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thef1diary · 1 year

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Don’t Date Him | P. Gasly

Summary: When you finally try to let go of the silly little crush on Pierre, he makes every effort to keep you from doing so.

Warnings: none just fluff

Word count: 2.4k

Pairing: pierre x fem!reader

It starts with recognizing that you'll never be anything more than a friend to Pierre. You knew each other for eight years now. All those years ago, you were new to Monaco, you had made the decision to pursue post secondary education in a new country. You are originally from France, which meant that you easily fit in the Monégasque culture. Since it is a small country, you and Pierre happened to find yourself in the same place multiple times.

Now, you were one of his closest friend. But that's all you'd be. Just a friend.

You don't remember the day you actually started liking him, but you do remember when you realized it. You usually tag along with Pierre when he goes to the gym, claiming that you'd only go if he'd accompany you. That day, you also accompanied him. Pierre and his trainer would be working out while you would do your own workout.

You don't remember when you started liking it when he would take off his shirt, or when he'd take a break to drink water and a small amount would dribble down the corner of his mouth.

That day, you had your headphones on, listening to music from your carefully crafted playlist with all your favourite songs. You were alternating dumbbells in your hands, doing bicep curls. You watched yourself in the mirror since your form wasn't the best, perhaps it was because you moved on to the next heavier weight which was slightly challenging.

You saw Pierre in the reflection, walking up towards you so you moved one side of the headphones so you could hear him. Pierre walked up behind you and placed one hand around your waist while the other was underneath your hand that was holding the weight. You sucked in a breath when his hand made contact with your bare stomach as you took off your zipper hoodie and now only in a sports bra.

"Relax your shoulders" he muttered. Releasing a shaky breath, you listened to him. You moved your hand that was holding the weight and saw how his hand followed it but never held it.

He didn't move his hand away from your body, instead as you were working out, he pulled you closer so you could feel the front of his body. Those mixed feelings made you very confused but you didn't have the courage to ask him about it.

Since you didn't get any other indication from him that he liked you, you had decided to move on from him. Pretend like you never felt anything for him which was a lot harder to do. You definitely started avoiding him more often and made it seem unintentional. You two hung out often, very often which meant that you needed to change that habit if you were going to get over your crush. You still attended races, but it was the summer break now and for a moment you wanted to delay your plan. You knew he'd make more plans since he isn't busy with the races, but you felt bad knowing that you'd have to deny him.

Charles invited you and Pierre to his yacht which you agreed to because you knew that there would be other people. You didn't trust yourself to be around Pierre alone. This crush is very stupid and what makes it worse is that it's one sided.

You were looking forward to the party, knowing that some other drivers and their partners would also be there. You decided to wear a white bikini with a white button up shirt that you decided to leave open. Taking a tote bag and filling it with essentials you need if you were going for a swim later. You accessorized with gold jewelry that stood out on your slightly tanned skin.

You made your way on to the yacht and saw Charles first. He walked up to you and hugged you, enveloping you between his arms. You two always hugged like that, it was honestly very comforting. Charles was like a brother to you, and you knew you could count on him because he made that clear from the first time you two met. However, you never told him about your crush on his best friend. That's exactly why; Charles and Pierre were very close so if Charles knew, then he would tell Pierre.

You talked to him for a bit then you felt a pair of arms hug you from behind, picking you up. You instantly knew who it was and you cursed yourself for recognizing him so easily. "Pierre! Put me down" you exclaimed but couldn't stop laughing as well.

He listened and spun you around and put an arm around your shoulder, side hugging you. You didn't pay any attention to that, instead you noticed what he was wearing. All white linen. Shorts and a button up shirt that was completely unbuttoned so his tanned chest was on display. You also noticed how his chain with the crucifix was also shining in the sun. He was wearing sunglasses so you couldn't see his coloured eyes.

He poked you in the arm and that's when you realized he was waiting for you to answer his question. "What?"

"I'm getting a beer, want one?" He asked again, looking at you with an amused face.

"Yeah, sure"

He nodded then moved his glasses down and gave you a wink before walking away. You didn't know what that was for. Before contemplating his actions, you were approached by Carmen. "He's an idiot"

She commented as she saw you watch Pierre but then you turned your head to face her. "What?"

"You like him, don't you?" She asked. "I don't know, maybe but there's no point because he doesn't see me like that" you admitted and it sounded so stupid once you said it out loud. It sounds like a stupid school girl crush. You are more mature than that.

"That's why he's stupid" Carmen stated which made you chuckle. "Yeah, I guess he is. But yours isn't as smart either" you jerked your head in George's direction who was having a beer chugging contest with Charles. Carmen shook her head with a smile on her face "he might not be the brightest but I still love him"

You pushed her away in a playful manner "yeah yeah I know".

Pierre came back towards you and handed you the beer, "what are we talking about here?"

You shook your head "nothing" but you saw Carmen looking at you with a smirk before she walked away.

You faced Pierre and he instantly sparked up another conversation. "Wanna go skydiving?"

You laughed at his excitement to go, he's been talking about it for a while now. "When?"

"Tomorrow? Me, you, and Charles?" He asked but you frowned, "I actually have plans tomorrow, but you two should go"

"You have plans with people other than me?" He asked and placed a hand on his heart. You smacked his arm "not funny".

"But seriously, cancel your plans. Let's go, we're gonna have so much fun" he tried convincing you and usually it would work but now you weren't going to give in. "Pierre, I'm not going to cancel my date for you" you saw his eyes widen and you realized your mistake. You didn't want to tell him about the date because he'd ask you so many questions.

"You have a date?" He asked and slightly winced when you nodded. "Who is it? And why didn't you tell me"

"That's why. You ask too many questions" You started to walk away but he pulled you back. "But.." he wanted to say something but couldn't get the words out. You listened, maybe just maybe he'd tell you what you always wanted to hear.

But he didn't say anything so you walked away.

—

The next day arrived quickly and you were getting dressed for your date. You met the guy on a dating app which is not something you normally do but when you started texting, you were actually interested in him. But he wasn't like Pierre. You cursed when you caught yourself comparing him to Pierre.

This was the time for you to move on. You did feel slightly guilty for using this guy to help you move on from Pierre, but you knew that if you didn't then you'd only think about him.

It was a dinner date at a well known, fancy restaurant which meant that you'd have to wear a dress. You didn't own many dresses, in fact it was Pierre and Charles who insisted on buying dresses while you resided in Monaco due to the nightlife there.

You decided on a light blue satin ruched corset dress with a slit down the side. You didn't want to show off too much skin but this one seemed elegant for the first date, especially a dinner date. You were putting on a pearl necklace when you heard a knock on the door. You checked your phone first, not seeing a message from the guy yet.

You opened the door and saw Pierre on the other side. He seemed out of breath and frantically looked around before making eye contact with you.

"Pierre, what are you doing here?"

He didn't answer your question, instead he invited himself inside.

"Hey, weren't you supposed to go skydiving with Charles today?" You questioned, trying to lighten the mood since he seemed stressed out or something of the sort.

"I didn't go"

"Why not?"

"Told him that I was sick" Pierre looked up at you since he was now sitting down on the couch.

You looked at him from the top to bottom and raised an eyebrow. "Liar"

"You don't think I'm sick?"

"You don't look sick" you pressed your palm on his forehead then cheek but he held it there once you tried to pull back.

"Now come on, I have a date to get to. I need to get ready" he let go of your hand and you turned around to go to your bedroom.

"You're wearing that?" You turned around to face him but he was holding his hands up in surrender, "I didn't mean that. You look amazing but do you remember where you bought that dress?"

You shook your head and waited to him to tell you. "Remember when we were at the mall and you immediately went inside this one store as soon as you saw this dress" he told you as he walked towards you. You didn't think Pierre would remember it.

"Then when you tried it on and showed it to me-"

"You liked it and said that blue looks good on me" you completed his sentence and he nodded.

"You know, when I said I was sick, it wasn’t entirely a lie" Pierre stated. "I'm sick of seeing you distance yourself from me"

"Pierre" you placed your hand on his chest when he was getting too close, you could smell his cologne.

"No, no, let me say this because if I don't now, I might lose everything I never realized I needed and wanted"

"I guess it's true that when you start to lose something, you realise it's worth. And one of the greatest things that has ever occurred to me is you. I was an idiot for being so oblivious to this and your feelings. I was afraid that if I told you, I'd lose you as a friend, but now I noticed that you're pulling away from me because you think I only want to be friends with you"

"I don't understand, Pierre. Are you saying what I think you are?" Your hand was still on his chest and you only noticed when he placed his hand on yours, then pulled you closer.

"I've been in love with you for years now. You're all I think about. Your smile; especially that dimple, your laugh, your godawful sense of humour that never fails to make me laugh. The way you cheer for me when I get a good result but also the times you're there to comfort me when I don't do as well as I could've. You're there to listen to me, even if it's at three in the morning for you and you have work the next day. I don't know why I've never told you. I guess I never realized that you reciprocated those feelings" Pierre poured his heart out into his speech and tears started welling up in your eyes.

"If you haven't succeeded in your plan of moving on from me, and still happen to have a little bit of love for me in here" he pointed to your heart, "then please don't go on that date. Don't date him"

"How did you-"

"George"

"Dammit, Carmen. They tell each other everything" you remember telling Carmen the details on a phone call the night after the yacht party because she couldn’t resist not knowing.

You were quiet for a moment. "This would end very badly if you did actually move on" Pierre commented and you hit his chest.

"I just need a moment to believe all of this. This isn't an elaborate prank right?"

"No. I would never do that to you"

"Good"

Pierre groaned, "come on now, I'm desperate to hear those three words from your mouth"

"I want pizza?" You laughed while he placed his head in the crook of your neck.

Your little bubble popped when you heard a knock on the door, indicating that your date was here. You were about to move away from Pierre when you felt him tighten his hold around your waist and he started kissing your neck. "Don't go" he muttered in your ear.

You held his face and made him make direct eye contact with you. "I love you Pierre"

You saw how his eyes brightened and the smile on his face when you spoke those words.

Then, for the first time, Pierre pressed his lips on yours. The kiss was full of longing need but also the love that you two never got to express until now. The man at the door was long forgotten and perhaps you wouldn't feel too bad about it since it was only the first date.

Before the kiss could turn into anything more, you pulled away. "You know, I did dress up for tonight"

Pierre's hands roamed over your hips while he lightly kissed your cheek "and you're very beautiful"

Pierre looked up at you, "let me take you out before I make you my girlfriend"

"What makes you think I'll say yes?"

"Are you not going to?"

"Ask me at dinner" you winked and kissed him on the cheek before you left the bedroom.

Pierre shook his head with a smile on his face "I am so in love with her"

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1blr #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #pierre gasly #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly x reader #thef1diary fic

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tsuutarr · 3 months

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Pairing: Hop x GN! reader

Word count: 8.5K

Content: fluff, growing up, a Hop character study, kind of a fix it fic (basically I feel bad for constantly beating Hop in the game and had to write this LOL)

Summary: From a young age, Hop knew that he wanted to be the next Champion, just like his older brother. But as he goes on his journey, he's not sure what he really wants. Despite all that, though, he's grateful you're by his side.

From a young age, Hop was introduced to a path paved of gold, lying in front of him with a polished glimmer. His older brother was the Champion of Galar! It was only right that Hop would take on that mantle, too. In fact, Hop knew he’d be even greater than his brother– he’d make sure of it. After all, that was what everyone expected of him, right?

When asked what he wanted to be when he was older, Hop confidently proclaimed that he’d be the next Champion. His statement wasn’t met with scorn because people were aware of who his brother was. Since his brother was the Champion, Hop would obviously be an excellent trainer, too. That was what everyone said, so it had to be true, right?

“So, what do you want to be when you’re older?” Hop asked you as you made flower crowns. You were his new neighbor that moved to Postwick about a year or two ago, but with how often you played with each other, Hop felt like he has known you for years and years.

“I dunno. I think I’d like to go on a journey, though. See the world, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Hop responded, watching as the wind tousled your hair. “If you wanna go on a journey, maybe you should go on a Pokémon journey! A rival would be good for me, just like Sonia and Lee.”

You blinked at him curiously. “Sonia and Lee?”

“Yeah, I guess you haven’t met them yet, huh? Lee’s – or Leon, I guess – my older brother and Sonia’s his childhood friend.”

“Wow, they are like us, then,” you laughed, placing a flower crown on Hop’s Wooloo. Seeing Wooloo bleat at you made Hop’s heart warm. There was a sense of peace whenever he was with you. Unlike the rest of Galar, you didn’t place much stock in him being the Champion’s brother. You just saw him as Hop.

Hop’s eyebrows furrowed.

When did being known as Leon’s brother bother him? He was proud to be Leon’s little brother! The Champion’s brother! But… maybe it did sting a little when that was what he was referred to as constantly. Sometimes, he felt like he didn’t have an identity outside of his brother–

“Hop?” you called, making Hop turn to you in surprise. Wooloo bleated at you, ordering you to continue brushing its fur. You laughed, but obliged anyway. “You looked lost in thought. What’s on your mind?”

“I got that Wooloo from Lee,” Hop responded, making you hum in acknowledgement.

“Wow, how lucky!”

“Yeah, lucky.” Hop knew that he was lucky. Not a lot of people had a brother like him, he knew that. But sometimes he wondered if he’d be able to reach the throne his brother sat on and live up to his brother's name. Everyone said Hop would be good, just like his brother. So he had to be. He had to–

“Hop?” you called out again, and this time, when Hop snapped out of his thoughts, he came face to face with yours, looking at him with concern.

He gulped. “Yeah, mate?”

Gently, you placed a hand on his forehead, checking his temperature. “You’re no warmer than you should be…”

“I’m fine,” he huffed, though he didn’t make any moves to remove your hand from his forehead. “I was just… thinking.”

“Be careful there,” you teased. “Don’t want to blow a fuse, eh?”

“Oi, stop that,” he grumbled without any bite. “...Are you leaving today?”

“Ah, yeah,” you nodded, finally pulling your hand away from his forehead. He kind of missed it.

“Shame, you could’ve met Lee.”

“Oh, he’s coming back today?”

“Well,” Hop huffed out a laugh. “If he doesn’t get lost, then yeah.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. I wanted to meet him.” You scratched behind Wooloo’s ear with a pout on your lips. “Send him my regards?”

“Of course I will,” Hop agreed. “And you’ll see him eventually.”

“Eventually,” you nodded, before standing up at your name being called by your mother. “Well, that's my cue.”

“See you. Have a good spring break!”

“You too, Hop!”

He didn’t know why, but he kind of wished you could’ve stayed for the spring break.

Hop’s meals with his family were always boisterous, even when his older brother wasn’t there. His family would always turn on the TV to watch Leon’s matches. Hop always loved watching Leon’s matches, but having his brother there, right beside him, was even better.

“Leon, your match was fantastic!” Hop’s mother beamed, clasping her hands together in glee. “You’re such a talented trainer.”

“Charizard and the rest of my team are the ones that deserve all the praise,” Leon said, modestly, eyeing his Pokémon lingering outside his house. His house was too small to fit his large Pokémon inside – sometimes, he envied how small Sonia’s Yamper was!

“One day I’ll have a team as awesome as yours!” Hop grinned, his Wooloo bleating next to him. “Watch out, Lee!”

Leon laughed loudly at his little brother’s eagerness. “You don’t understand how excited I am for that, Hop. I can’t wait to battle you!”

“I’m sure you’ll be as good as Lee,” Hop’s mom agreed. “After all, Leon’s already done it himself, so he can help you.”

There was a weird pang of bitterness that stung Hop at the insinuation that he couldn’t be a brilliant Pokémon trainer by himself, but he crushed it down. “I wanna earn my place,” Hop said, patting Wooloo’s head. “I’ll get to the top where Lee is without his help. That way, we can truly be equals!”

“There’s nothing wrong about asking for help, Hop,” Leon said, gently. “And besides, you don’t want the Pokémon I’ve been reserving for you?”

Hop’s eyes grew wide as Wooloo bleated in protest.

“I’m not trying to get rid of you, Wooloo!” Leon laughed, tossing the sheep Pokémon a piece of lettuce. “Just, when it’s time for you to take on the Gym Challenge, I’ve got a Pokémon for you.”

“Wow, thanks, Lee!” Hop said, eyes wide with excitement, “But I can't do the Gym Challenge for another few years.”

“Hah, I know,” Leon responded with a laugh. “It’ll come soon enough.”

Anticipation thrummed through Hop’s veins. It couldn’t come fast enough.

Now, four years later, at age sixteen, he’s sitting in a train that is leaving Postwick. It all still feels so surreal to him. He has waited for this moment – the moment he’d get to go on his own Pokémon journey – for years. Changes seem to be happening so quickly, and despite his confident demeanor, he’s still nervous. But when he sees you, he feels better, like there’s still something consistent in his life. His eyes linger away from the window, instead opting to look at you. You sit in front of him, idly watching the scenery pass by.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” you ask, suddenly turning to him. It makes him jolt in surprise, before his face eases into a grin.

“Exciting,” he agrees, feeling nervous at how your knees brush against each other. “You know, I wonder what that Pokémon was – the one we saw at Slumbering Weald.”

You hum thoughtfully, your fingers tapping against the wooden table between you two. “Whatever it is, it must be powerful. I’m glad you were there with me.”

“I couldn’t do anything, though,” Hop says, but you only shrug in response.

“Neither could I. But your presence was good enough to keep me grounded.”

“Heh.” Talking to you always eases Hop’s nerves. He wonders if you’re aware of that, but decides you probably aren’t as you shove a cookie in your mouth.

“Want one?” you offer, making Hop nod.

“Thanks, mate.”

You nod, eyes going back to the scenery outside. Hop’s eyes stay on you, though, because he wants to burn you into his memory. After all, he won’t be able to see you in a while and you’re kinda like… his good luck charm. He thinks he’ll be able to do better when he thinks of you.

With all the excitement thrumming in his veins, the events prior to arriving at Budew Drop Inn feels like a blur. Still, you both managed to sign up for the Gym Challenge, so he thinks of that as a win. He’s ready to kick back and relax, but when he sees Sonia staring at the statue in Budew Drop Inn, Hop is surprised.

As Sonia explains her reason for being here, Hop can’t help but be intrigued. He’s still set on being Champion, but… Sonia’s research is just fascinating. Not to mention the events that had occurred in Slumbering Weald – a part of Hop is curious if the Hero in the legends wielded a Pokémon like that.

Maybe it’s Hop’s curiosity that prompts him to say, “If we hear anything about the hero or whatnot, we’ll tell you!”

“You will? That’d be fantastic!” Sonia responds, clapping her hands together.

“Sure, I’d be happy to,” you agree, eying Hop out of the corner of your eye. Hop looks at you curiously.

“What is it?”

“You just seem really excited,” you give him an easy grin, “it’s a good thing we left for our journey, after all.”

“Well, I’ll be the new Champion, you know,” he responds, easily, but inside his heart is running laps in his chest. The implication that his happiness is why you’re so excited to be on a journey makes him feel oddly warm. He doesn’t dwell on it, though, because Sonia is shooting the two of you a cheeky look. “You better do your best to keep up, mate! A good Champion always needs a good rival.”

You nod with a laugh, “You’ll see, Hop. I’ll be the best rival the world’s ever seen.”

And a good rival you are – Hop still hasn’t been able to beat you. There’s a lingering frustration that rattles him as he withdraws his fallen Pokémon, but there’s also this sense of… freedom. Sure, losing sucked, but it was exhilarating thinking about how Pokémon can use their moves and abilities to fight.

“Good match, Hop,” you say, approaching him.

“Good match,” he agrees. “Looks like I better keep my guard up! You’re excellent at using type match ups to your advantage, you know. I didn’t realize your Pokémon had that ability, either – that was awesome to see in battle.” Hop continues his little tangent about your battle, before shifting to the Pokédex you two had obtained from Professor Magnolia. “And not to mention – did you know that Wooloo’s wool is so strong that it could roll down a cliff and not get injured? Maybe that’s why our Wooloo are so rambunctious! They don’t think they can ever get hurt.”

“Wow, no wonder that one Wooloo rolled into Slumbering Weald, then. It probably should’ve been protecting us,” you laugh, making Hop grin.

“Probably!” he crosses his arms, letting out a hum. “I’ve had Wooloo for years and I’ve never known this – I’d have probably never known if I didn’t go on this journey. It’s fascinating to know how broad our world is. Now I’m curious about how dynamaxing fits into all of this, you know? It’s such an interesting concept.”

“Yeah, it really is!”

“Isn’t it?” Hop continues talking about his findings, spurred on by your attention. You’ve always been the sort to look at him and only him when he talks, so it's easy for Hop to talk about his newest fixation. You always listen to him when no one else does, which he appreciates. Especially since Hop isn’t really sure why, but he’s been very into researching Pokémon lately. Sure, in part it’s because researching leads to understanding Pokémon better, which leads to being a better Pokémon trainer, which then leads to helping him become a Pokémon Champion… But sometimes he’ll sit down and read pages and pages of Pokémon facts just because he finds it interesting.

“You’ll be a fine Champion with all that knowledge,” you say, and Hop feels kind of off when he hears that statement. He’s not sure why, but he just nods.

“Yeah, I will be.”

Going on a journey is a lot more fun than Hop anticipated. It helps that he runs into you frequently and that he’s won all his gym battles so far (the grass, water, and fire badges he’s spent hours shining proving that). But what really makes him love traveling is learning. He’s found out so much and he continues to find out even more. The world is so much more vast than he ever imagined and it's all fascinating. Not to mention the fact that he’s picked up bits and pieces of knowledge to help Sonia and well…

Hop sometimes wonders if being a Champion is what he really wants. Sometimes, he’ll be so entrenched in his research that he won’t notice time slipping by. Of course, he still trains and battles and enjoys it, but there’s another form of enjoyment that comes with research.

But he’s set out to be the Champion – it’s what he’s always wanted. It’s what he thought he’d always want. It’s what everyone else expects of him as the Champion’s brother…

“The Champion really must have been off his rocker to endorse the likes of you,” Bede says, looking awfully smug as he always does. Hop has never really liked the guy.

“Rubbish. More like you don't know enough to recognize greatness when you see it. My throws are the greatest, and my bro is the finest Champion the world has ever seen! I'm not gonna listen to you insulting him!” Hop yells, readying his Poké Ball.

“How tiresome... Fine. I'll battle you over there. Maybe that will help you finally understand just how weak you are.”

The corners of Hop’s lips dip down further, displeased. “You’re on then!” Hop turns to you and motions for you to go. “Let's meet up in Hammerlocke when I'm through with him!”

You look hesitant to leave, but say, “Good luck, I’ll see you in Hammerlocke,” to Hop, before leaving.

Bede watches Hop, chin held high and pose nonchalant. “All this prattle about your friend and the Champion and whatnot... Do you not have anything of your own to show?”

Hop’s lips purse. He’ll show Bede.

The fire flickers, lighting up Hop’s face with shades of gold and amber. His Pokémon lay around him, sleeping soundly by the campfire after the battle with Bede.

There isn’t a lot to say, really. Hop lost – he lost badly.

“You’re just dragging the Champion’s name through the mud,” Bede had said, haughtily, and Hop couldn’t come up with any response because Bede was right.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he murmurs, eyes trained to the flickering fire in front of him. Leon’s always been Hop’s role model – Hop has always wanted to be Champion because that’s what Leon is. But did Hop actually want to become Champion, or was it all just because of Leon’s inspiration? Does Hop’s dream really belong to him? But even if his dream doesn’t belong to him, what else can he do…?

Is he having doubts because he has other avenues he wants to explore or is he having doubts because he lost? Is someone like him, who is dragging his brother’s name through the mud even able to become Champion?

Hop thinks and thinks, unsure of what to do. He kind of wishes he could see you – you’d be able to talk him through some things, to encourage him. But you’ve always been strong, Hop realizes. Unlike him, your dream is your own – it’s something that you’ve crafted and you’re certain of. Hop envies that.

A bleat to his side draws his attention, his Dubwool nudging him. Hop looks over, noticing the book in his Dubwool’s mouth.

“Ah, thanks…” he says, and Dubwool nudges him. “What, you want me to read this? To you?”

Dubwool bleats again, looking at Hop with its big eyes. Despite evolving, Dubwool’s eyes are the same as they were when it was a Wooloo.

Hop wants to say, “Not now,” but seeing his partner Pokémon’s curious look, Hop decides to oblige, settling into his warm jacket. He flips open the book, reading the various mythologies he’d been reading up on. Initially, he’d read this book to help find some information for Sonia, but the book itself fascinated Hop. While his bitter defeat still lingered in his mind, somehow, reading the book with Dubwool’s head in his lap helped make the fire in front of him feel cozier.

When he sees you again, your reunion is interrupted by some Team Yell grunts that you ceremoniously destroy in a Pokémon battle. Hop would’ve joined in, but he can’t seem to get himself to battle just yet, Poké Balls feeling heavy in his pockets.

You turn to him, “Hop–”

“Wow, you and your Pokémon were brilliant together!” he interrupts, making you blink in surprise.

“Ah, yeah, thank you…” you chew your bottom lip. “But that aside, are you okay?”

“Ah? Yeah, I’m fine as always.”

You give him a flat look, knowing his tells and when he’s lying. To be fair, Hop has always been pretty bad at lying.

“...See, Bede really wiped the floor with me the last time we battled… And don't get me wrong—I can take a loss! Battling means you've got to lose sometimes,” Hop says, though he doubts you’ve ever lost. Or that Leon has ever lost. He’s just not… good enough. “...But he said that I was dragging Lee’s good name through the mud, being so rubbish like I was… And I just can’t get those words out of my head!”

There’s a conflict in Hop – his desire to not mar Leon’s name, his doubts of who he is and what he wants, his envy towards you… It all muddles inside of him in some incomprehensible ball of self-loathing. Hop just isn’t sure what to do. He feels lost.

“...Hop,” you say, gently, “Can we… hang out for a bit?”

“Huh?”

“Just. I feel like when we’re on this journey, we’re so busy battling and trying to get stronger that we haven’t really had time to hang out, y’know. I want to catch up, if you’re okay with it.”

At first, Hop wants to say he’s not in the mood, self-loathing clutching him like a vice, but he realizes that you’re asking to hang out because of him. You’re worried, and it’s because you care about him. The thought makes Hop’s self-loathing deteriorate slightly. “Okay, I’d like that.”

You sleep soundly beside him, cozied up in your sleeping bag. Hop can’t really seem to sleep, though. Talking to you had abated some of his worries, especially with how patient you were. You also listened to him ramble about Pokémon research again, which made him feel a lot better.

He turns, looking at your sleeping face. You’ve always been someone he treasured, but nowadays, you’re more than that. You’re someone he admires, too. Someone he envies. Someone he wants to be closer to.

Hop closes his eyes, remembering how you looked by the campfire, how your eyes lit up when you two ate your curries together. He remembers you affectionately cuddling his Dubwool as if it were still a Wooloo. He remembers you making flower crowns for all his Pokémon and even him.

“A crown looks good on you, I think,” you said, making him huff a laugh. You bow, saying, “Your wish is my command.”

“Then I command you to eat your dinner,” he responded, grinning. You’d always find a way to make him laugh.

“Ah, is it done?”

Of course, food was something that always drew you in, making you drop your role immediately.

“It is, now c’mon, it’ll get cold,” Hop said, “Or I’ll eat it, if you don’t want it!”

You gasped in mock horror. “Don’t you dare!”

Hop snickers at the memory, before he remembers another memory with you. Different memories of you play inside his head like a movie, lulling him to sleep, shoulders lighter than before.

After talking with you, Hop feels a little better, though his doubts still linger. When you part ways, it’s hard not to let him sink back into his negative thoughts. Still… Hop decides that he’s not going to lay there without doing anything – sure, he may not know what he wants to do exactly, but he’ll figure it out. He’ll get stronger.

So he battles and he researches and repeats the same thing over and over again. He switches out his Pokémon and experiments with different team compositions. It’s tough having to train so many Pokémon, but researching different strategies is fun. He likes learning about more Pokémon. Besides, battling… It’s fun, too. Slowly, as the wins stack up, he’s gaining a bit of confidence in himself again. He’s not sure if his strategies are working fully, but at least it seems like he’s winning consistently… Until he battles you. When he battles you, he can see that chasm that forms between your skills and it’s hard to crush the doubts that arise again.

“Good match, Hop,” you say, approaching him with an extended hand. He gives your hand a firm shake.

“Yeah, good match, mate.” He hesitates, before he inhales deeply. He’s still a mess of emotions, but you’ve always been willing to listen. Talking to you has helped him a lot before. “Before we ever started out on this journey... I remember watching Lee on the telly. He was like a bright star, so strong I could hardly bear to look right at him. But now, I can tell just how strong he really is... And what he's got that I haven't…” He looks at you, not sure what to expect – disappointment, maybe.

But instead, you look at him kindly, encouraging him to continue.

“But I’m getting stronger, too. Maybe not as fast as you, but fine. Whatever! Thanks for letting me battle you again. And here. I'll heal up your team for you, too!”

“...Yeah, thanks, Hop.”

Hop waves off your thanks, instead focusing on your Pokémon. While healing them, he says, “...I still don’t know what I want fully. It’s like I’m torn between different sides of me. I like battling because it's fun, but I also want to win. I like research, but I also want to battle. It’s odd because I thought being Champion was what mattered to me, but now I don’t know.” Hop inhales. “But what I do know is that I want to battle Leon – I want to take on my bro. But not just that; I want to beat him! And I'm going to! My mind's made up! You and me are going to have another battle once I get my Gym Badge in Circhester!”

You grin at him. “I’m looking forward to it, Hop.”

There’s still a heaviness that lingers on Hop’s shoulders, but he feels a little better now that he’s more intune with what he plans to do and wants to do. He wants to battle, he wants to improve. He wants to beat Leon and he wants to beat you. He wants to research and learn about Pokémon. He wants to do it all and while he may not be able to do it all at once, he’ll take things step by step.

When Hop sees you again, he tries to battle by following Leon’s strategies, but somehow, that still doesn’t help him win against you. He just doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. It’s frustrating, but he’s made up his mind to research as much as he can and train as much as he can, so he’ll just have to see what works best for him. It won’t be a quick process, but Hop is motivated enough to keep going. Step by step, he’ll surely get to where he wants to be.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me,” you say, softly, snapping Hop out of his thoughts. There’s a frown on your face and for the first time, Hop sees the guilt that lingers in your eyes. “But I… don’t think you should be battling like Leon. That is, I think it’s best to find out how you work best, Hop. And most importantly… You’ve ought to stop doubting yourself.”

“Huh?”

“I saw that last move, you know. If you had just went through with your plan, you could’ve knocked my Pokémon out, but you were too focused on what you thought I might do that you doubted at the last second.” You shake your head. “Sorry, I know I’m overstepping. I’ll see you later, Hop.”

“Wait–”

But you’ve run off before he can get a word out. Hop can’t help but stare at your retreating figure, stunned at what you’d just said to him.

Oh…

He was so focused on himself that he had never realized what you might’ve been going through. Now that he thinks about it… What is your dream, anyway?

When he sees you again, he expects stiffness, but you greet him kindly and warmly. You’ve always been supportive and friendly to him, he’s realized, regardless of his flaws. But he's also very acutely aware about how worn out you look. The best thing he can do right now is to talk to you like he always would – that somehow seems to pep you back up. It makes him smile at how much kindness you hold for him, patiently waiting for him to reach out when needed.

He wonders if he needs to wait for you to reach out when you need him, or if he can take the first step and offer you his hand first. He’s not even really sure if he can support himself, but he wants to be there for you. After all, your words from before helped puzzle pieces snap in place for him. His self doubt, his hesitation – those were holding him back.

He realizes now that he needs a proper balance in his life of battling, researching, and having fun, but he was so focused on winning that he’d forgotten why he wanted to win in the first place. Winning to him isn’t just a sign of his competence as a battler – winning also signaled how much effort he had put into training and research.

That effort is why he liked battling so much – he would put in the work and get rewarded. And he believes he’ll continue to get rewarded if he continues to try hard.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he can’t sit down and relax for a bit, chattering with you and Sonia about the Legendary Heroes. It’s all so interesting, and Sonia seems to agree. For the first time, seeing Sonia’s passion for her work, Hop thinks that being a professor might not be a bad idea at all.

Of course, battling is still his number one priority, so he challenges you to a battle at the Hero's Bath. You, again, wipe the floor with him, but this time, he doesn’t feel as heavy as he did before. This time, he battled like he would, not how Leon would. His strategy and battle style aren't perfect yet, but he feels like he's getting there.

“I still can’t even beat you, my true rival… But I think I’m starting to see the light!” he says and this time, he means it.

The smile you give him at his words is brighter than any light. It draws him in and makes him want to burn that smile in his memories forever.

“I’m glad.”

Finally, as he watches Raihan’s last Pokémon go down for the count, there’s a feeling of ease that settles inside him. Hop still doesn’t have all the answers, but he feels like he’s closer than he’s ever been. As he does his best to catch up with you, he realizes that you’ve always been patiently waiting for him.

As you two ride the train to Wyndon, both of you with eight shiny badges, Hop realizes that the journey’s changed you a lot. You’re more assured, more confident. But you’ve always remained just the way you are in some ways, too. You’re kind, you’re wonderful.

“We’re finally headed for Wyndon, huh?” he says, making you look up from your book.

“Yeah.” You place a bookmark between the pages of your book, and Hop recognizes it as the Wooloo shaped one he gifted you years ago. “It’s kinda unbelievable, huh?”

“You think?” Hop says, earnestly.

You huff out a laugh. “You’re right, I guess it might not be for you. I always did think you’d make it this far.”

At your words, Hop’s heart throbs with affection. He wonders if he knows what you mean to him, what you’ve meant to him throughout this journey.

“I knew you’d get this far too, y’know,” he grins. “Sure, I reckon I’m still the favorite to win, but… You’re my true rival, mate.”

You snort. “I’m glad because I won't let someone else have that spot, y’know.”

“No one else can take it,” he says, watching as you give him a smile he’s never seen more. It’s… more bashful, a little more soft. It’s not a smile you give to your Pokémon nor is it one you give to your mom. Heck, it’s not even one you’ve given to him yet. It’s hard to explain, but the way your lips flit upwards slightly, the way your eyes crinkle – it makes him feel like time is stopping.

“Hop?” you call out, your smile turning into a look of concern.

Hop inwardly curses, embarrassed that he was caught staring. “There’s a lot I want to check out at Wyndon, actually. There’s that big tower… and the monorail… And Wyndon Stadium– it’s where the whole world’s gonna be watching us!”

You exhale softly, fingers lightly tapping against the hardcover of your book. “Nerve wracking, honestly.”

“You’ll do great!” Hop encourages. He wonders if his words will mean anything to you like your words mean to him. “You and me are gonna make our match the greatest match that ever was!”

You blink at him, before a small smile curls at your lips. “Yeah, you’re right,” you give him a grin. “You and I… We’re gonna show the entirety of Galar!”

Hop beams back at you, knowing in his gut that you two will surely make history.

Hop’s heart thuds in his chest as he watches you on the television, commanding your Pokémon with so much power that he can’t look away. You blaze so brilliantly that Hop doesn’t know how you haven’t consumed everything whole. But there’s something else he notices – something he knows no one else but him sees. The way your hand trembles, the way you close your eyes and breathe to calm yourself. Whenever you’re on the battlefield, it’s not just your Pokémon that you command, it’s your emotions.

Hop realizes that you have your own doubts, your own fears – it’s just that, unlike him, your dream is crafted by you. It wasn’t crafted like his where he wanted to be Champion because it was all he knew. It wasn’t crafted like his where it felt like his dreams were being crushed by his doubts. Instead, your dream is crafted like his new one – built slowly and lovingly over the course of his adventure. As he finds himself, his dream shifts and molds into something that grows with him. He no longer wants to be Champion because it was all he knew or because he wanted to be like his brother – no, it’s because he wants to win and prove himself. It’s because he wants to showcase that his strategies, that his research, is meaningful.

More than anything, he wants to battle you. He wants to battle you so you can see that he finally knows what he wants – so that you can finally see that he’s no longer doubting who he is.

“After seeing the way you battled, I can’t accept any outcome besides winning this match,” Hop says, meeting you in the locker room. You grin at him, offering him a hand to shake, which he does gladly. Your warmth alights adrenaline in his blood but it also comforts him.

“I’m not going to take defeat laying down, you know,” you say, making him laugh.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You both stare at each other, a mutual understanding passing through you two. As the intercom calls for you two, you two smile at each other, before getting to your spots to battle. As you two meet on the field with millions of eyes on the two of you, Hop is suddenly hit with the realization of just how far the two of you had come.

“I just had this sort of flashback, you know. Remember? Back when we were still in Postwick,” he says, making you huff out a laugh.

“I’d never forget.”

He smiles, before inhaling deeply. “When we got our Pokémon from Lee that day, I never would’ve dreamed that I’d end up standing here… facing you. But I’m glad it’s you.” Before you can respond, he smacks his cheeks lightly to get himself into the proper mindset. “But it’s time I finish what I started that day… Got it? The one who’ll win is me!”

The one that wins is you. After the intense battle, the one that claims victory is you. Somehow, Hop knew this would happen. You had something about you that was similar to Leon. Yeah, he knew you’d win…

But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting when he lost.

Still… Hop watches your shoulders heave in exertion. He watches as your Pokémon runs to you, proud. He watches as the crowd cheers madly, the match you two held having a lasting impact on all that watched.

He watches and he sees the unshed tears in your eyes as yours meet his. He watches as you open your mouth to speak, but close it, teeth clenching in uncertainty of what to say. You don’t pity him – that’s not the type of person you are – but he knows you feel guilty. He knows that his dreams weigh heavy on your own shoulders. He knows, and he wishes you knew that he’ll be okay.

He wishes you could know that somehow, despite losing, he doesn’t mind. He tried his best, his Pokémon tried their best, and that’s what matters to him now. He’s not going to take this loss as him losing an opportunity to become Champion. Instead, he’ll take it as a new start where he can dedicate himself to combining his love for battling and research. He wants you to know all of this and more – so, so much more.

“Thanks, mate,” he says, approaching you. He gives your Pokémon a sitrus berry, earning a delighted purr from it. He smiles at it, before he grins at you. “I’m really glad you were the one here with me.”

“Hop… I–” you swallow the lump in your throat, your voice wobbling. He sees himself reflected in your eyes so clearly that he wonders if you see your reflection reflected in his. “I’m… glad I could battle you. You’ll always be my greatest rival, for the end of time.”

“Good,” he says. “I’m not letting anyone take that from me.” With a grin, he offers his hand for a handshake, which you just look at.

Hesitantly, you reach out. Hop shakes your hand firmly, trying to emphasize everything he wants to say with his actions. But he knows he can’t so he decides to say everything instead.

“You know, even when Sonia was saying that you and me looked like we could become heroes, I never really felt like one…” he says, “But you, mate! I think maybe you really could do all sorts of great things! Good on you and all the rest of your team!”

“I think you can do all sorts of great things, too, Hop,” you say with so much passion that it blows Hop away. Your lip wobbles as you hold his hand with both of yours. “Hop – you don’t see what I see, that much I can tell, but I want you to know that you’re amazing. Your passion, your knowledge, all of it. I’m so grateful that you’re the one that’s my rival. I could have never asked for anyone better.”

Hop is stunned into silence, unsure of what to say. But what he does know is that your words are close to bringing him to tears. He’s already decided not to doubt himself, he already knows what his real dream is, but hearing words of encouragement just makes everything in the world shine differently.

Hop wishes that he could see how you look at him. He wishes that you could see how he looks at you.

“...Thanks, mate,” he says, voice cracking in the middle. “I– just, thanks.”

“Yeah,” your murmur softly, the guilt in your eyes clearing away slowly. You squeeze his hand and Hop wonders if you’d be willing to hold his hand forever and ever. He wonders if you’d be willing to talk to him on lazy mornings and listen to his ramblings. He wonders if you’d travel with him, camping and having Pokémon battles together. He wonders if you’d be willing to–

Oh.

Arceus.

He thinks he’s in love with you.

Hop has little time to revel in the realization that he loves you, what with Director Rose acting odd as well as your final battle with Leon coming up. You’re the one that’s fighting, but for some reason, he’s the one that’s more nervous. Still, he decides to greet you brightly.

“All right? The big moment’s here, eh? I came just to cheer you on, you know!”

When the nervousness eases from your face, Hop doesn’t know why that makes his heart soar. “Hop,” you say, softly. “You came.”

“Yeah, ‘course I did,” he says, sitting next to you. “Mate, you feeling all right?”

“Not really,” you admit, sheepish. “It’s just… So much.”

“Yeah, it is,” Hop agrees easily, placing a kind hand on your back. He rubs soothing circles, feeling the tenseness in your back. “I’m cheering for you, you know.”

“Thank you,” you say, and Hop grins.

“Still, it’s not easy picking sides… After all, it’s the showdown between my big brother and my rival… Who should I really want to win more?”

“Hey!”

“I’m joshing you!” he laughs. “I’ll be cheering for you, promise. After all, we did start this thing out together, way back in Postwick.”

“Yeah.” You breathe in deeply, before nodding. “Yeah, we did.”

“Yup, so you better beat Lee, you hear? If anyone can beat him, it’s you.”

“...Hop, can I ask you for something?”

“Hm?” he looks at you, feeling the nervousness roll off your shoulders.

“Can you hug me?”

Hop almost chokes in surprise, but opens his arms silently, not trusting himself to speak. He hopes you can’t hear the way his heart thuds so strongly against his chest. Oh Arceus, did he smell okay? Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to his hug – he’s not sure what to do with himself and the nerves are about to kill him. Still, as he feels you squeeze him tightly, his embarrassment ebbs away slowly. He hugs you back, cradling you close to him.

There’s not much he can do for you, but he hopes that, at the very least, you’re aware that he’ll always stand by you. That he’ll always be there to support you.

Hop’s head is a mess. He was supposed to watch you and his brother’s battle, but Director Rose had interrupted the fight, going on about the Darkest Day or some other baloney that Hop could care less about. Currently, Hop’s more worried about his brother who has run off to stop Rose.

“I want to help my brother,” he mutters, watching Leon leave on his Charizard. He’s feeling so useless that he’s not sure what to do. All the doubts from months ago come crashing back into him, Bede’s words ringing harshly in his ears. “I’ve got to!”

“You can help!” you encourage, tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s go, Hop!”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he snaps, frustrated. “ I can’t even manage to beat you, so what sort of help could I ever be…?”

As soon as the words leave Hop’s mouth, he freezes, knowing that he messed up.

“I mean–”

“You’re right,” you say, face perfectly neutral. “With that attitude, you can’t do anything!” Your tone is heated, “But– Leon needs you, Hop. I need you. We need to help Leon and I won’t be able to do it on my own. You might think you’re not good enough or that I can do everything on my own, but I can’t!” Your shoulders heave as you try to catch your breath, your tears wetting your cheeks. “Arceus, Hop… Can’t you see? I need you. I–”

“You’re right,” Hop says quickly, guilt settling into his brain. He tries to think back to his epiphany. He thinks back to what his real dream and goal are. He thinks back to why he wanted to battle, to why he wanted to beat you. He thinks about how you mean the world to him and that he wants you to know that he has your back like you have his. He wants you to know that he’ll always support you.

Shame overwhelms him as his head gets clearer, his worry for his older brother being replaced with determination to help him. “You're right, I was saying rubbish. I’m sorry.”

“You were saying rubbish,” you snip, sniffling.

Hop wipes off your tears with his thumb, saying, “Sorry.”

“If you are, you better help me.”

Hop nods at you, determined to make things right. “Let’s first start with how we can help Lee. Director Rose said something about the Darkest Day, didn’t he…?” The gears in Hop’s head turn, making him gasp as you come to the same realization.

The statue of the hero, the tapestries, Slumbering Weald…

You and Hop nod at each other, determination settling in both of your bones.

As you two enter Slumbering Weald, Hop can’t help but remember the first time you visited the place together. Thick fog hung over the place like a shield, trying to block out any intruders that may dare to step into the holy ground. Back then, Hop was terrified. Now, though, Hop is surprised with how safe he feels with his Pokémon and you by his side.

“Ready for this?” he asks you, and you nod.

“I’ve got you and my Pokémon by my side. I’m not scared of anything.”

Your words make Hop’s heart flutter in his chest and he wants to wheeze physically at how you knock the breath out of him with your words. Instead, he says, “Going into the forest after Wooloo that day... That was the start of everything, wasn't it? A legendary beginning, really…”

“That’s true,” you nod, “and I’m glad we had such a legendary beginning.”

“I reckon whatever we're about to see will be pretty legendary itself!” he beams, “Well, let’s head in and add another page to our tale!”

His heart almost stops when you grab his hand, but he doesn’t say anything in fear that you’ll pull away. Instead, he squeezes your hand back.

Hop feels like he’s going to die. Everything before this moment, finding the rusted sword and shield, going up the Energy Plant, reaching the Tower summit… all of it feels like a blur, hazy in his mind as he stares at the beast in front of him. Leon does his best to hold his own, but the new Pokémon – Eternatus – is too strong.

But he can’t give up here. He wants to protect Galar, his mom, Leon, and you. He’s put in so much effort to be strong. He’s put in so much effort to find out what he really wants. You’ve put in so much effort to get this far. You’ve put in so much effort to pull him out of his own doubts.

Yeah. He’s not going to let the Darkest Day come. There’s no way.

With a deep breath, he stands up, extending a hand to you. “All right. Let’s take it on together!”

“Gladly!” you say, grasping his hand to stand up yourself. You two stand side by side, rusted sword and shield in your hands, looking like the heroes from the tales of old.

After all that excitement, Hop’s not really sure how things will return to normalcy, but they do. After dinner with his family, he’s reading in his bedroom, Dubwool resting its head on his lap. There’s a knock at his door, causing Hop to look up in curiosity.

“Come in,” he says, and the door opens to reveal his older brother.

“Hey, Hop,” Leon says, closing the door behind him. “Got your nose in a book, eh?”

“Yeah,” Hop says, putting his book down as Leon makes his way over. “...How are you feeling, Lee?”

“Ah?” Leon looks surprised, before he laughs. “Fair question. I’m not entirely sure. I’m kind of frustrated, I think, but… I also feel exhilarated. Your friend truly battles like no other.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Hop says, feeling a sense of happiness at Leon acknowledging you. Yeah, you are strong.

“...How about you, Hop? Feeling all right?”

“Yeah!” Hop responds, genuinely feeling lighter than before, like another pathway has opened up for him. “It’s kind of like a new path has opened up for me, you know?”

“Hah, I get that!” Leon claps his hand on Hop’s back, bellowing out a loud laugh. When Hop looks into Leon’s eyes, he can see the pride his older brother carries for him. “Look at my brother – strong and smart. I’d have expected nothing less.” With a grin, Leon musses up Hop’s hair, making Hop laugh as he tries to get out of his older brother’s headlock.

“You messed up my hair, Lee!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Leon says, letting Hop go. “...But seriously. I’m glad you seem to know what you want to do. I have things I want to do that I’m no longer Champion, too. Looks like we’ll both be busy.”

“Yup, sounds like it!”

Leon grins, before stretching and falling back on Hop’s bed. “Man! Time sure flies quickly, huh? I feel like it was only yesterday that I was losing battles and getting helped as a child.”

Hop blinks, looking at Leon curiously. “You… Lost battles before?”

“Yeah, when I was starting out.” Leon lets out a small hum in thought. “I also refused to get help because I was kind of overconfident, too. Once I started getting help from people like Master Mustard, though, well… I guess I kind of unlocked a hidden potential in me and I stopped losing. Well, until now, that is.”

“Oh,” Hop says, looking surprised. His older brother, who he thought was the pinnacle of strength, had struggled too. His brother needed help, too. His brother is human, too. “...Thanks, Lee,” Hop decides to say, finally.

Leon lays on Hop’s bed for a few more beats, before he tackles Hop into another headlock, making Hop’s hair even messier than before.

“Hey!” Hop laughs, pushing Leon off of him.

“I’m proud of you, Hop,” Leon says, once Hop escapes the headlock. “I hope you know that.”

Without missing a beat, Hop responds with, “Yeah, I know.”

The next day, Hop finds himself back in Slumbering Weald, taking in the mystical atmosphere. He looks at how the trees reflect against the lake, clear and bright.

“Hop?” At your voice, Hop turns around, looking at you curiously.

“Huh? What’re you doing out here in the woods?”

“Well… I just felt like something was calling me here, I guess?” you say. “And it’s quiet.”

“Hah, yeah, I guess it must be loud around you, huh?” Hop pauses, looking at the lake that’s as clear as his heart. “Congrats on the Championship, by the way! You’re amazing, I hope you know that.”

“Thank you,” you say, eyes trained on the lake before you. You watch as leaves leave ripples on the surface of the water.

“I should be thanking you,” Hop responds, making you turn to him curiously. “I… Have something to confess.”

“What is it?”

“I actually stopped wanting to be Champion a while ago.” Hop put up a hand. “Wait, let me rephrase – it was more like… I found out that becoming Champion wasn’t my end goal. Sure, it’d have been nice to be Champion, but more than that, I wanted to win and be strong. Being Champion would just signify my strength.” Hop skips a flat stone across the lake, causing ripples to form. “I also realized that while I loved battling, I loved research, too. The stuff Sonia’s doing? It fascinates me.”

He looks at you, and you look at him, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“...The reason I was able to find myself and stop doubting myself so much is because of you.” His voice is so quiet that he doubts you heard him. But the softness in your eyes tell him otherwise. “So, yeah, thank you.”

“You’re so silly, Hop,” you laugh. “You’re the one that’s done that, you know? Sure, maybe I gave you a push here and there, but you’re the one who discovered all of this. You’re the one who decided to take the steps to meet your goals. You’re– you’re amazing, you know that?”

Hop wonders briefly how you can make him love you even more than he already does. He wonders briefly if he’s loved you long before he even realized it because how could he not? He briefly wonders, but then he realizes he doesn’t care because he loves you now and that’s what matters to him.

“I have one more confession,” he says. He can feel his heart about to jump out of his throat but he feels like his heart will stop entirely if he doesn’t tell you his feelings. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a while now, actually. I know I can be a pain sometimes, and I’m not trying to force my feelings on you, but if you’re okay with it, can you give me a chance?” Hop’s eyes are closed during his confession, scared of what expression you’ll have on your face.

When you’re silent, he feels himself sweat, unsure of what to do with himself. Taking a chance, he cracks an eye open to at least assess what expression you might have on your face. What Hop sees takes his breath away – you, underneath the dappled sunlight, the wind in your hair. You, with a bright smile, all the affection you can muster in your eyes. You, who is looking at him with so much emotion that he’s not sure what to do with it all.

“I’ll give you as many chances as you want,” you say, reaching out to grab his hands. “So, will you give me a chance?”

“Arceus, yes,” he laughs, relief flooding the adrenaline out of his veins. Arceus, he loves you. He really, really loves you. And with the way you look at him he can tell you love him too.

#hop x reader #pokemon x reader #x reader #reader insert #trainer hop #fix it fic #idk i just had to get this idea out of my head LOL

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i-wish-this-was-me · 10 months

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Eye contact (+MV) (smut)

Keep going (+MV) (smut)

Wait for you (smut with fluff) (this is so cute and funny, I love it)

A game of red Part.1; Part.2; Part.3 (+CS) (smut, fluff at the very end)

Overworked uni gf (fluff ant the start, smut at the end)

Spanking (suggestive?)

Broken glass (fluff)

Unwanted (sister) (fluff)

30 more minutes (fluff)

Magic in your veins (sister) Pt.1; Pt2 (fluff)

You're the only friend I need (sister) (fluff)

Sleep talking (fluff)

A mean interviewer (fluff)

Once Dance, Chérie (fluff)

A sleepless night in Monaco (fluff)

Night tea and tears (fluff)

Daydream (fluff)

Slipping through his fingers (daughter) (fluff)

Midnight support (sister) (fluff)

You can't do everything (fluff)

Please don't leave me (fluff)

Deal (idk)

Make the world go away (fluff)

Rom-com (fluff)

Our first night in Paris (fluff)

War (fluff)

All you got (fluff)

Hoodie (fluff)

That time of the month (fluff)

Reconciliation (fluff?)

Make a mess (fluff)

Right time (fluff) (this is long and gold)

Childhood friends (fluff)

Making movies out of memories (fluff)

Only you (fluff)

A little teenage dream (fluff)

You're lying, right? Grounded (+LN) (fluff)!

Ghost whisperer (fluff)

Orange peel theory (fluff)

Lessons in anatomy (fluff)

Come here (fluff)

Some extra goodies (fluff)

MASTERLIST

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januaryembrs · 1 year

Text

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x reader [4]

description: Dove wakes up in Steven’s apartment covered in blood for the second time this week with only one thing on her mind. What the hell happened last night?

word count: 8.7k

trigger warnings: death of a baby bird (sorry little pigeon you got fridged for the plot), blood, lots of blood on her skin but it’s washed off, Marc is mean, angst ville, talks of a dead body very briefly, Marc thinks about his mother

main masterlist | series masterlist

Marc remembered being young, when he was just Marc, not Marc and Steven. Before his mother was cruel, though that part seemed tainted, as if he couldn’t quite remember a time when she wasn’t. But he remembered being a boy, before the world felt heavy, and his eyes felt tired. He remembered Randall. He missed the boy he was allowed to be when he had Randall.

The day he was no older than ten when they played in the back garden, knees muddy, trainers scuffed, sweat on their backs from the blazing July heat. School was starting soon, and he remembered him and RoRo had been trying cram in as much time together as possible before they’d go back to only seeing each other in the evening when the sun had long since set and they had homework to do.

Randall had pink on his cheeks, having quickly wiped off the sunscreen Wendy had smeared on their faces, Marc felt his own temple burning. But he didn’t care. They were on their greatest adventure yet.

Dr Grant and his faithful assistant, Rosser, were on track to discover a long since lost Aztec artefact, inscribed on it the map leading to a hoard of gold and jewels. To the everyday person the boys were jumping around their yard in search of the spool of kitchen roll Elias had drawn on that morning, and their mother’s intricate and full jewellery box they’d promised to return once they’d ‘found the treasure’.

“Look, Rosser! Another clue!” Dr Grant called out, his small arms already grabbing his brother and near dragging him to a tree hanging low enough for the two of them to climb, “We’re getting close, I can smell it!”

‘Rosser’ tended not to say much when they would play their games, but his giggle was enough to spur Marc on to continue their venture. Marc gave him a boost up for his tiny hands to grab onto the thick branch, ignoring the way the leaves brushed in his face and tickled his nose in the hopes he could spend more time with his brother. Marc followed suit, pulling himself up to stand carefully on the wooden limb, already reaching for the next one. He could still remember the way his hands scratched on the rough, dry bark; the season had been particularly hot and had taken its toll on the wildlife, stripping the wood of its moisture to the core.

“If my calculations are correct, the last clue should be at the top of this mountain!” Marc said, holding his hand out for Randall to grab onto as he pulled him up. He was sure to only go for the branches strong enough to hold the two of them, knowing his brother was afraid of heights. But Randall went along with everything he did, even scaling mountains was no chore too big for Rosser and Dr. Grant. The two of them had been about to reach for the next branch already when they both heard the tiny peeping sounds.

“Marc, what is that?” Six-year-old RoRo asked, his chest puffing in and out from exhaustion having pulled his small body now a good ten feet off the ground.

“No, Randall, it’s Dr Grant, remember?” Young Marc whined, though his ears seemed to catch onto the sound of the chirping too. The boys’ eyes widened as they got louder, Marc carefully stepping on his tip-toes to see a bundle of twigs the next branch up. Sure enough, in between a knot of sprigs and fluff lay three tiny bodies of Sparrow hatchlings.

“By jove, Rosser!” Marc’s imitation of the fake English accent was endearing, but he knew Randall loved it when he got completely into character, “The Rare Amazonian Spotted-Dove! Maybe that’s the next clue.”

It truly had been complete chance that the nest had been so close to their next escapade, but Marc was creative when it came to their games. Randall’s chubby little hands reached up to grab the nest, not completely understanding what the fuss was about, near ready to tip the delicate bundle of twigs over to see the new find.

“Let me see! We’re going to be on the news, Dr Grant!” Randall played along, his digits wrapping around the edge of the nest, causing the birds to squawk in freight.

Marc was quick to pull his brother’s hands off the roost, pulling them away from the flora, “Gentle, Rosser!” He said with a kind chide, watching his brother's excited face descend into a sad pout, “They’re still babies, RoRo. You can’t touch them,” Marc whispered, as if to hide his break in character from their invisible audience.

“Why not? I wouldn’t hurt them,” Randall asked in his sweet young voice, his eyes still pining over the nest that was too far for him to see inside even at this height.

“Because if the Mom bird sees you holding them she’ll abandon them and they’ll die,” Randall’s face was struck with fear, looking up at his brother with glassy, russet eyes, clearly not expecting that answer.

“Why?” He asked in the most horrified of tones. Marc couldn’t help the way he held onto his brother’s hand the moment he heard it, ushering him to start descaling the tree so they could finish their game and go in for dinner.

“Dad said it's their way of making sure they only look after their own babies. If you touch them, the mom and dad bird thinks you’re the new mom and they stop looking after them,” Marc explained the best he could, though even he didn’t fully understand it either, just what Elias had been able to tell him.

“But that's horrible! That’s their babies,” Randall exclaimed, his tiny legs dangling off the bottom branch until he hit the ground with an Oomph. “We’d look after them then, wouldn’t we, Marc?”

“Right you are, Rosser,” Marc perked up with his faux accent, eager to take his little brothers off the birds and the idea of anything bad happening to them, “Good voyagers always protect the vulnerable,” Marc dusted his shorts off, straightening RoRo’s backpack and picking the sprig of leaves out of his hair, “And when danger is near, Dr Grant has no fear!”

Her eyes cracked open at the sound of bread popping out of the toaster, the smell of burning meeting her nose in a tang that had her wincing.

It was then she caught onto the fact she was not in her house at all. Nor was she in a bed the same way she had been the last time she awoke with little recollection of what happened the night before. The pain in her neck was instant, a crick in her back from being sat upright, slumped over and arse numb from hardwood flooring. It was then she felt the collar around her neck, tight enough she knew she had marks where it bit into her skin.

The panic hit her like a freight train, her body jolting forward when she realised she was bound with her arms behind her back, tied to a post with a chain and cuff secured around her neck. Her breathing came out laboured, head whipping around to see who was the perpetrator that had bound her.

She was dragged back to the before. Before she’d escaped to London. Before she’d so much as turned twenty. Before. With him. The before, when she was nothing more than a girlfriend, a puppet on a string, his doll to control. The before she’d spent so long running from.

She missed who she was before. That girl was gone. Dead, like him. Maybe that's why she was so scared, how else does someone react to feeling a ghost draw near?

It wasn’t until her foot scraped loudly on the floor, an odd sort of grain crunching under her boot, that she was snapped out of her reminiscence.

Sand. There was sand on the floor. And beside her was a bed. She was secured to a wooden beam, thick and oaky, a woodsy smell ravaging the room that she would know like her own childhood home.

Steven’s apartment.

She had yet to relent squirming in her binds, her hands tugging at the thick leather, moving enough that she could tell there were another two sets of chains wrapped around her waist and legs, making them heavy to move, the clinks of the metal links meeting her ears much too loud.

The thing that made her stomach churn however, that wasn’t helped whatsoever by the smell of charred bread that overwhelmed her nose, was the smell of metal. A coppery edge that overpowered anything else the moment she took note of it.

Her clothes felt wet, clinging to her skin, the chains, the leather collar biting in her neck the more she squirmed, the whole room collapsing in on her.

She was tied up again. She was back in the house, back in the before. Her wings clipped, her strings tied. Her porcelain cracking.

Why was her top red? A dark red, a brown red, why was it wet? Why did the room smell of corpse, or was that her?

Blood. It was blood. More blood than she’d ever seen in her life. Except that night when-

“Hey! Hey!” She hadn’t realised she’d made a sound until she felt two hands grab her shoulders and she flinched, a bleat of utter terror echoing around the loft style apartment. She hadn’t realised the wood was cracking under her strength until the hands shook her slightly, their words going in one ear and out the other, “Hey, it’s okay! It’s just me-”

Her watery eyes snapped up to meet two hardened brown ones that stared at her in concern. Marc could tell the woman that looked back at him wasn’t fully there, as though she was surfacing from a dream, as if struggling to decipher a nightmare and reality.

“I know you’re confused, it’s okay-”

“Why is there blood- Marc, why is there blood- there’s so much blood, oh god,-” And he couldn’t deny it. He hadn’t wanted to change her clothes when she’d finally worn herself out, it had taken everything out of him to wrestle her to the ground after whatever that thing was inside her body last night took over. He still felt his thigh twinge at the thought of her teeth that were not at all her teeth, that had become long canines the moment she’s turned, the razor sharp kind that sunk into his flesh as Layla and Steven both gave him the signal to get her away from civilian people.

She had practically lunged at him spitting and hissing, yowling as he’d socked her in the jaw and tried knocking her out long enough to bind her. He hated himself for the way he hurt her, but one look into the abyss like eyes told him it wasn’t her. She would never want this, never want to hurt Steven.

He’d had no choice but to chain her up in Steven’s apartment until she came to her senses. He was worried she’d wreck the place, sure, but anything was better than her killing an innocent person who just so happened to cross her warpath.

“Alright, it’s alright, it’s mostly mine and yours,” He’d meant it as a piece of reassurance, but he was quick to realise it was not nearly as pleasant as he’d thought when her face dropped and her eyes widened.

“What?” She whispered, horrified, “What do you mean- what happened? Did the jackal come back? Am I dead- again?”

He watched her for any sign of realisation, that it was in fact her who had done this to them, but he only saw the fear in her wide eyes that implored him to say anything to make her feel okay again.

Marc said nothing for a moment, sighing to himself, his eyes lowering to where she gulped and pulled at the ankle collar Steven used to keep himself from sleepwalking. It had been the only thing he’d been able to use when he’d entered the apartment with her sleeping body in his arms for the second time that week, having to head to his storage locker for the rest of the chains.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll talk,”

She’d been scrubbing her hands for twenty minutes now and the damn blood refused to come from out of her nail beds. The shower had done her good, she’d used Steven’s shampoo and conditioner, and his shower gel that brought her some comfort as she felt he was with her with every breath she drew in. She smelled of him through and through. Missed him, yearned for him, wanted to hear nothing but her name from his lips, feel his arms wrap around her, hold her close.

Marc was not one for affection, she had noted. The two of them were more different than she could have imagined, the accent alone had yet to sink in, but the thing she missed most about Steven was his kind words. His gentle touches. The way he would always know how to make her feel better. Where he was soft, Marc was rough. A tough love kind of guy.

The closest they’d gotten to endearment was when he’d handed her a stack of Steven’s neatly pressed clothes for her to change into, even down to his boxers embarrassingly enough, and taken from her a sodden, blood soaked pile of her own to stick into the washer.

They both knew there was no amount of washing that would get the blood out. Marc put it in for her anyway.

It wasn’t until she was four bites into the toast he had made (burned) for her that she showed any sign of understanding as he talked her through what had happened.

Marc had purposely dodged the part where she had grabbed Steven and had been seconds from ripping his throat out, not wanting to upset her more than she already was. Things came back to her in ripples; fuzzy, distorted, vague. Like de je vu, as if she didn’t remember them until he said it, and even then it seemed almost like recalling a dream. The feeling of slashing and biting, animalistic noises coming from her throat, like she was seeing things through a stranger's eyes. That was not her.

Yet all she could think about was the fact the blood was still settled under her nail beds, no matter how hard she’d scrubbed it, no matter the fact her skin was raw around the keratin, probably bleeding again with where she had been so brutal. She struggled with picking at the site when she was nervous, her fingers were sore already from the assault.

Marc noticed how red they were, the butchered skin ugly and damaged, but said nothing. Said nothing about the blood that clung to her raw skin.

Possibly hers. But also the jackals. Marc’s- Steven’s blood from where she’d taken swipes at him.

She could tell Marc was downplaying the severity of her condition. She could tell by the way embers of guilt lingered in his eyes, concern clouding the corners of his coffee bean gaze, that he tried so desperately to hide with his natural cold stare, that it had been bad.

She could still see the way the shower water had dropped off her in waves of red, rolled over her tainted skin and had still yet to make her feel clean.

“Look, no one got hurt, we made sure of that.” Marc took another stab at reassuring her, the way her eyes glazed over as his spoke, detached from the usual spark of life they had and staring into nothing, “If anything, the way you took out those two jackals, you saved people last night,”

“That wasn’t me,” She mumbled, her gaze falling to her half eaten breakfast. She felt sick to her stomach, felt the barely chewed pieces of bread already churning and making their way back up with every breath. Every flicker of memory that came back to her, none of it making sense.

“Huh?” Marc’s voice was unnaturally soft, as he urged her to repeat herself, not quite catching her quiet words the first time.

“That thing wasn’t me- it wasn’t me that did that, it was Seth, he was in the room before- in the room where we got trapped- when Layla had left and- and Steven had been thrown through the window- and he- I don’t know what he did to me but everythings dark after he touched me- and-”

“Hey, look just breath, okay?” Marc grabbed her wrist, and she hadn’t even realised how fast she had been talking until his hand alone snapped her out of it, and she felt her eyes burning, her lungs crying out for air. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, head snapping to look at him in the eyes for the first time all day.

Marc noted how cold her skin was. He’d noticed the way her skin looked gaunt, sunken. Sickly. As if Seth festered under her skin within the single day he’d had her.

They looked at one another for a moment, his eye brows curving upwards being the only sign that he wasn’t outright glaring at her.

“It wasn’t me,” She said again once she’d finally caught herself, voice weak and childlike, petrified.

“I know,” He says calmly, letting go of her. She looked at him again as if to check her was telling the truth, that he believed her, and seemed to comfort herself somewhat when she found he did.

As if a switch had flicked in Marc’s expression, he looked back to his own clean hands, clearing his throat and ignoring the way Steven was yelling at him from inside the body to let him talk to her. Telling him to just hug her for Gods’ sakes. Ignoring the way Steven was begging him to comfort her in any way.

“Look, I understand this thing with Seth is rough on you right now, but Harrow got the scarab while we were all trying to fix your… problem,” Marc said simply, and Dove fought the urge to not cry at the way it sounded as though he blamed her. “I’ve got an informant working on getting us a place in Cairo, chances are Layla’s already on her way over there,”

“Cairo?” Her body straightened at the idea of leaving the country unplanned.

“Yeah, Egypt,” She rolled her eyes at his dumb statement, standing to clean her still full breakfast plate.

“I know where Cairo is. I’ll have to call in sick for me and Steven for a couple days,” She said, dumping the cold toast into the bin and turning the tall brass tap on.

“Not Steven. The museum cut him off after the jackal destroyed the toilets,” Marc said, his eyes flicking to the spoon he’d used to eat his cereal, where he saw Steven frowning and pointing at him in the reflection.

“After YOU destroyed the toilets. YOU!” Steven sassed, shaking his head at the way Marc glared back.

“Shit! I can’t believe I forgot!” Suds sprayed up her arms as she spun back to look at Marc, “Steven’s fired? Is he okay? Can I talk to him?” She rushed, knowing Steven would be crushed to lose that job.

Marc sighed, running a hand through his hair tensely, “Steven’s not gonna be around for a while, alright? It’s better for everyone if I deal with Harrow, Steven’s not exactly got the hang of fighting,”

“I could do if you gave me a chance,” Steven snipped, sulking from his perspective in the metal.

“So I can’t see him? For what, a week?” She asked, a frown settling onto her features at the thought of it, “That’s not fair, I want to speak with him, ask him if he’s okay,”

“Look, princess, you’re just going to have to learn how to share, alright? Haven’t you got other friends to talk to?” Her face dropped, and he didn’t realise she’d yet to say anything until it had gone quiet in the small kitchenette.

His nut brown eyes cast up to hers, the sadness he found there slowly steeping into a bitter anger. Surely she couldn’t be so upset over not seeing Steven for a couple of days when they had much more important things to worry about.

That is until it dropped in his head what had gotten her so forlorn.

She had no one else. Just Steven. And now, just him it seemed.

A flutter of guilt washed over Marc’s chest as she put the plate on the side to drip dry and avoided his gaze. Marc couldn’t help but scoff at the fact she seemed to have only him, the same way he had no one else really, no one except Layla and even that whole mess was a dead rose that he’d been meaning to cull when he got enough courage to stop running from her.

And yet he couldn’t escape from the girl in his kitchen. Not when she made it so easy for Steven to stay, made it so easy for her to depend on him. He felt like shaking her silly and telling her to run as far away as she could, tell her he was an explosive waiting for a single wrong step to detonate and that he would take everyone out with him when he did. He wanted to tell her to stay away, leave him alone and never look back. And she knew it too. He could tell she knew he wanted her away, wanted her gone. That no matter how many brief soft glances she had caught, the slightest of kind touches, he wanted nothing more than for her to steer clear of him.

He was a rot, he was a virus and she was the forbidden fruit, young and vibrant and full of life that had already started wilting because of him. Because of his selfish mistakes, and his awful luck, and the disease that followed him long before Konshu and Harrow and any of this mess.

She was a delicate blossom, and he was nothing more than the weed that would choke her, kill her from the inside before she could realise she was in any danger. Because all of this, everything she’d been through the past two days that riddled her face with such malady was all his fault. It was all his fault, all of it.

“Look, just message me the flight details and I’ll meet you there,” She said with a huff, collecting her now red-brown stained clothes from the dryer and fighting the urge to cringe at the sight of the colour. Marc said nothing, what was there to say? He didn’t do comfort, and affection, getting her to take a deep breath was the extent of it. Wendy had taken everything soft out of him before it could bloom into knowing how to love, how to show someone you care.

So he didn’t. He let her leave in silence, staring at her with his cold gaze as she left. With not a single protest falling from his grimacing lips.

He waited until the door was shut before the plate went hurtling towards the wall, the delicate ceramic exploding on impact.

She had gotten all but ten minutes down the street before his (Steven’s) phone buzzed with an incoming call, a picture of the two of them in the museum stockroom lighting up the screen.

Marc huffed with effort, his fingers scratched from where he’d been cleaning up the porcelain chips with his bare hands, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart leapt when he saw her face, worry overcoming him. She was mad. She was angry at him, upset with how he’d spoken to her. And could he blame her? And yet she still called. That meant it was serious.

“Hello?” He accepted the call with an irate tone, just to make her sure how much of a bother to him the action was.

“Marc-c,” She hiccuped, and he could tell she was crying. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his pulse spike from fear. “Marc, I’ve killed it, it’s dead- oh my god, its neck-”

Fuck.

“What? Where are you?” He asked, already on his feet and heading for his jacket.

“Marc, it’s little neck- fuck what have I done?” Fuck, what had she done? He knew he shouldn't have let her out of his sight, he was supposed to protect civilians not set off a hellhound into the wild with no leash on her bloodthirst.

“Send me your location- it’s gonna be alright-”

“I’m outside,” She sobbed, cutting him off with a low mewl of sadness, “Can you buzz me in?”

Great. Steven’s apartment, which was already a hotbed for Harrow’s followers, was now about to become a crime scene. What the fuck was he about to let through those doors?

This was all on his hands. He had given her over, let a monster take over her soul and use her as he pleased. Killing and maiming included.

Yet he did as she asked, because who else would she go to? The phone cut off as soon as he did, telling him she was likely in the elevator. Sure enough, two minutes later and he heard a forlorn knock at his door.

Taking a deep breath in and preparing himself for whatever it was he was about to see. Gods above what if she’d killed a kid? The thought of it made his stomach churn.

He opened the door with a stoney expression, his eyes immediately finding two bloodshot eyes looking back at him sorrowfully, a small sniff coming from her wet nose before she gave a short mewl.

“Marc, I’m a fucking monster,”

Fuck. Fuck she’d killed someone, gone feral like she’d done last night and he hadn’t been there to stop her because of his stupid pride. This was all his faul-

It was then he realised she was clutching something in her hands. Her hand cupped in front of her, as if keeping a bug from escaping, latched together tightly with something inside.

He looked from her delicate hands to her face, still sniffing and whimpering, eyes huge with fat tears.

She opened her hands, seeing his confused eyes, to show him the damage, awaiting her trial from the man she’d been so angry at she hadn’t been watching where she was walking.

There, in her hands, a frail, near skeletal frame of a pigeon hatchling. It was barely a few days old, its beak too big for its face, its skin dark and ugly, fluff where feathers eventually would be covering its leathery undercoat in patches.

Its wings, if he could even call them that, were bent at awkward angles, its tiny neck snapped in two as if it had been mauled.

“Why are you showing me a dead bird?” Marc said with a cold stare, his voice just as biting. The word ‘dead’ had sent her into another sob by the time he dragged her back into the apartment.

“I was so mad at your stupid arse that I-” She seemed to choke herself with the thought, “I wasn’t watching where I was going- and I” She hiccupped again, “Heard a crunch and-”

She presented him with the tiny victim again, watery eyes never leaving the chick that was quite clearly since passed. Marc huffed, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. He couldn’t catch a break from this girl and her tears. He wished Steven hadn’t gotten so attached to her, that he would be able to just up and leave her in the dust, wished she hadn’t been such a good friend to his alter that she had never gotten so wrapped up in all of this and he could simply tell her to grow up and that shit happens, birds die all the time, that if it was on the sidewalk it was probably already abandoned and she put it out of its misery quickly. He wished he didn’t find it so difficult to be cold to her, that a cloud of guilt didn’t hang over him for the whole thing.

Perhaps that's why he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, or perhaps it was the way Steven was glaring at him from the kitchen sink, waiting for him to tend to the girl as he would if he would just let him have the body. And seeing as that wasn’t going to happen, it was down to Marc to do so.

He felt her semi freeze at the contact, unable to miss the way her skin was cold to touch as it had been all day. “Do you want me to have it?” Marc held out the other of his olive hand’s, his bruised knuckles seemingly fitting as she carefully dropped the bird in his palm. She sniffled under his muscled arm, her hands out infront of her as if to not know what to do now he had the creature.

“Be gentle with it,” She murmured.

Its dead you fucking idiot. I don’t need to be gentle; is what Marc would have snapped, had she been anyone else. Yet the emergence of the words in his sour brain only revolted him. She knew it was dead. She knew it. He didn’t need to tell her, to see her cry harder.

She looked up at him expectantly, and he gave her a barely there nod. ‘I will’ He seemed to say without words.

Letting go of her he went to find an empty shoe box to put the corpse in, knowing he would likely flush the thing as soon as she left.

He heard her run the sink to wash her hands, scrubbing at her already raw nail beds the same way she was when she’d seen the blood. He’d already noticed the way she’d pick at herself, pulling off flesh as if the pain of it was nothing compared to what it was she was feeling inside. He didn’t have the heart to comment on that either, he knew what it was like to have the demon come from within.

“You’ll give it a grave?” She asked, wiping her wet eyes with sore fingers, one of which bleeding once more from her washing. Her eyes looked at him guiltily, imploring him to fix it, fix it Marc. Depollute this awful body of mine that seems to ravage everything it touches, even innocent baby birds, no matter how ugly they were.

He nodded wordlessly again, and she seemed to quieten down for a moment, though she fidgeted in her place as if to not know where to put herself. Marc wasn’t dumb, he knew she was probably waiting for a hug, the fawning and pining that Steven would shower her in by now. He writhed internally, knowing what she expected of him, watching her pitiful frame cowering in on itself, waiting for him to give her something.

“You should probably get going, I’ll bury it later,” He said huskily, his eyes avoiding how she bit her lip to stop herself from crying again. Get out, he was saying nicely, go bother some other depressed man with enough on his plate already. She nodded quietly, turning on her heel to head back towards the door for a second time that day. She felt stupid for coming here, she felt instantly as if he was annoyed at her for bursting back into his apartment in floods of tears, but as he’d already established - she had no one else. No one except a man who hated the sight of her and shared a body with her only friend. She felt even more stupid for expecting anything else from him. Even more angry at herself for taking up so much of his space.

Slouching in his, Steven’s, clothes, she shuffled towards the door, face burning at the way she felt his cold eyes on her back, no doubt ready to lock the door the moment she left to ensure she stopped bothering him.

Maybe it was the way she looked so broken-hearted as she left, or the way she was still sniffling, or the way Steven had gone back to glaring at him through the surface of the bathroom mirror, shaking his head in utter fury that he’d let her go alone when she was so clearly distraught.

Marc sighed, a grunt of annoyance building in his throat as he reached over the back of the sofa for the soft blanket Steven kept for their movie nights. He said her name, her real name not Steven’s sweet nickname for her, and it had her whirling on the spot at the rough edge to his tone. Moving to her with an almost frustrated scowl, he threw the blanket to her stunned figure, heading towards the kitchen cabinet.

“What are you-” She uttered, catching the blanket fluidly and stammering, frozen in her place. Quickly wrapping the blanket around herself, of course she’d noticed how cold she felt, how her body had seemed to die and wither since Seth had taken her. She wouldn’t be surprised if her skin began to rot and discolour any minute now.

“I’m only doing this to get Steven to stop heckling me, understand?” He snipped, pulling out a medical box and producing a box of blue plasters. “You have no idea how infuriating it is to have someone telling you what to do inside your head all day,”

They both froze at his poor choice of words. Of course she knew. She’d spent all morning in a state of shock that Seth had so easily taken over her every movement, puppeteered her as if she was nothing more than a Barbie, and here Marc was complaining as if her being manipulated by the God wasn’t his idea in the first place.

His jaw went slack, the look on his face the guiltiest she’d seen yet. He seemed so caught off guard by his own mouth, bobbing open and closed as if looking for the words to say sorry, a concept clearly unnatural to him.

Maybe it was the way that for the first time he didn’t seem cold and distant, he seemed human in his expression, he seemed so shocked and unlike the stoic face he usually held. It was perhaps the slip of character, and she was sure she’d never see such a face again, but the sight of it made her burst out laughing through watery eyes.

She was sleep deprived, still moneyless from when her date had stolen her purse, likely to be kicked out of her apartment any day now seeing as her rent money was gone, had nothing to eat for the foreseeable future, had an ancient Egyptian God playing house in her body and going on killing sprees, had an entire cult of child murderers looking for the two of them, and yet this was what had made her crack.

“I’m-” Marc started, only to realise she was laughing, genuinely laughing though he pinned some of it was probably just sheer mania from the stress. “Stop laughing at me,” He growled, throwing the plasters into her free hands that peaked out from under the blanket.

“Sorry-I’m sorry-” She cackled again as he huffed and turned around, busying himself inside the fridge, looking for something for her to eat, “I’m sorry- just your face-”

“Shut up or I’m going to Cairo alone,” Marc snapped, though he tried to fight the slight smile that teased at his lips hearing her biting her tongue to hide the giggles, making herself at home on the sofa.

“Steven would never let you,” She muttered, knowing full well he could hear her. His eyes flicked over to her as she started peeling back the paper and applying the plasters to her raw digits, her face concentrated and much less miserable than she had been.

She was right. Steven would never let him. Nor did he think he could leave her with Seth alone if it came to it. She’d burrowed under his skin like a stray dog that had followed him home, wanting nothing more than a companion, someone to bathe in the horridness of reality with.

Marc only hoped she didn’t get too attached when he inevitably drove her away, made her feel as disgusted with him and he was. They were on borrowed time before she was all Steven’s again. And he hated the idea that she was never his, never his friend. That she’d never lust over him. That the only time she’d ever looked at him with such affection in her eyes was when she’d thought he was Steven.

She was not his to enjoy. Which only made him feel all the more selfish for feeling so grateful she’d stayed this time.

English people were simply not made for heat. No matter the amount of sun cream, cool packs or ice lollies they consumed, they were simply not adapted to hot weather.

Egypt was mind-blowingly gorgeous, she would give it that. Marc had let her have the window seat, pretending to not know why she’d made such a fuss about where they sat, but he couldn’t deny seeing her practically vibrating in her seat, nose pressed to the glass to get a better look of the country upon crossing the border, hot air puffing up the tiny glass with her close breath.

“Look, Marc, look!” She said, not drawing her face away, simply reaching out behind her to grab his arm, “The sea, it's so blue,” And it was. The royalest shades of cobalt lapped at the beachy shore surrounded by archaic buildings that seemed revamped for modern life. The entire city was a buzz of activity, only made more enticing to watch by the vibrant colours that ran through it as well. A pier plunged out from the beachfront, its canopy providing chunks of new hues among the lapis blue water; cloth of cardinal red, canary yellow, aubergine purple covering citizens from the harsh weather. The lush greenery that covered the earth where roads and buildings had yet to trample over it was a sight to behold in itself, the grass only getting darker and thicker the closer to Cairo they got.

“That’s Alexandria,” Marc said, as she drew back from the window to look at him with wide, excited eyes, “Named-”

“Named after Alexander the Great in 331BC after he liberated them from the Persians,” She cut him off, eyes guilty when she realised through her history fogged brain that he had been about to speak. She would have apologised had he not given her a small nod, and had she not seen the tiniest of amusement in his eyes, “Sorry. You don’t work at a museum and study Ancient Languages and not get excited by this stuff,”

“Ancient Languages?” Marc asked, for once not a tone of annoyance or disgruntled coldness. Since the incident with the bird (which Marc did in fact bury, only it was in the park near his house since he didn’t have the heart to remind her he didn’t have a garden) he seemed more patient with her. Less outright mean every time they spoke or so much as looked at one another. She pinned it down to being pitiful for her big, naive heart and tendency to get upset by the smallest things like dead birds. She pinned it down to sorrow, real women didn’t cry like a child over something like that. Birds fall out of their nests all the time, she was the only one immature enough to blubber over it. “I see why he likes you so much,”

Her ears perked at that. “Steven?” She asked, in a practised innocent voice as if she wasn’t desperate for more information immediately.

Marc laughed, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, “Yes, Steven. Who else?”

“He likes me?” She asked, secretly hoping the optimism wasn’t shining in her eyes like the sun reflecting off the waves below them. It was.

Marc caught the girlish, excitable glee in her face at the sound of his alter’s name. It was obvious how smitten she was with Steven. He had seen it even before he knew her, before he had messed up his alter’s life. Messed up hers. The two of them were skipping around the feelings they so undeniably had for one another. Even Layla had seen it the second she met her, the puppy dog look she got in her eyes when she saw Steven so happy to see her, the gentle touch his rough hands held her with, the way the two seemed to gravitate around one another as if moved by an orbit of their own, joined by atoms no one else seemed to have.

But Marc knew it wasn’t his place to interfere, knew Steven would be so angry beyond belief if he was the one to tell her how he felt. And besides, he was sure they would have time to figure it all out without him in the way when he handed the body over to Steven for good, when he could watch them be bumbling idiots once more from inside the body.

“You’re his best friend. Of course he likes you,” Marc recovered his slip up smoothly, only feeling half guilty when her face visibly dropped and her chest deflated.

“Oh, right.” She said, straightening herself back into her chair, the elation dissipating from her face. How could she have been so dumb to think otherwise?

Marc knew he should say something, knew he should try and comfort her in some way but he didn’t know how. Which was how he felt about her most of the time anyway, unable to escape even now the thought that she’d much prefer it if he were just Steven. Not Steven and Marc. Steven would have known what to say.

“You alri-”

“Where’s this friend of yours meeting us?” She cut him off for a second time, her attention back on the window, her eyes scanning over the Mediterranean sea as it blended into the land, Alexandria slowly becoming Cairo.

Marc could have laughed and yelled at the same time. The only time he’d bucked up the courage to extend a hand of friendship to her she cut him off unknowingly.

“He’s not, he’s booked us a car to use and a hotel room to share,”

Share would be an understatement. It had been two days since they had checked in, only to discover Marc’s friend had wildly gotten the wrong end of the stick when Marc had asked for a room for two. One queen sized bed, a fancy ensuite and a tiny balcony later, Marc had been pacing the room, pissed, as he hung up the phone with the hotel lobby.

“They said the double rooms are fully booked, and unless you got enough cash for two singles, we're sharing.” He huffed, throwing his phone onto the bed where she sat, eyes wide and looking up at him with an innocence that had his heart jump into his throat.

She had got to stop looking like that if he had any chance of leaving her for Steven to have entirely to himself.

She shrugged, looking behind her at the huge, luxurious bed, much bigger than the double she had at home and made with the softest Egyptian cotton sheets she’d ever felt. “I don’t mind sharing. I’ve slept at Steven’s before,”

“He took the sofa, remember? Sharing a bed is a whole other thing,” Marc dismissed, moving to grab one of the pillows and move it to the red loveseat in the corner of the room.

“You were there?” She asked, her face pulling into a shy smile as he tossed her a look over his shoulder.

“Huh?” The agitated frown was back, one that had been missing the entirety of the way there.

“You could see me, see what we were doing?” She asked again with a bashful pull at her lips. She found it odd the idea of an outsider watching in on the time she spent with Steven, as though she were entirely herself with Steven in a way she wasn’t with Marc. Yet from that spiralled another thought, she was herself with Marc in a way she wouldn’t allow in front of Steven; vulnerable, emotional, scared. She would never let Steven know any of those things, knowing how much he worried over her. She hadn’t even told him about getting robbed by her date yet, conscious of how much he would fret.

Yet she had let Marc tend to her that first time they met in the museum, when she was bleeding out onto the beautifully polished marble. She had begged him to not leave her the day she’d woken up to find herself rather dead. She had let him console her when she’d arisen tied up in his apartment. Let him wash her clothes, make her breakfast. He’d been the first person she’d called when she’d found the bird.

She felt safe with both of them in entirely different ways. Safe knowing Steven was always there to cheer her up, to dote on her over every tiny thing she did. He was always bringing her little keepsakes that had made him think of her, bringing her the cinnamon rolls she liked from the bakery on his street on the days he knew she was running late and would have gone without food. Always walking her to her train stop even though it was entirely out of his way. Making sure she was having enough breaks at work, eating her full lunch. He remembered everything she ever told him, even the time she’d mentioned the anniversary date of her dog’s passing, he'd remembered it to the very day and given her a sympathy card and a bunch of flowers. Her favourites of course, that too had only been brought up once.

She felt loved by Steven, felt safe and cared for in a way she knew was beyond friendship. Yet she could only hope and imagine what anything more than being loved like this felt like. What kissing him, touching him in a way that went beyond what they had would feel like.

And to have such a raw feeling for someone spectated on turned her stomach oddly. She thought she’d feel more intruded on than anything, but she simply felt indifferent. It was only Marc afterall.

“It’s like I’m watching a movie, kind of. It’s more like I’m watching over his shoulder but I can’t do anything to stop him unless I really try to take the body,” He explained, though the way his shoulders tensed up had her guessing he didn’t like to talk too much about it. Marc seemed the anal type to want control over his life, and to have someone take the reins in front of him sounded torturous.

“Is he here now?” She asked, her eyes lighting up at the thought of seeing him again, “Can he hear me?”

Marc fought the urge to grunt in annoyance (that was entirely annoyance, and not at all jealousy) at her eagerness to see Steven. “Not right now,” She slumped for the second time that day, “From what I understand, we can either be co-conscious which is when he can hear and talk to me or he can just go away if he wants to. Go quiet, make it so I can’t feel if he’s watching me,”

“Huh,” She said with an intrigued look, “Well, it must be nice to never be lonely, I guess,”

Marc was ready to snark something back about how Steven was possibly the biggest pain in the ass when he was spouting off nonsense inside the headspace, how he had still yet to stop fawning over the way she looked, filling Marc’s head with a mix of his own thoughts as well as Steven’s running commentary about how her every movement made her “something out of the films, you know, like one of those actresses on the big screens, like MariIyn Monroe or Elizabeth Taylor, but entirely in her own way better, you know what I mean, Marc?”

It drove him insane, and he was glad Steven had taken a stand of silence for whatever reason, and left him to at least have a few days to himself.

Of course that hadn’t stopped Marc from noticing just how softly beautiful she was, but he was glad of the silence nonetheless.

And happy to have her to himself, but that was by the by.

He stopped himself from snapping at her that the reality of having someone in your head 24/7 talking to you and nagging your every move was a thousand percent more frustrating than being lonely, but then he guessed he’d felt lonely his whole life; grown used to feeling alone. Trying to protect Steven from the awful reality of what happened to him as a child, keep him from knowing what a failure he actually was, what a curse this body was, to know someone and never being seen in return. He realised it was lonely, and lonely was draining.

And he watched her eyes soften, a sadness shining through them, not intentionally but a glimpse of her soul Marc had never seen from her, as if she truly envied having someone there for him at all times. And Marc realised maybe having Steven wasn’t the worst thing to have. He could be entirely alone with his own mind, his own thoughts. He could have been entirely alone throughout his childhood, entirely alone with Wendy and her cruel hands.

Steven was annoying most days, but Steven was needed.

“I guess,” He muttered, turning back to setting up his bed on the plush sofa that he already knew would murder his back. Sighing, and fighting back his usual moody tone, he chanced a look at her, only to find she was already staring at him. It made his stomach turn to know she watched him when he didn’t know, “You know, you’re not alone, right?”

Her face hardened, eyes flicking away from his in a way that screamed she felt caught in an inner turmoil, surprised that Marc had seemed to almost read her mind, “I never said I was alone,”

Marc rolled his eyes at her pushback, wishing she wouldn’t make it so difficult for him to be kind for once, “I know that but,” He chewed over his words, “You’re not alone, you got that?” He sounded annoyed despite the fact he’d tried to rein in his demeanour, “You have Steven, and me,” Her expression faltered at that, and he was sure to turn back to rearranging the sofa cushions before she could give him anything more to admire about her. “And, you’know, Layla’s got your back through all this too, so you know. You’re all set really,” He cleared his throat, a few beats of silence. He thought that would be the end of it, that she would simply move onto something else.

He heard her stand off the bed, not thinking much of the movement other than the soft sound of her sock-feet crossing the hotel room. He froze when he felt two arms wrap around his middle from behind him, her face burying into his spine.

“What are you-”

“Don’t ruin it,” She said, her voice muffled by his body, her hands tightening around his toned waist as if worried he would pull away, “Just let me-” She nuzzled closer into his beefy back, taking a deep breath of his scent, “Thankyou,” The woman mumbled, but he still heard it.

Two large hands came to rest over her forearms that squoze his midriff, letting the girl soak into him, lean on him, take all of him in entirely in a way he’d craved from someone for so long.

Not hugging Steven. Hugging him. His friend. His Dove, too.

Marc said nothing, a small smile pulled at his lips that felt almost foreign on his permanently bitter face.

His Dove, too.

Tag lists:

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#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector imagine #moon knight x reader #moonknight imagine #moonknight x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant imagine #jake lockely fanfiction #khonshu #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac x reader

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sanjisblackasswife · 2 years

Note

Hiya Tate! I love your writing! May I please request some SFW and NSFW headcanons of Zoro with a thicc and curvy fem s/o, please? I live how you write our favorite booth hunter. Stay awesome!

A/N: Hiiii :) Ur a doll thank u! Enjoy! This may not be too long because I made a similar HC to this but I enjoy writing him so why not lol.

Zoro with a Thick/Curvy S/O (SFW & NSFW)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

SFW

I believe Zoro loves strong willed women. The type that can handle their own and not afraid to back down to a fight.

More importantly though he loves ass.

Appearances was never an issue for Zoro if he liked you he liked you, but the fact that you had more meat on your bones was like frosting on the cake

However if Zoro did have a type physical wise I’d say he would naturally gravitate to thicker/larger women. He wouldn’t blatantly say it but it shows lol

But at the end of the day he likes what he likes

He thinks your cellulite and stretch marks are nothing to make a big deal over so when you make negative comments about it he’ll just roll his eyes. He also will trace over them when he lays on you

He loves rolls too you’ll sometimes catch him poking at it like a damn dog playing with a toy. It’s cute but can get annoying

Zoro obviously loves laying on your thighs, butt, or breast. It’s a cushion that can’t be replaced by any pillow ngl

He Lowkey is freaked out/amazed by how naturally warm you are. During the winter season prepare to be this man’s personal heater because he will never let go

He has mindlessly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder whenever you got mad whether it’s with him or someone else he kind of has a 6th sense of knowing when you’re about to do the absolute most and nips it in the bud completely

He won’t ever point out if you gain weight, he’ll obviously notice but unless you tell him he won’t say anything. He won’t really care either unless it begins to truly mess up your health. That’s when he would probably talk to the girls or Chopper about you.

If you ever do decide you want to lose weight he’ll be a little upset because he doesn’t want you to lose your fluff, but will workout with you and be your personal trainer if that’s what you truly desire

Does not tolerate men/women catcalling you or making derogatory statements about you. He hates that. You’re not some kind of animal to whistle at.

Zoro is without a doubt the most loyal man you’ll ever come across, he has no reason to even entertain other women around him. When he’s with you you’re really the only woman to exist in his eyes.

Zoro enjoys showing you off to the love cook so he’ll have you sit on his lap a lot in the kitchen with a sly smirk

I don’t think this is NSFW worthy so I’ll put it here: he touches your butt as a way to get your attention. It’s never sexual (well 90% of the time it’s not). He’ll Pat your butt to say hello, goodbye, or to get your attention. You don’t remember where it started but you have no complaints.

NSFW

Your pussy is a gold mine to him

No listen he loves fat asses but what could possibly top fat asses is your fat 🐱 ngl.

He cups your pussy a lot.

Like a lot.

Like a lot a lot. He has an obsession over your fat cat.

He loves how it feels whether you’re naked or clothed it’s just fun.

He makes THE MOST lewd comments about your naked body

“I love when your body jiggles as I fuck you dumb.”

He just says that bs AT THE MOST RANDOM TIMES

Wall fucking is like a must this man knows how strong he is and you weigh absolutely nothing to him let him do it

Almost Everytime you workout with him it ends with you bent over a bench he cannot control himself when you wear tights

Speaking of clothing he likes grinding against you when your wear dresses or tight bottoms. He’ll try to mask it off like “I’m jUsT WaLkInG BeHiND yOu” but really he wants you to feel his hard on

Whenever you talk down about your body he fucks you in the mirror to show you how pretty you are <3

He definitely loves you being a thick mama because he can manhandle you a little more and it won’t hurt you.

Sit on his face. That’s all imma say. sit on it. Yes he can breathe.

He loves having you on top despite always cumming first because the view is so deliciously overwhelming. Your stomach, your breast, your thighs, all moving at once as you try to keep balance he can cum alone at the sight

You may be thick but you are still dwarfed under this man lmao. You don’t know who has the size kink worse you or him but it doesn’t matter when your meaty thighs are on his wide shoulders as he pounds you silly.

Now when you both are in public he doesn’t like too much PDA. Hand holding, fine, butt pats, okay, MAYBE a kiss on the cheek

But when you two are alone his hands are never not on you. Butt slaps are vicious, and it’s not just a regular slap it’s the one where he slaps and GRABS and SQUEEZE

One time while you were sleep he woke you up with feeling needy and you just suggested him to just fuck your thighs. He never done it before but once he did that was like an internal awakening it felt so damn good.

His brain malfunctions when you wear lingerie. Face is redder than a tomato, the way the fabric is just barey clinging on to your body, most of the time the crotch part of the panties only cover one lip and that just gets Zoro really going

He finds it sexy when clothes barely can contain your fatty parts of your body.

Doggy style is a default between you both, as much as he loves to see your pretty fucked out face, your jiggly ass is mesmerizing .

He loves laying on top afterwards though, your soft squishy body is something he can just melt into and he’ll never admit it but you’re the only woman he ever wants to be with like that.

#one piece #one piece headcanons #black reader #one piece x female reader #one piece smut #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro headcanons #zoro scenario #zoro imagine #zoro fluff #op zoro #one piece zoro #ronoroa zoro

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yourlocalghoulette · 7 months

Text

Part One ~ Grand Opening

Series masterlist~ Main masterlist~ Meet the horsies~

w/c- 3k

warnings- eventual smut so MDNI, this chapter is pretty much fluff, language, reader has riding trauma but not explained in detail (yet), Joel is a softie for horses and Sarah, he's so sweet he'll make your teeth ache!

lmk if you want to be on the taglist!

horses used to be a favorite past time.

a place in your life where you could feel alive, feel comforted, feel free. an escape from reality. home.

happiness doesn't last forever, and you found that out quick. being the best in your hunter/jumper team didn't mean you had it good. hell, it made it worse. more stress, more demanding work, more pressure from trainers to hold up the team and win the gold medals. but one thing led to another, and after a few mentally and physically abusive trainers and a bad fall, you decided to quit.

quit the one thing that made you happy.

sometimes you wish you could go back in time, to when you were five and sat on a pony for the first time at the fair. your mom always smiled at the memory, saying she wished she could see that light in your eyes once more.

living in Austin, Texas, the land of cowboys, wasn't exactly helpful. horses were everywhere, from hunter barns to trail riding stables. although horses are practically shoved in your face in Texas, you've done pretty well with staying away from them. they bring back too many unpleasant memories.

little did you know that a tiny new stable across town would change your life forever.

Joel Miller adores horses. his life, heart, and soul, or at least some of it.

his daughter Sarah takes up most of his everything. she's his sun, moon, stars, and his rock ever since he woke up in an empty bed eleven years ago. well, the horses too. sometimes the only time he would feel grounded was when he was mounted up in the saddle. it's a strange comfort, knowing that you can trust the 1,000 pound animal with your life. most of the time, of course. he's had his fair share of accidents, as would anyone that's associated with horses.

after years of working double shifts for a contracting company with his brother Tommy, he finally saved enough money up to build his own riding barn.

he doesn't want to be like the showy, expensive barns that are found all over Austin, Texas. he wanted his barn to be a safe house, an escape from reality for whoever walked into his barn. he had grown up in the dressage barn his parents owned, and the toxicity among the members was palpable. everything was a competition.

Joel didn't like that at all. he thinks horses should be a man's best friend, not a ticket to a gold medal. which is why he is opening the new stable. he knows it won't compete with the larger barns around it but at least it will be a home to the few people that come to find it.

your mission to stay away from horses is hijacked when you get a call from your best friend, Sōl, while you're driving home from the coffee shop you work at.

"hey, girlie pop!" you answer the phone, jumping as her voice comes through the car speakers loudly.

"hey, babes!" you hear her cheery voice on the other side of the phone.

"Jesus, Sōl. you're connected to AirPlay and about made me cause an accident," you laugh, turning the car volume down. "what's up?"

"ok, you're not gonna like this," she starts out slowly.

"girl, just tell me," you sigh knowingly, hearing her attempted compelling tone of voice.

"I know you don't really want to be around horses anymore butttt there's a new barn opening in Leander and the grand opening sounds super fun. horse rides, food, and games. you wanna come with me?" she questions slyly, using her sweetest voice to convince you.

you let out a long sigh, running a hand over your face as you stop at a red light. "I don't know, babe. i...I haven't been around horses since...since like high school. I don't know if I'm ready for it."

"come on girl, it's gonna be a good time! and it's not like the other barns you rode at, or like Cedar Ridge." Sōl rides for Cedar Ridge, a large jumper barn outside of Austin, and is one of the best on the team. "listen. I'll send you the website and you can look at it, then decide. okay?" you can hear Sōl's grin through the speakers.

"fine. but it's only a maybe, okay, babe?" you let out an exasperated breath.

once you're back home and settled on the couch in your apartment with a bag of cheddar popcorn, you open the link Sōl texted you and scroll the website. the description catches your eye and you click on the read more button.

Sarah's Stables is a small, family-owned barn located just outside of Austin. our goal is to make people comfortable around horses and to bond with these amazing creatures. we aren't about competitions and gold metals at Sarah's Stables. we believe horses should be a second home, a place to rest your head. we also believe that the privilege of being around horses should be available to everyone, so we have affordable prices and volunteer-to-ride programs as well. come to our grand opening on July 26th!

below the paragraph is a picture of the owner, Joel with his daughter Sarah. you look closer to see that he is undeniably handsome. his dark brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiles widely in the photo. brown curls frame his forehead, streaked with a few silver hairs. his jawline is specked with salt-and-pepper scruff. his daughter is beautiful as well, with light brown skin and tight curly hair. you can see the resemblance in their eyes.

you sigh deeply. it doesn't look like the barns you're used to. it looks more relaxed, more fun. and it was only a small plus that the owner is easy on the eyes.

you give in and call Sōl. "i read the website. I'm in," you grin.

who knows, maybe it'll be good for you to see horses again.

July 26th dawns bright and early for Joel. he wakes up with a start to the sound of Sarah knocking on his door.

"Alarm!" she calls into his room.

"shit," he mutters, hitting the top of the beeping alarm with his palm. when he remembers what day it is, his hands turn clammy with nervousness. he glances at the alarm clock. 5:40; he has twenty minutes before he has to go to the barn to feed the horses. he rolls out of bed with a grunt, stretching his limbs. he throws on a worn t-shirt and a pair of jeans and walks downstairs.

he finds Sarah in the kitchen, scrambling eggs over the stove. "mornin', kiddo," he grunts, ruffling her hair as a small smile plays on his lips. "how'd you sleep?"

"i didn't," Sarah grins. "i was too excited and scared. scare-cited... scexcited...?"

"scare-cited sounds right to me," he chuckles, pouring coffee into a red mug.

"i was gonna make pancakes for the big day but you forgot to pick up mix. you're gonna have to settle for scrambled eggs," Sarah hands him a plate, grinning knowingly.

"Was I....I was. sorry, kiddo. I'll pick some up later. I've been a bit stressed lately, obviously." Joel sits down at the table and starts quickly eating the eggs. he picks something out of the eggs and holds it up to Sarah. "shell," he says gruffly.

Sarah grins widely with a mouthful of eggs. "calcium."

"lovely," Joel rolls his eyes. "well, i best be off to feed the horses. Uncle Tommy will be by in a few hours to pick you up. love you, kiddo." he plants a soft kiss on the top of her head before discarding his plate into the sink. he grabs his wallet and phone before sliding on his black Ariat boots.

"love you too, dad. good luck," Sarah sticks her tongue out as he slings his backpack over his shoulder.

the short drive to the barn is quiet, with Long, Long, Time by Linda Ronstadt crackling through the old truck radio. Joel pulls into the barn driveway just as the Texas sunshine starts peeking through the darkness, a sight he'll never get tired of. he can already hear the six horses banging against their stall doors from outside, impatient for their morning grain.

he fishes the door key out of his back pocket and opens the door. he's met with a chorus of snorts and nickers as the hungry horses wait impatiently for their grain.

"mornin', ya little glue sticks. you gonna behave well today?" he grins playfully, stopping at Whiskey's stall, the one-eyed, cinnamon-colored Tennessee Walker gelding. he pets the front of Whiskey's face gently, tracing the long white blaze that splits down his face. "guess what, little man? you get to give pony rides," Joel smiles, his eyes soft and full of admiration for this horse. he know Whiskey loves the kids. he's the sweetest horse, always giving you kisses and loving nudges. though he is missing one eye, his other is very expressive.

Joel parts with his favorite horse to go make feeds, scooping a variety of different grains and supplements into the six color-coded buckets.

once the feed is distributed and the horses are happily munching on their food, Joel gets to work. he sweeps the stall aisles clean of hay and manure, then shovels it into a wheelbarrow. while he's dumping it outside, he sees his younger brother Tommy's truck pulling into the driveway. When Tommy and Sarah come inside, Tommy grins, giving his brother a firm hug.

"Ain't this a sight for sore eyes," he whistles lowly. "it's okay big bro. we'll help you get ready."

Joel rolls his eyes. "fuck you."

"da-ad," Sarah grins. "that's a quarter in the swear jar!"

"you're right, kiddo, sorry," Joel mutters, shaking his head.

"alright, big bro, we gotta get to work," Tommy nudges Joel in the shoulder.

back at your apartment, you're awoken by the sun peeking through your floral-patterned curtains. you groan, shielding the light from your eyes with the back of your hand. you pick up your phone, glancing at the time. 10:23. shit. 40 minutes to get ready. a text notification pops up on your phone from Sōl 😜.

Sōl😜~ morning bb! u ready for today?? im picking you up at 11!

morning girlie! just woke up lol. I'll b ready for u! ~you

you turn on your morning playlist and climb out of bed and into the bathroom, where you dance to Take On Me by A-ha while brushing your teeth. you get dressed into faded blue bell bottoms and a yellow tank top with white flowers. you even pull out your blue cowboy boots that you'd stored away in your closet for so many years. you leave your hair down, knowing you'll probably have to wear a riding helmet later.

it's 11:05 when Sōl knocks on your door, and you answer it quickly. She squeals excitedly, pulling you in for a hug.

"babes, you look so goddamn cute! maybe there'll be some hot cowboy at this here grand opening," she smirks.

"as do you, babe! I know one's gonna be there for sure," you grin as you walk out with Sōl and into her car. "did you see the picture of the owner? whoo-ee."

Sōl nudges your shoulder across the center console. "told ya. this was meant to be."

the car ride is full of laughter, Disney songs, and off-key singing, and you finally pull up to the stables along with a few other cars. the barn is a quaint, white wooden structure with periwinkle blue trim around the open barn door and windows. yellow and white flowers hang from around the overhang over the entrance, where a big banner is posted that reads Sarah's Stables in curly cursive handwriting.

"this place is so cute! this Joel guy sure knows how to decorate," Sōl says approvingly, admiring the small concrete horse figurines standing guard outside the door.

you walk into the clean, homey barn to see Joel Miller in the flesh. God, he's even more handsome than he was in the picture.

"welcome in, darlin'!" Joel smiles warmly, shaking your hand. "the name's Joel. so glad to meet you."

you smile widely as you tell him his name. "I'm excited to be here. this place is gorgeous."

"why, thank you, darlin'," Joel grins proudly. he tries to push the thought of how pretty he thinks you are away. "do you ride?"

you bite your lip for a second before nodding. "used to. haven't really been around horses since high school."

"how come?" his dark brown eyes soften, studying your face. Sōl has ran off to see the horses at this point.

"I rode at a few hunter jumper barns on a high level," you explain. "you....probably know how those trainers can be. I didn't exactly want to go back after how they treated me."

Joel nods understandingly. "I know exactly how it is. my parents owned a dressage barn for my whole childhood. everyone's always after everyone's ass and trying to be better than the other and such. it wasn't a healthy environment for me as a kid." "dressage, huh? you seem more like a cowboy to me, Joel," you smile infectiously. "it's the accent, believe me. don't let it fool ya." he chuckles. "oh, there's some new guests. I gotta go introduce myself. there's pony rides, games and drinks outside through that door."

"thanks," you stare after him as he walks away, admiring the way his broad shoulders fill out the sleeves of his navy blue t-shirt. you walk out the door Joel had directed you to, immediately spotting Sōl who is already talking up a storm with a tall, younger blonde man wearing a cowboy hat. you grab a sparkling raspberry lemonade can from the cooler and walk over to them.

"hey, girlie! bout time you made it out here," Sōl grins. "this is Chase. He rides at Cedar Ridge on my team."

he tips his hat to you as you politely tell him your name. you gently nudge Sōl's shoulder. "wanna go look around?"

"sure. see you later, cowboy," Sōl flashes a wink towards Chase, who blushes slightly.

you and Sōl walk the barn aisles, admiring the cleanliness of it. you inhale the mixture of horse, hay, and manure, an odd smell you always found oddly comforting. you take in your surroundings, admiring how beautiful the simplistic decorations are. you peek in the tack room, which is unsurprisingly clean and organized. each intricately stitched saddle sits on its own stand, polished to perfection.

"this place feels...different," you say thoughtfully, peeking into a stall and smiling at the sight of a little chestnut shetland pony.

"different how? awww, look at this cutie." she scrunches her nose up at the shetland, giving his muzzle a little boop.

"I don't know. it feels comforting....like home." you stroll down to the next stall to find a tall black percheron. the small handwritten sign on his stall reads that he's an 18 year old gelding named Amadeus, and he was rescued along with the Shetland from an animal hoarder.

"I see what you mean. feels a lot less fancy and...sterilized than the other barns we've ridden at."

"and the trainer is nicer," you say quietly, tracing the white star on Amadeus's forehead. Sōl raises a knowing eyebrow.

"is someone developing a crush?"

you shoot her a pointed look. "no....no. it's just... refreshing for it to feel like the owner actually cares."

"someone's developing a crush?"

your eyes widen as you hear Joel's voice behind you and you spin around to face him, a flustered expression on your face. "no one," you grin. "just Sōl being a bit of a menace." you try to laugh it off.

Joel smirks and looks over at Sōl who just shrugs innocently. "anyways, I wanted to talk to you before more people come. I'm in dire need of some extra help, having the barn just startin' up and such. you seem to know your stuff, and-" he gestures to Amadeus's calm expression as you pet him. "the horses seem to be relaxed around you."

you purse your lips, taking a deep breath. are you really ready for this? after so long not being around horses....no. you push that thought out of your mind. this place feels good. feels natural.

"of course. i...this opportunity will be good for me. I need to gain confidence around horses again." Joel's eyes crinkle as he smiles, obviously relieved.

"thank you so much, darlin'. you're truly a blessin'. I'll pay you of course. looking forward to see you around."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #mrs ohara writes shit #horse dad joel #pedro pascal

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rizatouchesthewalls · 1 year

Text

Gotta Catch Em’ All!

trainer!hobie brown x gn!trainer!reader

text that is small is an optional detail!

pls give advice on hobies accent

fluff, headcanons + mini scenarios, pokémon-au

POKEDEX: HOBART BROWN

Name — Hobie Brown

ID No. — XXXXXX

Britain Pokedex — Earth-136

Money — Thief!

Battle Points — 947283

He’s a menace to say the least. Not in a quirky but in a way where he’s actually a national problem.

He likes Fairy and Ghost types. He feels like people aim for physical and elementally strong Pokémon because they’re known to be efficient; but who said that he couldn’t beat them? Snap out of it!

He found Mimikyu one day behind a brush in the woods

Love at first sight fr

He gave it a spiked collar and a spiked-mohawk-headband

He doesn’t use Pokéballs unless Mimikyu is seriously injured and there’s no where to rest at the moment

“It’s just controllin to keep em in there.”

No doubt about it he’s one of the greatest trainers you’ve ever seen

Him being pretty helps too ig

“A-and he just stole from my mansion—!” The exasperated man shouted at you. “Aren’t you trainers worth any good? Use your Pokémon to stop him!”

“Yeah yeah old man, I got you!” You lazily scanned the area and went around the back of the mansion.

Everything’s normal so far until you see a large picture on the porcelain white walls of the mansion.

There was a large “mural” in black, dark blue, and red. In huge letters it wrote: PUNK-MON WINS! Noticing that the thief was still finishing the painting you turned the corner and walked towards him. He had a mask on and held a spray can in his hand.

“Yo—!”

“Ki-ki-ki-kyu!!!” You felt something slash at your leg, causing you to crash to the ground.

“What on earth is that?! Your scary Pokémon just bit me or something!”

The tall boy picked it up. Speaking of which, what was that thing? It looked like a wannabe Pikachu with spikes attached on it’s head. “Good little Mimikyu, beatin’ up stalkers whereva you see ‘em.”

“Stalkers? Huh—hey you mean me! I’m not a stalker!”

He helped you up. “You betta not be a copper.”

You glared at him. How are you gonna trip someone and then accuse them of trying to arrest you? Who is this loser?

He removed his mask.

Suddenly you’re not mad anymore.

“Aha, um… I see we got off on the wrong foot.” You batted your eyes. “Emphasis on foot… what is that thing?”

“This TING!!! Is my baby. My punk bunny. Mimikyu say hi!” The little creature garbled and babbled away.

“Was that ‘hi’ or possessed screeches?”

“Ion even know m’self to be honest.” He looked a little disturbed by Mimikyu, but then smiled. “My name’s Obie Brown, and I’m the number one criminal of rich-heads like this around town.”

“Very cool Hobie Brown. Only problem is that rich-head thinks Pokémon are the cause of all this vandalism and he’s trying to take down all the gyms in this area.”

“Oh!”

“Oh.”

“Right then. WE’RE GOIN TA KILL A RICH GUY!”

“Ki-kyu-ki-ki-ki-kyu!” Mimikyu excitedly garbled.

“WE’RE GOING TO WHAT?! HEY WAIT I WANNA JOIN IN!”

You couldn’t believe you were robbing the house of guy you promised to help. At least it’s not like he needs said money anyway—he has a whole nother vault on a separate island. The goal was to strip the old man of everything he owned in this mansion.

You wedged the metal bar Hobie had lended you inti the crack of the safe’s opening. “Darn. [Poke!Name], a little help here?”

Your Pokémon croaked a little noise and threw an attack at the metal door, which surprisingly made a big enough dent to pull at.

The doors hinges dropped and inside revealed a tomb of gold and stacks of money. Including golden Pokéballs.

“Woah…”

Alright! No more marveling. Here was the hard part of the mission—getting all of the things into the cheap school bags you had stolen bought and throwing them out the window.

Needless to say, it was a rather taxing job. You were constantly on your toes watching out for a stray maid or butler to come in.

“Okay! [Poke!Name], we’re finished. And no thanks to you… You’re lucky I love you.” The moment you slightly pushed the vault door open an alarm blasted. You winced as the painful ringing echoed in your ears. “It must’ve not been triggered when we blasted through it, but opening it does.”

You managed to hurl some bags at the window. But your own escape was more difficult—and you could heart the rapid footsteps coming down the hall.

“Darn—!”

“DOWN HEYAH!”

That familiar British voice! You stuck your head at the window and saw Hobie with outstretched arms.

“JUMP DOWN! I’LL CATCH YA!”

“ARE YOU COOCOO FOR COCOPUFFS?”

“TRUST!”

You anxiously rubbed your arms as you heard the servants working on the entrance door. Who would win: your fear of heights or your fear of jail?

“Open up!”

Darn, darn, darn, darn—

Your Pokémon pushed you out the window. WHAT?

You were falling—you were falling—you were going to meet your death—

“Ya not fallin anymore you damsel in distress.”

You blushed out of embarrassment and got out of Hobie’s arms. “Ahem, thank you.”

He suddenly grabbed your hand tightly and started running away from the mansion. “So, what’s the name? I never caught it!”

You sighed. You really got yourself into some sort of mess. “[Name]. Your new partner in crime.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“I WAS BEING SARCASTIC.”

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x gender neutral reader #astv x reader

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smalls-words · 2 years

Text

Fulfil Your Oath

Summary: Handmaiden to the Princess of Themyscira, you have one well-known rule: where she goes, you follow. But you have another only you know: never fall in love with the princess.

Pairings: Princess Diana x Handmaiden!Reader, Unnamed Mother x Reader, Antiope x Diana (aunt), Antiope x Reader (trainer), Menalippe x Reader (mentor), Menalippe x Antiope (wives).

Warnings: Death, battle, requited but unseen love, soft fluffy bit at the end.

Genre: Fluff and Angst

A/N: Here is the masterlist of the now miniseries!

*not my gif*

It was tradition. The handmaiden of the Queen would have a daughter, who would then grow up to be the handmaiden of the Princess. From the moment you could walk, you shadowed your mother, who shadowed the Queen.

You took in everything you could to learn about what you needed to learn, and after fourteen long years, your mother finally introduced you to the princess.

“Princess.” Your mother bowed to her small form.

“Hello.” Her Themysciran accent was thick.

“Princess, I’d like for you to meet your handmaiden. My daughter, Y/N.”

Your mother moved out of the way to reveal you standing quietly, your eyes not lifting until your name was spoken by the princess. “Speak.” She added.

“Good afternoon, Princess.” You bowed.

She gave you a smile before the appearance of the Queen had you kneeling before her. “My Queen.” You addressed her.

“Good afternoon, Handmaiden Y/N.” She nodded, the signal to relax.

You stood and moved behind Diana, as your mother did with Queen Hippolyta. The two conversed as they walked through the gardens, your mouth sealed shut the entire time but you listened to everything.

Over the first year of being Diana’s handmaiden, you learnt her schedule off by heart. You learned all of her favourite meals, prepared her bed every morning after she woke up. Stood by her shower, helped her dress, and kept her together.

Now, officially four years from your first day as her handmaiden, you entered her room.

“Good morning, Diana.” You murmured as you walked in.

“Mmm.” She grumbled.

You sighed. “Good morning, Arteia.”

You waited patiently for the woman to leave, helping her collect her belongings before you walked around to the windows and opened the curtains.

“Y/N, no…” Diana groaned in annoyance.

“You have a meeting with your mother in half an hour.” You pulled the bedsheets off of her very easily, her groggy sleep-filled mind not quick enough to react.

She buried her face into her pillow, her voice muffled. “I’ve had enough of these meetings.”

“Well you can bring up that topic with your mother, at the meeting.” You replied.

As you were about to get her bath ready, you felt her hand take your wrist. Her beautiful raven hair shone like obsidian in the sunlight, and her chocolate brown eyes looked like pure gold.

*Stop it.* You thought to yourself.

“Can’t I just… skip it?” She gave you a grin, hoping you’d be lenient.

You shook your head. “I cannot allow that. Now come, we are going to be late.” You removed your wrist from her grip and waited at the bathroom door for her.

You were careful to not look at her naked form.

She had a quick bath and thanked you for the towel in your arms, dressing herself in simple clothing before following you out the door. You knew the palace like the palm of your hand, corridors and hallways interconnecting like the lines of your skin.

As you came to the closed oak doors, you opened the left one and held it so as Diana walked through. You followed her to her seat, drew it out from under the table, and pushed her back in.

“Thank you, Y/N.” She murmured.

She watched you stand by the corner guard, your eyes fixed forwards on a spot of marble. Diana looked down at the meal before her, thanking the gods quietly before she ate.

The meeting over breakfast was quiet and concluded quickly since the Queen had to deal with some trainees, leaving you with Diana and her schedule. Training was soon and you needed to dress her in her training armour before taking her to the fields.

For once, Diana wasn’t fidgeting or talking randomly as you dressed her. She was silent.

“Speak your mind, Y/N.”

You just realised she was looking at you, observing the concern hidden behind your eyes. “You are not acting as you normally do.”

“It is nothing. Just… frustration from breakfast.” Diana murmured.

“Of course.” You nodded, standing after tying her boot lace around her calf.

You walked down with her to the stables where your horse was ready to be ridden. You sat at the front and Diana the back, her hands lightly falling to your waist for a grip.

As you arrived at the training field, you watched Diana run down to General Antiope before climbing off the horse. Diana’s training session would be two hours, before lunch and some formalities before coming back for another two hours in the evening.

You gave Antiope a nod of respect before going for a walk in the forest.

——————————\\//\\//——————————

In the evening, you found Diana once more at the training field. She looked battered and bruised as she normally does, her hair slightly filled with grass whilst a happy grin spread across her face at the sight of you.

“Y/N! Come down here!” She yelled from the valley.

You carefully made your way down to where she stood next to Antiope. “Y/N, I want you to meet my aunt, Antiope. I don’t know if you two have ever met before but she thinks I’m ready to join the ranks! What do you think?”

You looked at the General, who gave you a slight shake of her head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, General Antiope.” You spoke instead, bowing your head.

You turned to Diana. “And as for you, I think you need a bath.”

Antiope chuckled at your remark whilst Diana gasped. You shook your head with laughter as she walked up the hill frustratingly, your smile dying down as you looked at Antiope.

“Don’t be late tonight, or I will go much harder on you.” She warned with a grin.

“Of course, General.” You smiled before following after your princess, who was extremely annoyed since your horse wouldn’t move without you.

“Y/N, hurry up!” She ordered.

“I’m coming.” You murmured, swinging yourself onto the saddle at the front.

As you walked back to the palace, Diana’s fatigue set in. She leaned her head on your shoulder and carefully looked at you, your eyes glancing down to her for a moment.

“Someone is tired.” You teased.

“You try training for four hours a day against Antiope. You’ll be exhausted.” She mumbled, her arms tightening around your waist ever so slightly.

After returning your horse to the stable, you walked Diana back through the palace to her chambers. You undressed her and let her sink into the warm water of the bath, grabbing your stool to sit next to it.

You washed her hair thoroughly but gently, listening to her groan in satisfaction. You carefully scrubbed her down, being extra careful over her bruises and scrapes, before you invited her to climb into the warm towel in your arms.

You then dressed her into her night clothes and folded the sheets over her, chuckling as she took your wrist in her hand.

“Stay with me tonight?” She asked with a grin.

“I cannot, Princess.” You took your hand away.

She sat up, her damp hair falling over to one side. “Why not? You are my handmaiden. You serve me.”

You hesitated at the door, your hand on the frame. “I am a handmaiden. I do not sleep in my Princess’s bed.”

Diana grew confused by your words and walked to the door, but she could no longer find you in the hallway. She closed the door quietly, moving back to the bed to lie down.

Her eyes gazed up at the stars. “I wish she would.” She begged the gods before sleep took her.

You looked up at her bedroom window as Antiope was getting water for you both. You dressed into your training armour, gazing at the light of the candle fading in Diana’s bedroom.

“I wish I could.” You murmured before Antiope’s footsteps enticed you to swing your sword and start your four hours of training.

——————————\\//\\//——————————

The days blurred together as you trained with Antiope and cared for Diana, using the time she was at training to earn more rest before your own would begin that night. You were much better than Diana, having trained for years upon years, starting when you began as handmaiden.

One day as you were trotting towards the training grounds to pick up Diana, you heard a loud whirring sound. It couldn’t be any of the blacksmiths, nor the armour makers since it was coming from the ocean.

Black smoke trailed from some small yellow spot, your eyes locking onto Diana as she dove off of the cliff. Alarm bells rang in your mind before you galloped down the mountain to the palace, not even dismounting as you found the Queen outside.

“My Queen! The border has been breached!” You reported.

She mounted her horse and followed after you, throwing you an armour set as she held your horse’s gallop steady. You slipped it on over your clothes and took a set of weapons from Arteia, thanking her with a nod.

As you approached the cliffedge, you leapt off of the back of your horse and shot an arrow into the cliff, swinging down to be met with Diana’s worried eyes.

“Princess!” You cut the rope just in time, rolling towards her.

“Y/N, stay behind me!” She ordered, covering you with her body before you pushed her down, your chest on top of hers.

“I am your handmaiden, which makes me your protector. Stay down.” You growled, lifting your eyes to see the stampede of horses coming across the beach.

“General!” You bellowed, your voice carrying across the cliff face.

Antiope spotted you and nodded, a sword landing in front of you. You gripped it tightly in your hand and stabbed the enemy to your right, forcing him to drop his weapon.

“You.” You pointed at the man staying close to Diana.

“Use that.” You gestured to it.

He nodded and gripped the gun, firing off at the enemy whilst you let arrows fly and swords clash with their guns. In the end, nobody made it within ten feet of Diana unless you wanted them to.

But Diana moved.

Standing at the shore, an enemy gun pointing at her.

You were too late.

“ANTIOPE!” You roared, throwing your sword through the throat of the enemy soldier to decapitate him.

You crouched down next to Diana, propping up the head of your mentor. “No, no, no…” You moved Antiope’s hair away from her face, tears welling in your eyes.

She looked at Diana. “Diana… the time has come. You… You must…”

“What, Antiope? Tell me what to do, please!” She begged.

Antiope strained to talk. “Godkiller. Diana, go…”

“Go? Go where?”

Antiope looked at you. “Your oath…” Her hand came to rest on yours as it held her head. “Fulfil it.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

She looked back at Diana before you felt the limpness of her hand, a few tears coming from Diana before Menalippe came to her corpse, begging the gods to bring her wife back. Hippolyta came to your side, to which you were confused by her empathetic expression.

“I’m sorry, child. I… She fulfilled her oath.” She murmured.

“No.” You shook your head, standing up to scan the standing warriors.

She was lying down in the sand.

“MAMA!” You bellowed, racing over to her corpse.

“No, no, no…” You moved the hair out of her face, dusted the sand off her skin.

“Mama, please, no. You- Mama.” You pressed your forehead against her chest, clutching her limp form tightly.

The tears finally broke through, streaming down your cheeks and onto her breastplate, scratches of old being filled in with tears of new. You didn’t dare take your eyes off of hers, even if they weren’t smiling at you.

Anger bubbled below the surface of sadness.

“You.” You snarled, staring at the man behind Diana.

Diana stepped in front of you and whilst you could have overcome her in a normal spar, your emotions clouded your judgement. “Y/N, do not! He fought at our side!”

“You brought them here! You killed my Mama!”

Menalippe gripped you by her arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you away from Diana and the stranger. She held you tightly against her, waiting for your anger to dissipate.

“We shall grieve together.” She murmured in your ear.

——————————\\//\\//——————————

You stood beside Diana, tears still trickling down your reddened face as Menalippe held the stranger within the Lasso of Hestia. The princess looked at you every sniffle or two, urged to comfort you but she needed to deal with the stranger first.

It was her duty.

You left after the feeling of more than two pairs of eyes overwhelmed you, collapsing after you found a dark room to hide in. You stayed in the darkest corner and shook as grief gripped your heart with no remorse, not even hearing the door opening.

“Y/N? Y/N, it’s me, Diana.”

Her voice sounded so far away. You could feel your mind spiralling so far that it felt like you were falling into Tartarus, only for a simple touch to your cheek to bring you back.

“Y/N?” Her soft voice queried.

“M-My Princess, um…” You tidied yourself up, brushing away your tears. “H-How can I help you? I can run you a bath, I can dress you, I can-”

“I want you to breathe.” She murmured.

You looked up at her, feeling so small yet so seen. Your bottom lip trembled at her words, forcing your own out. “I can’t.”

She pulled you closer to her, scanning your teary face before you yelped as she picked you up. She placed you on the edge of the bath before she ran the water, not budging when you gestured for her to leave.

“Diana, I can do this myself.”

“Not in the state you’re currently in.”

She moved to undress you but you protested, undressing yourself to sink into the warm water. You faced away from Diana, wanting to be alone so desperately so you could grieve without judgement.

Her hands fell into your hair and gently began to massage your scalp, introducing the water before adding the oils you used on her hair. You didn’t make a fuss, not wanting to show her your teary eyes, and let her scrub your back and lower body.

“Turn.” She muttered.

“No.” You replied softly.

She sighed and quietly stood, grabbing a towel to wrap around you. “Come on.” She urged.

You stood nervously and stepped out of the bath whilst facing away from her, shuddering as the warmth of the towel failed to reach further into you than your skin. Diana guided you out to her bedroom and sat you on the bed, bringing what is normally your stool in front of you.

“Now… Tell me why you seem to be an excellent fighter, much better than some of our greatest warriors. And why does Menalippe care for you so much?” She asked, rubbing your feet gently just as you would do for her.

“Menalippe was my handmaiden mentor before Antiope.” You smiled sheepishly.

“And your fighting?” She queried.

“I… train in the hours of night. I have since I became your handmaiden.” You admitted, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Although I assume they are finished, since Antiope is… with the gods.”

Diana looked up at you as you brushed away another tear, giving her a short but untrue smile. She stood and moved to her cupboard of garments, sifting through them before holding one up to you.

“Diana, please, I have my own clothes-”

“Silence.” She ordered, to which you had no choice but to obey.

She brought you to your feet and gently pushed away the confines of the towel, noticing how nervous you were to show your body. “Arms.” She ordered again, slipping the clothing onto you very easily.

You let her put on every piece of clothing before she then placed a fur cloak over you, confusing you. “What are you doing, Diana?”

“We are going with Steve.” She murmured.

“The stranger?!” You stepped back, falling onto the bed.

“Yes. But we have to be quiet.” She hissed softly, noting your anger as she pulled her own fur cloak on.

“My Princess, there is nothing you can do to get me to go with you and him.” You murmured, spitting his descriptive.

She turned to you, a determined look on her face. “You are my handmaiden. Where I go, you follow. That is your oath.”

You lowered your eyes as the princess’ anger frightened you slightly, but she hugged you tightly afterwards. “We will go when dusk has fallen. Get some sleep.”

You made your way out of the room to find Menalippe standing at your door. You startled her by the sight of your clothing, her footsteps urgent as she came to you.

You were prepared to be scolded.

But you were embraced.

She held you close, tucking your head against her chest. The floodgates opened once more, her tears coupling yours. “We grieve together, Y/N. No matter our occupation.”

You sniffled and nodded against her, letting her lead you inside to sit on your bed that was much smaller than Diana’s. Menalippe held you close as the stars began to reveal themselves in the waning light, sighing as she pulled away slightly.

“You do not have to go. Hippolyta will give you time to grieve. You may even end up as her handmaiden.” She murmured.

“Antiope said I must fulfil my oath.” You replied just as softly.

“I will not let her last command die simply because she is gone.”

Menalippe nodded, kneeling in front of you as the moon revealed itself besides its companions. “Go. Be by her side.”

She brushed your cheeks clear of tears. “But you are still a child. If the emotions come, let them through. The greatest skill a warrior can have is empathy.”

You nodded, letting her kiss your temple before she stood. “Go. Before I have to inform the Queen of your leave.”

You thanked her with a tight hug before sprinting out of the door.

#smalls words #diana prince #diana prince x reader #diana prince x fem!reader #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman x fem!reader #diana prince fluff #diana prince angst #wonder woman fluff #wonder woman angst #fulfil your oath miniseries

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reds-fluff-extravaganza · 10 months

Text

Steven x reader

Requested over on ao3! I went with a happy au for this one cause they wanted fluff and it fit better for this oneshot

“Do you think he’ll be surprised?” You asked as you were walking towards Mike and Steven’s house, holding a pokeball in your hand.

“Oh, absolutely.” Mike nodded in agreement as he walked beside you. “If you offer it to him, he’ll accept it from you, consider you are his partner.”

“I suppose that is true.” You chuckle a bit as you and the brunette continued walking, glancing down at the pokeball in your hand, which held a pokemon that you were going to show to your boyfriend, Steven. What had happened was: Mike had asked Steven to trade Miki to get the data for his pokedex, but you had a better idea, since you had a Charizard of your own, you figured you could breed them and give Mike the egg so he could raise his own.

What you weren’t expecting however, was two eggs waiting for you at the daycare center. You didn’t mind, really, you could just raise the other one and give it to a trainer starting out their journey or something. Or at least, that was the original plan. That all changed when the two Charmander hatched. One you did give to Mike as promised, but the other you just couldn’t give up.

“Y/n, we’re here.” You were brought out from your thoughts as you heard Mike talking to you.

“I just hope he won’t freak out or anything.”

“I doubt it. Come on, he should be here.” Mike opened the door and let you inside before following you into the house.

“Steven?” You both called out to the raven haired male, who soon walked into the room.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Great! Y/n has something they want to show you.”

“Oh, uh, alright. What is it, Y/n?” You gave Mike a playful glare before you walked over to Steven, placing the pokeball you had in your hand, into his own.

“Let them out, Steven.” He nodded in response and let the pokemon out from the pokeball. What he saw, however, was definitely not what he was expecting. What stood in front of him was…

“A shiny Charmander.” Steven just barely managed to get his words out, surprised to see the shiny Pokemon in front of him.

“Yep.” You nodded, a faint smile on your face as you watched him pick up the golden colored Charmander and hug it.

“This is amazing, Y/n! Also very rare, but amazing.”

“Agreed.” You went over to him and hugged him as well, the Charmander seemingly enjoyed the attention as he got closer to both of you with a smile on his face.

“And I figured… since he is from our two Charizard, we could… help raise him together?” Steven looked back at you, a surprised look on his face, before he nodded and kissed your forehead softly.

“I would like that, very much. Hopefully Miki won’t get too overprotective or anything.”

“Well just have to wait and see.” You chuckled a bit in response.

“Should we… give him a name?” You tilt your head to the side in a curious manner.

“I think we should.” Steven tapped his chin in thought, as if in thought. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”

“Well, he is like a golden color…”

“Gold? no, that doesn’t sound right for him.” You two continued mulling it over, throwing out ideas for names, either not liking them, or putting them into consideration. That is, until you came up with another name:

“How about Solaris? Since he’s golden like the sun, and Solaris is a name that means of the sun, if I remember correctly.”

“Solaris…” Steven thought about it for a moment, looking down at the Charmander in his arms, who looked back up at him and smiled.

“I think it’s perfect.”

“Then that settles it. Welcome to the family, little Solaris.” You pet Solaris’ head, who smiled more and nuzzled against your hand, letting out happy cries.

“I think he likes it, Y/n.”

“I’m glad he does.” You hugged them both, looking up at Steven.

“I love you, Steven.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” He leaned down and kissed your cheek, you giving him one in return. “Now come on, let’s go show Solaris the world!” You let go of Steven and grabbed his hand, him holding your hand now as you practically dragged him outside, smiling and laughing. Steven chuckled a bit as he followed you outside, Solaris happily following behind you two.

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ciderwitch · 2 years

Text

I'm just feeling it today man. I might be writing some Holiday Submas SFW fluff next tbh but had to get this out of my system first 😔😉

🔞Butler Ingo x Reader x Butler Emmet + Tights Kink(?)

Ingo and Emmet looked so good in their tailored suits that you decided to surprise them at the Tea Festival on Pasio with a maid outfit of your own!

It had a simple but cute design with black and white fabrics, dainty red and blue ribbons, and small polished buttons of silver and gold. Elesa was very happy to help you pick out and design most of the pieces yourself– you didn't want to think about the price of the shoes she gifted you– but she was absolutely adamant about the last piece you needed to complete the look.

It was a pair of lacy black tights. Not that you minded, considering that the ones with garters felt a little too risque for this kind of event. They were cute but plain aside from a band of ribbons going across your mid-thigh.

Truth be told, you felt they were a little too thin to be tights, but Elesa wouldn't hear it. It didn't help that she'd told you that your normal underwear was making lines so you had nothing on underneath the thin fabric.

Still, you couldn't help but feel cute. Sexy, even, given how the dress showed off your curves in a way you were usually too afraid to try.

"You look adorable!", Elesa happily stated before ushering you into the Zebstrika-led carriage that would be escorting the two of you tonight. "I told you my friend was a good seamstress!"

"I just hope they like it." You sigh worriedly as the carriage gets closer to the plaza. You could already hear the soft classical music coming from the small orchestra and Ingo's voice distantly announcing another celebrity.

Ingo and Emmet had worked very hard to get chosen as the hosts at this year's Tea Party event and were personally welcoming all the special guests as they arrived. There were dozens of elite trainers, breeders, and scientists from several regions in attendance tonight.

"Trust me," Elesa said, tapping your knee with hers and giving you a bright smile. "They're going to love it! Besides, you could be wearing a dress of old Arbok skin and they'd still think you were the prettiest girl in all of Unova." She joked.

You chuckled, knowing she was probably right. Ingo and Emmet were always appreciative of how you looked, even complimenting you when you were in your rattiest pair of pajamas after you all hibernated through a three day weekend.

Still, it was hard to calm your nerves as you felt your turn to exit the carriage draw near. All too soon, the Zebstrika out front came to a halt and Elesa stepped out first.

"Now introducing Madame Elesa, the Shining Beauty of Unova!" Ingo's voice rang out once again. Turns out his volume came in handy for events like this, though Emmet's monotone voice was no less booming as he held up his microphone to give your introduction as you stepped out of the carriage.

"Now introducing Madame Y/n, Champion of Unova!"

As you slipped your gloved hand into Ingo's, you tried to get a glimpse of his face.

He looked downright dashing in his suit and hat, and you chuckled at the immediate blush that colored his cheeks as he caught sight of your dress.

He quickly passed you over to Emmet, who gave you a subtle once over and a quick wink before he helped usher you to the red carpet.

You felt their eyes following you as you made your way back to Elesa who was posing for a few pictures before taking her seat.

A handful of other high-profile guests arrived until finally it was time to begin the festivities.

Ingo and Emmet were masterful hosts, directing staff and delighting guests the entire evening. Though they couldn't spend too long with any table in particular, you knew they were being careful to keep your tea cup full and your snack tray well-stocked. You tried not to stare, but they were both effortlessly graceful. Ingo, prim and proper, bowed to each guest before offering to pour them another tea. Emmet was as talkative as ever, entertaining guests and leaving each table with more laughter and smiling than when he had found it.

It was a wonderful evening and you had met dozens of interesting new individuals, exchanging your number and promising plenty of battles in the upcoming future.

When the time came, Ingo and Emmet thanked everyone for their attendance and dazzled their guests with a final fireworks show.

You decided to head home so you could prep some dinner and clean clothes for your boys. You knew they had to be exhausted after running around socializing and serving others in those suits all evening.

You decided to leave the dress and tights on, enjoying the feel of them and laughing at yourself at the idea of being their private little maid to come home to.

You were in the middle of prepping dinner when you heard them get back. They were probably going to change and come say hello, so you figured you'd meet them in the kitchen.

"Hey boys!" You called out, letting them know where you were. "The tea party was wonderful, wasn't it?"

They didn't answer. Poor things, you thought, they were probably exhausted.

"Sorry if you guys are tired! I'll finish dinner up and put it up so you can have some in the morning!"

You yelped when a hand grabbed your hip and a body suddenly pushed flush against yours, pushing you forward against the counter.

"I am Emmet, and you have been verrry cruel, darling."

"Emmet, wha-" you gasped as he ground something hard against your ass through the dress.

"Wearing such a pretty dress all evening when we can't do anything about it." He hisses into your ear as another pair of hands suddenly push you back from the counter. Ingo pushes you into his brother as he crowds against your front, shoving one of his thighs through your legs and effectively trapping you between the two still-suited men.

"You show up looking like this, knowing we can't service you the way you deserve in front of all those people," Ingo groans, sounding halfway to broken already. "Please, madame, we've been so good this evening. Won't you let us have a taste?"

Any kind of answer leaves your mind as Emmet tugs your dress up and runs a hand over your tights-covered pussy, squeezing and toying with your mound as he places a nip to your ear.

"F-fuck, Ingo, Emmet, yes, p-please!" You beg, blood rushing out of your head as the warmth of their bodies scent of their spiced cologne surrounds you further.

"I think I know just how proceed, Ingo." Emmet chuckled darkly before breaking away to drag you to the living room. He sat down on the couch before quickly turning you around and pulling your body down on top of him, placing your ass against his lap while he snaked his hands under your knees and lifted.

You were suddenly so exposed. You felt yourself clench around nothing as Ingo, following from the kitchen, practically drooled at the sight of you with Emmet's arms locked around your legs, holding your core to Ingo's hungry eyes while Emmet's hard length dug into your back.

"Go on then, Ingo, we can't leave our mistress waiting," Emmet purred, urging his brother to action. "She went to all this trouble to wear these pretty little things. Why don't we show her how much we appreciate them?"

Ingo, still looking oh-so-put-together in his suit, tenderly placed a gloved hand over your clothed mound and traced his fingers around the shape, making you whimper. You felt your face flush as you both realized that just his feather-light touch already had you soaking through your the bottoms. Ingo was quick to notice your arousal, practically panting as he began teasing your more - harder, yes, but still not firm enough to give you any proper fiction. You tried canting your hips but Emmet's grip had you completely immobilized.

"You should wear these more often, darling," Emmet mumbled hotly into your ear. "Be our pretty little maid, let us service you how you need. I will let you use me as you see fit, mistress."

Your soft moan seems to break Ingo out of his spell, and you practically start drooling himself when you see him pull his cock out from his dress pants. It's long and thick, and you want nothing more than to let him hilt it inside you.

But he makes no move to strip you. Instead, he lets his clock slip between your legs and moans loudly as he begins to grind his dripping length against your slit over the tights.

And it's not enough, not nearly enough, but the slow drag of his head against your hole has you desperately trying to buck against him for more.

"Darling, you feel so perfect!" He groaned as he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss, catching his weight on his arms on either side of your head.

Still, each heavy drag of his cock comes with a rock against Emmet's cock below you, and you whimpered into Ingo's mouth as Emmet's hands left your legs to fall around Ingo's thighs and shifted up into your dress, sliding up your sides to fondle your breasts, squeezing and cupping them as Ingo sloppily fucked your mouth with his tongue. His kisses were wet, desperate, driving you out of breath as he moaned whorishly and sought his release against you. You loved every moment of it.

Your slick was absolutely soaked through your tights and now drops of Ingo's pre-cum began to mix with it. He was practically fucking you onto Emmet now, grabbing your thighs and forcing them apart to grind the head of his cock against your clit with each hump against you. You were so, so close, crying as Ingo babbled praise and nonsense against your lips, calling you beautiful, perfect, wonderful, theirs, theirs, theirs-

And then he was cumming, spilling his hot seed into your thighs with a cry and crushing you against Emmet, who bit your shoulder with a high-pitched whine as his brother's cock twitched against and painted your dress and tights in his spend and you came hard, clenching around nothing as Ingo mindlessly kept fucking his cock over your pussy eve as you were shaking from the sensitivity. Finally he pushed off of you both, staggering away as you fell limp. You didn't expect him to pull you up with him, only to drop you to the side as poor Emmet shot up to pin you underneath his weight.

"My turn," he hissed, before reaching down and ripping a hole into your tights. He wasted no time and sank his cock right into your soaking folds, shuddering at how you clenched around him.

"Fuck, Emmet, wait, it's too sensitive- Ah!" You cried, not having enough strength to slow his thrusts as he hammered into your hole like a man possessed.

Neither of you were going to last long, both so worked up and desperate from before. His suit was a wrinkled mess and you reached a hand up to grab his disheveled hair, desperate for something to ground yourself against his thick cock slamming into your walls and hitting that spot over and over again. As soon as you fisted your hand into his hair he was cumming with a shout, painting your insides and falling down against you. You didn't know if it was the weight of him over you, the press of a hard pants button insistent against your sensitive clit, the twitching of his cock, or the way he whimpered into your ear that had you crying out and locking your legs around you, milking his cock as he shuddered from the way you squeezed him dry.

All three of you fell into a numb pile on the couch, dinner all but forgotten as you worked to catch your breath.

Yeah, dinner could wait.

#pokemon x reader smut #submas x reader #submas smut #submas emmet x reader #submas ingo x reader #🚇#butler submas #dapper submas

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