked as she finished up her work on your wound.

"Could be better. What happened?" She patted your shoulder, told you about how Hyun-Soo had killed the monster, and assured you that everyone was safe.

You let out a sigh of relief, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again. But you were met with a different face.

Sang-wook was sitting in Yu-ri's place, and you heard the door close. He looked genuinely worried, which made you smile and sit up. With his help, you managed to rest your back on the wall behind you.

"What were you thinking, huh? You could've died." He didn't sound angry at all. You simply placed a hand on his arm and answered.

"I could have, yes. But I would've been fine with it as long as Su-Yeong and Mr. Han didn't." He groaned at your response and sat next to you on the makeshift bed. Placing his hands on either side of you.

"You might have been okay with it. But I wouldn't." You went to speak, but he hushed you. "Listen to me. Never do something that stupid again."

You smirked and leaned closer. "And why do you care?" He scowled at you slightly. And without a verbal answer, he placed his lips on yours.

You were taken aback; you didn't expect it at all. But you weren't complaining. You've been spending a lot of time together. You would be lying if you said you hadn't developed some kind of feeling for the man.

"Is that a good enough reason for me to care?" He asked. He didn't have his usual cold and emotionless demeanour this time. He looked genuinely concerned, worried, and happy at the same time.

"It is." You said, and hugged the man.

This was an outcome you wouldn't have expected at all. Not the bad kind, though.

[stargirlinterludefr]

RIPTIDE: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!gf

POV: You and Rafe go for a late night swim (partially inspired by Percabeth!)

TW: slight sexual remark, mentions of drug usage (weed)

0.7k word count

Both you and Rafe are lounging on his bed at Tannyhill, the sun having set hours ago as you both aimlessly scrolled on your phones his head on your lap as you mindlessly scratched at his scalp.

After another minute, you huff and drop your phone onto the bed not caring as it bounces from the bed and to the floor making Rafe pause his scrolling as he asks, “Everything okay, baby?”

“I’m bored.” You point out, despite having already been surfing earlier in the day with JJ, Kiara and Pope alongside going for an ice cream with Rafe you found yourself entirely bored.

Rafe chuckles softly as he turns his body so he can look up at you, “And what is it you want to do at like….“ He starts, briefly checking the time on his phone “Twelve in the morning?”

You quirk a brow, “Aww why? Is it too late for you, pretty boy?” You tease making Rafe pinch your side as he tilts his head to assess what you actually want to do.

“Why don’t we go for a swim?” You suggest, eyes bright at the idea of a late night swim, a frequent occurrence you, JJ and John B took up in the third grade when you’d first became friends. But with you and your friends being exceedingly busy working at the minute, you hadn’t had the chance to in a while.

Rafe looks confused at the idea, “It’s a bit late for a swim, baby.”

You raise a brow as you let out a sarcastic scoff, “It’s never too late for a swim… come on, you live in OBX, you telling me you’ve never been for a late night swim?”

“I mean…yeah, but in a pool.” Rafe responds, watching as you smile slowly.

“But never in the ocean huh?”

-

The beach is empty and desolate, as it usually is on figure eight at this time but you wouldn’t doubt that on your side of the island there were a few people chilling on the shores.

“You telling me you used to do this like all the time?” Rafe asks, his mind clearly whirring at how unsafe it could’ve been in the ocean at night especially on the south side of the Outer Banks.

You laugh slightly as you strip down to your bikini, “It’s fun, one time me, JJ and Kie went in high and well…” You turn your back to him, pointing down to your ass to the crescent shaped scar that resided making Rafe’s brows furrow as he comes over and assesses it more sincerely than he ever had before.

“What the fuck? I thought you’d gotten that as a kid or something.” Rafe says, snorting out a laugh at the peculiarly shaped scar making you turn your head and smirk at him, a playful glint your eyes.

“Last one to the ocean gets no head for a week!” You shout before beginning a sprint toward the moonlit sea, Rafe shouting out “Unfair!” in protest behind you as you smile widely pushing your body to run as fast as it can, immensely aware of Rafe beginning his own sprint through the sand.

You reach the water first, due to your “unfair”head start. Not that you’d live up to the wager you’d spouted out but you’d give it a try.

As you splash into the sea, strong arms wrap around your middle making you squeal and twist in Rafe’s arms to attempt to escape as he plunges you both under the water.

After a moment, the two of you resurface, your now wet hair clinging to your face as you glare playfully at Rafe who stares adoringly at you under the moonlight.

“When i said fun, I didn’t mean dunking-“ you began but were interrupted by the feeling of Rafe’s lips on yours, his hands looping around your waist as you grin into the kiss.

As you kiss, you take the upper hand and push both Rafe and yourself under the water, the Cameron boy letting out a loud groan before you fall into the waves.

Before you can resurface above the water, Rafe eagerly pulls you back to him, latching your lips to his once more and well….

It was pretty much the best underwater kiss of all time.

[tzuchuyu]

hair dye.

short dabi fic! 💌 fluff, sfw, and black hair dye basically

To be loved is to let his hairdye stain your shirt.

♠️. ୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟֶָ ⋆

It’s not every day that you see Dabi, the all too known infamous villain, sitting on your bathroom counter along with his cheap hair dye that he probably acquired by “borrowing” from a random supermarket down the street.

Faint music plays from the living room.

__

It isn’t really known to everyone that Dabi isn’t a raven head. However, you’ve seen it all before. How he left a supposed nursery into ashes and was left to the streets. You soon learned that the man you saw with those unique burns was Dabi—Touya. You met Touya. You hear him say that he was not looking for friends, “I don’t need your help or your pity.”

But you didn’t see him like that.

and he laughed.

____

The look on your face was a mix of emotions when you see him stumble across your door. It was years later when you’ve seen the boy again.

He presented himself as Dabi.

You don’t remember his scars looking this bad. His hair is new, but his face remains stoic as ever. The look on his eyes isn’t as soft as before. You reckon how his demeanor was more soft, as both of you were children back then.

He was sixteen yet he was also thirteen.

____

Dabi would swing by often— encounters like this aren’t uncommon.

You’d come home to less papers on the coffee table and your bedsheets are made after you’ve left them unkept due to running with time.

You don’t expect much but still, it’s the things like these that matters.

Only time could tell what would blossom between the two of you. He was blunt, but he can’t escape what makes his stomach turn in a way nothing and no one else can.

_____

With everybody watching, he hopes he’s trying his best to keep you away from everything, from the horror of it all.

For the first time, Dabi finds the only one he’s certain with all the uncertainties.

He stares at you from the mirror he’s facing. Holding up a brush in his right hand and parting the overgrown roots of his white hair.

“You can’t keep dying your shit forever, you know.” leaves your lips as he’s raising one brow at you.

After a pause, “Well, of course. I don’t want to suffer forever.” follows.

You come up to him to check if he has covered all of his hair behind.

“What do you think?” says Dabi.

“It isn’t half-assed.. but I still think you look better with white.”

Dabi rolls his eyes before saying “Pfft, what are you? A man who imagines his girlfriend walking through the aisle?”

You show off a smile.

Sometimes, he would tell you stories about how the dye rolls down his neck when it hits contact with rain.

and sometimes, he tells you how his group was getting kinda irritated at him because he keeps dripping the black dye everywhere.

He swears he washes it thoroughly, though.

You would believe it if it wasn’t for the random stains you would find in your small apartment.

How the bathroom countertop is stained with black ink. How the color of his hair would leave stains in towels, clothes, and even pillows. Where you could find smudges in your cabinets and tables from the stains in his hands —

And how you’re laughing with him and he has the urge to pull you closer, never minding the dripping dye that sits on his hair.

If it was anyone, they would probably get mad for the mess he’s making.

But this is you. It’s you who he kisses and leaves a black smudge on your cheeks that came from his palm. It’s your t-shirt he accidentally holds and stains. It’s your smile that he sees after pulling back. It’s your laugh he hears after you notices what he’s done.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, It’s okay, It’s okay. I don’t mind, Touya.”

This apartment screams his name. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything.

To be loved is to let his hairdye stain your shirt. Each smudge is a fragment and mark of the moments you’ve shared. You wouldn’t mind having faint black dye in your home if it isn’t Touya the reason for this chaos.

_______________________________________________

ᯓᡣ𐭩 i don’t know honestly, but i saw this prompt from tiktok and i haven’t stopped thinking about it since + it suits touya 🤫

[shunsuiken]

A LITTLE SECRET | SAGAU

synopsis. you, the divine creator of teyvat, discover one day that your blood can heal. 

tags. gn!reader + hurt/comfort + fluff + you bring childe and kazuha into a domain (xiangling and bennett are honorary mentions) + reader wants ragbros to reconcile + zhongli and ayato are sparring partners + itto gets hurt but don’t worry we heal him + gorou is still traumatised after the war between the shogunate army & the sangonomiya resistance so pls understand his reaction here + reader thinks everyones gonna be mad at them but thats not true + they tease you in the end and its all adorable <3 hehe

warnings. mentions of blood (obviously), self-harm (??? because reader cuts their wrist to obtain the blood), if i missed anything pls lmk !!

wc. 2.6k

an. incredible how brainrot makes you write things so quickly. i only just indulged myself into sagau’s literally a week ago and now this is here 😀

“now wasn’t that quite the fight!” childe wipes sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, letting his bow dematerialise in the air as he strides into the estate in your abode.

“you were rather ruthless out there, i must say.” kazuha removes his bandages and replaces them with a clean roll in a cupboard. “their grace looked concerned when that cryo abyss mage shot a cryo thorn at you.”

“true but these scars will heal like they were never even there!” sometimes kazuha wonders if the fatui harbinger feels any pain, he must, he thinks, but is most likely good at hiding it.

“would you like to bandage that at least?”

“hm, i could but-”

“kazuha! ajax!” you call with your sweet voice from the kitchen and all the men’s heads in the living room whip around in the direction of your voice. speaking of you… they haven’t seen you since you and your party left the domain.

“yes, your grace?” childe replies, a light blush appearing on his face upon the use of his real name.

kazuha smiles lightly behind him, greeting you as you enter the living room. “your grace.”

“here are your vitamins, you two!” you bring two cups of a mysteriously transparent liquid to them. “i’ve already given these to xiangling and bennett and now it's your turns!”

“oh, it’s this drink again.” childe raises his brows. “you gave it to us last time as well, your grace.”

you hum in agreement, “i did.”

kazuha inspects the liquid after taking it from your precious hands. “the ingredients for this healing mixture must be incredibly difficult to find since it heals wounds so quickly.” he then drinks it up with childe, both men handing the cups back to you in a respectable fashion.

kazuha is right about that. the ingredients for this drink are definitely difficult to find.

but that is because the drink was your blood. your golden blood to be precise. when you descended as the creator of teyvat, you were naturally bestowed with this condition to discern your immortal body from others.

funnily enough, it was all due to you scraping your palm against a rough rock that you discovered the hidden properties of your blood (and its rich golden colour). it was weird in the beginning, and you made sure to guarantee how highly your blood’s healing properties were before offering it to the men who joined you in domains and open-world fights. so you only declared its potential after flinging yourself through multiple enemies.

so far you’ve managed to hide this fact from the men since you found out. after learning some illusory spells that can’t be detected by the naked eye, you were able to successfully heal your men after feeding them your blood—referring to it as “vitamins”. 

“your grace, what’s the secret recipe behind this amazing drink? maybe i could learn it to help you if any more of us get hurt.” you feel bad, thoma looks like he has stars in his eyes but you obviously can’t tell him how the drink is made. you can already imagine it. he’d panic and go all red in the face. although a cute sight, you don’t want him to worry about you since he and the rest have done so much to smoothen your descent into teyvat.

you also notice the expectant eyes of the other men who are behind him, either idly standing by or are on the couch relaxing.

“oh thoma, there is a reason why it’s a secret.” you wink at him, extending your index finger to your lips. you end up laughing at the housekeeper when the red on his face makes it up to his ears, a sheepish look on his face for asking such a question with an obvious answer.

“my apologies, your grace. i didn’t mean to pry.” the pyro user scratches the back of his head while ayato, who sips on his boba milk tea, pats his back sympathetically.

“don’t apologise, dearest, it is natural you all are curious.” you meet eyes with everyone in the room, hoping your words can convince them. “but don’t fret, this is just a way of me giving my thanks to all your preparations when i arrived here.”

“your grace is too kind.” kazuha smiles. “therefore we shall accept your offerings wholeheartedly.”

you’re praying (to who knows what, you’re literally the most powerful being on teyvat) that the boys can forgive you if they ever found out. but you have a sinking feeling that they’ll all feel betrayed instead because they wouldn’t ever want you to hurt yourself to heal them. just thinking about it makes your heart break. so you quickly shove those worries away, as long as the boys stay safe then it is worth the minuscule second of pain.

-

you’re reading a book next to kaeya while he completes paperwork. he decided to do his work outside the confines of the wooden walls so he could get some fresh air instead (news flash: he actually just wants to be in your presence). after a while, diluc comes along with a glass of grape juice in his hands. he greets you and stares at his brother. “kaeya,” he greets before sitting down opposite of him.

kaeya raises his head, giving him a nod of acknowledgement. “diluc.”

you twitch your eye at the dry interaction in front of you. perhaps you should add this to your list of things to accomplish, to help these two estranged brothers and connect them once again. no doubt would the two be happier. obviously they will need as much time as possible to settle things. and you are willing to give them exactly that. time. you sigh underneath your breath, listening to the distant cling and clangs of a polearm and a sword.

hm, perhaps they’re sparring? you remove your gaze from your book to the two figures in the distance. ah, it seems to be zhongli and ayato. now that is an interesting pairing. however, your moment of peace is interrupted by panicked shouts for help at the front door. you exchange alarmed looks with the two brothers in front of you, getting up quickly from your seats to attend to the shouts that are coming from… you believe, gorou.

your face pales at the sight in front of you, there is a large gash right across itto’s stomach, blood pooling out of him like a flowing river. immediately you kneel down to his figure supported by gorou, who is startled by the entire situation as he relays what happened.

“we were looking for onikabuto but itto’s wind glider broke and he fell through the trees in chinju forest!” gorou’s tail is raised high up in alarm, ears stiff and skin running cold at the sight of his comrade in this state. it brings him too many memories. too many unfortunate ones that make his hands shake.

you hold onto his hand tightly, returning him to the present so he doesn’t focus on what he saw behind the look in his eyes anymore. he raises his head to meet your gaze. your gaze that does not falter, your gaze that urges him: trust me.

gorou does, giving you some space to heal itto with your abilities. it then dawns on gorou that he’s never seen you heal anybody with your abilities. and when you did heal people, it was with that liquid you would bring to them.

the men who are on site look at you with anticipation because they’ll finally get to see how you prepare that healing concoction. but they’re also exchanging gazes at each other in concern for itto. the oni groans in pain, clutching onto the gushing wound. you have no time to waste. materialising his claymore, you quickly slash your skin against the sharp edge as your blood spills onto itto’s wound.

you hear various reactions. cries of shock, quiet gasps, and protests that plead you to stop your actions.

“y- your grace?!” gorou gasps, brows creasing in bewilderment while his hands hover awkwardly in front of him, unsure of what to do next.

“so that’s why they never told us how the ‘vitamins’ were made,” the wanderer mutters but everybody hears him clearly.

the men are smart enough to put two and two together. seeing your divine blood trickle down your arm onto itto’s wound that healed the second it made contact with your blood threw them all into a speechless stupor. they weren’t even expecting the liquid to be such a dazzling colour that would reflect the light of the afternoon sun.

when the wound heals completely, you wipe the remaining streaks of itto’s blood off using your sleeves. and magically, your slashed skin is healed too. you reach for itto’s cheek, caressing him. “you are alright, my dear. you can open your eyes now.”

itto responds with a tired whine.

zhongli takes a step forward, kneeling down to meet your height to gently hold your forearm, his thumb running over the skin that was ripped open just a second ago. “so i’m assuming this is the secret recipe to the vitamins?”

you can’t lie to the boys anymore now that they’ve seen it all so you nod your head, admitting the truth. “yes, it is.” you don’t dare meet zhongli’s amber gaze, which is why you don’t notice the glint of worry he looks at you with. instead, you jump to conclusions and think that he’s disappointed in you. they probably all are, you convince yourself.

“gorou, let’s carry him inside.”

the men collectively jolt in alarm, they can’t possibly let you carry the oni into the estate. even if they saw your arm heal itself, you’re still their creator! they can’t just let you perform physical tasks like that when they’re available. so heizou and tighnari take it upon themselves to help the general carry him inside and onto the couches.

while the others are distracted you quietly retreat to the kitchen to make an escape through the back door but the second you turn on your heel, your face is met by somebody’s chest.

“you didn’t think what we saw would go unspoken, did you?” just your luck, it’s alhaitham. you’re definitely not getting out of this one.

you avert your gaze to the very interesting stove behind him, grimacing. “i was just about to grab some food for itto,” you lie through your teeth.

cyno suddenly appears beside alhaitham, crossing his arms. “we know you’re concerned for itto but the oni has a strong spirit. he’ll be fine.” he tilts his head. “however, i believe we deserve an explanation.”

the grip you have on your cloak tightens, staring at cyno as your heart thumps like its right beside your ears. “uh,” you begin, turning around to see that all their attention has fallen onto you, including itto who peeks over the spine of the couch.

“o- okay, well, initially i wanted to say something about it however, i’m also aware of how protective you all can be towards me and i realised if i did tell you all, then i wouldn’t be able to heal all of you quick enough after battling domains and open-world fights,” you trail off, continuing in softer voice, “i’m not doubting any of your abilities—i’m just concerned and mean well because majority of you are mortals. and mortals get hurt more easily than those of the adepti and other immortal beings—even when you wield a vision.” you sigh, shamefaced. “it appears my plan has turned on me, very well, if any of you believe i’m deserving of a punishment then i shall gladly-”

“woah woah woah, who said anything about a punishment, your grace?” although heizou would have preferred you to finish your sentence, he can barely get through the first few words. you clearly made your statement and proved your points. there is no need for punishment when you have already proven yourself.

“your grace, you are too kind for your own good!” venti shakes his head fondly. “you were only looking out for us in the first place, what position are we in to complain? you’ve also revealed your condition so i think we’re all even.”

you nod your head hesitantly, a tense atmosphere radiating off of you. “i just don’t like seeing any of you injured so terribly. it’s too much for me to bear.” 

it’s silent for a while. everyone’s thinking of words to say. their creator doesn’t normally express their emotions so when they do, it renders even the best of linguists in the room silent.

itto groans, turning his head animatedly towards everyone. “jeez! you guys are acting like somebody just died!” the oni cannot stand the intense silence, it makes his body jittery and he has to say something to break it. he taps his finger on his temple, shaking his head dramatically. “your grace is the only one who can get these serious people quiet like this!”

aether raises a brow at the oni, folding his arms. “looks like you’re all better, aren’t you?”

itto’s eyes return to your figure. you feel like a spotlight is shining on you from the bright expression on his face as he rambles, “and that’s because their grace is super amazing, super cool, super smart and super-”

“i think their grace understands.” the wanderer interrupts him before looking at you. “you should tell us how you discovered your condition, we’ll be all ears.”

you’re caught off guard, lowering your gaze to the floor again as your face heats up. “u- uh.”

“you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” xiao reminds you.

however, the men in the room have keen eyes and notice the change in your expression. how is it that the memory of discovering your condition made you react like this? now that makes them all wonder…

“ooh your expression changed your grace, was it perhaps an embarrassing memory?” kaeya teases, squinting his eye.

you fold your arms, feigning ignorance but your shaky gaze does nothing to defend you. “it was nothing of the sort.”

“oh really?” tighnari presses on. you’re sweating now.

“their grace must have been experimenting.” ayato defends you suavely but a glint of mischief shines in his lavender stare. “a little slip and slide of a few sharp objects is inevitable, no?”

“correct.” albedo nods his head, holding his chin with his thumb and a curled index finger. “however, since their grace can heal themself now, the discovery must have been… an accident?” he tilts his head, eyelids falling lower as he gives you the look you’ve seen on his face countless of times when he teases you.

your face boils like a kettle, you swear there’s steam coming out of your ears too. you snap your head away from their cheeky expressions. “you all are too much.” you huff, turning on your heel, because you somehow believe you can successfully leave the room when they all are eager to tease you like this.

“uh-uh, your grace!” venti blocks you from leaving through the back door. “after such a long day, don’t you think we’re worthy of your affection?”

you blink owlishly at the bard. “you all always are.”

venti coos at your words and the others can’t help but react similarly.

you sigh like an exhausted parent before pulling on a smile always reserved for them. “then how about you all join me on the couch while i tell you about my life in the other world?”

the men are quick to guide you to your seat in the middle of the couch. aether shushes itto because he started yelling in excitement, the wanderer and xiao have a glaring contest in order to sit beside you (somehow alhaitham and cyno are doing the exact same thing on the other side), kaeya and thoma prepare drinks and snacks for everyone and the rest make peace with the seats they’re sat at. as long as you are in their view, not a single complaint leaves their lips.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Twenty-Six - The “Single” Life

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

A/N: Thank you all again for your patience, kind words, and support while I worked on this chapter. It makes me really excited to bring this story over the finish line.

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

She woke up first, her internal clock set to the ass crack of dawn due to years of early morning swim meets. Usually she’d greet an early morning like this with a middle finger and a groan as she buried herself back into the abyss of her covers. But today, she was kind of glad she woke up early.

After all, how often was it that she actually got to see Tomura Shigaraki asleep in her bed?

It was a shame that he had so much trouble sleeping — for a lot of reasons of course — but right now, she couldn’t help but think it was especially tragic due to how cute he looked asleep. The handsome details of his face, that were typically so hidden by his anger — those long lashes, full lips, well-defined jawline, and of course that wonderful little beauty mark — they were glowing now under the soft light slipping through her curtains. He was so at peace, not a furrow in his brow or a frown line in sight. So natural, hugged by her valley of fluffy pillows and blankets. Surrounded by comfort.

She decided to take the risk of moving some of his hair out of his face, those surprisingly soft locks curling delightfully around her fingers. The palm of her hand brushed against the skin of his cheek, awakening her to another discovery. The skin around his cheekbones was actually surprisingly soft, not dry and crusted like she’d always assumed. Just raised from the scarring, from a lifetime of self-abuse.

It was incredible to think about. In just a day, so many of her preconceived notions about Shigaraki — the texture of his skin, the idea that he’d never apologize, the selfishness she so deeply associated with him — it was all proven so incredibly wrong. And it had her realizing just how little she truly knew about Tomura Shigaraki.

And how excited she was to learn.

He stirred awake then, and she found a brand new favorite look on him. His dazed, dreamy expression as he slowly came into consciousness. Eyes fluttering open, lips smacking gently to regain some moisture. A moment of disoriented wonder as he recognized that he wasn’t in his own room. But then a contentedness settled in its place as he realized that he was more than okay with the room that he was in. He happily buried himself back into the bed as he found some still half-asleep comfort in the covers.

She smiled, burying herself back under the covers with him, nuzzling her forehead just inches away from his own.

“Sleep well?” 

“Yeah…” he breathed, dreamily.

Then suddenly his eyes snapped wide open, the realization hitting him hard. He shot up to a sit with a speed that made her jump a little.

“Woah! What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up to meet him.

“What time is it?”

“Huh? Well uh…” she took a quick look at her phone, “Like 6:30?”

He looked down at the covers, at himself in the covers, and really just tried to take that in.

“We… slept through the night?”

She smiled a little sadly at the utter disbelief in his voice. The idea that sleeping through the night was not normal for him. 

“Yeah,” she said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Yeah, we did.”

Shigaraki looked back at her, and sobered from his shock quickly as he took something else in from the situation. They’d had sex last night. No, not just sex. If there was such a thing as making love, Shigaraki couldn’t believe it was anything else then what they’d done. They’d shared their feelings (however indirectly). Shared sacred details of their pasts. Held each other close and then fell asleep in each other’s arms. What they’d done together last night was different than anything else before. It was real. It was something they had to talk about. 

But that neither was really ready to.

His sense of security and comfort went as soon as it came when he realized that. 

God, what the fuck had he done?

Continue on AO3

[nerdyloverparadise]

❉❉❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉❉

Synopsis: Gojo stumbles into Shoko's office with a huge gash looking to be patched up.

Authors note: This is my first time writing this kind of piece but i had an idea so i had to do it somehow. Apologies if its not too good! But yeahh, hopefully you enjoy it!

Word Count: 2.1k

Includes: Gojo, Shoko, Geto, Utahime

Contains: angst, smoking, wounds, death (severed), maybe spoiler if you haven't read the recent chapters.

❉❉❉ ╧╧╧╧ ✿ ╧╧╧╧ ❉❉ ╧╧╧╧ ✿ ╧╧╧╧ ❉❉ ╧╧╧╧ ✿ ╧╧╧╧ ❉❉

The Lighter.

It wasn’t Shoko’s first time having to heal Gojo. Sometimes his Reverse Cursed Technique wasn’t enough and extra help was needed. But seeing him again was always a pleasant surprise, so she didn’t mind. Why would she? On this particular day, Gojo sauntered in with a gash that appeared semi-healed across the top of his left pectoral muscle. Its edges were rigid, as if the skin was on the verge of intertwining and regenerating, but lacked the cursed energy to complete the process.

He has a small smirk plastered on his face as he leans against the doorway, one leg bent to rest on the frame and the other kicked out as if he were trying to recline. His dove-like locks pushed to stick upwards due to his lifted blindfold resting around his temples like a headband. “Heyyy Sho.”

It was the same cheeky greeting every time, his tone shooting up when he extended it much longer than needed. However, there was a heaviness to his tone today, more depleted and listless than usual. Even the casual flick of his wrist into a salute-like wave with two fingers seemed languid. Shoko sat on a stool next to a stretcher, its wheels turned in different directions, losing their metal tint, scuffed and blackened from the amount of times it had been utilized. She hadn’t dropped the habit of smoking, a cigarette stayed coddled between her fingers, smoke evading from her mouth every few minutes or so. “Hey, Satoru. Didn’t expect to see you.”

He kicks himself off the door frame, his hands resting in his pockets, fiddling with something as he walks over to Shoko and takes a seat on the less than comfortable surface of the stretcher.

“I would have expected it to be the other guy. What are you doing here?” Shoko asks, removing the cigarette from her mouth as it starts to go out, not producing enough smoke for her to further inhale. She sighs softly and sets the cigarette down in a tray next to her.

“Well, I’m hurt. It’s just a measly scratch and normally I'd patch it up myself… Buttt,” The words fall off Gojo’s tongue like clockwork, his cockiness tightly threaded tightly into each one. He shifts his body, leaning slightly towards Shoko, hands resting on the stretcher's edge.“I decided I'd give you a chance to shine today, Shoko. Consider it a gift from yours truly.”

“Very funny.” Shoko retorts as she rolls her eyes ever so slightly, the corners of her lips turning up almost unnoticeably in amusement. Gojo grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, Shoko instinctively averts her eyes, her head turning slightly away. He groans softly as he stretches his arms upward to remove the shirt fully, his hand coming down on the stretcher with a soft thud, the shirt clenched in his grip. He takes a deep exhale, a smirk grazing his face as he looks back at her, noticing her face turned in the other direction. “You can look, ya know? The gash is on my chest.”

She turns back to face him, his eyes half-lidded and seemingly uncaring about his current state. There was no visible emotion on her face apart from a slight raise of her brow. “How’d that happen? It’s pretty bad, actually,” He replies nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders and gazing off to the floor. It was pretty unusual for him to be so badly injured. “You know I can only heal to an extent, Satoru. You might have a scar now.” Questions jostled through her mind. He wouldn’t let himself get injured this way, so how did it actually happen? Who did it? He has enough cursed energy to heal it himself, so why didn’t he? Why are you really here, Satoru?

She reached out with both hands while simultaneously standing from her stool, her lab coat catching the air and flying up along with her hair. One of her hands came to Gojo’s cheek but stopped just short of it, moving slower and slower. A small frown appeared on her face before she was finally able to close the distance, her hand resting on his cheek, fingertips and then the soft palm.

“Remember, I’m your friend, Satoru. You’re safe,” Shoko said somberly, her words warmer than usual.

“Yeah. I just… forget to turn it off sometimes.” His eyes dart to hers momentarily and then back to the ground, his face warming at the contact. She begins to bring her other hand up to his chest, pressing her palm firmly against the wounded area before starting her Reverse Cursed Technique. His gaze remains fixed downward, yet he peeks up through his lashes, finding solace in her presence alone. The heaviness he carried into the room wasn’t going away; it felt cold, as though he was hollow at the moment, hardwired to be his usual self on the outside. As the energy begins to surge through him, a sigh escapes his lips, laden with a sense of exhaustion that permeates his entire being. With a slight hesitation, he reaches out, his fingers wrapping around Shoko's wrist, gently guiding her hand away from his chest.

"Could you… just treat it normally?" he requests, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability beneath the casualty. Shoko hums slightly, looking over at her cigarette as if it’d miraculously light itself again. She didn’t question his request, nor did she say much of anything though she had many thought’s swirling in her mind. She grabs alcohol from a cabinet, along with gauze and medical tape, bringing it back to the tray she’d sat her cigarette in. She sets the materials down gently, but not before moving her cigarette out the way. Meanwhile, Gojo examines the materials himself, his mind drifting back to a time when he could fit into size 4 shoes, when he would bustle around and scrape his knees outdoors like the other kids. He felt a little more human then.

Shoko takes a piece of cotton and douses it in alcohol, the smell stinging their nostrils - sterile yet pungent. As she turns to face Gojo once more, he has a small lighter in his hand, tapping it on his leg to some imaginary beat in his head before looking up at her. “Had a feeling you’d need it, putting up with me,” he mutters with a small chuckle that segues into a slight dry cough. His hand darts halfway to his chest before retreating, avoiding Shoko's notice of his pain. He holds out the lighter, and she palms it back to him. “I will take care of you first. Thank you, though. Genuinely,” she says with a sigh, having sensed something was wrong almost before he reclined on the door when he came in.

The alcohol-drenched cotton approaches the wound and dabs it lightly, accompanied by a violent flinch from Gojo - a human response. “Ack- damn! That… mm.. still stings like hell.” His hand instinctively flies to grab Shoko’s, his teeth clenched at the burn shooting through his chest. Their hands squeeze together tightly as she lets out a small chuckle. “Thought you were the strongest, Satoru?”

His eyes darted up to hers for a moment, glaring through his lashes as his lips pulled into a thin, frustrated line. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

She squeezes his hand a little with a sigh, continuing to clean his wound. Her laughter subsided as quickly as it came. The rest of the time was tense, she could tell he appreciated her presence but the comment she made bothered him to an extent despite it being a joke. He tenses and relaxes, squeezing her hand and holding it tighter whenever the alcohol touches his wound. Finally, she breaks the seemingly endless silence. “Why did you want me to clean this the regular way?”

"Nobody gets to touch the Strongest, right? Gotta remind myself I'm still human somehow," his voice trails off a bit, sounding like it’s going to bottom out when he calls himself the strongest. His head is cocked downward, eyes locked on his lap and the black lighter lined with white and topped off with brown mechanical parts, spinning in his hand.

The process is traditional, slow and quiet. He doesn’t say anything after that and neither does Shoko. When it’s done and he’s all stitched up she steps back, hand sliding out of his easily from all the sweat that’s built up. “You’re done. Feel alright?”

He nods and stands up in front of Shoko, smiling at her faintly, his eyes struggling to maintain liveliness. “Yup. Take the lighter. Compensation for me wasting your time….” he trails off and then starts back up again, “It’s nice to see you, Shoko.” His tone is so foreboding. Almost melancholic, the room eerily cold as his eyes bore into hers kindly. She takes the lighter and he leans down to give her a hug. "Thanks, seriously, what would everyone do without you? You're like the glue holding this whole crazy team together… don’t change, Shoko.”

She smiles genuinely and wraps her arms around his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder. It felt like everything fell into place. They pull away shortly after and he puts his shirt back on before heading towards the door, she flicks the lighter a few times, cigarette already back in her mouth swiftly. He chuckles, sticking up two fingers with his back turned to her to say goodbye. He opens the door, the blinds rustling against the glass of it. “And Shoko.”

“Yeah?” She says a bit muffled as she takes the cigarette out of her mouth.

“You and Suguru always knew how to make me feel…” Some thoughts in his head seem to derail his sentence before he finishes it.

“Hm?”

“That’s all.”

She shrugs her shoulders and gives a hum as an appreciation as he disappears out of the door, “No problem then.”

A few days later she’d find herself hauling half of Gojo’s body back to her examination room as Utahime followed with the other. He knew he’d end up this way, knew Shoko would break down because her limits were clear. She couldn’t fix this much damage. She couldn't look at his face, eyes big and blue, and worst of all, fading. She didn’t seem sad, her face was neutral as she entered her room with a heavy head and even heavier heart. She set the two halves of his body on the table and placed her hands on the bisect where they should have still been connected. She holds her hands steady, pushing cursed energy out over and over again to no avail as Utahime watches, it was a silent downward spiral, one that made time a figment of her imagination. “Come on now Satoru, please wake up.” She mutters, almost an hour later, voice hoarse from having said nothing as she concentrates long and hard on bringing him back. It wasn’t working. Nothing was working. Soon, Utahime grabs her hands, holding them gently as she looks down at Gojo’s severed body. The touch brought her back slightly, pushed the realization on her that she was starting to exhaust and her ability was fizzling out just like Gojo’s faint pulse.

“Utahime, can you.. Use your cursed technique on me? Please, let’s just try it?

Utahime nods. After hours of attempting and silence, seeing his skin rejuvenate without a trace of life, Utahime released her technique, ending the useless efforts. Shoko’s face was full of color, red and moist from exertion followed by the soft panting that slowly segwayed into pained wheezes.

She abruptly releases her technique too and calmly wisps around to grab a whole pack of cigarettes and heads outside to smoke a few. She pulls out the lighter Gojo had gifted her from her back pocket, scrutinizing the array of colors before lighting the cigarette. As she goes to place the lighter back in her pocket, her fingers graze the bottom and she feels something embroidered into it. With immediate curiosity, she flips the lighter over and inspects it briefly, her eyes widening to see S.S.S carved into the bottom. It was the same old rushed, lackluster handwriting that Gojo had. Each ‘S’ was a little jagged in their own way but it was so uniquely him, so recognizably him. A rush of flashbacks from her teenage years flooded her memory, of her on Geto’s back, Gojo yelling some kind of obscenity while they walked through cherry blossom filled roads. It was always all smiles, all canines and obnoxious, warm laughter. Warmth begins to spill down her face, her eyes blurry and muddled with tears that seemingly wouldn’t stop. “Satoru..” She murmurs, her voice light and broken, choked up by her own tears.

“Satoru!” The crack in her voice was evident now, it was like years worth of pent-up emotions in a guttural, raw cry for help from friends that just weren’t around anymore.

“Why do you guys keep… leaving?”

『••✎••』

[dino-fart]

Afterthought

Request for @bobateadaydreams​

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Summary: Reader and Stephen have broken up because of something Stephen did. Stephen knows he fucked up is trying everything he can to show reader how he is sorry. Unfortunately, the reader is pissed at him, like REALLY pissed at him, so it's not an easy task. Stephen has turned to everyone for help like Wong, America, even Peter...But alas nothing works, so what will it take to mend their relationship? 

“Tell me again how we got here?” You raise a brow at your ex as you held your hand up between the two with a fire spell cast. It lit up your faces in very dark cave surroundings. Your back was pressed against the cave wall and you were chest to chest with Stephen. 

“The kid...” Stephen grumbled and tried to shimmy away from you due to the close proximity. 

“Peter?” You furrowed your brows. 

Stephen sighed and eventually gave up, “Yeah...Look, I’m sorry...About this...I asked the kid to help me with...A project and obviously it backfired.” Stephen leaned back against the cave wall. 

“Was the project putting us in a crazy situation that you rescue me and I forgive you?” You raise a brow. 

Stephen let out a low chuckle, “Not exactly. But I know how much you like danger.” 

You smirk, “That’s one good thing you remembered.” 

Stephen smiled at you and slowly leaned toward you. You pressed your hand on his chest and pushed him back against the wall. “Nope.” 

“Bad timing?” 

“Absolutely.” 

The cave began to rumble and the cloak moved up to cover both of your heads. When the rumbling stopped, you opened your eyes when you noticed a faint glow. You looked up to see the cave ceiling glow from blue crystals embedded. 

You gasped softly and managed to get out of the small cavern you and Stephen were stuck in. You helped Stephen out and followed the glowing path. 

“What kind of crystals are they? I’ve never seen such things...” Stephen smiled at its’ beauty. 

You gently put your hand on his arm and he immediately felt his heart skip a beat. “Shh, not so loud, they’re sleeping.” You whisper. 

“They?” Stephen furrowed his brows. 

“Weeping Crystal Spiders. Their carapace or shells, are covered in these crystals, it’s how they lure their prey. But if you’re quiet enough they won’t notice you, they’re also blind, so if one does come down onto the ground, don’t move.” You explained. 

“God I could listen to you for hours...” Stephen blurted out softly. He blushed at the realization and you rolled your eyes. 

“Stephen...” 

“It’s true. You’re so brilliant.” 

“You must’ve hit your head.” You let his arm go and began to walk ahead. 

Stephen stood there and watched you walk on. He sighed softly and his cloak tugged him toward you. He followed carefully behind you. 

“There should be an opening here somewhere that we can escape.” You stood there and looked up to see if you could find a hint of sunlight. 

“Let me try my sling ring again.” Stephen said but you were quick to stop him. 

“The less noise the better.” You reminded him. 

Stephen let out a soft noise feeling your fingers on his scarred ones. You turned around and noticed his expression. You two stared at each other, unsure of what to do. You were so angry at him and you had finally calmed down from what he did. From how he treated you, like an afterthought. But gods he looked so beautiful in this light. You pulled your hand away gently and gave him a small smile. “Maybe when we’re not in a spider’s nest, we can talk.” 

“I would love that.” 

You found a path out and created a bottomless cage of insects and cast it far away from the two of you to distract the spiders. The cave rumbled again and the spiders ran toward the cage. You began to climb the wall of the cavern toward the sunlight. Stephen wasn’t far behind you, but you could heard him struggling. You stopped and grabbed his hand in yours, “Climb with me.” 

You whispered a spell to create gloves on his hands to shield them. The two of you made it out and a portal appeared right as you helped Stephen up. Wong and Peter rushed out and Wong teleported all of you back at the Sanctum. 

You stumbled back slightly at the sudden change of plain and the cloak was quick to catch you. “Thanks...” You chuckled at the fabric that helped you stand up. The cloak returned to its’ owner who wouldn’t stop staring at you. Whatever Wong and Peter was saying was muffled to Stephen as the only thing that mattered was you. 

Fuck it...Stephen thought and walked toward you and wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his head on your shoulder. He hugged you tightly and you blushed at the soft embrace. It was the first time you’d ever felt such affection from him. You smiled softly and gently ran your hands down his back. 

“Don’t leave.” Stephen said with a shaky breath. 

“As many times as you piss me off you’ll never get rid of me...Guess I’m the fool.” You sighed. 

At this, Stephen pulled back and cupped your face. He saw the tears forming in your eyes, “I’m the fool, for not seeing your love and your care for me...I’m so sorry...” 

You didn’t know what to say, you looked away from him to hold back your tears from falling. Stephen gently cupped your chin and brushed your nose against his. “May I?” You nodded slowly and you felt his rough and cold lips against yours. You kissed him back softly and wrapped your arms around his neck. Stephen wrapped his arms around your waist and continued to kiss you, savoring the sweet taste of your lips. 

When he finally pulled his lips from yours, he pressed slow kisses along your jawline. “Mmm...Stephen...” You let out a soft sigh. 

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Stephen teased. 

“Mmm, maybe, we’ll see.” You chuckled. 

Stephen moved his lips to press kisses along your neck and roamed his hands along the curves of your hips. 

“I take it the plan went well?” Peter chimed in finally. 

Stephen froze and pulled back from you. You smirked and raised a brow at Stephen. “Mhm.” Stephen simply replied and turned to realize that Wong and Peter had been standing there the whole time. Peter had a grin on his face and Wong gave him a nod. Stephen then noticed America giving Peter a thumbs up. 

“Alright, show’s over!” Stephen moved to scoop you up in his arms and carried you bridal style. You laughed softly when he walked up the stairs toward the second floor of the Sanctum and toward his bedroom. 

Maybe he could finally make it up to you...

Tagging: @bobateadaydreams​

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🗡️ Clipped Wings: Chapter Six

Clipped Wings: After living a life in seclusion due to an over protective father, you sneak away to experience life as it really is. Slowly building up the woman you always wanted to be, your quiet life is interrupted when you meet a rather elastic boy and his crew. This is just the beginning of trouble and your carefully crafted life starts to crumble around you. The past never really stays in the past, and now it has come knocking. In more ways than one.  

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material (Unprotected Sex is a No No).

To Note: Dracule Mihawk x Reader, NAMED!FemReader, Some physical features have been given (hair & eye color).

Word Count: ~2.4k

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Your cheeks were still very much flushed as you stood in front of Mihawk in just your bra, underwear and stockings. Naturally, you felt shy about your body. No one but your nannies had seen you like this, but Mihawk… Mihawk was staring at you with appreciation. He stared at you like he was pleased by what he saw. Yes, you were far too skinny for his taste and bone protruded in places, but you were still a very gorgeous woman. You shifted from one foot to the other, your black eyelashes fluttering while you rubbed your arm.

“Must you stare?” You softly questioned, averting your eyes from his hawkish and predatory ones. Mihawk raised a dark eyebrow and his lips twitched at the corner.

“Indeed I must, little bird,” He drew out, eyes raking over your body and tracing all the lines he wished to explore with his mouth. Finding all the places he planned on marking. He was a possessive lover, you’d find that out soon enough, but as his eyes lingered upon your love flushed face, they tightened at something he saw. He held out his hands to you. “Come,”

You blinked once more, eyebrows scrunching in confusion at what he wanted you to do, but stepped forwards and placed your hand in his. When your delicate fingers slipped into his, Mihawk enclosed his larger ones around yours and pulled you to him. You stumbled forwards, shins catching the chair he sat in. With a definite lack of grace you found your knees straddling Mihawk’s thighs while you practically sat on his bulging and throbbing cock. If your face wasn’t blistered, it was now! Breathing heavily from the sudden movement shocking you, you stared wide-eyed into his. He didn’t speak as he raised his other hand to brush the hair from your forehead. There at point of your hairline was an ugly scar, thick and slightly raised.

“Who hurt you?” There was a tightness in his voice that you failed to notice and you just looked at him confusion before raising your own hand to brush your fingers over his. You felt your old scar. Well to most it would probably look like you had been struck in the head by an object.

“A boat,” You answered, brows scrunching again. “At least that is what I think happened, it knocked me out and things get a little fuzzy when I try and remember exactly what happened.” Your soft voice soothed the building agitation within Mihawk, for at this point he knew that you wouldn’t even think to lie to him about such a thing. You hadn’t been struck in the forehead. No one needed to die. “I was lost in a bad storm, but a fishing vessel saved me.” You further explained before lowering your hand to his shoulder and tracing the collar of his jacket. “I would not have let someone hit me if that’s what you are concerned about.”

“Forgive me for thinking otherwise, little bird, as you are but a pretty song bird among poachers.” That made you chuckle. You were quite petite compared to most men around you, your near death at sea all those months ago was still lingering. But you weren’t defenseless. Not anymore.

“Then they should be vary of my talons,” You informed him, your finger tracing intricate stitching. “And I am learning how to bite.” An amusing thought, as you really were just a waif compared to those that wandered the Blues… He slid his fingers from your hairline into raven strands and pulled your lips to his, kissing your lips with consuming hunger. He caught you in the middle of a breath and sucked it from your lungs, breathing an aphrodisiac fire into you until you were just as hungrily kissing back. You liked the taste of wine on his tongue and reveled in the euphoria his lips burned onto yours.

He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue along the seam of your lips to nudge them apart. You parted them and were consumed by the feeling of Mihawk kissing you so deeply that your thoughts spun. His fingers landed on your hips and skillfully traced up your sides before roaming to your back. Strong hands roamed the ridges of your spine and dips where gently padding should have rounded out your figure to gorgeousness. Mihawk’s touch upon your body seared with lightning kisses that rivaled the ones currently ravaging your own.

Without missing a beat in ravishing your delectable lips, Mihawk’s fingers skillfully unhooked your bra and proceeded to push the garment from your shoulders. When the straps tugged on your arms, your lips separated and you let him pull your bra from your body all the while staring into his intense yellow gaze. You wanted to clutch your arms to your chest in modesty, but he didn’t let you. No, Mihawk wanted to see all of your body so he grabbed one wrist and held your waist firmly, admiring you perched so prettily on his lap. Your face was painfully hot beneath his gaze and a frightful burn simmered just below your skin.

“Stunning,” Mihawk declared, running his thumb along your flesh. You were a work of art, truly! Bruises, bumps, and scars alike, you were a muse that ought to be painted and sculpted by the greatest of artisans. Or at the very least, painted by Mihawk’s mouth. You flushed beneath his gaze, barely able to stand the indentured scrutiny (appreciation) of the man. Surely you weren’t that pleasing to look at. Mihawk clearly thought so, and took his time, following all your curves and divots with reverence. Pleasure tricked from every nerve ending he touched with his bedeviled hands and you nearly gasped when Mihawk pressed his lips to the side of your neck.

Back arching, your breasts pressed against his chest while you grappled at Mihawk’s shoulder and hand. How could just a simple touch of lips against your neck feel so nice? You didn’t know, nor cared. You let out a beautiful sigh and curled your fingers into dark curls, half tempted to pull off Mihawk’s feathered hat so you could fully bury your fingers into his hair. You voiced your complaint.

“Your hat is in my way,” You softly grumbled, feeling Mihawk’s mouth travel across your flesh with soft kisses and little bites. The moment he heard your words his teeth nipped a little harder and you jerked in his arms. That was one bite that’d leave marks behind.

“And your underwear is in mine,” Mihawk spoke against your flesh, pleased that it was already showing the evidence of his adoration. “Touch my hat and your underwear goes, darling.” He warned. Mihawk was not opposed to going slow to avoid hurting you, but there were some things he wouldn’t let you get away with. Touching his hat was one of them. Your eyelashes fluttered as you thought over his words, and then your gaze flickered up to said hat. It was black, wide brimmed, and had a stark white feather billowing out from the side. You were acting before thinking, plucking the hat from Mihawk’s dark curls to place it on your own head.

It was too big for you, of course, and dwarfed your lovely face. Mihawk, fully intending in following through with his promise, couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate how pleasing it was to see you wearing his hat. You truly looked divine. But your underwear now had to go so he made quick of that job. In an awkward lurch, you held onto the hat with one hand while shifting against the underwear being dragged down your legs. You ended up falling against Mihawk’s chest as your underwear was yanked from your ankles and tossed to the side.

“A promise is a promise, little bird,” Mihawk purred in your ear, already basking in the heat of your bare cunt. “Heed them.” What was meant to only be a simple warning that Mihawk was a man of his word, had somewhat of an opposite effect. You began giggling.

“Oh that is the first impression I had of you,” You replied, removing your face from his shoulder and settling your fingers along his jaw. You drew your pointer fingers along edge of his beard, appreciating how neat it was, before finding dark curls you could wind around your fingers. “But your hat really was in my way,”

“Your naiveté is going to put you in a situation you cannot get out of one day,” He told you, hands quickly finding your thighs. His touch roamed your soft flesh and without even so much of a warning, Mihawk slid his fingers through the folds of your cunt. You jolted in place, startled by his touch and surprised by how good it felt. Making a noise in the back of your throat, your fingers twitched within his black hair. Heat burned in your cheeks from Mihawk’s intimate touch and it only grew worse when that touch turned to stroking. One hand abandoning luscious black locks, you gripped his shoulder and sputtered on a moan. Mihawk didn’t like that you had tried to keep your moan quiet. He was quite insulted by that actually. “And neither should you smother your sounds.”

This time when his fingers found a particularly sensitive area of your flesh you stopped biting down on your lip and let out a ragged moan. A pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt was radiating from your cunt and spreading warmth and need throughout your body. Just the sounds you made had Mihawk’s cock aching, swelling painfully and twitching at the noises you made. Smirking and truly enjoying watching and feeling your reactions from just a simple touch, Mihawk continued to stroke your body, allowing his fingers to circle your clit and coax more inflaming sensations. You were nearly clenching his wrist with your thighs, and your face. Such a pretty little thing you were, perched on his lap with your face washed with pleasure.

You breathed heavier, your hips jerking every few seconds as pleasure made shockwaves ripple down your legs. But seeing you like this wasn’t enough. Mihawk moved on from just a simple touch, sliding a finger into your hot, narrow channel and basking in your immediate reaction. You sweetly gasped, fingers digging further into his scalp. It was another odd sensation, feeling fingers within your body, but it felt absolutely divine at the same time. You wanted more. So much more. So you rocked your hips into his fingers, moaning further as they went deeper into your cunt and curled to find just the right places to spark further pleasure. When your head dropped back, exposing the expanse of your mostly unmarked neck, Mihawk’s yellow eyes flashed and he dove back down. He scraped his teeth against your flesh, biting only briefly before sucking hard. You cried out this time, tugging on his hair and squirming in place.

Oh the things your body was feeling.

Warm all over, you felt like your cheeks were sweltering as liquidfire consumed your lower extremities. Something within your body was struggling for release, clawing at a cage that held it at bay… but you weren’t sure what. Caught in between a whimper and a grunt, you bucked your hips against Mihawk’s devilish touch once more and raked your fingers across his scalp.

“Mihawk,” The calling of his name practically dripped from your lips like the finest of wines, and Mihawk’s hunger for you only grew. It wasn’t enough to kiss you, to touch you, he wanted to be inside. In what you considered a stingy move, Mihawk withdrew his touch from your hot and clenching channel. You gaped at your loss and felt like screaming. Dropping your head back down, you stared in bewilderment at the man for ceasing that pleasure when you felt on the cusp of something incredible. You nearly went off on him for doing so! But then your eyes connected with his. His yellow eyes were burning with internal flames, hungry ones has ravaged and consumed all they touched.

“Nothing good comes from rushing, little bird,” Mihawk purred, nipping at your jaw and then ear. Over all he was being quite smug from seeing the markings on your neck. It painted quite a possessive claim upon your untouched body. You made a face.

“What was I rushing!?” You huffed out, entirely innocent to the meaning of Mihawk’s words. “That was feeling so nice and you had to go and stop!?” This time Mihawk couldn’t help but laugh at you. Your innocence was truly endearing.

“And deprive myself the pleasure of being within you upon your first experience of orgasm little bird?” Your eyes went wide as you had not taken that into account. In fact, you’d entirely forgotten about orgasms. The books you’d read were all clinical and it wasn’t like the sex workers had been forthcoming with information. “I think not.”

“That’s still mean,” You bravely stated. Mihawk chuckled again and his smirk widened.

“Oh darling, you don’t want me to be intentionally mean.” He spoke, reaching up to take your chin in hand. There was something within his eyes that made a shiver run up your spine. Predator. Oh yes, something slumbered within this man, something dangerous. You weren’t blind to that… you ought to be wary of that feeling, but in this moment you truly felt that he meant you no harm. “Now,” Mihawk continued, his eyes scanning your partially covered face. “As lovely as it is to see you wearing my hat, it obscures your stunning eyes and that in itself is a tragedy.”

While you stared into Mihawk’s eyes, he moved his grasp from your chin to the hat perched atop your head. In one swift move, he plucked it and tossed it to the side, revealing your gorgeous face and sparkling amethyst eyes. His hand returned to your chin and he took a moment to brush his thumb across the crest of your cheekbone. You truly did have a natural beauty to you, in mind and appearance. The hand Mihawk had placed upon your hip, pulled your hot and soft cunt against his throbbing erection. You gasped, eyes going wide at the feeling of his cock pressed against your own throbbing flesh combined from the dampness of both your bodily fluids. It made the ache within your body worse. The muscles in your thighs clenched and you swallowed hard.

“Are you going to make me stare into your eyes the entire night?” You questioned faintly, feeling like you might just crumble beneath his gaze after all. Mihawk brushed your lip with his thumb, amusing dancing within his eyes.

“A tempting thought, little bird.” He told you, his mind contemplating all the ways he was planing on having you. “But I think I shall like to have you like this first.”

Date Published: 10/28/23

Last Edit: 10/28/23

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[lonelycowgirls]

Is your yachtie Harry fic coming soon??

Soooo, I'm still balls deep in my masters dissertation *sigh* but here's a lil sneaky peak!

Staying Afloat

aka Yachtie!Harry

I sighed and looked out of the window. I tried to imagine who I would be working with and hoped that they were ready to put in some hard work, because I wanted to make good money this season. I heard the low timbre of male voices approaching again and turned to see the two of them coming down the winding stairs, still chatting and catching up.

"Ah, there she is! Harry, this is Scarlett- oh sorry, I mean Lettie. Our chief stewardess for the season." I smiled at the men and stepped to extend my hand for the long-haired one to shake.

"Great to meet you, Scarlett. I'm the chief officer." He said, smiling around a deep British accent. As he took my palm in his, I noticed how rough his hands were, the classic sign of a deckie.

"You too, Harry. You're quite young for a chief officer, eh?" He shrugged and smirked.

"Maybe I'm not as young as you think."

"Harry's been my first mate for three years now, we were on another boat though. I trust you guys will work well together to figure out everything on Andiamo." I nodded dutifully and hoped that Harry wouldn't be what I suspected he'd be from first impressions. But I suppose time would tell.

We walked further into the interior and on down to the crew mess. The captain led the way through to explain where the crew quarters were. I was surprised by how big the space for the crew was, my previous boat had had tiny living quarters - we were practically living on top of each other for twelve weeks. Most of us didn't mind that though...

"So, Lettie you'll have two stews under you, a girl and a guy, if I remember correctly." I nodded. "And you've actually got the same under you, H."

"Nothing new there then," Harry smirked at the captain, who rolled his eyes playfully.

"I don't wanna know, man." Captain Bobby put his hands up in surrender and wandered back through the narrow hallway to the mess. Harry glanced back at me and I raised my brows with a slight smirk before moving past him to check where the uniforms had been stored.

Just as I started sifting through the laundry room and placing uniforms into piles for everyone, I heard the captain yelling again above. The crew mess was normally very soundproof, due to all the debauchery that usually took place there - he was really that loud. I guessed that more crew were arriving.

"Hey, Harry what size t-shirt are you?" I called out to him.

"Depends, is it Fruit of the Loom?"

"Um, no. They're unbranded." I looked at the label on the neck of the bright coral-coloured shirt in my hand. I walked out to the mess to see him sprawled out on the bench seat of the crew mess, munching on an apple. He'd put his shoulder-length hair into a bun that didn't look much different to my own. "They're soft though. This one's a large? What do you think?" He jumped up from where he sat in the mess and bared his chest, holding the apple in his teeth. I scoffed a laugh and held up the shirt to his chest, he nodded with a smirk, his dimples poking through each side of the apple.

"This'll do, Scar." He took the shirt from me and put it over his shoulder as he took another bite of his apple, moving past me to go into his room.

~~~

I know this really isn't much, but it's all I can give away right now.

Open to thoughts and feedback, as always!

Nel xo

[bubble-popping]

It needs editing but it's very cute and a fun idea that I wanna share so *throws random god au at u*

Another thud against the door. The wood splintered, hinges creaking. It wouldn't hold much longer.

"What do we do, Phil?! He won't respond to either of us!" Wilbur looked to his blond friend, frantic, leaning all his weight on the door just like his winged companion.

"We need to calm him down and fast! If he makes it to the Overworld, it'll be a disaster!" He cringed at the memories, at the thousands upon thousands of bodies, at the exhausted expression of his already overworked wife.

"But what could possibly-" The brunet interrupted himself, lighting up like he'd just had a brilliant idea. "I have a brilliant idea! Phil, can you stall while I'm gone?"

"Gone!? To do what??"

"He's our only chance! I'll be back soon!" With that, Wilbur took off, leaving Phil to desperately hold back the raging Blood God alone.

---------

Dream felt very, very tired. Truthfully, he always did, but right now he was completely justified. Surrounded by his dearest friends, belly full of the newest batch of delicious muffins Bad made, and wrapped in a blanket of warmth from the gradually dissipating heat of the ovens. His friends had already fallen into slumbers of wonderful dreams--he made sure of that. He yawned, eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each passing second. Just as unconsciousness began to tug at his mind, the door slammed open.

"Dream! Dream, are you in here?!" A familiar voice called from across the room.

Now very awake, Dream rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up from the couch cuddle pile, displacing the Blobs that had settled on him. "Wilbur? What's wrong?"

"It's bad, Dream! It's Techno, he's gone berserk!"

His friends began to stir as well, furrowed brows and groans urging them to 'keep it down.' "What? What's wrong with Techno?"

"Just c'mon! We don't have time!" Wilbur grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet before breaking into a sprint, dragging Dream with him.

Though highly confused, Dream kicked his feet into gear to run alongside him. "Woah! Wilbur, slow down, just tell me what's-"

"He's crazy! He keeps talking about blood and Chat-"

"What!? Where is he?" The sheep god looked to him, now wearing a similarly panicked expression.

"On his island still, hopefully. I passed Tommy and Tubbo and told them, so-hey, wait! Dream! Be careful!" Dream had already dashed ahead. It never made sense to Wilbur, why Dream was so damn fast. Nothing about giving people good dreams and singing lullabies required quick feet, but right now Wilbur was just grateful. All he could do at the moment was pray--no pun intended--that his idea worked out.

There wasn't much more to run, Dream found, because Techno was not on his island anymore. He'd made it into the main Heavens, a gold plated road flanked on both sides by shops and important buildings, not too unlike a human marketplace. Any gods that had occupied the stalls had already, wisely vacated the area. The only reasons Techno hadn't demolished them all by now were due to the two tenacious teens and a pesky flying Philza all taking turns slowing him down by any means necessary.

It was a losing battle, each flung to the side like mere flies when they got too close. Then, Dream saw his eyes.

His pig mask had been discarded, revealing the scars on pink skin, darker-than-night sclera, and pupils reduced to thin white rings glowing dangerously. He'd heard bits of stories and rumors through the divine grapevine, one in particular of how 'rivers ran red when the pig's eyes turned black.'

Again, he threw Tommy away from him, roaring loud and ferocious as the young blond crashed into Tubbo who'd been trying to pick himself up. Then, he managed to catch the hem of Phil's robe, yanking him down and pinning him with a hand around his throat. His other hand raised, claws extended as he bared his teeth and tusks.

"Techno!!" Dream shouted, grabbing his attention just before he brought the claws down. "Why don't ya pick on someone your own size!?"

(Though he was decidedly not Techno's size, he knew he could go toe-to-toe with him any day, even now when Techno wasn't himself.)

The Blood God growled under his breath and rose from the floor. He snarled, approaching slowly at first then beginning to charge, hooves stomping on the paved road. Dream straightened his posture, solid and defiant, and opened his mouth.

Melodic syllables spilled from his lips, wordless; a simple tune of soothing sounds. Techno did not falter. Dream sang louder, sweeter, drawing out each note to the rhythm of a calm ocean. He strengthened the output of his lavender and chamomile scent as Techno got closer. Belting now, he raised his arms, hands poised as if to catch the furious god with the power of his crescendo.

Techno stopped in front of him, mere inches between them. He towered over the sheep god, visibly trembling with the effort to hold himself back. Dream dropped his voice to a mellifluous whisper, fingers reaching and brushing over his jaw like he handled fragile porcelain. It seemed to surprise the pinket, the tenderness, leaving him frozen in place.

Dream craned his neck to see, finally, the fluttering of Techno's eyelids. His head began to droop. The blond supported it, cradling the face of a warrior with such care. Techno's eyes closed fully once, and when they reopened the white sclera and crimson red pupils had returned. Dream grinned in relief, lilting quiet and honeyed just for the god before him. His singing only trailed off when he was sure all the murderous intent had drained from him.

"Dream...?" Techno questioned, voice hoarse, barely able to hold himself up as he leaned into the gentle touch of freckled hands.

"I'm here. I've got you," he murmured back.

Techno sighed, placing his own hand over Dream's and nuzzling his palm. "'m tired..."

"I know. C'mere, you deserve a nice, long rest." Dream's free arm circled his neck, lightly tugging him down until their foreheads met. He seemed like he had more to say, but the clutches of sleep prevented that. In an instant, he became dead weight. Dream caught him without issue, propped by Dream's arms under his pits and head limp on his shoulder.

Dream smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to the pinket's temple. "Sweet dreams, Techno." With a little maneuvering, he positioned Techno into a bridal carry and headed for his island of potato farms. If anyone were awake, they'd see a rather amusing sight, Dream carrying a god nearly twice his size as if he weighed nothing at all, but regardless of the entire Heavens taking an unexpected nap, the main roads were no place for a restful slumber.

[myloveforhergoeson]

tw: discussion of scars + childhood injury

“woah… what’s this?”

gingerly, roxy caught james’ left wrist between her calloused fingers, turning his forearm to face her direction as they cuddled on one of the many lounge chairs by the pool. with his well maintained tan from hours spent in the los angeles sun, the thin white line was almost impossible to spot; she’d certainly never noticed it before today.

thumb swiping over the scarred area, she felt james slightly flinch at her touch. “it’s nothing… old injury.”

removing the right arm slung around her waist, he shifted to the left a bit, dark sunglasses obscuring the look on his face. he covered the mark with his hand for a moment, palm over the area like a bandaid, before taking a breath and gathering his girlfriend in his arms once more.

with her ear to his chest, she could hear his heart race. though that might be due to their proximity, the feeling of his palms growing clammy on her bare skin told her otherwise.

she silently praised her choice of a red crop top for the day.

“i’ve got one on the back of my leg,” she said in response to the chill, moving her right foot into the air and wiggling it a bit to ease the tension she could sense radiating off of him in waves. “one of dani’s dogs didn’t like me very much. i got too close to her one day and she really decided to let me know… god, that shit hurt like hell.”

one of his brows raised, signifying she’d caught his attention. “you had to know that she didn’t like you. dogs are super vocal about that type of thing aren’t they? like, missy really hates logan. we think she can sense he’s more of a cat person.”

“i know you’re not blaming me for being viciously bit by a crazy animal right now. everybody else loves me! why should i assume bear felt any different?”

air shot out of his nostrils in a silent chuckle, tickling the top of her head, almost going unheard against the chatter of other hotel patrons on the deck around them. “the dog was named bear?! baby, you were totally asking for it!”

visions of the black labradoodle ran through her mind, much like how bear loved to run through dani’s family’s large, open property. “she was a total sweetheart when mag and dani were around her… maybe she doesn’t like gorgeous, talented women or something.”

james’ nose exhale turned into full on laughter, roxy practically bouncing off his chest as his body shook at her words.

from the table beside their lounger, roxy reached out to take a drink of the lemonade she’d picked up from the cafe, offering the cup out to her boyfriend as well.

after a long, slow sip, james’ free hand set it down before sinking into her long hair. instinctively, her arm draped around his waist. “i forgot to put the blade guards on my skates after practice one night. coach worked us so hard that day i was just happy to get off the ice and get home; too distracted by what my mom might be making for dinner to think straight. walked out of the arena with my bag in one hand and my stick and skates in the other, hit a patch of black ice before i reached her car, and ended up cutting myself up pretty darn good.”

just the thought of the sharp, stainless steel of an ice skate anywhere near her skin caused a shiver to crawl down the girl’s spine. “that must have been awful…”

“well a trip to the er, sixteen stitches, and a bunch of ibuprofen later i was feeling just fine. i think my ego was more bruised than anything. my mom was super freaked though.”

“well yeah,” roxy nodded, finger rising to trace the lines of the soft black tank top james wore, “any mom would be worried about such a substantial injury. i’ve never had stitches but i imagine sixteen means it was very big and very deep.”

closing his eyes, james took another breath. “deep? yes. big? eh. nothing like the time carlos got a metal plate put in his head.”

“jesus christ. i’m going to pass out just thinking of it…” her hand curled into a fist, taking the smooth fabric with it.

a few kids from their class were starting up a game of volleyball in the pool in front of them, sounds of shouting and splashing water distracting the writer from their conversation momentarily.

“but you’re right,” james continued. “my mom was worried - just not about me. more about the mark it would leave than anything… she even called an emergency meeting for her product development team to start work on a scar cream. i still use it to this day.”

roxy chose not to comment on the success of the cream if she was still able to see the mark that remained on her boyfriend’s skin, though her heart panged at his words. clearly, brooke’s concern had reached him, just for the wrong reasons. she saw it in the way he instinctively covered the area when she’d mentioned it, in the solemn way he discussed the product he still used, months, maybe years, after his accident.

without thinking, her fingers caught his wrist again from where they tangled in her locks and pulled his forearm to the sun once more. the scar stood out more prominently to her now, and now she couldn’t even remember what he looked like without it. it was part of what made james james. “she shouldn’t have made you feel that way... it was an accident; you were seriously hurt. who cares what it would look like in the future? what should have mattered was your safety in that moment and beyond.”

he didn’t respond to her, gaze somewhere off in the distance behind the tint of his shades. this time, when roxy swiped her thumb over the area, he didn’t jump.

“we all show concern in our own way i suppose,” he whispered into her hair, placing a kiss on her crown before resting his chin there.

as they cuddled by the pool, james hugged roxy just a little bit tighter.

[khae-writes]

cozy [ sabo/reader ]

tags: modern au, sabo/female reader, fluff, romcom, confession, 3.1k words

header

        The day had been going abnormally slow. It was even worse when the temperature was so low that you had to dive under multiple layers of comforters just to feel all warm and cozy.

It was early into January, just a week after New Year’s and the season was as freezing as you’d expected it to be.

Classes were suspended for a good week extra as well due to reasons you were never told about and you simply assumed it was because the faculty themselves didn’t want to do any work at such a cold month and especially not have to tolerate noise in this peaceful weather. There was no snow outside but it was still pretty foggy outside. You directed your attention back to your TV, listening to the main protagonist of your favorite series talk.

Your eyes were drooping to a close and you couldn’t help shaking your head vigorously, getting off your comfortable position on the couch, kicking off the many covers and slouched all the way to the bathroom, splashing clean water onto your face which thankfully woke you up.

Nothing had been so out of place today and the cold was practically asking you to listen to it lulling you to sleep. You would’ve let yourself fall into slumber as quick as it beckoned you to, but you promised yourself from literally just yesterday that you were going to do as much productivity like maybe hone your skills in arts, read your textbooks in advance so you won’t be lagging behind everyone in your class, or maybe exercise or something — just literally anything that involved you getting a major benefit out of.

A knock on your door immediately puts you out of your dazed misery and you scrambled onto your feet to get the door. You don’t recall making plans with anyone today, did you? You shook the thought off and pulled the handle, pleasantly surprised to see the familiar face.

Sabo stands in front of you, his height as tall as it was the last time you’d seen him — he was dressed in a simple long-sleeved white shirt whereas the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He also had a navy-blue jacket wrapped around his figure to keep him from getting cold, some jeans to go with and of course, sneakers that he’d received as a gift from you a year ago. His wavy blonde locks parted mid on his forehead and the ragged scar that you, for some reason, loved was still visible, a small gentle and charming smile glued onto his face and his ocean-blue eyes that looked down at you with excitement.

You blushed slightly; he really was handsome.

“Hey,” he breathed out before raising a little plastic bag that was in his right gloved hand, “I brought snacks.”

You stepped aside, letting him in with a chuckle. “I can’t say no to free food now, can I?”

He shrugs, grinning. “Figured you’d say that.” He slips off his converse and places them neatly on the shoe rack, walking inside with an enamored expression the more he looked around. “You’ve really given this place a makeover.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile unable to drop from your face. “I had a lot of free time since you moved out.”

“You became more responsible as soon as I left?? Man, I must’ve been detrimental to your growth as a person!” He joked, receiving a sardonic laugh from you.

“Ha ha,” you shake your head, chuckling, “well, make yourself at home. The furniture in the kitchen’s still the same so have fun rummaging around there. Luffy and the others are always busy, so I could never get the chance to ask them to help me move some of the heavy load around.”

Sabo hums, making his way over to the kitchen counter and take two clean bowls out of glass and two spoons. “So, what have you been doing?”

“Shouldn’t that be my question for you?” You rose a brow.

“Hey, we haven’t had contact in a while—I think the question goes for both of us.” He smiled at you, dividing half of the tub into one bowl and then the rest in the other.

You smiled back, “I guess so.” You made yourself comfortable on the couch, wrapping yourself into a burrito once more with your many layers for blankets. “Well, to answer your question, I haven’t really been doing anything. I mean, same old, same old—I wake up, take a bath, eat breakfast, go to school, study, bla bla bla.”

Sabo snorted at your bland description. “Really now? No dating, new roommates or crazy frat parties or anything?”

You pretended to think, humming in thought before giving him a closed-eye grin, laughing. “If you count Luffy and his friends coming by once in a while to eat, then I’d say that’s pretty crazy.”

“Booooo! That doesn’t count!” Sabo heckled, giving you a thumbs down at how boring it’s been.

Sabo was your previous roommate and your closest friend. Although he was a year higher than you and had graduated already a year ago, you two remained connected. He had moved out of Gol City and off to Baltigo to pursue his own dreams of being a lawyer. And you believed he was going to be the best there was out there.

You giggled, “Alright, alright, well, do tell the host why a handsome young man decides to suddenly pop by for some snacks? Mind letting me know?”

This time, it was Sabo that pretended to think before shooting you a fake distressed expression. “I’m sorry but I do mind.” You both just laughed, the sound of you two’s laughter echoing across the dormitory room you used to share with him. “Okay, for real, I guess I just felt like seeing you?” He smiles softly, finally walking over to you and joining your spot on the couch.

He pushes you slightly, gently moving you over to give space for him to sit on before handing you a small bowl of vanilla ice cream. You narrowed your eyes at the cold treat, giving him an unamused expression. “Ice cream at this season? You’re kidding.” You deadpanned, knowing that this was exactly one of his dorky habits.

Sabo simply shrugs, “I kid you not. Take it before it melts into a gooey puddle.” You grumbled under your breath and took it anyway, shivering some more when you felt the cold treat on your tongue.

“Anyway,” you cleared your throat, moving to the far end of the sofa, a teasing grin on your face, “’you felt like seeing me’? That’s so lame! Did you lose a bet or something? Maybe Ace dared you to do this!”

Sabo only smiled. “No, I just,” he turns away slightly red at what he was about to say next, “… I just really missed you.”

You went quiet at his confession, feeling your heart pick up its pace. There was no denying that you’d definitely developed a crush over this gorgeous young man — he was literally every girl’s dream guy, after all! And you’d been so lucky to have been roommates with him for three years.

“W-Well, that’s sweet of you.” You composed yourself, averting your eyes from his awkward figure and telling yourself that he’s just a friend. He meant that platonically, nothing else.

Sabo feigned a hurt look, “What? You didn’t miss me back or something?”

You whipped your head to face him once more, cheeks puffing indignantly. “That’s not it!”

“Do tell me then.” he challenges you, not expecting you to turn red from embarrassment and cupping your cheeks. Sabo felt himself swell in pride at being the reason for your flushed expression — just a bit.

“I-I’m just embarrassed, alright? I did miss you and I still do.” You huffed, glaring at him. “Being in your company feels nice, okay? It feels better having a friend around than being here alone.”

The blonde felt his smirk disappear, curving into a genuine small smile as he scoots nearer to you. “Aww,” he coos, “you’re still such a baby!”

You glare at him, red from embarrassment, “No! I’m not a baby!”

“Sure you are!” He teases.

“Noooo!” You pathetically whined, punching his shoulder with your left fist lightly. “If anyone here’s a baby, it’s you! Seriously? Ice cream for a snack?”

Sabo, this time, felt a fire twinkle in his chest as his eyes lit up at the start of this stupid and pointless roleplay. “Ice cream is good!” He defended, “Not only is it cold and perfect for relieving stress but also sweet and helps cool off the brain!”

You snorted, going along with the skit you two were playing. “We all know the big boys have chips and fries for snacks now! Mr. Sabo, I’m so sorry to tell you that you are cancelled!” You laughed, chortling at his defeated expression.

“N-No way! It can’t be!” He faked a gasp. “But madame (Y/n), you also ate ice cream when you were younger, didn’t you!? This is such a scandal! Charging against a childhood treat? You know this goes against the law!” He dramatically weeps.

You pull up a believable shocked face, “No! You must’ve heard me wrong! A-As I do enjoy ice cream, its gloriousness can’t ever match up to—”

“And there we have it! The debate has ended!” Sabo hollers, raising his arms upwards and pointing accusingly at you. “You, (L/n) (Y/n), are a perpetrator and the mastermind of this heated debate! How dare you frame someone else, an ally of yours, nonetheless!”

“No! Believe me, Mr. Sabo, it is I who has been framed!”

“We’ll take it to court, madame!”

After that confusing and pointless act you two just pulled, you fell back and started bursting into laughter. You both had silly grins on your faces and you really missed his company. It was like he never left at all, like he had been there for a year more.

After that, you two just resorted to talking, eating your cold treats and sharing stories of how life had been treating one another. It was peaceful and you wanted nothing to interrupt this moment of peace. It felt so serene and nice, it felt right and you knew Sabo was enjoying this too — time with you.

It was goofy moments like these with your blonde companion that made university so much more worthwhile; tolerable. It was with him that you appreciated free time more and learned to balance out studying and habitual activities for yourself. It was with him that you became wiser and more forgiving; that you began to acknowledge others and start working with a goal in mind. It was with him that you started to become more passionate — you really were grateful for Sabo.

Your laughter had died down into little giggles, pulling up the blankets and your knees up to your chest, resting your upper limbs on your legs as you looked at the blonde with a calm and relaxed face.

You observed his features — down from every strand of hair, to the slight pink of his lips. He really was handsome. Blonde, blue eyes, finely dressed no matter what, personality was an eleven out of ten — he was… amazing.

Without thinking straight, you’d crawled over next to him, dazed. “Sabo,” you called for his name softly, the smile on your face never disappearing.

The blonde turned to you, his boisterous laughing dying down as well as he noticed how serious you looked. He gulped, inaudible. “Yeah?”

You feel your heart beat so fast and so loud, you felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. But, it was now or never. You either sit in regret for the rest of your life or you jump at the opportunity.

And like Ace always said, “Live a life with no regrets.” This was it.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You hear his breath hitch and his grip on the ice cream bowl and the spoon paired with it had tightened. You had different scenarios playing out in your head like a broken record, reminding you what sort of imagery you were expecting after that sudden confession.

You expected him to walk out, leave you rejected and never contact you again.

He would return your feelings.

He would reject you politely, telling you that he sees you only just a friend.

Laugh it off, tell you to stop joking around.

Good lord, you hoped it wasn’t the last one.

You were fine being friend-zoned or being walked out on but being told that you were joking around with your feelings and being made fun of for saying such things — it pissed you off a lot.

Your blood suddenly turned cold, seeing his lips twitch into a smile before slowly bursting into laughter. Your own lips twitched feverishly at his reaction; was he making fun of you? No, that wasn’t it. There was a pinkish tint to his face that you immediately recognized was a blush, though if it were someone else (Ace, for example), you might’ve dismissed it as them genuinely making fun of you because they were just that dense.

But you knew Sabo wasn’t oblivious, unlike his brothers.

You laughed with him, albeit strained and forced. “W-What’s so funny?” You feel your arms crumble — your only support for keeping your body up hovering over his, they were slowly about to break. “I’m serious.” You struggled to keep a straight face, unable to show the hurt you were feeling.

“I-I know, I can see that—i-it’s just—!” He laughed again, inhaling and exhaling to calm himself down, trying to get back his voice and looking at you with a gentler look.

“Are you good now?” You couldn’t help the sass in your tone of voice, looking away from him out of spite.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Sabo chuckles.

“… if you’re just going to laugh then—”

You were cut off at the new weight slithering around your waist, and all strength you’d kept in your arms had fallen down, your body meeting Sabo’s as he wrapped his lean arms around your figure. Your bowls of ice cream had been settled onto the coffee table in front of the couch, your body flushed against his comfortably.

“I was laughing because it felt unreal.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, your nose scrunching bemusedly. “It’s pretty hard to believe the girl I’d also come to grow feelings for returning my affections.” He finishes, smiling awkwardly but also happily.

In a matter of seconds, you felt your face burn from embarrassment. “O-Oh,” you muttered out, “that’s all?”

His arms were still tightly wound around you, embracing you and delicately snuggling his nose by the crook of your neck. You feel him smile on your skin, his breath fanning over you as he releases a deep chuckle. “We haven’t seen each other in a whole year—I’m shocked.”

“You’re a very hard person to forget and let go of, Sabo.” You mumbled, bashful.

“Ahh, you’re really cute…” He couldn’t help the goofy grin on his face as he sees your flustered expression. He pulls you closer to him, his body emanating enough body warmth for both you and him — a perfect temperature for this cold. “You… you’re in love with me—that’s what you said, right?” You feel his heart pulsate under your palms, his hold on you tightening slightly, but making sure not to crush you with his strength.

You nodded timidly, shy under his caring gaze.

“… I think I’m in love with you too.” He exhales, before his eyes met yours. Those blue pools of his for eyes that bore into yours, loving and relieved, his eyes casting just slightly downwards to your lovely inviting lips.

And slowly, he leaned in. Your lips brushing against his just for a still moment; you feel your heart race rapidly. This was the moment you’d been waiting for, wasn’t it? It was a delicate experience, a memorable one, an unforgettable one and something you wanted to cherish until your very last breath.

“May I?” His voice pulls you back to reality and you could only respond ‘yes’.

In an instant, his lips met yours — it was soft and sweet, he felt warm on your own and you felt your body burning like crazy from the intimate physical affection. You had never kissed anyone before, but you were damn glad it was Sabo that turned out to be your first — and he was a damn good kisser too.

A few seconds had passed and you two pulled away before leaning in again.

A kiss. Then another. Then again. And another.

The little pecks in-between catching breaths were your remedy, the flush on your cheeks were present as you two let out tiny breathy giggles like a bunch of high-school students in love which may or may not be far from the truth.

Your hands that had lost its strength to even move earlier were caressing his cheeks softly, your right thumb massaging his faded scar. You knew how insecure he could get over it, but he didn’t pull away at your touch. You felt yourself soar at the feeling of being trusted by this young man. His hands, on the other hand, were around your waist and the other was just resting on your back. You shuddered at the feeling of someone’s else’s hands on your waist at first, but you instantly relaxed. The more he rubbed smooth circles around the small of your back, the easier you felt comforted.

You looked at him, silent and still.

He looked so ethereal — unbelievably handsome, unrealistically sweet; he was every woman’s dream guy yet you were the lucky girl he’d chosen to be with. Whether you two spend an eternity as lovers or not, you were all snuggled up on his chest, adoring the warmth he provided.

He awkwardly asks in-between another kiss. “Wait, does this make you my girlfriend? 

“Well, you never asked…” You grinned at him, seeing his face bloom red at the realization.

“Oh fuck, you’re right—!” He cursed, worried. “(Y/n)—”

You cut him off, smirking. “Sabo, be my boyfriend?”

The blonde gaped at you in horror. “Hey! You can’t just ask me out! The guy’s supposed to make the first move!”

You shrugged, your hands now wrapped around his neck, giving him one long kiss yet again — and although he was just complaining a few seconds ago, he’d easily let himself kiss you back with just as much passion, if not more.

Sabo breathed heavily, looking at you with a dazed mien. “Then I’ll have to reject your confession, princess.” He smirks as he kisses you again. “Be mine?”

You felt yourself shiver in pleasure at his use of nicknames, not really all that mad that he turned the tables on you and nodded at his request

The rest of the day may have went by slow but at least it was cozy in his arms.

[llliiinnnaaa]

Reprisal | Chapter Eighteen

coriolanus snow x gaul oc

Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.

Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.

***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.

Thank you for reading, I hope you like it!

     “. . .Dr. Pinnacle is right. I haven’t seen any combat. Nor have I had to drag any of my fellow soldiers’ bodies to safety while they bleed out from their war wounds . . .” He trails off, vivid images of Livia’s father chopping into the frozen carcass of his dead maid in the street re-entering his mind. 

His dead mother. 

His murdered father. 

“. . . Most of us didn’t.” He adds, raising his brows. “However, I wouldn’t go as far to say I can’t comprehend the cost of war. I know the cost of war — much like every citizen of the Capitol who was old enough to be affected by the three years of confusion, pain, and suffering each of us endured. My grandmother, my cousin, and myself starved – we all starved. . .” Coriolanus adds, furrowing his brows as he glances at Pias and sees him roll his jaw, already knowing where this is going, but Coriolanus only throws salt in the wound when he briskly adds, “Not even accounting for the lives lost due to lack of resources, like my mother and baby sister who passed in childbirth. Or those who fell in battle like my father, and left their families riddled with grief and the harsh readjustment of no longer having them present once the war was done with, or those who did return but were mutilated from war wounds, visible and invisible, and were no longer the same people they had been when they had been drafted, and had to readjust accordingly.” He continues, raising his brows. “So, you all might understand my concern and disappointment that Dr. Pinnacle equates comprehending the hardships of war with whether one was in the thick of combat, or not. My disgust with his backwards way of thinking is only amplified by the fact that his very own fiancee lost all four of her brothers during the war. And more recently, lost her four year old daughter at the hands of rebels!”

There’s a shift in the audience and Tawny is standing to her feet, chest heaving as her heart hammers, and Snow looks at Pias directly.

“ – Yet you have the audacity to stand here and say that she, myself, and all the Citizens of the Capitol know nothing of the cost of war –”

“Mr. Snow, you cannot address Dr. Pinnacle direct –” 

“ – When we all have scars that prove that we , and the people we loved, paid for it!” Snow ignores Lucky’s attempt to get him back in line with debate regulations.

A pin could be heard dropping if someone decided to do so, the packed out University Auditorium collectively holding their breaths awaiting Pias’ reaction of his own love being weaponized against him. 

It’s even more effective being as Tawny hadn’t even spoken of Tullia with him. 

In fact, he had completely forgotten she had a child at all, as he never paid attention to her truly until after she became a Gamescientist. 

Then, something more sinister begins to settle in his mind upon this realization. 

His concocted plot with Dr. Gaul, to bomb the arena to change the terrain in hopes of a better show, ultimately murdered his fiancee’s child.

And she has no inkling of an idea it truly hadn’t been rebels. 

He can see it in Coriolanus’ eyes, the blue hues looking at him in resentment, disgust, horror, rage, fury . . . he knows the truth. It’s why Snow sharply added it, his venom spewing.

But how does he know, is Dr. Pinnacle’s question.

Philo Marius nervously watches the screen as the two men stare one another down, Coriolanus’ chest rising and falling with each deep breath. 

He can feel the fury rolling off of him in waves. 

To anyone else it probably appears that he’s glaring at his competition, as opponents do, but Philo, Tawny, Livia, and Tigris know very well that he’s seething.

Only Philo, and now Pias himself, know it’s not just because of Dr. Pinnacle’s statement. 

Not another word is spoken between the two men as Pias rips his microphone from himself, Lucky pipes, “Dr. Pinnacle, if you leave the stage, it may reflect poorly –” He shuts up when Pias tosses the microphone that had been pinned to him onto the floor and leaves the stage despite Lucky’s advice not to. 

Tawny doesn’t wait to see how Lucky wraps it up as professionally as he can, abruptly shoving herself past Philo and Cyrus to exit the room and find Pias. 

He’s storming toward her, and she’s immediately stating, “It’s okay,” grasping at his hand only for him to snatch away from her, her touch making him nauseated as embarrassment shutters through him as he grits out, “It’s not okay.”

“Pias.” She speaks gently, taking his hand once more, her other gloved hand caressing his cheek to get him to look at her, “It’s okay –”

“ – It’s not!” He barks yanking away from her before harshly demanding, “Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

She knows he’s referring to Tullia, and she struggles to find an answer. 

She assumed everyone she worked with knew at one point or another. 

With prompted applause from the crowd, Snow exits the stage, Pias’ eyes flickering in that direction, his steps following his own gaze. 

“Pias, no!” Tawny hisses, grabbing his wrist.

Her tugs don’t slow him down as he tears his way toward Coriolanus who is kissing his wife’s cheek.

“Pias!” She shouts it to give Snow a warning, and he’s turning to see Dr. Pinnacle barreling toward him. 

Albus Shoemake, who had decided to watch the debate on one of the monitors closer to the stage, intercepts them upon seeing Pias’ line of sight.

“Dr. Pinnacle,” He starts, in his way.

“Move, Albus.” 

“Your career , Pias. Presidency or not. Your career . All you have worked for.” Albus states quietly. “It will all be gone.” 

Pias calms, taking in a breath, swallowing thickly, before slowly nodding, giving Tawny and Albus both the impression that he’s gotten his wits about him. 

Perhaps he had for a moment, until the horror show that was Coriolanus ripping him to shreds, weaponizing his own fiancee against him, confirming to him he knows what Dr. Gaul and Pias had done to Tawny’s daughter . . . 

Pias charges past Albus, fist balling up as he shouts, “Snow, you son of a bitch!”

“Pinnacle!” Albus tries to grab at him. 

He blindly swings, seeing red, only hearing the blood curdling scream after his fist knocks into teeth. 

His vision clears to see Livia Snow on the ground, a shower of red pouring from her as she silently cries like an overwhelmed child, paralyzed by pain from several of her teeth being shattered.

All he recalls next is Snow abruptly lunging at him, unable to seek his retribution due to the Peacekeepers peeling the two men away from one another.

      Mortified was an understatement. 

Utterly embarrassed, humiliated, so much so that she was tempted to lay across the train tracks and go to that place of eternal sleep. 

The Justice Building is freezing despite the frigid air outside, the sickly clean, crisp air burning Tawny’s nostrils as she waits in the uncomfortable steel chair in the lobby. 

“He’s in the process of being booked. I’ll let you know when, or if , he can be released tonight,” The clerk had informed her upon inquiring about Pias’ whereabouts

He’d been arrested quickly after his fight with Snow had been interrupted. 

The two men had both been brought here. 

Once they release Pias, they may have to get her next for getting him as soon as they get into the parking lot. 

Eventually, the metal doors click open, Tawny coming to her feet expecting to see someone willing to speak with her about her fiancé. 

Instead, she’s met with Snow’s sharp gaze as he flatly states, “He’s still being questioned.”

He hopes she’ll leave him be and stay so he can focus on finding Livia and going to her, but Tawny can’t miss her opportunity to rip into him until she’s able to rip into Pias, following him out of the building. 

“You should have kept your mouth shut about me, my brothers, and my daughter.” She says when the freezing air hits them. “I appreciate you defending me but you had no right to use us for your political gain.”

“It had nothing to do with me defending you or my policial gain. I was insulted, and you should have been, too.” He snaps back to her, the two of them stepping down the marble steps. “My point was made either way, and he pitched a tantrum because he knew he was wrong.” 

“You had no valid grounds to bring me or them into this,” She grabs his wrist to pull him to a halt, causing him to huff out a breath. 

“No, he had no valid grounds to turn his nose up and get on his soap box to minimize everything and everyone we have all lost. All on a technicality that most of us weren’t shooting rebels left and right out in the districts.” He grits out to her through his teeth, finger pointing at her. “And if you want to defend him so valiantly then go ahead, but I’ve always thought more highly of you than aligning yourself with someone so asinine .” He hisses. “Though you did spend fourteen years with Dyess Crane so I shouldn’t be perplexed by your unwavering loyalty to his equally moronic successor—”

“ — Oh, please, Snow, give me a fucking break — ”

“ — You truly know how to pick them, Tawny.” It’s ranted out, seeing the hurt in her face as the words spill from him. 

“You gave me no other choice!” She raises her voice, bitterly. “You’re with her . You chose her . You stayed with her . You’re about to have a baby with her !” 

“Keep your voice down!” He scolds her quietly, yanking her closer to him. “We are not having this conversation.” He adds harshly. 

“Of course we’re not. It would make too much sense for someone so insistent on getting me to abandon every relationship I find myself in, to want to have a conversation about why that is.” She cuts out at him, taking deep breaths to soothe her hounding heart. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue, his recent finding, the plethora of redacted information Dr. Gaul held so close. 

The arena bombing that took place a decade ago, the precious Capitol lives it took with it. 

Felix Ravinstill. 

Tullia Gaul. 

How it had been Pias’ idea to bomb it in the first place. 

Just like Dyess Crane, Tawny’s oblivious to his lies and deception. 

It seems Coriolanus is the only lover she’s had that hadn’t kept such secrets from her. 

But now he has to. 

With Pinnacle unofficially — but officially — out of running for President due to his acquired criminal charge, Coriolanus is the last man standing. 

Which means protecting the institution of the Capitol over his own personal relationships has never been more imperative. 

He stares at Tawny, those words still on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he says to her, “I’d like to know why it is you’re so desperate to be underneath someone that you can’t see who they truly are until they do something horrendous like sabotaging your career, or assaulting a pregnant woman.” 

He gets his desired effect, her full lips sealing shut as she thinks of what to respond with, what to cut him back deeper with.

But she can’t. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to get to the hospital — you know, a busted up wife with a stressed out fetus by the hand of your fiance, and whatnot.” 

She closes her eyes and lets out a shuddered breath with his words, and he’s walking away when she opens them back up again, guilt eating her alive. 

      Coriolanus arrives at Capitol General with a swiftness in each step as soon as he exits his car, tapping impatiently on the resting rail in the elevator, irritated with each passing second until he approaches reception and asks, “Livia Snow?”

“Just over there, Mr. Snow,” she points to a row of beds all encircled with privacy curtains. “Third one from the left.”

He sees Philo standing outside of the curtain, and pipes, “Thank you,” before heading toward him. 

His chest tightens at the sight of Livia’s bruised face, her chin black and purple, swollen with her lips. 

She’s asleep, as at ease as she can be. 

“Several of her teeth are gone, they suggest implants when the baby is born. Her jaw is fractured — they said when you got here they would come and explain things better in depth. They’re giving her mild painkillers that are safe for pregnancy — they were vague as to what those were exactly, but she eased off about an hour ago. She was hysterical when we first got here.” He explains to Snow. “The nurse came in and said the baby’s fine. Tigris left after that and took Cyrus home.” 

“I should have kept my mouth shut.” Coriolanus admits, hating the fact he agrees with Tawny. 

“Mr. Snow, the debate was a success. You won. Pias is going to be out of the running.” Philo tells him, reassuringly.

“My opponent assaulted my wife.” He scoffs, rubbing his forehead.

“Because you made a rather outstanding point. How can a President undermine his people and discount their sacrifices? He’s too out of touch. Too arrogant. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable with him running the country.” Philo continues, seeing Snow’s apprehension still evident on this face. 

He moves closer so not a soul more can hear what he says, next, “I wouldn’t have felt comfortable with having a President who knowingly put the lives of Capitol children at risk all in the name of better entertainment.” He whispers, honestly. 

Accident or not, Dr. Pinnacle knew Capitol citizens and their children toured around outside the arena each year the Hunger Games had been held there. 

He knew the risk, he merely didn’t care. 

Snow thinks for a moment, rolling his jaw, looking at his bruised wife. 

She’s going to need dental implants for ruined teeth. 

On the bright side, perhaps they’ll wire her jaw shut. 

He then thinks of their daughter, still trying to grow and absorb all the nutrients she can. 

Will she get fed enough if her mother can’t eat normal food? 

Wincing at the thought, he’s interrupted with a tug at the curtain, revealing Dr. Gaul.

He bristles at her presence, rolling his jaw, and she holds the same expression, unamused with his performance tonight during the debate. 

“Mr. Snow, a word.” She says to him, to which he quips, “I’m waiting for her doctor.” 

“A word. Mr. Snow.” It’s repeated intensely, different colored eyes glaring at him flatly. 

He feels as if he’s back to a teenager under her guidance once more. 

After their success as somewhat of a team in his last few weeks at the Academy, when she had fully taken him under her wing at the University, he did everything with her approval of it in mid. 

They thought so alike that anything that would make her proud – any law, bill, new idea to be implemented into the Games – he could think of, he would jump at the opportunity to do so, and he hadn’t been steered wrong, yet.

But knowing what he now knows about that bombing, how she covered it up, allowed it to continue to be blamed on non-existent Capitol rebels, allowed her great-niece to be blown to bits. . .allowed Pias to go unpunished for such stupidity. . . 

He sees her differently. 

Truly a loose canon in her complacency. 

He frees himself of the confines of the small space of Livia’s makeshift room, searching for any place with large enough space to withstand near Dr. Gaul without showing his repulsion. 

She doesn’t know he knows the truth. 

He doesn’t want her to know that he knows. 

“That was uncalled for tonight.” She states, her eye twitching. “A petty attack of a personal life that has no business in politics.”

“Much like him belittling me due to my age, correct?” He furrows his brows, earning a small sigh from her. “He’s an infant in an adult's body, pitching a hissy fit because a twenty-eight year old has already made a mockery of his career, and is now gunning for his Presidential run, as well. A Presidential run that I also put to rest, so he’s more than likely planning my assassination  as we speak.” 

She doesn’t speak for a moment, looking at him for a few minutes before stating, “There are some who believe it would be best for you to get some time away from the Capitol for a little while.” 

Coriolanus rolls his jaw, feeling his nostrils flare with irritation at his words. 

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It means only a select few know of what Dr. Pinnacle did to Mrs. Snow, so he still has loyal supporters in the Capitol that are not very fond of you. Once he announces he’s exiting the race, he will endorse you. All while you travel to a few select districts to address whispers of rebellion, and ease their. . . concerns .”

“Excuse me?” He feels sick at the thought of stepping foot anywhere surrounded by District mongrels, let alone mongrels that itch for another uprising. “Throwing me out into districts that want me dead?”

“You won’t be by yourself.” She informs him. “Mr. Marius is going with you, as well as Dr. Gaul.” 

Dr. Gaul.

It’s a sick sense of humor she has. 

A mad woman entertained with the idea of watching Tawny and him both squirm with the uncomfortable ghost of their previous affair, added on to the already uncomfortable atmosphere of any and every District they’ll be sent to. 

Then he remembers every step she gives him to take is merely a test. 

“Another test?” He asks her, accusatory, watching her smile truly, unaware of her reasoning behind it.

“Consider it your last one.” She assures him.

“What about my wife?” He demands, next.

“Mrs. Snow will remain here in the Capitol at her mother’s estate where we will fund personal doctors and nurses to give her the utmost care and attention while she prepares to birth your child.” She says next. 

He looks at the ground, asking, “And Dr. Pinnacle?” 

“No need to worry your mind with such matters.”