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writing-mlm · 2 months

Note

I was wondering if you could do a Zuko x male reader fic? I’ve been scouring everywhere for male reader fics sob😭

I told you so (It was always about you)

Summary: You're worried about life after the war, really you're worried about life without Zuko. Too bad you're as love blind as Toph is blind. Pairing: Zuko x waterbender!male!reader WC: 7.4k TW: its hinted about reader being trans, readers mother asking about grandkids a/n: this was gonna be sm longer but I haven't posted in agesssss

“Katara,” You softly call in front of her tent. It’s the dead of night, four days before Aang is supposed to be fighting Ozai and you’re in front of Katara’s tent, nervously picking at your hair ribbon. “Katara!” You call again, leaning close to the fabric.

“Huh?” She opens the flap to the tent, only able to see with the dying campfire behind you.

“Can I come in?” You whisper and she tiredly nods, rolling back over to her spot so you can enter. Settling on your knees on top of a hide blanket, you close the tent and watch as she lights a lantern.

Patting your fingers against your bare knees, you look around her tent. It’s mostly the same as the others Zuko has bought, but she has her clothes neatly folded next to her pillow with her necklace set securely under the pillow.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” She asks through a yawn and you nod, even though it wasn’t a yes or no question.

“I uh… I need to ask you something…” You trail and she nods, propping herself on her arm. “Do you think… do you think Zuko will stay with us after Aang defeats Ozai?” She raises an eyebrow, it's well into the night and you kept yourself up for hours, mulling over that question. “It’s just… he’ll become Fire Lord and he’ll be busy. What if he forgets m- us?” Ah, she blinks, that’s why you’re worried.

“He won’t forget you,” She reassures, putting a hand on top of your hand and your eyes widen before you move your hand from under hers.

“I wasn’t talking about—“ Lowering your voice, you clear your throat. “I wasn’t talking about me, I meant the whole group.” You shake your head, looking off towards the tent's entrance to see if you had woken anyone up. “We’re all his friends, not just me.” Awkwardly chuckling, you rise and wave your hand. “Forget I even said anything, I’m just tired. Pre-battle nerves and everything…” Without protesting, Katara watches as you stand up and open the door of sorts to the tent, nearly tripping on your way up.

“He won’t leave you.” She says as you leave her tent.

Regretting not bringing a blanket with you, you look at the moon and run your hands along your arms for warmth before going back to finding your tent in the near pitch-black area Aang has decided to stop at for the night. It doesn’t take long to find your tent, though since standing in front of your tent, you see Zuko standing with a small flame in the palm of his hand.

“You okay?” You ask and he turns around, the flame flickering with the sudden movement. His shoulders settle as he sees you and the flame dies down just a bit, just enough that you can fully see him when you’re close enough.

“I heard you yelling,” He admits, keeping his voice down in case he woke anyone up. If only you’d been as good. “Why were you in Katata’s tent?” He takes notice of your fundoshi and sarashi and you shake your head, gesturing back to her tent.

“I was asking her a question…about… water bending.” He slowly nods, not believing your very obvious lie but doesn’t press on. “So…” Looking away from him, you chew the inside of your cheek and sigh, trying to find something to say.

“So…?” He repeats.

“Future Fire Lord, amirite?” Lightly punching his arm, you immediately curse yourself. “I mean— like, with Aang and your dad and stuff…?” He blinks, once and then twice. “I’m just… y'know?” Looking at the moon, you squint. “Look at the moon! It’s late! I better go to sleep now, goodnight!” Darting into your tent, you push yourself to the furthest corner and watch as Zuko stands there for a couple of seconds before he clears his throat.

“Yes, goodnight.” He says before walking away. Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose and allow yourself to sit in pure embarrassment until you eventually fall asleep.

—

Katara had come around fully to the idea of Zuko, something about being next to your sorta enemy while deciding not to kill your mother's killer brought them closer together. It was nice.

Everyone had been sort of relaxed during their stay at his father's empty beach house but you were still on edge. Staying in Ozai’s own beach house was risky, he could decide he finally wanted a dip in the ocean and show up. Especially with Sokka and Suki exploring into town, word could spread. Even if Zuko didn’t share the same sentiment.

“Calm down,” Toph grunts as she shoves your calf. Stumbling onto a pillar, you glare at her. “I’d feel if anyone was around.” That was true, you supposed. Sighing, you decide to give it a rest looking around the surrounding area of the house, and settle next to Toph. She and Katara were watching Aang and Zuko practice their Fire Bending, you tried not to watch. It only reminded you that you could possibly die in a horrible fire, feeling the water leave your body until you become a crisp husk of yourself.

Toph, clearly feeling your worry huffs and grabs your shirt before pulling you down. Forcing you to lay on your back, she hums and closes her eyes. Doing the same, you instead think about nearly anything else. Even try to clear your mind, although you only think airbenders can truly do that.

“Doesn’t it seem kind of weird that we’re hiding from the Fire Lord in his own house?” Katara asks sometime later, once the two finish up their training.

“I told you, my father hadn’t come here since our family was actually happy,” Zuko explains, his seventh time explaining that exact point. Sitting up, you catch him wiping the sweat from his head. “And that was a long time ago. It’s the last place anyone would think to look for us,” He adds, staring at you.

“You guys are not gonna believe this!” Sokka exclaims as he rushes into the courtyard with Suki behind him, a rolled-up paper in his grip. “There’s a play about us!”

“We were just in town and we found this poster.” Looking at the picture on the poster, you cover your mouth and listen as Sokka and Suki read the poster. It sounds horrid. Zuko knows it’ll be horrible. Katara doesn’t want to go.

As such, everyone goes.

“Why don’t the girls sit up there and the boys sit down there?” Katara grins, already shoving Sokka from the bench next to Suki. She grins at you, motioning with her eyes to Zuko.

“Why?” Aang frowns, clearly trying to set you up was affecting Aang trying to set him and Katara up.

“She clearly wants the better view!” Sokka almost shouts. Everyone shushes him and looks around.

“Why don’t we just sit where we want?” Toph groans, plopping down on the outside of the lower bench. “My feet can’t even see from up here!” Katara shares Aang’s frown and slumps down next to Toph.

“I’ll tell your feet what’s happening,” She promises, barely registering that Zuko sat next to her. There was more space on the top bench but you were sure you didn’t want to sit next to the couple and took the spot next to Zuko. Aang sighs and takes the seat next to Sokka.

The play starts, opening with the actors that played Katara and Sokka on their canoe. Katara’s actress is… something. From the first word, you check out.

“I told them,” Zuko whispered when the two started to complain. Only Toph seems to be enjoying the play.

“We could leave,” You grin, catching the actor freeing the girl playing Aang. He thinks about it, genuinely thinks about it but he’s enjoying Aang complaining about his own character until ‘Zuko’ and ‘Iroh’ show up.

“They make me look totally stiff and humorless,” He complains. As much as you don’t want to say it, it’s the most accurate portrayal of the group so far.

“Actually, I think that actors are spot on,” Katara muses.

“How could you say that?” He gasps at the same time his actor says the same thing.

“We should leave,” He agrees and goes to stand up but Sokka pushes him down. Eventually, the scene where they meet your actor appears. The actor playing you is… something. He’s a quiet actor, hunching himself over and running away from any source of fire. Then, there’s only one scene with Yue, her death. Immediately after it’s the scene where you found out about her death. Your actor, for the first and only time in the play, blows up and yells at Sokka. Nearly killing him by accidentally freezing him.

The play wasn’t wasn’t completely wrong in that sense.

It wasn’t something you were proud of, no matter how much Sokka swore it was water under the bridge.

“Do you want to leave?” Zuko whispers, grabbing your hand. Probably to make it quicker if the two of you decided to leave. Nothing else.

“Do you?” You ask, looking over at him. Yes, yes, you fucking wanted to leave the play. This whole thing was a stupid idea.

“I never wanted to stay,” He blinks, and yeah, that’s true.

As quietly as possible, as Katara is busy explaining to Toph, as Aang is trying to strike up a conversation with Katara, and Suki and Sokka are lightly arguing about his portrayal, the two of you leave the theater.

The intermission would be soon, anyway.

“I didn’t know you did that,” Zuko says but judging by his face, he immediately regrets his words.

“I thought he killed my sister,” You humorlessly laugh, leaning against the banister. “What was I supposed to do? Not kill him,”

“That’s reasonable,” He agrees, his thumb running across the flesh of your hand. He feels the curves of your knuckles, the dips of the scar left there from a fight with an earthbender. He still thinks punching the rock was stupid. You watch, looking at your intertwined fingers.

Ever since that night in the tent, Zuko has been acting strange. He’s been more touchy, he actively seeks you out in the group, and he's a bit more awkward with you. Toph, whenever they’re alone, always teases him about it.

A stupid part of you, so you’ve dubbed it, thinks he could feel the same way. The rational part of you thinks he’s committing you to memory, so when he leaves for good he won’t forget you.

“Do you want something to eat?” He asks, long after the two of you stood in the silence that took over the balcony, the both of you staring at your hands.

“No,” You shake your head a little. “I’m good here. You?”

“I’m good here, too.”

—

In truth, you were surprised that Zuko had picked you over Katara to join him in fighting Azula. You don’t think you were as good as her, close, but not to her level. She was better on her feet while your biggest issue was second-guessing yourself.

“The sky’s lovely,” You admit, holding Appa’s reins tightly.

“It is.” Zuko says without ever looking up. His eyes are cast towards Appa’s fur, he refuses to look at anything else. Not until Appa starts to descend towards the palace.

Azula is on her knees, about to be crowned in front of no one. There’s no crowd other than the officials around her.

“Sorry, but you’re not gonna become Firelord today.” Zuko says before leaping off of Appa. “I am.” She laughs and you stare at her hair. It’s a mess, the worst you’ve ever seen them. They’re cut unevenly, but not on purpose. Her top knot is sloppy done and everything else is a mess.

“You’re hilarious,”

“You want to be Firelord? Fine. Let’s settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be—“ She grins, baring her teeth down at Zuko. “Agni Kai!”

“You’re on.” Zuko agrees. While you don’t agree to let Zuko fight her alone; the both of you know Azula wouldn’t be able to fight the two of you straight on, her only chance would be a one-on-one. But if Zuko agrees, you’ll let him. If push comes to shove, you won’t be far.

As they prepare for the Agni Kai, you fly Appa away. Far enough that he’s away from any attacks that might come his way. When you return, you return to a wall of blue and yellow fire splitting down the middle. It’s pushing Zuko back but it doesn’t seem to care. The sounds of the fire are damn near horrifying, you hear it from all around you, and feel the warmth of their fires as they fly around, setting everything around it ablaze.

Eventually, Azula is knocked back and Zuko yells about her lightning. Taunting her for being scared but she swears she isn’t and prepares her strike. It’s a last-second decision, as she fires her shot and you notice it isn’t heading for Zuko but for you. He notices and jumps in front, clutching the strike to his chest before he falls. Sparks fizzle around him as you rush over but Azula fires at you.

Her attention is no longer on her brother, he’s as good as dead in her eyes.

Thankfully, though, the area is surrounded by water. It’s not a lot, though. Most of it evaporates by the second stream of fire she sends your way and you dive behind a pillar. There are stripes of fire all around you, and you don’t know what to do. You could grab Zuko and leave or you could fight. You could try and heal Zuko and the two of you fight but you don’t know if that’ll work.

“Running away?” She cackles, flying down using her fire. Grabbing some of the water that was on the other side of the area, you use it to put distance between the two of you. Eventually, you run out of water and are forced into a new area as Azula throws a burst of fire at you. It nicks at your skin and you bite your tongue, holding back the yell of pain. Tripping, you notice that the floors have metal gates. Peering inside, you thank the spirits. Running water.

Grabbing chains used to keep the doors closed, you wait for Azula.

“There you are, Water Prince.” Azula sneers, standing in front of you. She takes two steps forward, waiting for you to do something. But you just need her to get closer. Sending a spray of water to her left, she dives right and straight to you, readying herself to lightning strike you.

Her fingers nearly touch you, but you raise your arms, pulling the water below the two of you high and wide enough that she couldn’t possibly get out of it. It freezes around her almost instantly and you quickly wrap her arms in the chains before locking it to the grate.

Giving them a tug, they don’t budge and you drop the water back into the grate. She struggles, gasping for air but you go back to Zuko.

He’s still in pain, writhing on the ground as you flip him onto his back. Pulling some water from the pouch Katara had gifted you, you try your best to heal his wound. You had only learned the basics of healing, before your father eventually ‘came to his senses’ and put you in training with the boys.

But it’s good enough, as the water glows and he seems to be in less pain.

“Thank you, (Y/n).” He mutters, his eyes barely open. “But you should heal yourself.” His hand raises, ghosting over the burnt skin of your neck.

“I’ll be fine,” You croak, pulling his hand down to his side. “Worry about Azula.” Helping him up, the two of you watch as she yells out, spitting fire before collapsing to the floor and sobbing.

“What will you—“

“She’s still my sister,” He says, watching as she falls asleep, still crying. He nods to one of the advisors and leans on you for support, letting you guide him back to Appa. “And she needs help. My father, should Aang spare his life, will go to prison.”

—

For his coronation, Zuko had requested that everyone come dressed in their best traditional wear. And not Fire Nation traditional. He had specifically asked for everyone to wear their traditional clothes and accessories, asking everyone to spare no detail. And with a month to prepare, you think you did quite well with your outfit.

Sliding your norigae through your left ear, you admire the crescent moon pendant and untangle the soft blue string hanging below it. It brushes against your ivory choker, one that’s similar to Sokka’s but his choker is thicker with one row while yours is five thinner rows of bone.

“You look good,” Looking behind you in the mirror, you thank Suki and see she’s wearing her Kyoshi Warriors uniform.

“I’m feeling a bit overdressed if I’m being honest.” You chuckle, staring at your many, many layers. The most noticeable of a long piece of fabric going down between your legs, resting just above your ankles with careful pattern stitching that matches your putter shirt. It’s connected to your outer jacket, but you can’t tell with your whale hide belt and tiger seal fleece sort of skirt. It doesn’t connect in the front, but that’s what your mothers always called it.

“It’s nice,” She shakes her head. “You should see what Toph is wearing.” She adds and you turn around to face her. “She’s waiting in the main room with Katara.” Crap, you knew you shouldn’t have taken so long.

“Oh, am I the last one?” At that, Suki laughs and puts her hands on her hips.

“Sokka isn’t even out of the bath yet,” Of course he isn’t. While you might be the most overdressed, at least you weren’t the last person dressed. You shake your head and thank her again, leaving for the main room.

Once you’re there, you see Toph is sitting on the sofa, sitting as comfortably as she can when she’s wearing something so far from her comfort zone.

Her typical headband is replaced with a golden kuitou with several pom-poms and gems. Her hair is mostly the same, but she’s swept the middle part of her bands to either side. You’ve never seen that much of her forehead before. She’s also wearing a heziqun, a tube top of sorts, worn over her quin, which is a long silky skirt— wait, those are just really loose pants. Smart. She’s also got on a zhai xu, the sleeves part of her dress. Her pibo, the long thin scarf that’s typically draped over her arms, is sitting on the couch next to her.

“Don’t say a word,” She says, her eyes snapping to you.

“Wasn’t going to,” You hum, taking a seat next to her.

Katara is across from you, wearing an outfit similar to your own but hers is distinctly from the Southern Water Tribe.

“Don’t be nervous,” Toph grins over at you and you curse under your breath, she’s not wearing shoes. “You’ll see your boyfriend soon enough.” She pats your shoulder, faking a pout.

“Not my boyfriend,” You purse your lips, there’s no way you’re going to go back and forth on this with a child.

“If you say so,” She loudly sighs and stretches. “But when you get married I want to be your best man.”

“I don’t think so,” Okay, fine, maybe you were going to give in a little. Just a smidge. She frowns and punches your arm. “Ow! Toph, there are no groomsmen in Water Tribe weddings! But I would totally go to you for the ring,”

“Good,” She nods. “I know you have horrible taste in gems. You’d probably want something basic like a diamond.” She makes a face as she says it and Katara rolls her eyes.

“I was thinking something like agate or azurite,” You’re not entirely sure where to find those, but once you do, it’s over for them.

“Yeah, Zuko would like that.” She nods wistfully.

“This isn’t about Zuko,”

“Isn’t it?”

—

The coronation had ended and it was nearly time to begin the festivities, but first, you had to see Zuko. He’d sent for Ty Lee to bring everyone to him in what is now his throne room. It seemed more welcoming, despite nothing changing but the person who sat on the throne.

Zuko pauses his pacing as he hears the footsteps drawing closer and visibly relaxes at the sight of everyone. As he descends down the stairs he dismisses the court and Ty Lee, although she was already leaving at that point. She was more excited about the after-party and hanging out with her new friends, anyway.

“Thank you for coming,” He smiles at you before remembering the others are also in the room. “There’s a small feast waiting for us, please, join me.” He doesn’t say this, but you know from records that those feasts are between the Fire Lord and his family, and as of last week, he didn’t have any remaining family that was able to join him. Well, he had his Uncle Iroh, but he was busy setting up for later that night.

“Free food, I’m in! Lead the way, Oh Great Fire Lord!” Sokka grins, placing his hands on Zuko’s shoulder and literally pushing him out of the room. You laugh, walking alongside Aang towards the room, watching as Suki and Toph take the time to loudly complain about Sokka.

“See,” Katara whispers, falling into step with the two of you. “He isn’t going to leave.” Covering her mouth, you stop walking until you’re sure the distance is too great that Zuko wouldn’t hear.

“I never…” Taking a deep breath, you glance at Aang. “I don’t know what she's talking about,” You tell him with a small shrug, he just stares at Katara, waiting for her to explain.

“He’s lying,” Toph shouts and you grumble. Wiping your mouth, you stand up straight and continue walking.

Waiting at the doors of the room for everyone to catch up, Zuko has a small smile on his face when you stand next to him.

“You guys go in, I want to talk to (Y/n),” He nods and two guards open the doors. Sokka and Toph don’t need to be told twice and rush inside, much to everyone’s amusement. Katara squeezes your arm as she passes by and Aang gives you a thumbs up you pretend to not notice.

Zuko waits until the doors close and the two of you walk in silence until you’re both in the palace courtyard, in front of the turtle duck pond.

“Really,” He nods once the two of you are alone. “Thank you for coming. And-and you look amazing, by the way.” He gestures to your outfit. “You’re not too hot, right? I have a lot of spare clothes you could wear if you’d like…” He looks off to the balcony of his room.

“I’m fine,” You smile, holding your hands in front of you. “I actually toned down the layers, I usually wear four more for ceremonies,” Looking around the courtyard, you wonder what the palace would look like had it been made of ice.

“That’s good,” He nods, fiddling with the fabric of his sleeve before he clears his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “Not that you toned it down, just that you’re not uncomfortable.” He hastily adds before a silence falls over the two of you.

“That night, at the tents…” He starts and you slowly nod. That memory was almost completely forgotten but you remember the most basic gist of the night. “I won’t leave the team— you behind.” He forcefully corrects himself and you have to force yourself to still look at him. “I don’t plan on leaving you behind.” He reiterates.

“Oh,” You hum, biting the corners of your mouth to stop your smile from growing.

“I don’t know who to say this,” He trails off and reaches to grab your hand. He grips it tightly and your heart hammers, there’s a million different things he could possibly want to say but you know. Hopefully. “But my uncle advised me to speak freely about this. I have… I would like— no,” His face contorts and you nod, promising to let him take his time. He thinks for a moment, his eyes dipping to stare at your hands. “Would you like to co-rule the Fire Nation with me?” He asks, his good eye squinting at his own words. Yeah, that sounded right to him.

“Like as an advisor?” You tilt your head. “I mean, I do have a military background, my father is—“

“As my consort.” He corrects and your eyes widen.

“Oh,” You blink and open your mouth to speak before closing it again.

“I understand if you say no, but I need you to know my feelings before things become… distant between us. I know you’re going back to help your father and I’m staying here,” He says when the gap of silence becomes too much for him to bear.

“No!” You vigorously shake your head and he deflates a little more. “No, I mean, yes to the question. No to the whole ‘if you say no’ part. I would very much enjoy being your consort.” You rush out.

“Really?” He asks, his eye widening and eyebrow-raising. “I know it’s a lot all at once, we could start small—“

“I’m okay with starting big,” You grin. “Skip the courting and go straight to dating, not marriage tomorrow big, you know.” You add, your eyes trailing off to the flowers of the garden.

“I’m too young for marriage,” He agrees. “But I could see an engagement soon.” His eyes flicker to your hair and then down to your face while yours dips down to his neck.

“Good.” Dropping one of his hands, you jerk your head back the way you came. “Let’s go eat! Before Sokka and Toph leave us to starve,”

Joining the others, you settle yourself between Katara and the end of the table while Zuko takes the head of the table, with Aang and Toph on either side of him.

“So,” Katara’s eyes flicker between you and Zuko. “What did you two talk about?” She asks, doing her absolute worst to hide the grin plastered on her face.

“Things,” You shrug, filling your plate.

“Mundane things,” Zuko agrees.

“Like?” Suki presses.

“He thought I would want a change of clothes. Can you pass the dumplings, please?” Aang nods and grabs the plate.

“Yes, he looks very hot—“ Zuko pauses and you stare at him, the mostly empty plate of dumplings in your clutch. “Temperature wise… in his clothes.” His eyes catch Toph’s and he nearly leaps; he’ll never get over the fact that she knows where his eyes are. She just snickers and continues to eat.

“Makes sense, let’s eat!” Sokka raises his cup in the air, nearly spilling his tea on Suki’s lap. “To Zuko! The best Fire Lord ever!” Everyone follows suit, raising their cups.

Midway through the meal, you catch Zuko grazing his chest with a slightly contorted expression. The spot Azula’s lightning had struck him.

“Does it still hurt?” You ask, wiping some sauce from the corner of your mouth. “I know my healing isn’t the best, so…”

“No,” He shakes his head, his hand settling back to his lap. “You’re perfect— it’s perfect,” He quickly corrects and you notice how the table goes quiet. He cringes and you stare down at your plate, grabbing a spring roll to avoid smiling. “I just drank too fast.” He explains, now much more careful with his words.

“Oh, that makes sense,” You glance at him and briefly make eye contact.

“Mhmm,” He says, still watching you.

“Is it just me or are you two acting weird?” Sokka asks, looking between the two of you.

“He’s an idiot,” Suki mutters.

“Speaking of weird,” Clearing your throat, you point your half-eaten spring roll at Sokka. “Do you guys remember when Sokka set up a literal love tent?”

“He what?” Katara shouts, choking on her food.

—

With the ceremony and feast over, it’s time to get changed and prepare for the rest of the night’s festivities. Everyone heads into their temporary rooms in the palace and you immediately drop most of your layers.

In truth, you were sweating in your outfit, normally you wouldn’t wear so many layers for over four hours, especially in the Fire Nation, but it’s been around eight and you’re sticky and sweaty. Thankfully, there’s an attached bathroom and you’re able to soak for a bit before you need to start getting ready.

You’d packed some clothes for the night, but when you entered the bedroom again there was a pile of red clothes folded neatly on the bed, and below the bed was a pair of red boots.

Grabbing the top layer, you fold it and stare at the boran lakron— namely the deep v-neck it has and then down to your sarashi. You don’t mind all that much, it’s not as if your garments are a secret. But when you pick up the next item, you see he’s provided a second option; a tangzhuang.

The longer you stare at the sleeveless, button-down shirt the longer you’re convinced it’s his. You’re sure you’ve seen him wear the same dark red and golden shirt before. Putting that on, you leave it unbuttoned for the time being and grab the next layer.

It’s a pair of fisherman's pants, you own a pair yourself and had packed it along, but you don’t mind wearing the new one. Pulling them up, you wrap the extra fabric over itself before tying the string to keep it from falling. Slipping your huwan’s back onto your forearms, you lace them up before sitting on the bed. The shoes he’d provided were slip-on shoes that surprisingly fit.

“Knock-knock!” Aang says as he’s knocking on your door.

“Come in!” You call, briefly looking at the door as you’re doing your hair. Ceremony hair was a pain and a half to undo. Mainly since the most you’d do to your hair is tie it up with a ribbon.

“I didn’t know you owned Fire Nation clothes,” Aang comments as he throws himself onto your temporary bed. He’s back to his typical clothes and you stare at him through the mirror.

“I don’t… these were on my bed.” Sitting up, Aang raises an eyebrow before his face gets that look when he makes a connection.

“So,” He looks away, pretending to think about something to say. “Are you going back home after this?” He asks. You don’t think anything of the question, after all, it was Aang asking you.

“Not for long,” You shake your head. “I don’t see myself settling down there again.” Checking over your hair, your fingers ghost over your neck. There’s still a scar there from the fight, but it doesn’t bother you. Not anymore. Just sometimes you forget about it.

“Oh?” He grins but hides it. “Where do you see yourself settling down?” Dropping your hand, you spin around to face Aang.

“Somewhere,” You shrug, looking him up and down, it’s weird that you were provided with clothes but he wasn’t. “How about you?”

“Me and Katara are planning on traveling, continuing to spread peace and all the Avatar stuff,” He shrugs, standing up. “You should join us… if you don’t have plans already!” It’s as though he’s trying to guide you into an answer— he is! Katara must’ve put him up to this because she knew you wouldn’t answer her.

“Maybe,” Patting his shoulder, you check the sun. You have another hour before you’re supposed to head out and you really want to get to work on sending a letter to your parents about your relationship. They’d left after the ceremony, missing the coldness of the Southern Water Tribe. “I’ll definitely let you know, though!”

—

The ride to Iroh’s tea shop was nice, everyone had flown on Appa, overlooking Ba Sing Se. You and Zuko were in the back, honestly just staring at each other until the other noticed before looking away.

Iroh greeted everyone but he’d taken a second to look at your clothing. Instead of saying anything, he only smiled and let everyone into the shop. It was closed for the day, so Iroh could see his nephew and friends.

Having changed into the shop's uniform, Zuko handed out tea to everyone until Sokka interrupted him, talking about trying to capture the moment.

“I wanted to do a painting. So we always remember the good times together,” He admits and everyone goes over to see the drawing. It was definitely a drawing, taking a lot of artistic liberties. But it was nice, and you appreciate the sentiment, even as Zuko’s hand found yours.

“Young love,” Iroh sighs and the two of you jump, separating to opposite ends of the table. He laughs, holding his stomach, and guides you back to Zuko. “Fire and ice, opposites at war but they aren’t too dissimilar, no?” His eyes flicker between the two of you and you hold back your wide grin. He’d basically said he was more than fine with your relationship.

“Thank you, Uncle.” Zuko relaxes.

“For what?” He asks, raising his cup to his mouth. “I am not going to get in the way of love.”

—

To say that the Fire Lord's appearance in the Northern Water Tribe was met with open arms would be a big fat lie. Had it not been for the Chief's son at his side Zuko would’ve been turned away without a second glance.

While it wasn’t unexpected, you can tell it still deeply hurt Zuko. He wasn’t his father but he was his father's son and he guesses that’s worse. He’s paying for sins he had committed when he was lost as well as the sins of his family. But, he didn’t let it deter him. Instead, he walked side by side as you guided him through your homeland.

The path to the palace was straight, so it wasn’t too long. But long enough that people had begun to exit their homes to see the Fire Lord and Prince walking in stride towards the palace. Surely the elders talk and theorize, and there would be gossip that you’d never hear the end of.

By the time the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs, you saw your parents standing side by side at the top. Zuko had seen them before, during his coronation, but he had never actually met them before.

“Chief Arnook, Kayuula; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Zuko bows his head to your parents.

“Mother, father.” You greet, waiting for the invitation for a hug.

“Welcome back,” Your father smiles, pulling you into a hug. Your mother joins, burying her head into the crook of your neck. “With a….” He looks at Zuko, an eyebrow raised. “Suitable partner.” He settles on saying.

“Come in,” Your mother extends her hand to Zuko and he looks at you, unsure of what to do. When you nod, he shakes as he takes her hand, letting her guide him inside.

“Before you ask,” You rush as the door shuts. “We do have a timeline of our engagement.” Most Water Tribe relationships don’t start with dating, jumping straight to wedding preparations once both parties are of age. But for the Fire Nation, they date. Like, actually date.

“That’s good,” Your father nods his hand on your shoulder. “Does he treat you nice?” He whispers, watching as your mother shows Zuko paintings from your youth.

“He does,” You nod.

“Does he know?” He adds, gesturing to your chest.

“He does,” Once again, you nod. “He’s more than okay with it, father.” He inhales and nods but stops walking. Putting more of a distance between the two groups.

“You’ll always be home here. If he’s pressuring you—“

“Father,” Stopping him, you move to hold his hands. “Zuko wouldn’t. I trust him— fully. Wholeheartedly.” He exhales, checking your eyes before he gives in.

“I simply cannot lose another child,” He admits as the two of you start walking again. “Our wounds are only beginning to heal.” He continues, looking at a painting of Yue.

“I understand, I miss her dearly.”

“(Y/n), Darling; hurry!” Your mother sings and your father smiles, picking up the pace into the living room. She sat across from Zuko who couldn’t be more uncomfortable.

“Mother,” You tease, settling next to Zuko. “She didn’t tell you about the process of skinning, did she?” You ask and he shakes his head and slowly relaxes.

“I was asking if you two have consummated the relationship yet.” She says as if it was a normal conversation. Your father hums, his gaze settling on Zuko.

“Mother,” You choke. “We haven’t… er… we haven’t kissed yet.” Her eyebrows raise but she doesn’t speak on it. “We wanted to tell

you in person before anything further.”

“I want grandkids!” She complains.

“Preferably one boy and one girl,” Your father adds. “I think five grandkids would suffice.” He hums and your jaw drops.

“Father, we haven’t discussed children.” You meekly admit, glancing at Zuko. “We aren’t even sure if I can have children.”

“Visit the elders today,” Your father nods as if it was settled. “Ask them for advice and guidance.”

“So, I’m assuming you approve of us?” You ask anything to move the conversation. They look at each other, having a silent conversation before they both nod.

“I see no issues,” Your mother smiles, resting her head on your father's shoulder. “Besides, if he mistreats you, you have all the water benders in the world and the Avatar to stop him.” She shrugs.

“Oh,” You gulp. “That’s nice.”

—

One year and seven months of dating had come and gone and it was time. You felt it was time and so did Zuko. War makes life seem short, which you suppose it is. And it brings clarity. You were sure in your relationship.

The two of you met each other when you were literally at your worst, you’d seen the ugly sides of each other and made way past it. And now the two of you were working on repairing the Fire Nation, restoring the damage inflicted upon the other nations to the best of your ability.

“When we’re married,” Zuko says as the two of you walk out of the carriage that had taken you to Iroh’s tea shop. “What will your title be?” Pursing your lips, you admit you haven’t given it much thought before now.

“Consort (Y/n)?” You toss up.

“That’s demeaning,” He shakes his head. “You’re much more. Chief (Y/n) of the Fire Nation?”

“Wordy, but I like it.”

Entering the tea shop, you see your parents and Iroh sitting at a table, talking and sipping their teas. They seem to be having fun and you’re glad. But not surprised, Iroh is amazing. In the back, you saw your friends mingling about.

“(Y/n), Zuko!” Sokka waves wildly when he sees the two of you.

“About time,” Toph scoffs. Although everyone knows it’s fake.

“Sorry we’re late,” You apologize, hugging your parents. “We got caught up…”

“They were smooching.” Sokka tries to whisper to Suki but everyone hears it.

“Shut up.” Katara punches his arm. “It’s good to see you two again,” She smiles at you.

“You’ve grown,” You huff, hugging her. “I’ve seen so much red I forgot what blue was!” The two of you laugh as Zuko walks up behind you, settling his hands around you. He’s been touchy ever since the two of you set a date for the engagement.

“That fortune-teller did say she saw a lot of red in your future,” Zuko muses, his head leaning towards yours as he presses a loud kiss to your cheek.

“Hopefully we can get more blue,” You laugh, pushing his head away just enough that his hair isn’t tickling your neck.

“Should we get started?” Your father asks and Zuko immediately removes himself from you. He’s still a little nervous around your parents.

“Yes!” You nod and take your seat at one end of the table. Zuko takes the other and your friends fill the seats on either side of your parents and Iroh.

Settled on your knees, you watch as your parents place down a blue wooden box in the middle of the table and then Iroh places a red metal box. The red box is a long rectangle with a lot of small details but the blue box is a little more simple, carved to mimic ice sculptures back home.

“I am Prince (Y/n), of the Northern Water Tribe. Son of Chief Arnook and Kayuula.” You speak, staring at Zuko.

“I am Fire Lord Zuko, son of Ursa and Ozai.” Zuko says, staring back at you.

“Do you both agree to this engagement?” Iroh asks.

“Yes.” The two of you nod.

“Is this engagement true?” Your father asks.

“Yes.”

“Do you both love each other?” Your mother asks.

“Yes.” Zuko smiles without a hint of embarrassment.

“May the spirits bless your engagement,” Everyone speaks and you’re sure they practiced that because even Sokka got it right.

“Exchange your gifts,” Your mother says and you stand up, grabbing the box before bowing away from the table. Zuko follows suit and everyone turns to watch as the two of you stand in front of each other.

“Do you want to go first?” He asks, messing with the red box. The rule for a traditional engagement was that the male gifts the woman something to signify their engagement but… yeah.

“Sure,” Fumbling with the blue box, you turn it away from you and open it.

Inside the box was a light blue gemstone with a dark blue ribbon going through it. The gemstone was carved to look like a flame in the same design as the water symbol. You’d spent three months trying to get it right, which was difficult considering you were hardly ever away from Zuko.

Nervously, you look between the necklace and Zuko.

“It’s beautiful,” He smiles and takes the necklace with one hand. Holding the red box for him, he holds the necklace up to his throat before he locks the clasp together. There was something about Zuko wearing something from your tribe that made your heart skip a beat, the way he wore it did much more. You were nearly sure you’d pass out.

Taking his box back, you watch as he opens the red box, revealing a silver version of his royal crown. But instead of flames, there was a crescent moon.

“I’m not crowned yet,” You remind him as you grab it.

“It’s the consort crown.” He shakes his head. “The chief crown will be more elaborate, I promise.” With a look of approval, he walks behind you and undoes your hair. It falls from the ribbon and settles at the base of your neck. Carefully, his fingers scoop your hair up, combining it with his other hand until he’s gathered it into a top knot. His hand juts out from your left and you hand him the crown. It slips into your hair and he secures it with your ribbon before checking over his work.

“I’m gonna cry,” Sokka admits as he blows his nose into Katara’s shoulder. She gags and bends the snot off of her and onto his shirt without much fuss.

Taking your seat at the head of the table, Zuko takes his seat next to you and the two of you overlook the guests.

“You two look amazing!” Aang is the first to say something.

“Time to plan the wedding!” Iroh cheers and you smile down at your lap.

“A wedding,” Zuko whispers in your ear, pressing a small kiss to the shell of it.

“It’s gonna be blue,” You whisper back.

“And then grandkids!” Your mother claps her hands.

Later that night, as you’re watching Zuko and Iroh talk over a cup of tea, Katara walks up to you.

“I told you,” She softly says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “He would never leave you.” Zuko looks over at you and smiles before nodding at Iroh.

“I still meant the group,” You grin and she rolls her eyes.

#zuko x reader #x male reader #x reader #zuko x male reader #avatar the last airbender #alta x reader #alta x male reader #fire lord zuko

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manmuncher777 · 9 months

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Captain price x neighbour!reader

i hate this, but enjoy. Please feel free to send in ideas/ requests.

warnings - smut lol

you're his younger neighbour, he noticed you moved in a few days ago. he saw you moving boxes and bits but he was gone each time before you could introduce yourself. attractive young girl, he thought. but last thing he needed was someone in his business he came across as the type of person who liked to keep to himself

you didnt see much of the mystery man who lived on your right, he left in the early morning and got back later at night. you were introduced to everyone else except him.

you were determined to make a good impression, there was no reason why he could have a problem. John got in about an hour ago, a small knock heard on his door.

there you were, cute little dress holding a bottle of wine and a small bunch of flowers, sweet. you looked like you were there to pick him up for a date

he was holding the door open, bicep flexing slightly and you couldn’t help but stare

looking down at the smiling girl before him holding out the flowers "for you"

"thanks" was the only thing he could think to say in the moment, still a bit confused, but he took them none the less

"I'm you're new neighbour and I just haven't been able to catch you yet so I thought I'd introduce myself. I'm y/n"

shit, he thought. He could tell he was going to have a tough time ignoring you "John, nice to meet you" he held his hand out

fucking hell, he was hot. fuck- his voice you took his hand shaking it, secretly screaming about how big and rough his hands felt in comparison to yours

you forget you had the wine "oh yeah! I got this for you, I didnt know what you like but this is personal favourite of mine, I know it's good"

he let out a chuckle at your slight awkwardness

john stood there for a minute contemplating with wine and flowers in hand but your sweet perfume was clouding his judgement and that dress, the neckline... that really wasn't helping

he couldnt help a quick glance at your tits, god they looked good. he prayed you didnt notice

you did

"you wanna come in and help me finish this" he asks

fuck yes

hours later and glasses of wine later you're on top of him straddling him on his couch

your dress pulled below your tits and his shirt thrown somewhere behind you as your hand worked on his buttons

his rough hands kneading your tits, grabbing your hips

any good judgement from him was gone, that look in your eye and the way you kept staring at his lips made sure of that

you're kissing him hard, teeth clashing, trying to drink each other in.

he lets out small grunts each time you roll your hips into his, even more reason to do so. his hands grabbing at your hips, moving you at a constant pace, trying to get those breathy whimpers from you

he'd work one of his hands under your dress and into your panties while the other worked your tits running his finger through your fold and groaning at how soaked you were

he goes to slip a finger in but you weren't about to miss this opportunity

you slither down his land and fall to your knees in front of him

he looks down at you, legs spread and hair disheveld from your hands

your hands making quick work of his belt

his hand resting on your head the whole time while he watches you

"fuck- there you go. take it all" "little slut, fucking her neighbour she only just met" "just like that"

those comments only making you work harder, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could, your hand working the rest

he'd hold your head while he came, his head tilting up towards the ceiling and hips bucking into your throat

he pull you up into a heated kiss straight after when he finally fucks you he'd have you bent over, on all fours

he'd rub the tip between your fold and over your clit until you were begging for it "fuck, john please" "say it again" "please john, fuck me"

he'd thrust in all at once, you had soaked both of you so it was easy enough

you both simultaneously moan

his pace was steady but hard, heaving breathing from each thrust

"yeah, you like that, is this what you wanted. just wanted to be fucked huh?" he breathes in your ear

he'd be whispering the filthiest shit just to hear you whine

his stamina is unreal he hasn't faltered once he'd be practically splitting you in half, your holding into the couch for grip

his name falling from your lips like a prayer

"fucking hell, squeezing me- you close sweetheart?"

all you could do was nod your head

one of his hands would creep down to rub your clit, he wanted to get you there. you deserved it

"that's it, good girl" "cmon, give it to me" his hair is in his face, his skin is covered in a small sheen of sweat. his hands gripping onto you for dear life

his groaning in your ear about how good you're doing for him sends you over the edge. eyes rolling back, body shivering.

you best bet he's fucking you through it before cumming himself

you're squeezing him so tight and he just cant help himself. he finishes inside of you, hips finally slowing, chest rumbling with a deep groan.

"fucking hell, well that was certainly a warm welcome"

#cod smut #captain john price #john price smut #john price x reader #cod fanfic #captain price smut

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spdrvyn · 8 months

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i love my husband — miguel o'hara drabble

fluff. heavy inspo on this video.

sorry for the inactivity and the lazy ass title, exam week came around before i could even start on the next request and i did nothing but relax the entire break (which was only FOUR days) so i'll bring this out and see if i can clear my sched enough to actually do shit. enjoy!

the moonlit sky reflects beautifully onto the shining surface of your mug, filled to the brim of chamomile tea and flooding your nostrils with delight as your body melts into the couch.

work kept you on the edge of your seat for the entire week, it was non-stop meetings and non-stop emergency calls even outside of your working hours that had you so stressed. you were sure you'd picked enough hairs out to make a wig.

the weekend is truly a blessing, you want to stay as far away as humanly possible from your phone and shut yourself out from civilization before you come protector of debra's last minute files.

you missed the soft cotton of your pajamas, not like you haven't worn them in the past couple of days but to actually be able to appreciate what it means to wear them and the greeting of a good night's sleep had you sighing and moaning almost a little too much.

you worked hard, you definitely deserved this. you grab a spare pillow and tuck it under your head turning to the side and looking at the city that surrounded you, your patience and tenacity at the office has now been rewarded with the view you're able to appreciate.

however, the shadow that looms over the carpeted floors of your flat don't go away even after rubbing your eyes. you look up and a faint red glow in the symbol of a very familiar spider catches your eye immediately, you smile lazily through the glass.

miguel slides open the door with no hesitation, cape still drifting in the wind from what you can only assume to be his own previous working activities. you can sense the tension wafting off of him like waves especially as he stomps all the way over to where you are on the couch and looks down at you.

his mask isn't off, he's still fully geared, and all you can do is stare back into those lenses.

that is until he surrenders, body giving up, and his body flops right on top of yours. it doesn't really surprise you, there have been times where miguel has come home after a worse day of saving the multiverse and traps you in a hug before you can protest or move. though you've never really seen him do this before.

he adjusts his position, but still keeps his arms tightly wrapped around you as you move as well so that you're holding him back. his face is buried into the crook of your neck and the feeling of his nose tickling your skin tells you that he unmasked already.

not a single word leaves his mouth, you silently adore the way he's melted into you already, the way the muscles on his back rise only to slowly fall again.

you don't want to break the silence, neither of you do. right now, the only form of communication that matters is touch. your lips burning kisses into his curls, your nose now erasing whatever of your tea was left and making the way for miguel.

he shies away from your touch with a small groan, "i stink."

a giggle threatens to break out from the back of your throat, as many times as he would insist that you'd keep going anyway. "so when you do it, it's fine? i see how it is then."

miguel chuckles, he inches himself into you further. deeper. his breaths become less and less shallow, it's clear that he's taking his fair share of sniffs from you as well. "because you smell good."

"i ran a bath, that's why." one last peck to his head and you opt to just comb his hair instead, running your fingers through the strands and observing as they twist back to curl after brushing it some more.

both of you stay like that for a while, not saying anything, not doing anything, just being here. existing with each other. you always find moments like these beautiful, even when miguel is probably one work call away from shaking hands with the grim reaper.

in miguel, you've found yourself open to so many new experiences and risks you could've never imagined on your own. despite the many amount of times at the start of your relationship that he'd give you space and wouldn't be mad if you left, you kept still by his side anyway. you knew that he was worth it.

in you, miguel found that mundanity that he's never had his whole life. passing out on the sofa on his own never felt the same, most times he'd wake up still in his suit and would have to go to work right after anyway. yet with you, the stress ebbed away over time because he knew that you'd always be waiting for him.

whatever historians had with their relics, miguel had with you. not to keep them confined in a metal case, of course not, but he felt as if you were to be revered. kissed and touched with utmost respect and you'd bring the people their good fortunes and long lives. you certainly did for him and miguel might as well be immortal now.

his hands wander, fingertips delicately grazing over the skin tucked beneath your nightwear. he goes slowly, traveling up to your chest where he—

"miguel?"

his hands freeze, face going red. the guilt of possibly going too far is ready to break free from his heart and consume him until he can feel your body trembling with laughter.

"since you apparently stink so bad, shouldn't you shower first before getting so handsy?" miguel pouts at your comment, he already had the apologies locked and loaded for you.

"just a few more minutes, corazón."

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #x reader #fluff

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mazeruffleposts · 4 months

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Hashira's React! Pt. 2

HAPPY LATE VALENTINES DAY!!! I wanted to do something for the Hashira, especially since I haven't written for them in a hot minute now. I do plan on making a Hashira's React! special for my birthday, even though it's already passed.

Content Warning: Fluff

Word Count: 2031 words

Proofread? No.

Hashira's React to Sweetheart!Reader surprising them on Valentine's Day! Reader surprises them with something nice that they have been planning for a while!

Lacuna- A blank space. Used in place of your name

GYOMEI

Gyomei is a simple man, he never would wish for anything fancy or over the top from you, his love. Though to be honest, the holiday still snuck up on him. He had been so busy leading up to it that it had slipped his mind.

Que to him spending most of the day traveling back home after a ridiculously long mission only to find that the house is damn near empty, save for the few attendants cleaning like all is normal. You are nowhere to be found.

He assumes that you were out doing something in the nearby town and didn't think much about it. He goes to the private bathroom you two share to freshen up.

About two hours or so later, he greets you at the door with a big ol' hug.

Insert surprise Pikachu face when you inform him you want him to follow. You lead him down the path leading to a small creek near the house.

There you set up a small picnic with his and your favorite foods. To top it all off you brought out a book that you had been interested in reading for a while, but put it off till you could spend time and read it to him. Knowing that he loves your voice.

"My dear Lacuna, you are a true blessing. There is no better gift you could have given me than your time and affection. I feel loved beyond words."

TENGEN (+ Hina, Suma, And Makio)

Tengen is a sucker for the dramatic! He loves to see what all his partners come up with for special occasions and will go out of his way to help when he can. Though he can't help but feel a little bummed to think you and the other wives haven't planned anything special this year. He took it as his chance to swoop you all up for a surprise trip somewhere. The four of you WERE planning something, and for once you were able to keep him from finding out about it beforehand.

He had recently been so busy with a rather nasty demon's nest a few districts over and hadn't been able to come home for a while. The letters you all sent never spilled anything about the surprise you all had.

After trudging back home over a few days flowers in hand for each of you, he finally stepped through the threshold of the house and was greeted with the sight of all four of his partners dressed in extravagant kimonos, hair done up, and bright smiles.

The Halls and rooms of your home had decorations ranging from hanging lights to written letters proclaiming various reasons why you all love one another. The aroma of the good food you all had been helping to prepare took him by surprise a bit.

"I honestly shouldn't be as surprised as I am to find you all did something so wonderful. My heart is bursting at the seems with how much I love you, thank you."

Que Tengen taking a moment to greet each of you with a hug and a plethora of kisses.

KYOJURO

You and the lovable Flame Pillar have been together for almost a year at this point, and Kyojuro has been counting down the days to do something special for you but ended up being surprised. Coming home after a surprise rescue mission with none of the gifts he planned to shower you in, he found the hallway leading through the house covered in various flower petals.

The savory smell of your cooking, which he swears is better than anything he has had, fills his senses as he follows the path you so obviously made for him.

Doesn't know what to think when he gets to the other side of the house and sees you set up a little date spot in the garden. You in your favorite yukata, surrounded by candles with that soft smile that just melts him.

Poor man's brain shuts off at the sight of you. He was rooted to the spot in pure awe of your beauty, never noticing how your melodic voice had been calling out for him to join till you walked over to him and waved a hand in front of his face.

The blush on his face when he realized he'd been staring made you giggle. He made up for the silence and oogling by swooping you into his embrace and kissing the crown of your head.

"I must truly be a blessed man... Coming home with nothing to give but my love, yet you welcome me with open arms. My dear Lacuna, you warm my heart more than the strongest fire ever could."

OBANAI

Isn't one for the dramatics or anything regarding the holiday, even after making you his. He wouldn't ever want you to do anything for him.

Similar to Sanemi, he's not fond of dramatics in relationships till he's in one with you. Now all of a sudden he finds himself panicking as he walks home late with nothing but a couple bentos with your favorite foods.

The entire walk to your shared estate consists of him kicking himself over waiting till the last minute and trying to convince himself that you won't be upset. He should have gotten you a plush bear or something.

You're waiting on the engawa before he even enters the estate grounds. You are dressed in a yukata to match his Haori, which he blushes profusely over but will never admit, and you hold what looks like a journal and a single red rose in your hands.

When he finally gets up to you, he's panicking, but nonetheless calms down when you greet him with open arms. Suddenly he's questioning why you would have been upset with him.

He does that adorable head tilt as you explain how you know he thought the holiday was stupid, but you still wanted to do something for him. Que handing him the journal and the rose, telling him that for the past few months, you've been writing letters about your daily life while he's away accompanied by small poems just for him.

Yeah, that blush has him feeling completely flustered now. You both eat the bentos on the engawa together as he reads the journal.

"My Lacuna, the love you continue to devote to me is truly special. I hope you know you are truly my everything, even when I don't say it."

MITSURI

Is much like both Kyojuro and Tengen. She's been counting down the days to plan something rather extravagant for you. But sometimes, the simple things mean so much more

Everything however seemed to be going wrong in every possible way. Not only did she burn the food she was trying to make for you ahead of the date she planned, she got called out to a mission the day of.

Now she's walking home late, wrapped up with nothing but herself to give you. Not that you would complain...

When you answer the knocks at the door, you find your girlfriend on the brink of tears. She doesn't even notice you dressed up in a silk Kimono, instead, she flings herself into your arms apologizing.

After a few moments of you comforting her, she finally takes a look down the hallway and into the main room when candles are lit.

Que surprised face when you tell her you had heard about the surprise mission and wanted to give her a good meal and warm bed to come home to. Now she's crying again and spinning you around out of pure joy as she tells you she'll make breakfast for you in the morning and spoil you.

"Lacuna, my love! I can never express how much I truly adore you! But I will try my best to shower you with it~"

SHINOBU

Isn't one for holidays, but was planning on doing something small for you. However, she ended up too busy to go through with it and was rather bummed.

An influx of slayers needing patching up plus a whole solo mission on the edge of her district took up the majority of the day and night for her. She was practically stomping her way up the path to the separate house you two share but was shocked to find you opening the door for her with a cup of warm tea held out.

Telling her that her crow informed you of the chaos and that it was alright. After taking the tea from you, you lead her down the hallways to the large private bathroom where you set up a whole ass spa just for her. To top it off, you said you bought her a new Kimono with Sakura blossoms embroidered on it to match the one you had on. Now her cheeks feel warm

She embraces you with the first genuine smile she's had all day.

"No matter the chaos of the day, there is nothing more that I enjoy than coming home to you. Well, besides your love, my dear Lacuna~"

GIYUU

Never really paid much attention to the holiday in the first place. So it ended up sneaking up on him and now he's panicking.

Spent most of the day training at his estate while you were out. Only remembered the holiday when he went to Kocho's that afternoon to do something.

However, it gave you ample time to set up your surprise for him.

Giyuu unfortunately didn't give you a whole lot of time before he came back, BUT you were able to set up the main room for a cuddle space.

Came in as you were setting up the snack stash and ended up staring at you as you rearranged the literal mountain of blankets and pillows to your liking.

Got spooked by you squealing as you turned around to him staring. Spent the next few minutes mentally banging his head on the wall because he should have said something.

Was genuinely surprised to hear that you had planned spending the night cuddling him and showering him with affection. Was also surprised when you brushed off the fact that he didn't have anything for you. He thought you'd be upset, but was shocked to hear that it wasn't required to gift you something, that all you wanted was him as himself.

"There's very little I could do to properly show how grateful I am to have you in my life, my Lacuna... Trust when I say you are a blessing to me."

SANEMI

Similar to both Giyuu and Obanai, he doesn't care for the holiday until it hits him smack dab in the face and now he's panicking trying to figure out what to do for you.

You were well aware of his dislike for the holiday but still wanted to do something to show your appreciation for the man. For the month leading up to the holiday you'd been sneaking small purchases and hiding them away in your shared home.

He had a feeling you were up to something but never could find anything out of the ordinary.

After a rather disappointing meeting with a few of the Hashira to discuss recent demon activity, he came home socially exhausted.

You met him at the door with a gift basket. Its contents are hidden by colored paper with a note attached. His name is written by your hand on it surrounded by various colored hearts.

Didn't know how to react when you practically shoved it in his hands. After a few minutes of convincing, you got him to read the small letter.

Big, bad, buff Sanemi Shinazugawa was on the verge of tears as he read the heartfelt confession you made him explaining all the things you loved about it. Did in fact shed a tear when you said you couldn't put everything on it that you wanted to say.

Opening the gift he found various homemade sweets, including Ohagi.

"My dove, you continue to shower me with love even when I feel undeserving of it. There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for you~"

You still managed to surprise him with matching Kimono's the next morning that he begrudgingly wore just for you.

Credits to @cafekitsune for the dividers used in this post. They are wonderful, go show them some love!!!

#demon slayer #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #tengen uzui #tengen x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri x reader #gyomei himejima #gyomei x reader #obanai iguro #obanai x reader #kny x reader

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penny00dreadful · 6 months

Text

Okay, okay, okay listen.

Remember when we were all obsessed with Steddie Legally Blonde a while back? Yes, I’m still thinking about it, leave me alone. And I adore everything I’ve read. It’s all so fantastic.

But I had a thought because what if we switched it up a little? I’m going mainly off of the musical here, so bear with.

So what if instead of having Steddie as Elle and Emmett, we instead have them as Paulette and UPS Guy/Kyle??? Like??? It fits, right???

But then, but THEN who do we have as Elle/Emmett?

Buckingham.

No, but just think of it!

Or I guess you don’t really need to because I’ve thought of it enough for all of us and it goes like this:

(OMG you guys I blacked out and when I woke up this thing was 3.1k long written over a few hours. I haven't edited this at all so please be gentle about typos/tense changes etc. The fever just took me.)

Chrissy is your quintessential girly girl. She is Elle Woods. She’s blonde, pretty, cheerleader, very feminine and happy where she is in life, President of her Sorority with her besties by her side and her guy who is… well he’s as good as any guy could be, right?

Jason is handsome, rich, well connected, he treats her with affection and he humours her when she has some pretty wild, out there ideas.

But then it happens and they break up because apparently having a girly girl for a wife just wouldn’t look good if he’s gonna live his life the way he wants to. Lawyer, his own practice, running for office.

Apparently her blonde hair and boobs would hold him back which, what the fuck???

What does that have to do with anything?

They love each other, right? That surface stuff isn’t supposed to matter. At all! They’re supposed to be together no matter what because they… they love each other?

Well fuck that noise, no one tells Chrissy Cunningham she’s too fucking blonde to do anything which is a hypocritical ass thing to say because has Jason looked in the fucking mirror recently?

Different fucking rules, apaprently.

Well, no more.

She’s gonna fuck up law school right along side him and she’s gonna wear fucking pink while doing it too!

And like, everything is going fine.

Chrissy’s not stupid, she knows how she’s perceived by people before they get to know her.

Vapid, bimbo, perky, blonde.

Like that’s an insult.

It’s just harder now that she’s away from her girls, gays and theys back home. And everyone here seems to think that the best way to live their lives is to look boring as shit while doing it along with tearing each other down.

She fucking hates it, but she’s determined to see it through.

It helps that she seems to have found the one person on the whole of the fucking east coast who actually listens to what’s coming out of her mouth rather than just paying attention to the hair on her head or staring at her tits.

Robin is so strange.

She’s different in such a refreshing way, it’s like being able to breathe clean air for the first time in years.

And she’s fucking sharp. And sweet. And so, so comforting.

Chrissy would have never managed to survive the depression of those first few weeks without her.

And like, she’s not ignorant to the fact that Robin sometimes does look at her boobs but at the same time it just feels different coming from a woman than it does a man. It doesn’t feel so objectifying.

Instead of putting Chrissy on edge it makes her feel a little smug. A little proud of herself, it makes her feel attractive and desired in a way she hasn’t felt in a very long time.

Is that sexist? To prefer the attentions of a woman over a man when both do it just fine for her?

Chrissy’s not exactly sure, but she knows she enjoys it when it’s coming from Robin.

So maybe it’s a Robin thing.

Chrissy honestly thinks things are looking up for her.

Until Jason introduces Nicole.

His fucking fiancee???

It’s been, like, four months since they broke up.

Nicole hates her guts, she can tell. She thinks she’s some two braincelled idiot who got into Harvard on daddy’s dime and needs to be babied through the simplest of tasks while not understanding how condescending everyone’s been the whole time.

Chrissy fucking understands. She’s been through it all before, but back then she had people by her side. It’s all so fucking childish. The world already hates women enough, Chrissy desperately doesn’t want to be at another womans throat, over a man no less, but Nicole doesn’t seem to feel the same way.

She’s ambitious and cut-throat and dedicated and a little bit terrifying.

Apart from Robin, she’s on her fucking own out here.

And she needs something.

Something of home to bring some light back into her life.

So she gets in her car and just drives around the streets hoping something will catch her eye.

And it does.

Some tiny little hole in the wall salon with a pride flag out the front that she’s immediately drawn to because god damn it she misses her friends. The girls, the gays, the theys.

As soon as she pulls over she feels both simultaneously like she’s come home and she definitely won’t fit in here, but she’s so emotionally raw at this stage it all kinda ends up converging on her and now she’s standing in front of a mostly empty salon and there’s a guy looking at her and she’s just fucking crying.

Through her blurry vision she can see the guy approaching and she really fucking hopes this isn’t gonna turn into a thing because she just does not have any spoons left to deal with some creep right now.

But he seems to sense how he’s coming off because he becomes a little more effeminate from one step to the next.

“You okay, honey?” He asks, big brown eyes wide with concern and a hand covered in rings hovering over her shoulder, not touching. He has a cigarette in the other hand, held away to keep the smoke from reaching her, his arms covered in ink but Chrissy wants nothing more than a cigarette right now.

Or, that’s kind of a lie, but she’d love one in all honesty. She hasn’t smoked in so long.

The guy spots her eyeing it, sticking the cigarette back between his plush lips and needing to use both hands to pull his carton from his pants considering they’re so tight.

“Bad day?” He hands her one and Chrissy ends up breaking down all over again.

She tells him that it hasn’t just been a bad day, but a bad half a year, really. She tells him all about Harvard and Jason and her professors and Robin and by the end of her ranting they’re sitting back in the breakroom of the salon. They guy’s name is Eddie, she learns and despite his mean and scary exterior Chrissy thinks he might be the gentles person she’s met in this whole god forsaken city.

He holds her hands between his and listens to her. Actually hears her talk and pays attention and is concerned and attentive and she loves him for it.

He helps her find her confidence again, at least for the rest of the day. They commiserate about how they both stick out like sore thumbs in their communities and how people need to just kinda get over it.

He encourages her not to let the normies win, do go hang out with Robin, to go kick ass and she’s just wondering how on earth she can ever repay the favour when they hear

“Knock, knock.”

Coming from the front of the salon.

Eddie’s whole face drains of colour before immediately turning red and he bolts up from his chair, stumbling out of the staffroom and moving back behind the receptionists desk.

Chrissy gets to watch in real time as all of Eddie’s incredible confidence and easy lightheartedness disappears into a vat of nerves mostly hidden by cheeky flirtation as he twirls a lock of hair around his finger and bats his eyelashes at the Hot UPS Guy who looks equally as charmed.

When the guy, Steve, has to get back to his route, Eddie practically melts against the desk as soon as he’s out of sight.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs help.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at her but smiles anyway. “I had that handled just fine.”

Over the next few months, she and Eddie get closer, Eddie and Steve stay exactly where they were that first day and she and Robin are quickly approaching best friends level.

But Chrissy is starting to come to terms with the fact that maybe she wants a little more than to be best girly-girl friends with Robin and maybe she wants to stick her tongue down her throat about it.

The two of them are practically attached at the hip, spending all day at classes together, alternating between their respective rooms to study late into the night, ending up in the same bed together and waking up together in the morning.

Chrissy is almost, completely, entirely sure that this is all very not platonic but it’s so difficult to tell.

She’d be constantly sleeping over with her friends back home, hugging, kisses on cheeks, cuddling in bed or when watching movies, just girly things.

But this feels different. Is it different?? Or is this just how Robin is with all her female friends, the same way it’s always been how Chrissy was with her friends back home. How can she tell if it’s going from platonic to romantic??

And all of that needs to go on the backburner anyway because they’re being put on a real life, for realsies you guys case. And if they fuck up this case they could be at fault for someone spending the rest of their fucking life in prison for something they didn’t do??

Unacceptable.

And after Chrissy finds out their client used to be on the same cheer team as her? It was all over. No way was she gonna let her go to prison just because everyone thinks a pretty young woman couldn’t possibly love someone a little older than her.

Not on Chrissy’s watch.

But first she has to deal with Robin’s wardrobe because they professor is insistent that all the women wear skirts and tights and Robin is not having it.

Neither is Chrissy to be fair, so she takes Robin out to the most lavish place she can, decks them both out in the fiercest looking pantsuits they can get their hands on, refusing to back down.

It comes as a surprise to both of them when Nicole stands with them in solidarity as well and now their professor is both outnumbered and losing his arguments with only Jason on his side about this and they fucking win.

It’s only a small win but it still feels fantastic.

Riding her high of winning that small fight, she bursts into the salon and informs Eddie that he is going to either kiss or ask out Steve the next time he sees him and when Eddie reacts like she just said she was going to shave all of his hair off she refuses to hear it.

Because the thing is Eddie is pretty, really pretty and she knows that Steve knows it, but she doesn’t think that Eddie himself is really aware of it. And despite his prettiness, he’s all awkward elbows and knees.

So she gives him some tips and shows him how to highlight certain things about himself, the long legs, the tattooed arms, the hip bones. Even his cute little bum. She teaches him how to subtly pull at his clothes in conversation so some skin is exposed or his tiny little waist is highlighted. She teaches him how to use his eyes to go in for the kill.

He doesn’t seem to think it’ll work but she is almost certain it will.

And it’s confirmed for her when she gets a call later that night from Eddie who sounds fucking over the moon and completely bewildered by the fact that Steve likes him back??? Has done for months?? And they had some incredible dirty nasty sex in the salon after it closed for the night and how they’re going to the movies tomorrow??

Eddie swears he’s gonna send her the biggest fuck off fruit basket he can find.

Everything is looking up for her, especially after she has such a major win in court, figuring out one of the prosecutors witnesses had perjured himself on the stand (without outing him to the whole damn court, thankfully).

Or at least everything was looking up for her until she found herself alone in a room with her professor and she felt the energy in the room shift before it happened.

His hands were on her before she could do anything about it and she cracked him across the face for it before she could even think about what this could do to her legal career going forward.

Because that was the reality of it, wasn’t it?

Either allow herself to get assaulted or destroy her career before it even started.

She didn’t know when her priority had shifted from getting Jason back to actually pursuing this as a future career. But she had found to her own surprise she loved it. She adored it actually.

And now…

Now it would all be gone.

Jason had seen, of course he had and he was less than kind about it because apparently it made more sense that she had fucked her way into Harvard than had actually been smart enough to get there on her own.

She couldn’t stomach anything Nicole could possibly have to say to her but if the way she was glaring at Jason with barely concealed rage after that comment was anything to go by, Chrissy didn’t need to worry too much about that.

She just wanted to go. To get out. She needed to get out. And she would have gotten away scott free if Robin hadn’t been hanging around waiting for her.

Robin’s face broke into a bright smile but that quickly slipped away when she saw the state Chrissy was in. She was all sweet concern and care and affection but Chrissy couldn’t fucking deal with it at that moment, she couldn’t face her.

She couldn’t face Robin who would find out what a fool of herself she’d made believing in Chrissy, when Chrissy had thrown all of their hard work away.

Because no one would ever fucking see her as a person. She was just a piece of ass.

So she ran.

She didn’t even realise where she was running to until she was standing outside the salon doors again.

It was late, they were closed, of course they were, why was she here?

She was standing outside the door crying again like she had been the first time and it was all just so fucking stupid-

“Chrissycakes?”

She was enveloped in Eddie’s arms before she could even blink, being ushered inside and steered back to the staffroom, same as that first time.

There were beer bottles and take out containers over the table and Steve sitting at the table and oh, she’d interrupted something hadn’t she?

What a fucking way to officially meet one of her best friends new boyfriend right?

But they were so sweet.

They sat and listened while she spilled the whole thing, offering at different points to hunt down her professor for her or slash his tires or lose all of his mail or whatever and she was forced to giggle through the tears.

But she shook her head in the end. She was tired. She was sick of having to defend herself constantly.

She needed… she needed to go back to where she belonged.

And she was about to.

She was about to leave the salon, swear to keep in contact with Eddie because god damn it she loved him now and she was ready to run.

But then there was a hammering at the door and Chrissy poked her head out to see Nicole standing there looking like she was on a fucking crusade.

And… was that…?

Robin was standing behind her, looking like she was just trying not to get in Nicole’s way.

Eddie grumbled to himself about changing the damn salons opening hours if this was to continue but he unlocked the door anyway.

Nicole burst in all fire and determination, shoving her finger directly in Chrissy’s face.

“I hated you. But god fucking damn it if you didn’t prove to me that this is the career you belong in. And I refuse to stand by and see an admirable woman of your smarts and calibre get run over by some small dicked professor with a receding hairline. You’re so much more than that. So c’mon. We’re breaking through that fucking glass ceiling if it kills us.”

Holy shit.

Robin pulled her into a tight hug, warm and comforting and a little too long to be platonic, running a hand through her hair.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with Chris, but… you deserve to be in that courtroom.” She muttered into her ear and Chrissy could do nothing but nod into Robin’s neck.

She heard Eddie sigh behind her. “Okay if we’re doing this then… I need to make a few calls.”

A few days later Chrissy made her triumphant return to the courtroom. Everyone was there to support her. Eddie, Steve, her besties from back home that Eddie had called, telling them it was a friend emergency and so of course they all came right away along with Robin and Nicole bracketing her on each side.

And while she could tell the court wasn’t taking her rants on hair care very seriously, when she finally came out with the verbal crackdown, proving the witness was actually the murderer, the gasps from the gallery were enough to feed her for years to come.

When all was said and done at the celebration later that night, she found herself being approached by Jason.

He told her it was a mistake to let her go, to discard her the way he had and she agreed that yes it was. But his mistakes weren’t her problem anymore. And from the look of it they weren’t Nicole’s problem either.

Jason surprisingly took it well enough, mentioning that he never really felt the same passion for law that she so clearly possessed.

She wished him luck with finding what he wanted to do.

But now.

Now she needed to find Robin.

Chrissy couldn’t take it anymore.

So weaving through the people around her, she grabbed at Robin’s hand, dragging her away from Steve who she had become inseparable with and pushing her into the hallway.

Robin didn’t even have a chance to ask what was happening before Chrissy was on her, pressing her into a wall, holding her close with her hands on either side of her face, kissing her with so much longing and elation and joy and happiness that when she pulled away Robin looked completely dazed.

Robin blinked slowly a few times before her face broke into a wide grin.

“Me too.”

#buckingham #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #robin x chrissy #buckingham fic #legally blonde au #buckingham legally blonde au #chrissy x robin #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #penny00dreadful #i dont know what happened #it just appeared #wild huh?

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odusseus-xvi · 1 year

Text

For people who didn't follow that much the french ccs, here are their thoughts of the smp, Pomme, and what they plan to do with it next :

Baghera Jones : Most of you probably followed her so you know already she is the most enthusiastic about Pomme. (she actually said multiple times "I have problem for getting attached to quickly don't I" and the other four said every time "yes, yes you have"). She is also having a lot of fun and said she'd come back often.

Aypierre : He is the most interested in Pomme of the other four and actually said he would take care of her as much as she needed, that he probably only trusts Baghera with Pomme, and that he would actually be ready to log everyday to take care of her if he had to. He also tweeted about having the time of his life on this server and thanked Quackity for inviting him.

Antoine Daniel (DaMezzanine in game) : He is VERY confused, as he is probably the least skilled and knowledgeable about minecraft cc of ALL the server currently, but he also said he was having fun, and though the chaos took him a bit aback, that it was probably just because it was an event, and so a lot of people was there at the same time in the same place. He finished by saying he willl definitely come back because he already has ideas for great dirt palaces. It's not so much that he doesn't care about Pomme, but more that he is not sure what's happening.

Kameto : So unfortunately I haven't been able to follow him much, but from what I've seen, he is having fun, and though he doesn't seem to care about Pomme that much, he is motivated enough to help the others take care of her.

Etoiles (he had a LONG stream so it's a bit longer) : So to those who haven't seen him, he probably made a BIG impression on the admins ; when he was alone with Cellbit, Forever and Bad at the computer and that they where arguing about what to do, he found a way to break it, and when they made it impossible to put blocks around it afterwards, he almost did it again, but refused to because "it probably wasn't rp". They have also repeatedly thrown lighting at him, and his only reaction was laughing his ass off (I love this man). At some point, he was so far from the main land because he was doing dungeons after dungeons, getting op stuff (on his first fr**king day, he's incredible) and they sent the BINARY MONSTER AFTER HIM, his only reaction being "oh, hey it's you." *hits it twice, dips unscathed*. He interestingly said multiple times that he didn't trust Pomme, and that she would probably die soon anyway, although at the end of the stream he checked a few times if she was doing alright (what's incredibly funny is that the other four french are more afraid of HIM killing Pomme that any of the monsters.). Mid stream he said it was fun and he would probably come back for events and from time to time nothing more, but the more he played and the more he saw the extents of the fucked up mobs he could hunt for sport, the more enthusiasthic he got, and he ended up staying live for 8 hours exploring, doing dungeons and hunting. He said he will come back more often than he originally intended.

#qsmp #qsmp french #qsmp france #qsmp antoine daniel #qsmp baghera jones #qsmp kameto #qsmp etoiles #qsmp aypierre

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archangeldyke-all · 4 months

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Ok ok I have another idea!

What if Reader challenges Sevika to see which of them can last the longest without sex to see who caves first? Reader thinks Sevika will cave in the first couple of days and she does struggle but Reader quickly realizes Sevika's level of self control is far greater than she thought 😈

I'm imagining lots and lots of lots of flirting, teasing, petting, and touching between them

hehehehehehehehehehehe i love this

men and minors dni

it starts as a joke, a halfhearted threat just meant to make sevika laugh. usually, you guys are pretty accommodating for each other when it comes to chores. if sevika forgets to do the laundry on her day, or you're too tired to do the dishes, you'll both happily fill in for the other. but when it comes to clearing the yard of slayer's poop-- you both fight tooth and nail to avoid the chore.

so, as sevika's pushing you out the backdoor with a pair of gloves and garbage bag shoved against your chest, you glare at her and speak without thinking. "sevika, if you lock me out here i'm witholding sex for a fucking week!" you squawk as you try to shove against her body blocking the door frame. sevika snorts.

"yeah fuckin' right, you wouldn't last three days before you're begging for it." she says. you scoff.

"says you. you were begging me to sit on your face half an hour ago!"

sevika raises an eyebrow at you. "you really wanna do this babe?" she asks. you huff, so caught up in the moment that you're not thinking.

"first one to break has to clean the yard for the rest of the year." you say. sevika grins.

"deal." she says, sticking her hand out. you glare down at it and put your hand in hers, gasping when she tugs you toward her chest, not wasting a moment to press her lips against yours, licking at the seam of your mouth. you gasp, melting in her grip, and sevika pulls you back inside, before spinning you around and pinning you to the wall, gripping your hips impossibly tight. you whimper, and she pulls away smirking down at you.

"good luck, baby." she says, chuckling and winking before sauntering away.

you gulp as the reality of the situation you've gotten yourself into hits you.

the first day is fine. you're both constantly teasing each other, but it's nothing you can't deal with. kisses that linger a few seconds too long, hands that wander under shirts and into back pockets, crowding each other into the wall. you're turned on the entire day, but you're able to ignore it.

the next day is different. you guys fuck pretty frequently, it's rare that you go more than 24 hours without touching one another. you spend all day distracted by sevika. in the morning, you burn your eggs, too busy looking at her abs as wanders around the house shirtless. at work, you're biting your lip and trying to come up with ways to fluster her, only to get yourself so worked up thinking about it that you have to go to the bathroom and splash cool water on your face. and when you get home, sevika's working out in the living room, in just a pair of tiny shorts, and you groan before locking yourself in the bedroom. you hear her muffled laugh on the other side of the door.

you start fighting dirty on day three. purposely foregoing a bra, wearing a thin white shirt and nothing else. you catch sevika's eyes on your tits a few times, and each time you grin. you coincidentally keep dropping things in front of her, taking your time to bed over in front of her then slowly, slowly standing up. you catch her ogling you, but she doesn't crack, she just smiles at you and licks her lips.

on day four you become desperate. you've been wet for the past forty eight hours, just from being in sevika's space. she's so fucking hot-- she doesn't even have to try to work you up. just watching her exist gets you going: the way she smokes; the way her shoulders fill out her shirt; that tantalizing strip of skin between her pants and shirt hem; she drives you fucking insane. you haven't been this distracted and flustered since before you guys were dating, when you were still dancing around each other, unsure if you felt the same way for one another.

it's not even an evil plot or scheme when she walks in on you masturbating. you were just so fucking horny and desperate you couldn't help yourself, shutting yourself in the bathroom and leaning against the sink before sticking your hand down your pants. you wish it had been a scheme, because it's a genius idea, and you're a little disappointed in yourself that you didn't think of it yourself, but, regardless, sevika ends up walking in on you with your shirt hem between your teeth to muffle your moans and two fingers in your cunt.

you gasp when the door swings open, and she freezes in the doorway, eyes growing wide and blinking at you. she gulps, and then she lunges, wrapping her hands around your waist and smashing her lips against yours. you moan against her.

"keep fucking going." she growls. you shudder and start fucking your fingers in and out of your squelching cunt again. she groans. "you're that needy?" she asks, chuckling as she ducks down to bite your neck. you hum. "huh? 'm i turnin' you on that much?" she asks. you whimper.

"fuck off." you whisper shakily. sevika snorts.

"i'd rather fuck you. too bad you made a that stupid bet huh? you could be sittin' on my dick right now. makin' a puddle in my lap. or on my face. fuck, i miss the way you taste. i miss your mouth too-- first thing imma do when you fold is get you on your knees, get your mouth on me, those pretty eyes blinkin' up at me."

you cum on your fingers and sevika hums in satisfaction against your neck, reaching down to grab your wrist before pulling your hand out of your pants and bringing your wet fingers up to her mouth, wrapping her lips around them. it's so fucking hot, especially when she moans and rolls her eyes back in her head, that you nearly cum again.

you end up folding the next day. you've had a horrible day at work, and the thought of coming home and not pinning sevika to the bed and riding her until your brain melts out of your ears makes you want to cry.

sevika's a cocky son of a bitch about it too.

you slam the door open, before flinging your shoes and jacket off, huffing as you walk into the living room. sevika looks up from the book she's reading to look at you, and you smack the book out of her hands as you straddle her lap. she grins.

"i can't fucking stand you." you growl as you tear at her shirt. she laughs and lifts her arms over her head, helping you get out of it. "since when are you patient? huh? where the fuck did that come from?" you ask as you unclasp her bra, your hands squeezing her tits. sevika moans, arching up into your touch.

"just 'cause i got my hands on you all the time doesn't mean i don't have self control, baby." she says, giggling. you groan.

"well, fuck you!" you cry, pinching her nipples. she squeaks and you groan, before leaning forward and smashing your lips against hers. "can't fucking stand you-- you were supposed to fold the second i came outta the bedroom without a bra on three days ago." you whine. she snorts.

"honestly, i'm surprised you made it this long." she says. you huff, sinking your claws into her shoulders, and she growls before flipping you over and pinning you to the couch. you gulp, blinking up at her, and she smiles down at you, her eyes twinkling. you reach up, trying to pull her down for a kiss, and she complies, only to dodge your lips at the last minute and grab your earlobe between her teeth, before licking up the shell of it and whispering against you.

"go clean the yard, and then you can have me whichever way you like."

you blink, and when sevika pulls away to smile down at you, you whine and tug your hair. "are you fucking serious!?" you ask. sevika giggles.

"fine, i'll fuck you first. but once your legs stop shaking i'm locking you outside 'til all that poop is gone." she says. you pout and huff, and sevika grins.

"this is the worst dirty talk ever." you say.

she bursts into laughter above you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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uranometrias · 12 days

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my love mine all mine , aaron hotchner

this is incredibly self indulgent. i wrote this for myself, because my cat passed away today && i have no idea how to grieve correctly. but i've always been able to express myself the best through writing, so here i am trying to do so.

basically reader loses her kitten && hotch is there to comfort her while she grieves. reader is a doctor && gets her nails painted. mentions of sleeping in a scarf and braids (but this can apply to any race <3) hotch is pretty flirty. he also had a dog that died when he was younger (idk) ... i'm still getting used to writing him (but he's been rotting my brain) so hotch girlies please be sweet to me, i'm trying.

"Have you decided what you want me to grab on the way?" You feel giddy, eyes beaming vibrantly as you unlock your front door. Aaron was on the other line, he'd been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the past two weeks. Your jobs often sent you in separate directions, with him following cases cross country, and you spending nearly twenty hours a day working at Inova Fairfax Medical Campus. The commute was nearly an hour from Quantico, which made it difficult for your schedules to coincide the way you hoped.

Today though was an exception. He'd just gotten back from a case, a successful one, and you'd been lucky enough to finally get two days off. You couldn't contain your excitement when you'd finally managed to get Aaron on the phone, and with Jack staying at Jessica's for another night, it seemed everything was working out in your favor. You still had no idea what you were in the mood to eat, despite having ample time to figure it out. "I dunno." you mutter, and you drop your keys into the basket just to the left of the front door.

"Well honey, you've gotta give me something." Aaron chuckles, and his voices makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I'm sure you haven't anything at all today." and it doesn't take a rocket science to know he's absolutely correct. Your stomach grumbles audibly, and you cringe, the sound a dead giveaway of your poor eating habits. "Do you need a bit more time to think about it?" he asks, and you're nodding your head, despite the fact that he can't see you. Your focus is split, eyes darting around your place in search of Piper.

Piper was your five year old tabby, the most special companion that you'd cared for since she was a newborn. Usually she'd be making her way to your front door, nudging her head against your shins, meowing her head off as some form of reprimand for being gone too long. Her absence was unusual, but you'd noticed she'd been sleeping a touch longer in the recent months. You'd taken her to the vet and they'd written off any life threatening illnesses. Perhaps she was jus becoming a lazy cat they had said.

"What'd you eat yesterday?" you ask, and you shrug off your coat next, hanging it in the closet as you slip off your cork-leather clogs. You admire your pedicure, French-tips gleaming back at you as your feet hit the cherry laminate flooring. You imagined that he'd hardly been able to eat well while out on a case, Aaron (and his team) had a horrible habit of neglecting their own health and wellness for the sake of cracking the case. You'd call him out on it, but it'd feel to hypocritical with the way you gave most of your life to the hospital.

"Four cups of coffee." and he sounds sheepish as he replies, he'd been running himself ragged with this last particular case. He couldn't leave the precinct until he was convinced he'd made a dent in the investigation. He could imagine your disappointed pout, but he was doing his best, or at least trying his best. "But, Dave made sure that I got something this morning before we got on the jet." and it's not like he has to explain himself to you, you'd never berate him. He believed it was just a side effect of falling for you.

"Four cups?" you gasp, head already shaking. "You're going to turn into a cup of coffee if you keep up with habits like those." you scold. "You'll have to double your water intake, you could seriously dehydrate yourself that way." you say with a quiet huff. You round the corner of the foyer, heading for the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" your tone grows a bit softer, "Four cups means you were really absorbed in the case. Everything okay?" you tread lightly. You weren't quite sure how he felt about you asking about his job.

"As far as endings go, I'd say it was better than most." he replies thoughtfully, clearly unfazed by your desire to probe. That makes you smile a bit, the obviousness of his trust for you. "We minimized the amount of deaths, the unsub was taken into custody... the team worked really hard." he proceeds, and you find yourself grinning. "But, I will do a better job of taking care of myself. You'd be a good nurse, but I can imagine a few better scenarios for you to take care of me."

You smile despite the fact it makes your heart stutter step. You were still getting used to him growing more confident in this way, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. "I'd be a great nurse." you correct him delicately, "I'd enjoy taking care of you in any way though." and you bet he can hear your shyness through the phone. Your relationship with Aaron still felt fairly new, you'd been seeing one another for going on seven months, but you knew you loved him.

Even if you hadn't managed to say it just yet.

"Look at that, another thing we have in common." he exhales, and you want him to hurry up and get to you. You hadn't seen him in so long, and despite the fact you were willing to mount him on sight, you just wanted to enjoy being in the same place for once. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" and you like the way he's so attentive, how he seems to genuinely care about what you had to say.

"It was great." you insist, and you've poured yourself a glass of water, ice tinkling as you scanned the dining room for any sign of Piper. Still nothing, weird. "I went to the bookstore a bit earlier, got a few novels for my book shelf." you list. "I got my nails done, and I got a facial. It was so relaxing I wound up falling asleep on the table." and you chuckle a bit at the memory. "Piper and I went on a drive before lunch, she's so spoiled." you add, but you're still scouring the space.

"Drafted up my budget for the month, my new schedule came in," you exhale tiredly at the thought. "Picked up my scrubs from the dry cleaners, I did a grocery run, and went to see the flower exhibit near the Farmer's Market. I got this really incredible soft-pretzel croissant." you sigh dreamily at the memory. "And now I'm home, and waiting for you." you complete, and you lean forward, arms resting against the countertop. "It was a really nice day. I thought I wouldn't know what to do without work, but I'd nearly forgotten what it feels like to be off."

Aaron's silent, but not because he's disinterested in your ramblings. He finds them endearing, and oftentimes had to remind himself that you, much like Jack, needed verbal response in order to feel heard. "I missed you." and it's not quite what he was aiming to say, but it's what comes out. It's true, it had been a while since he'd seen you in person, and with the way your schedules overlapped, he'd hardly been able to get much conversation out of you apart from quick check-ins in between patients and breaks in BAU cases.

You let out a quiet puff of air, it's not quite a sigh nor an exhale. Your lips curve upwards, and you wonder if there's a record out there for most smiles achieved in a single phone call. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." you reply, and you inhale deep. "I missed you too, hurry up and get over here." you press, and you replay the sound of his responding laugh over in your mind. You don't think you could be more lovesick, but it's a more than welcomed feeling. "As far as dinner, why don't I just cook something?" you offer with a shrug.

"Do you want to?" and Aaron's got this weird thing about him where he's still getting used to the fact that you want to do certain things for him. You go over it a lot, reminding him that you'd love nothing more than to spoil him as much as he spoils you. He's still a bit hesitant, but you don't mind fighting the good fight until he relented. His hands tighten just slightly on the steering wheel, and his leg jumps as he awaits your response. He knows, or better put, he has an idea of what you'll say. He still wants to hear it either way.

"We take care of each other, mon amour." You coo, and he feels that familiar rush of affection towards you. "It'll be fun." you add, and then you're sighing audibly. "I just really can't wait to see you. I don't want to wait any longer than I need to." you express, and Aaron understands. He'd been restless on the jet, Dave and Emily seemed to zero in on his jitters, he was thankful they had enough couth to keep it to themselves. All he received was a knowing smirk from Rossi as he made a beeline for the tarmac the second the jet landed.

"I'll be there soon." he promises, and you grow giddier. "I-" and he wants to cross the line, mutter three worded phrase that would change everything. He'd been learning to be more bold, to focus on the things he could control, and appreciate those things. "I love you." he doesn't have time to think about the repercussions, because it's out, and there's a strong sense of relief that washes over him. You are surprised, but elated. The excitement his words bring you is hard to diminish.

"I love you too." and it comes out as easy as breathing. Probably because you mean it with all of your heart. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Hotchner." you promise, and he's chuckling at your sudden formality, likely a side effect of your newfound nerves at the huge step you'd both taken in your relationship.

"See you soon." you don't bring the phone from your ear until you hear the faint click of the call ending. You exhale shakily, mind running at a mile a minute as your heart seems to double in size. Still, you find this moment is short lived- mind once again on the eerie silence in your apartment. You place your glass down on the counter, coaster be damned as you make your way past the dining room and towards the living room. Sometimes you'd find Piper curled up on the couch, quiet purrs escaping her as she slept contently.

"Piper!" you coo, surprised when you note that she's nowhere to be found. You know that she wasn't outside, you'd made sure before leaving back out that she was comfortable in the house. You follow the layout of your place, the archway that led from the living room back to the foyer is the route you take, heading towards your bedroom as you continuously call for the cat. "Piper, where are you, pretty girl?" you enter your room, hopeful that you'll find her there.

You spot her little paw peeking out of her hideaway and instantly relax. "Oh Piper, you scared me." you let out a shaky sort of giggle as you fully enter your bedroom, feet brushing over the comforting carpet. You kneel just in front of the hideaway, reaching out to pet her. It takes you a few moments to make peace with the fact that she's not rousing. You swallow thickly, a lump growing in your throat as you wiggle her paw. She doesn't move, just as limp as before.

"Piper?" you feel the way your throat constricts, eyes immediately wanting to brim with tears, as you grow frantic. "Oh, please no-" you exclaim, head shaking as you feel a shudder rack through you. You're gentle as you maneuver around the hideaway, hands looping around her small body as you move to pull her out. She's limp, not even the act of you lifting her up enough to make her move. Your glow feels like it's diminished almost instantly, a dark cloud setting in over your head. It seemed a bit silly, panicked over the loss of a cat.

But she was yours, like a daughter to you in the way you cared for her, and made her apart of your routine. She was special, and despite the reputation cats gained for being standoffish and unable to understand human love, you knew that to be wrong. Piper was sweet, a loving cat that curled up beside you every night and followed you like a second shadow. She'd play games of tag with you, chasing you around your apartment as you squealed and screamed for your life.

"Please, please, no-" you're shedding real tears now, they're slipping down your cheeks in a constant succession. "Piper, please wake up!" it's silly, probably. Rocking back and forth with a dead cat in your hand hoping that sheer adoration will be enough to turn back the hands of time. It's certainly not, and the reality crushes you. The first sob is choked, almost like you're holding yourself back, not letting your feelings take full affect. You hadn't prepared yourself at all.

You didn't know what to do.

You think that's when the first swell of sobs begins. They're more ugly wails than anything else, the loud sound echoing through the space in front of you as your arms lower, Piper's body leaning against you as you continued to let your tears flow freely. Your chest tightens, constricting every couple of seconds like you'd suddenly developed chronic heartburn. The pain is a violent assassin, the air around you feeling tight. You think you may be choking on all that you're feeling.

You hate the part of your brain that was constantly in 'Doctor Mode', the side that reminded you that despite your grief, handling a deceased animal like this was a surefire way to get sick. Her body wouldn't start to decompose for at least another day, but you had no real way of knowing just how long she'd actually been dead. You don't move though, until at least your sobs have waned, you know it's not the end of them, but it's a reprieve just for a moment.

You slowly climb to your feet, still clutching Piper as your eyes whip around your bedroom. Your eyes land on her carrier, and the image makes you want to cry all over again. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to take in a deep breath. It doesn't help. Still, your feet lead you over to the carrier, where you're gently placing Piper. Her vet was only eight minutes up the street, and maybe your ability to dispose of her so quickly was precisely why this was happening to you.

Guilt was loud, too loud. It almost knocked you to your knees as you imagined Piper's fear whilst you were gone. Was she sick? How long had she been? Why hadn't you noticed? Why did you leave her alone? Why weren't you there? You let her down. You had let her down.

You want to curl into a ball, hide under the blankets and cry until you passed out. But, she deserved better. She deserved to not be lugged around like she was some prop, she needed a proper place to rest. Once her carrier is zipped up, you're picking it up by the handles, using your other hand to swipe at the tears still trying to fall. You take the route you'd walked not ten minutes prior, slipping your shoes back on, and grabbing hold of your keys. Aaron still had another forty minutes or so in his drive, you hoped it went by quickly.

You don't think you ever needed him more than now.

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The sobs returned the second you'd walked past the threshold of your house. You sluggishly made your way back to your bedroom. It felt much lonelier now, the house feeling much too big for just you. You think that makes you cry even harder. You're covering your mouth with your hand, hoping that it would be enough to mask the sound of your bawling. You doubt that it does, but you can't do much else. You don't want to go to sleep, you don't want to do anything.

You begin berating your behavior once more in your head, replaying all the ways you'd been a shitty caretaker even though you know it's a bad idea. Your leg shakes under your comforter, the blanket squished underneath your body as you hid your face beneath the blazing heat of your huge blanket. You don't even realize how long you've spent in this space of self-loathing and bitter tears, until you hear the front door's lock shifting out of place. Aaron was here.

"Y/N, sweetheart?" and you want to run to him more than anything. You can't though, because you don't want him to think you're a failure. So you stay put, and you cry a bit more, sniffles growing more audible as you're forced to choke back angry sobs. It doesn't take long for him to make his way towards where you are, and you don't know what he'll say when he finds you looking a mess. You know your mascara has given you racoon eyes, and in your grief, you'd failed to tie a scarf around your head. Your braids would look messy soon.

"Y/N?" and his voice is so soft, soothing, everything you don't deserve now. Your hand clutches a fistful of your shirt, right where your heart rests. "Are you in here, honey?" and you sniffle, an answer all on its own. You barely hear his footsteps, but you feel it when the bed dips just slightly, and you feel it when he gently pulls at your blanket. When he's pulled it back, he's met with the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks. Your nose was runny and raw, and your lip was quivering. It didn't take a profiler to know that you'd been crying, and he frowns.

"Are you alright?" he questions, and his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek and neck, almost like he was checking your temperature. "You've been crying?" and he examines you subtly for any signs of assault or struggle. "Did something happen?" and he knows he keeps asking questions, but he's getting worried.

"P-" and a sob racks through you, your entire body curling in on itself. Your hand is pressing against your mouth again, and your shoulders shake as you began to cry once more. "Piper she-" and your head shakes, hand clenching and unclenching against your shirt. Aaron's eyes dance around your room, and his eyebrows push inwards. He was worried, but determined to be extremely delicate with you, namely by being patient as you got out what you needed to tell him. "Piper's dead." you finally say, shoulders sagging as you weep.

Aaron's examining your face, which gives you a front row seat of the way his face is eclipsed with compassion. "Oh, honey..." his lips pull downwards into a frown, and you know, of course you know it's awkward. What do you realistically say to a person that loses their cat? It's not like any amount of conversation would bring her back. "I'm so sorry...." and usually it sounds empty when anyone offers condolences, but like with most things, Aaron is an exception. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?" he pleads.

And you know that he knows that you're not okay. It's meant to be a stupid question, the obvious one. But you also know that he's giving you the chance to vent, to articulate everything you feel with no judgement. It makes you want to curl into him, and stay wrapped up in his arms until neither of you had any idea where one ended and the other began. "I just-" you have to take a moment to gather yourself, hiccupping blubbers escaping you. "I came home, and I-" your voice cracks harshly. "She was just gone. I don't-" you shake your head.

"I don't know what happened." you express, and Aaron's sympathetic, and he hates seeing you like this. Every time you cry it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He supposed that came with loving you, an innate desire to protect you, and keep the bad things out. He'd only ever seen you in this state a handful of times, mostly when things went wrong at the hospital and you lost a patient. He had to get to you before you started blaming yourself for something that completely out of your control.

He didn't know much, but he did know your love for Piper, and how deep it ran. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that you'd never do something to put her in harm's way, you'd never do anything to hurt her. And he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to be there to anchor you down. To ground you in the midst of all these swimming and overwhelming emotions trying to fight for the upper hand. He wanted to be there for you.

"Is there anything that you need from me?" he asks gently, grief was harsh, it came in ripples and waves. It was gut-punching, it could be loud and then silent. Sneaky and then outright. It was a process, and whether anyone else thought so, if you needed to grieve the life of your pet, you should. Who was he to ever get in the way? He's gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, your tears splattering as you kept the duvet pulled up to your chin, as you stared him down. He figured you must have been deep in thought.

It takes a moment for you to reply, and he's fine with the silence. You're tears haven't stopped, but they've grown more quiet. Silent tears that pool and trickle down his wrist and onto the blanket. You soon take in a shaky puff of air as you sit up. Aaron's patient as ever, watching as you pull your legs from underneath the blanket, crawling until you were sitting on his lap. There's no sexual undertone to your movements, you don't want to fool around, you just want to be close.

Your head rests against him, eyes closing as his arms envelop you. "Can you just stay with me?" you ask, and he's already nodding his head. You both knew it was an impossible request. At any moment you could get paged, or he could get a call about a new case. The world didn't stop all because you were grieving, but for one second you both could pretend. He could stay right here with you, and you could love him, and not feel so overwhelmed by all your sadness.

"I'm not going anywhere." he mutters, and he's reaching for your hand. His easily dwarfs your own, but it's still just as comfortable, letting your palms press against his own. "I have never lost a cat before-" and he's treading lightly, wanting more than anything to help you and not harm you. "But I did lose a pet when I was younger." he expresses, and your interest is peaked, just slightly.

"What type of pet?" you ask faintly, and you're squeezing his hand in your own. He knows that it's comforting you so he says nothing about the tight pinch of his fingers pressing together.

"He was a golden retriever actually." Aaron replies, "Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He was fed well, taken care of, treated like one of the family..." he proceeds, and you involuntarily hold your breath as you listen. "But one day he just... he just went." Hotch proceeds, "And when you're a little kid that's not in the best environment, a staple like a pet dog is important. Losing him was like losing the only bit of sanity I could cling to. Does that make sense?"

Your head nods, and you squeeze his hand again to show him you care. "And surprisingly enough, I found myself crying over it. Mourning this dog, an animal that was part of the family, but of course, was not my family member." he continues, and his chin rests on the top of your head. "The point is, him being a dog didn't make it hurt any less when he left. It's okay to be upset about Piper, she was important to you, special even." he whispers. "And you did a great job giving her all the love you possibly could." his eyes close then.

"I need you to know that it wasn't your fault. And keeping yourself up with thoughts of 'what ifs'." it's his turn to squeeze your hand this time. "And those moments where you... didn't want to play, or wanted to be left alone are not what she remembered when she passed on." he insists, and he won't take any arguments on the matter. "You gave her five amazing years, and whether science backs it up or not, she knew how much you loved her." he insists. "You might not believe it today, but I hope that you do in time." and he kisses your forehead.

It's butterfly inducing, and makes you cling all the more to him. "You're not by yourself." he adds, and you're glad to know it. You peel back, eyes locking with his, and they're glassy. You hate seeing such a grief-stricken look on his face, at your sake no less. It makes you lean forward and kiss him, in the hopes you'd manage to kiss it away. He kisses back instantly, and you're still sad, you probably will be for a long while, but you don't feel as lonely as you did an hour ago.

"I love you." you mumble the second you've pulled back, and this time there's no phone. His eyes are swirling with so many thoughts and feelings of his own, but you need him to know you mean it, and likely always will. You couldn't imagine anyone else being here with you like this now, nobody else that would care enough to grieve with you. He gives you a half smile, and kisses you once more, a much deeper kiss that makes you lightheaded and dizzy. Of course he had that effect.

"I love you too." and you're happy that he hasn't left you hanging. Your fingers trace his collarbones and cheeks, moving to cup his face with your right hand. You kiss him again, this time just long enough to get the message across. When you pull back, your head is finding it's place back on his chest, and his arms move up and down, rubbing gentle circles against your back, as he cranes his neck to kiss your head. It makes your stomach flutter, but it makes you want to cry too.

He leaves three gentle pecks on the top of your head, moving to kiss your cheek, before he's looping his arms around your waist with a palpable amount of admiration. He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and mimic this action by offering him a kiss of your own. "Thank you." you exhale, and you mean it so wholeheartedly.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. We take care of each other, mon amour, remember?" and he recites your earlier words back to you. It makes you cling to him much tighter, tears returning to your lashline as Aaron pulls you even closer to him. "If you need to cry a little bit more, go right ahead. I'm right here." so you do.

Grief was a lot, it could be paralyzing, debilitating, and outright traumatic, but you knew even if it didn't feel that way now, in time you'd be okay. Part of you felt like you had Aaron to thank for that.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotcher fluff #aaron hotchner angst #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch #hotch x reader

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 7 months

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(and if nothing brings you back) Surely, I'll roam through life in black

Mihawk x reader. NSFW!!

Title is an excerpt from Blind and Frozen by Beast in Black (again). Sequel to Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart). There will now be a separate epilogue to this story!

Note - 13/11/2023: I have edited Built a haven to delete a brief reference to Kain, the reader's past lover, in order to focus on other, more important characters.

*****

Dracule Mihawk is a patient man.

It is a natural quality, and at the same time that self-restraint is one of the reasons he has come as far as he has. After all, you don't become the best at what you do if you get bored easily, or frustrated after a visible lack of progress after a few short weeks; while natural talent did undoubtedly play a role in making him the man he is, Mihawk knows it is the long hours he spent practicising his swordsmanship (every single day since he was five, hundreds and even thousands of repetitions of the same figure, of the same lunge or the same parry, until he could perform them in his sleep and through simple muscle memory) that has made him the most respected and feared adversary in the four seas. He has always known in his heart the way of the sword was his destiny, no matter how hard and long the way to the top would be, and that path he has walked, patient and persevering, confident that one day his efforts and dedication would bear fruit - which they have. Even so, he still practices, every day, with the same focus and tenacity of when he was ten, still until his arms hurt and his fingers bleed, and then a little more.

Dracule Mihawk is a very patient man, not least because there is very little nowadays that can actually excite his curiosity to the point of anxiety; no rival in the last decade has seriously interested him, no swordsman he has heard about or met has made him feel excited at the prospect of a fight (or rather, one has; but a full year after their first and only meeting, Roronoa Zoro still has a long way to go before becoming a worthy opponent. But that is not a problem; once more, he is patient, he can wait.) and no future plan or commitment has ever made him wish time would pass faster. He is not bored, per se; he is just perfectly content with the way he spends his days, without worrying about what the future may bring...

... except for a single, tiny (no more than fourteen pounds by now, according to a book he has accidentally found in his library and even more fortuitously leafed through until he has found the chapter about infant growth) detail... one that has kept him awake at night for the first time in his life, and that not even training until his body gave up and his mind begged for the relief of sleep has been able to banish from his thoughts.

You. Or, to be more precise, the consequences of the night you have spent together. Or, to be even more precise, the reason why you haven't made him aware of them like you had agreed to do.

That... your silence, and the suspicion you are not deliberately keeping him in the dark (why should you? You have promised to inform him as soon as you had seen your doctor, you have his transponder snail number, you know how important it is to him) but something is keeping you from calling... that is what is making him loose his sleep.

To be honest, he started feeling anxious (a feeling he has at first almost struggled to recognize, so alien it was to his personality) just a few days after you had said goodbye, a feeling that became harder and harder to ignore, and then to keep at bay, as the weeks succeded one another. At first, he wasn't worried - just irritated. Even the most ignorant man in matters of childbearing knows it could take a while, perhaps even a whole month, before a person has reason to suspect they are expecting, and a late period could be due to several reasons other than pregnancy. Also, according to the book, it is not uncommon for pregnancies to end in the first three months, for reasons not even the best doctors fully understand; perhaps, he reflected as he polished Yoru at the end of yet another day-long training session, you have decided to wait until you are reasonably sure your pregnancy is real and healthy enough to reach full term, before informing him. Given how important this is to you, how desperately you wanted to get pregnant and have a baby, you may have ordered yourself not to believe it yourself until then, as if you knew you couldn't bear to lose the child you had waited for so long...

He was sure - no, he had been ready to bet his life that you would call after three months, to tell him you were officially, undeniably pregnant with his child. You are not the sort of person who forgets a promise they made, and while he has not yet decided what role he would play in the child's life, if any, you knew (you had to know!) it was important for him to be aware of the truth. He expected to receive your call any day, and he was determined not to miss it, so much that for the first time in his life he started bringing his transponder snail to the training room, or wherever he had decided to practice in that day, to make sure he heard it ringing.

It didn't. Or rather, when it did, it was never the call he expected. It was never you, and while three months became four, and then five, and then six, Mihawk started feeling restless, and frustrated, and then worried. Why aren't you calling?, he kept wondering. The thought, that was rapidly becoming an obsession, was constantly on his mind (when he trained; when he ate; when he showered; when he fought, either yet another quarry the Marines had sicced him on, or some fame-hungry swordsman who thought they could measure themselves against him and invariably discovered they could not; when he tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep) and threatened to drive him mad.

Six months after your night together, he had to stop lying to himself and seriously consider the hypothesis that you hadn't simply failed to contact him, whether because you had forgotten (absolutely impossible) or deliberately, but something was preventing you from doing it. Also, the two of you had never gone so long without meeting, and your few mutual acquaintances had not seen you recently either; you might have taken some time off from, or indeed put an end to, your activity as a mercenary when you realized you were pregnant, but that would not explain the lack of contact. Were you sick? Was the baby making you sick, and so weak you could not even hold a transponder snail receiver and speak in it? It seemed absurd: you were a still young, healthy woman, and even the most difficult pregnancy could not put a person into a coma! What could have been happened, then?

Has something terrible happened to you? It was, unfortunately, much less improbable than he would have wished; after all being a mercenary had to be one of the most unsafe, potentially fatal professions in the world, and your latest quarry might have turned out to be more challenging than you had expected, or maybe someone set to avenge one of your past victims had been able to sneak up on you and...?

He wanted to know. He had to - no, he needed to know, he reflected one night, the umpteenth in which he had found himself unable to sleep, as he looked at the starry sky out of his bedroom window, because while very little in the world had the power to upset or even just to actually interest him, he felt not knowing what had happened to you, and if you were safe and sound, could really drive him insane. You were strong, clever and resilient, but no one could keep their guard constantly up day and night, and so many dangerous things existed in the world; if you were hurt, and kept somewhere against your will unable to ask for help, he would move heaven and earth to find and set you free. And if it were already too late, if you had... died, either at the hands of an enemy or for some other reason...

In that case I really don't know what will become of me, he thought, then and so many times in the following months. He would have gladly stabbed himself in the heart rather than uttering those words out loud, or having someone else know he felt that way, but that was the truth and Mihawk was not in the habit of lying to himself.

The thing that vexed him the most was the inability to contact, and then to look for, you himself. He had not thought about asking for your own transponder snail number (something he had reproached himself for many times) and he even ignored the name of your island, which would have been the first place to search in. Worry and frustration prompted him to do what he never thought he would: call the Marines and ask... for informations.

"(name)? I haven't seen her in a while." Vice-Admiral Garp said, his tone pensive, on the day Mihawk contacted him "I was informed the man I had sent her to dispatch is dead, but she never came to collect the bounty, nor has she called or written to ask us to send it to her. I'm starting to think something bad has happened."

"Have you tried contacting her?"

"Of course we have. But her transponder snail has been deactivated since the first time we called, I don't know where she lives nor whether she has friends or family. Why do you care what happened to her?"

The sudden question, asked in a deliberately casual tone, took him by surprise for a moment. This doesn't concern you, Mihawk wanted to answer, but he stopped himself in time. He didn't particularly like Garp, but the older man was clever and relentless, not to mention he considered those like the two of you, pardoned pirates and mercenaries, like a necessary evil to keep in check; he would not go as far as to hurt a pregnant woman, and was probably already aware of your acquaintance given all the times you and him had sat down to drink and talk at the Marine HQ, but the least he knew, the better.

"(name) had promised to help me find a person I am interested in." he invented, confident a mere business deal would not interest the Marine much "A famous swordmaker she had been acquainted with years ago. She had promised she would track him down for me after her latest assignment, but I have not heard from her in a months."

"Had she now."

"What do you mean, Vice-Admiral?" Mihawk asked, suddenly irked; he didn't like the skeptic, vaguely mocking, tone the older man had used.

"Nothing, nothing. I'm afraid I can't help you, Mihawk; If you see her, tell her we'll keep the bounty for her."

As if he were the Marines' messenger boy. Mihawk disconnected without answering, sighed, and covered his eyes with his hand. It was as he feared: the call had been useless; you had disappeared, and he had no way to find you.

*****

And he still doesn't, six more months later, as he sits on the front steps of his house, a glass of red wine in his hand and his gaze facing the sunset, the familiar but still breath-taking view of the sky lit of red and black for once failing to catch his interest.

A year. A whole year spent thinking about you, worrying about you - and without you. He has sent word to his (very few) allies, acquaintances and whoever he could trust or owed him a favour, asking them to be on the look-out and inform him of any news, no matter how apparently far-fetched, about you.

It was all for nothing. You must have given birth by now, your baby should be around three months of age (has he ever seen a baby that small? Probably not since he was a very young boy himself, and he is sure he has never held one in his arms; well, he’s sure you’ll show him how…) but there is no trace of either of you. You seem to have disappeared into thin air, and Mihawk has never been so worried in his entire life. The possibility you are safe, having decided to hide and fake your death, doesn't even cross his mind; you had a deal, one he knows in his heart you would never break, both because you would have no reason to and because you would never do that to him (you wouldn't. It may sound presumptuous to think so, to believe he has some kind of influence over you, and he cannot claim to know what is in your mind... let alone in your heart... but you would keep you word, he would bet his life on it) which must mean that something is keeping you from contacting him, someone has hurt you, either keeping you prisoner somewhere, which would at least explain why you have disappeared, or worse...

You could have been killed. You could be dead, and the thought is so fiercely painful, the agony it fills his very being with so scorching and bitter, Mihawk wishes he could tear his heart from his chest, because if that were actually true nothing else, nor vengeance nor the passing of time, and surely not another lover, could ever give him the smallest amount of relief. So many people die every day, in some cases alone and unmourned, but the same cannot have happened to you, you are too... too smart and capable to have let an enemy overcome you, and too special and precious to have lived through something so terrible and humiliating...

And the baby? Your baby? What has happened to them?

Accepting to conceive a child together has been an impulsive decision, taken after just a few hours of reflection, but Mihawk does not regret it... and not simply because it has led him to the best night of his life. The thought of a child, of any child, hurt and killed would naturally horrify him, but to imaginehis own baby, his son or daughter, in danger or hurt... is it possible for a man to bear such an overwhelming grief?

He never thought he could feel like this; he never thought he would meet someone capable of arousing that sort of feeling in him, but he has, you have, and while Mihawk doesn't regret it, and knows he won't even if he does discover you have passed, the thought of losing you and your child before even having the chance to meet them... and to say goodbye to you, and... to talk to you once more, is... is...

He doesn't pray. He never has, and he knows in his heart it would make no difference, nor would he be able to find some comfort in it. Mihawk doesn’t believe in God, not in the benevolent, all-powerful kind so many people trust to make their lives a little more bearable or at least to reward them for their good deeds in the afterlife. What, who, he believes in, is himself, and this is why, after he woke up screaming from an horrible, excruciating nightmare (in which he opened the house door to find your reanimated corpse in front of him, a tiny dead body in your arms, telling him you were sorry you made him worry) he promises himself that if he ever finds you, you or the baby or hopefully both, he will never leave you again, and will give his life to protect you.

I swear, (name). I know you didn’t break your promise voluntarily; let me keep mine. Please, come back to me; I trust you. I can’t go on like this; not knowing is destroying me. Let me know you are both all right, and I swear I won’t let anything happen to you…

Are his feelings (fear, the instinctive protectiveness towards a child who is the blood of his blood, the memory of the night of passion you shared) getting the best of him, leading him to make a much deeper commitment than he would have been willing to had you, safe and sound, phoned him after a month to announce him you were in the family way? Perhaps. After all he does have a heart, but while he doesn’t intend to ask for your hand as soon as you meet again, he knows that whatever destiny has in store for the two of you, he will never regret his promise or the choice he made a year ago.

He never could, if you keep being part of his life. So he vows, in the privacy of his heart, and barely one day later he receives an answer; by God, by destiny, or someone else, he doesn’t care, but he has to quickly put an hand to his mouth to prevent Garp from hearing his sigh of relief.

“(name) has just called me.” The Vice-Admiral says; he sounds amused, as if his conversation with you had confirmed his suspicions about the reason why Mihawk was so worried about your disappearance. Lookin for a famous swordmaker indeed! “She has lost your number, but she was able to retrieve mine through an acquaintance who works close to another Marine base and asked me to convey a message.”

Silence.

“Mihawk?”

“I am here, Vice-Admiral.” he answers, in control of his emotions once more, even though he is clutching the transponder snail receiver so hard his knuckles have turned white “What is the message?”

“Simply her number, that she has asked me to give you. Do you have a pen?”

Mihawk does, but he needs to hear the number just once to know he will remember it forever. You are all right, he keeps repeating himself, alive and if perhaps not unharmed strong enough to carry out a conversation. Relief hits him, so sudden and overwhelming it almost hurts; did she tell you where she’s been in the last year? Is she all right?, for a moment he is about to ask, before thinking better of it; he will call you as soon as he finishes with Garp, who in any case he wouldn’t confide his fears in.

“I’ll tell her about the bounty she is owed. Good evening, Vice-Admiral.” he says, before hanging up and without giving the older man a chance to reply. He is alone, as always when he is at home, and Mihawk has never been so grateful for that lack of guests or, Gods forbid, house mates, because the last thing he wants is to have someone see him in that moment.

You’re alive. That is not enough to dispel all his fears, since as far as he knows you could be deadly ill or kept prisoner somewhere, and, most importantly, he still knows nothing about your baby, but suddenly he feels able to breathe normally for the first time in ages - in a whole year, that is. I knew you hadn’t forgotten your promise; that you hadn’t forgotten about me, he thinks, still worried but feeling a smile (a real, sincere smile, something no one in the world has ever seen on his face) open on his mouth. He remains still for a moment, the memory of your kiss and the sensation of your warm, solid body in his arms still etched in his mind, and a moment later he is already dialing the number Garp gave him.

You answer immediately; as if you were waiting for him to call. (You were. Desperately, fear and longing heavy on your heart; you needed to hear his voice like a person lost in a desert needed a glass of cold water, but at the same time you knew what you needed to tell him would destroy him, like it had destroyed you.)

“Mihawk?”

“This is him.” he promptly answers; until now you have always spoken in person and it has been a year since the last time, but he would recognize you voice anywhere “(name), are you all right?”

Silence.

“Name? Please…” he insists; that last word sounds almost alien on his tongue, but he can hear the call didn't fall, and the idea of you not wanting to talk to him is too painful to bear “Are you all right? Where are you?”

“I…”

“Is our baby all right?”

He can feel you hesitating for a moment more before slowly answering: “You needn’t worry; no one has been seriously hurt.”, which sounds too and unnecessarily complex when a simple we are both all right would have sufficed, but the determination in your voice is enough to reassure him “I’m sorry, I know I had promised to call you as soon as I had been to the doctor. I swear I would have, but…”

“Have you been kidnapped?”

“How do you know? Well, you’re right; I have been kept prisoner for a year, and my transponder snail was taken from me. I got free four days ago and I got home the day before yesterday. Mihawk, I…”

“Yes?”

Silence. Again. “I think it would be better if we spoke in person.” you state in the end “I’m sorry to ask you, but my doctor says I shouldn’t move for a few days a least, and my mother is of the same mind...”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Mihawk quickly answers, perfectly aware he doesn’t even know where there is, and utterly unbothered by the issue.

“Really?”

“Of course. Give me the coordinates.”

You do, from memory, and he writes them down, just to be safe; he shouldn’t take more than a day to reach you, he is pleased to realize. “I will be there tomorrow morning at the latest.” he promises; most people would think twice before sailing at night in unknown waters, but he is not most people “How do I find you?”

“I’ll send someone to wait for you at the harbour. Mihawk?”

“Yes?”

“Were you worried for me?”

He snorts - inelegant, perhaps, but since you cannot see him…

“What do you think?” he pointedly asks, and he’s happy to hear you laugh, just for a moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, (name).” he promises, and then he is the one hesitating just for a moment, before adding: “I can’t wait to meet our child.”

You say your goodbyes and hung up, quickly enough he can’t hear you burst in tears.

*****

He is sailing less than thirty minutes later, pleased to discover a favourable wind is pushing his ship in the right direction, and exactly twenty-two hours later his ship docks at the only little port of your island, in a warm, sunny morning he would consider a good sign, were he inclined to believe in that sort of things (he never has). The moment he steps on the harbour, mainly occupied by tiny fishing boats, a trio of men in livery approach him.

“Welcome to our island, sir.” the oldest respectfully tells him as they all bow in unison; he doesn’t ask for his name, Mihawk notices, nor does he mention it to make sure he’s addressing the right man “Lady (name) has sent us to meet you. Will you please follow us to the fortress?”

He does, and the brief ride in the small but elegant horse-drawn carriage gives him the opportunity to explore the place you call home. You had told him it was small, and it really is, little more than a rock in a relatively unimportant corner of the sea, but patriotism aside, he can see why you like it: the streets are large, the building well-kept, the marketplace the carriage passes next to thriving, and the flora seems to be as lush as you said it was, given the huge trees he sees in the squares and along the streets.

Still, sight-seeing is not what he has come here for, and when finally the fortress (a solid, relatively large stone building, wind-tossed flags at the top of the four corner towers and a drawbridge over a deep moat) appears in front of him, Mihawl feels his heart skip a beat, both looking forward to seeing you and at the same time fearing the state he will see you in. Such sentimentality, such an inability to put order among his feelings, is very unlike him, as well as the sort of things he has always done his best to avoid and considered an unnecessary distraction. Still, he doesn't regret those feelings; you are part of him now, an unexpected but not unwelcome state of things, and while openly discussing matters of the heart has never been easy for him, and he doesn't yet feel ready to give a name to the emotions you have elicited in him, he wants you to know, he needs you to know, he has never stopped thinking about you from the day you said goodbye...

About you, and about the child you have given him. The child, about three months old now, who he is going to meet in a few minutes.

Crossed the large double door of the fortress, the older man in livery exchanges a few words with another servant. "Lady (name) is in her quarters." he then reports "I'll bring you to her straight away, sir, unless you want to rest for a while. A room has been prepared for you."

Mihawk is not tired, but had he not slept for a week, his answer would be the same. "Bring me to her."

You like admiring the sunrise in the morning, as you prepare to begin your day, hence your quarters are east-facing. Mihawk is led to a small parlor, which might double as your study given the desk and the full bookcase on one side. A closed passage leads presumably to your bedroom, while an open double door gives way to a sun-lit terrace, where a quiet but serious conversation is taking place.

"... need to tell him. You owe him the truth, especially if you hope for your relationship to continue."

"I know that, mother. I don't want to lie to him, but... he told me he looked forward to meeting the baby... I can barely bear to think about what the doctor said, but to discuss it..."

"I know how painful it will be; for both of you. But you still have a whole life in front of you, and you need to come to terms with..."

The conversation quickly ceases when the man in livery steps on the terrace. "Pardon, my ladies. Your guest is here, lady (name)."

The terrace is a mostly empty semicircle bordered by a wrought iron parapet, the breath-taking view opening on the whole island; Mihawk doesn't even glance at it, his yellow eyes immediately drawn to the younger of the two women sat not far from him, semi-reclining on a deck-chair under a large straw umbrella, a pillow behind her back hiding a tiny but deadly machine gun.

You.

The first thing he notices is the weight you have lost. He has tried many times to imagine how your body would change because of your pregnancy, what you would look like heavy with his child; he was sure he would find you beautiful as ever, perhaps even more so. He even entertained himself wondering how it would have been to make love to you as you were visibly pregnant... and discovered the thought was not at all unpleasant.

The you in front of him couldn't be farther from those fantasies. No doubt because of the year you spent imprisoned, you are clearly underweight, your left leg, left naked by the short skirt of your dress, is braced and bandaged, a profound, overcome but persistent weakness surrounding you, as if the excellent care you are receiving at home still couldn't undo the ill treatment you have suffered.

A strong-willed, resilient woman like you would not be cowed by a slap or a skipped meal. What sort of violence and abuse did your captors have to resort to in order to break your spirit? Have you been beaten? Starved? Exposed to the weather in the coldest days of the winter? Have they... assaulted you? Whatever the truth, Mihawk suddenly wishes he could have them in front of him; after a single hour, those bastards would beg him to die quickly.

Then you smile at him, happy and relieved, and the desire for revenge is promptly forgotten - or at least put aside. "Hello, (name)."

"You came."

"You know I would have."

You share a look, brief but enough to make him feel as if the last year had been no longer than a day; he can see unmitigated joy in your eyes, and relief, and... wariness, almost as if you feared what could be said during the conversation he has come to have. Are you... afraid of him? Why? What do you have to tell him that could upset him to the point of...?

He notices, a whole minute later than he should have, that the baby is not with you, nor there is on the terrace a cot or a little bed you could have put them in. He is about to ask, when the woman sat on the chair next to you, at the other side of a small round table, stands and turns to look at him. He doesn't need to consider the evident family resemblance, nor to think back to what you have told him about your family, to realize she must be your mother: you have the same look, the same kind but piercing gaze in your like-colored eyes. "Good morning. I am lady Veressa, (name)'s mother. It is a pleasure to have you on our island."

"Thank you, my lady." Mihawk answers with a slight bow of his head; he is able to behave courteously with people of authority, whatever Garp may think "The pleasure is mine."

"(name), I will leave you with your guest. Please, do not overexert yourself."

"I won't, mother. Thank you." you answer, and smile when she bends to kiss your brow. A moment later the lady of the island has left, the man in livery behind her, leaving the two of you alone.

Neither speaks as Mihawk moves the free chair even closer to yours and sits; there are about a million questions he wants to ask, but for a minute he is content like this, simply looking at you, reassuring himself you are really there, clearly exhausted but alive, healing, and still beautiful enough to take his breath away.

"You have a ten million berries bounty to collect." he points out after a while; you, apparently expecting to hear something completely different, blink, and appear to struggle a little to understand the meaning behind those words, as if your activity as a mercenary were a long-forgotten childhood game and not the trade you have practiced since you were still a girl.

"Oh... right. I will have to call Garp again one of these days."

You smile, still nervous but happy; your hand reaches towards him, and he takes it in his, careful, as if it were made of glass.

"I have missed you, Mihawk."

"And I you." he promptly answers; he wonders if you realize how rare, and surprisingly easy, it is for him to utter those simple words. Something tells him you do "Are you well?"

"Considering everything I have been through, I think so." you answer after a moment of reflection; there is no trace of complaint in your voice, rather it is the matter of fact tone of a person who dispassionately acknowledges a situation and moves on "The doctors said I have been lucky, a few more weeks under the loving care of my jailers and I would have died. And my leg should heal perfectly, which is the thing I was most worried about."

"That is good to hear. (name)..."

"You want to know about the baby." you interrupt him, and there is something on your face he cannot name, but that makes him shiver; as if you were preparing yourself for an unpleasant chore you could not avoid. You told him no one got seriously hurt, which only partially reassured him, and he knows he won't be able to relax until he sees his child with his own eyes... "Am I right?"

"Yes. Where are they?"

*****

This is a conversation you can't avoid; your mother is right, you owe him that much and more, especially if he is to still be part of your life from now on, which you desperately wish for. Still, you would give half of your blood (not a small sacrifice, considering how much of it you have wasted in the last year) to avoid or at least to postpone it, and enjoy the quiet, comforting joy of having Mihawk close once more, after fearing for so long you would never see him again.

You breathe in and, holding tight as if preparing for a violent impact, you confess: "There is no baby. I... I had my period a week after our night together, and regularly after that, at least for a while."

You have time to count up to ten before you hear him answering; you can't look at him, and perceive he'd rather you didn't.

"I see."

"I am so sorry, Mihawk. It was my most fertile period, and we tried three times... I was so sure..."

This time he is the one interrupting you. "I know. It is not your fault." he murmurs; you can feel the emotion in his voice, without a doubt much more than he wishes you to, and that makes you feel guilty, as if you were intruding in an intimate moment "I... I guess this is good, after all. You have clearly been hurt, and taken prisoner. That is not the sort of situation you'd want to be pregnant, and to have a child, in."

You can't help but agree, and you swallow, hoping against hope you can stop talking about it and the two of you can enjoy some time together before he leaves and you can go back mourning what will never be in the privacy of your heart, but Mihawk's next words hit you like a punch in the stomach.

"Maybe... maybe we can try again." he slowly suggests; he has started caressing the back of your and with his thumb, and the intimate tone of his voice, a still serious but unmistakably sensual accent in it, is enough to make you shiver, and cry "Once you have returned to health. Our night together was... very enjoyable, I wouldn't mind doing it again, and I must confess the idea of a child has grown on me..."

You will not cry. Not in front of him, not now. Don't you dare, (name).

"I can't." you murmur miserably; you feel as if you were confessing a terrible crime, something to be ashamed of, which couldn't be farther from the truth, and this makes you angry "I... after I came back, my mother insisted the doctors carried out a complete medical examination, to make sure we knew exactly what was wrong with me health-wise; we thought it was important to leave nothing untreated. My period had stopped after a few months, no doubt because I was given very little to eat, so my women's doctor visited me, and discovered... she found out that I..."

That I can't have children, and never will. Your voice breaks before you can utter those words, but Mihawk seems to perceive them all the same, and the flash of shock and pain in his lovely yellow eyes, brief but too sudden and fierce to hide it behind his usual sangfroid, makes you feel the worst, cruelest woman of the four seas. "Mihawk, I am so sorry... I swear I didn't know..."

"I believe you. I... I am the one who is sorry, (name). I know how important it was to you."

It was, and it still is; otherwise part of you wouldn't wish you had died in the cell you had been put in. "I know, but... you just told me you had started liking the idea of being a father. Well, I'm sure there are thousand of women who..."

"No. There aren't." he curtly stops you, as if to make it clear that he considers the matter closed. The intention behind those words, that he cannot imagine, that he doesn't want, a woman who is not you as the mother of his child, should make you feel happy, and flattered, and it does, even though that is just the light of a single candle in the unending darkness of your pain.

A still bitter but peaceful silence falls on you, your hand still enclosed in Mihawk's; even now, despite the excruciating pain making you feel as if a beast were eating you from the inside, you feel comfort, and peace, in having him close.

"What will you do now?" he asks after a while, and you shrug.

"My closest relative until two years ago was a distant cousin I didn't particularly like; he died, but he has left a son, and my mother and I agreed the best thing to do would be to name him my heir. He is only six, so it is too early to know whether he is a good fit for the role, but I will ask his mother to let the boy come live with us, and we can prepare him to rule after my death. He is technically of my blood so the succession should not be contested... but honestly I don't care much at the moment. The good of this island and its people has been my first and foremost interest since I was a girl, but now... now I would wish for everything to disappear. That I could disappear."

He has never seen that part of you, dejected and fragile and hopeless like a baby in the snow, and normally you would be embarrassed to have someone you respect and whose opinion you value witness those moments, but you know Mihawk has a heart, even though few people can say they have seen it, and you trust he will not judge you.

He doesn't.

"The people who hurt you." he mentions after a while "Are they alive?"

"The man who kidnapped me is dead, as well as a few of his henchmen I had to kill when they tried to stop me from escaping. Why?" you ask, confused, but a moment later you look at him, and a tiny smile blossoms on your lips "You want to go avenge me?"

"It is what you deserve."

"You don't even know why they did it. For all you know they could have had a good reason to try and hurt me."

"I'm sure they didn't."

"It was partially my fault actually. Every mercenary knows they should guard against friends and families of their victims, and I am usually careful, but that day I had lowered my guard." you admit, still ashamed of that rookie mistake "I was returning to the Marine HQ with the head of my latest quarry, and I fell in the trap this man had set for me; I had killed his brother years ago and he wanted revenge. I thought he would have killed me, but instead he wanted to prolong my suffering. He kept me in a cell so low I couldn't even stand, he starved me, beat me, left me outside and it was so cold I thought pneumonia would kill me... he took my derringer, my favourite gun, from me and smashed it under a rock, and I swear, that was the..."

And then he kisses you. To stop you from blabbering, perhaps, or because hearing what you have gone through has made him lose control with both rage and relief; you'll never know, and in the end you don't care. He has bent over you, covering the short distance between your chairs, his hand delicately cupping your face and his lips... his cool, soft lips, both gentle and hungry, are pressed against yours, and that is enough to light the fuse, to make your heart skip several beats and moan with pleasure, the memories of your night together instantly filling your mind.

You part your lips, suddenly so hungry for him you don't even care someone could enter and see you, but before you can deepen the kiss Mihawk breaks it, gently but firmly moving away and forcing you to let the hand you had placed on the back of his head fall.

"I am sorry." he says, with the least apologetic tone the world has ever heard "I shouldn't have."

"Yes, you should have. Do you really think you need to apologise?"

"You are very weak, and hurt. The last thing you need is to exert yourself."

"Is that your medical opinion?" you promptly retort; you still feel dead inside, like you have since you learnt you are destined to remain childless, but you want him so much you can barely breathe, and that makes you bold "I will not die if you kiss me, Mihawk; nor if we sleep together once more, which I would really like."

"(Name)..." he says with a sigh, and for a moment you almost hate him; he looks, and sounds, like a patient adult dealing with an unruly child, which is frustrating and more than a little offensive.

"You told me a moment ago you would be willing to try again. I know I do not look my best right now..."

"Do you really think I care about that?" Mihawk retorts; he hasn't raised his voice, but anger is seeping in his tone, which you approve. Anything, even rage, is better than concern; anything is better than him treating you as if you were broken, even though you are "I never have. Not with you. I have never stopped wanting you since we last parted, and I still do, fully and desperately."

If there is a thing you can always count on with Mihawk, it is him being sincere. "Then won't you stay with me?" you ask, holding out your hand towards him; you have always found it degrading for a woman, for any person actually, to beg for that sort of companionship, but this is what you are doing, you are begging him to take you in his arms and make you forget, at least for a little while, and you feel no shame or embarrassment, because you know that he, a proud and severe man, will not judge you "I need you, Mihawk. Please, don't leave me."

Your crutch, that the doctor (reluctantly) gave you permission to use to move around instead than using a wheelchair, is leaning against the wall next to your deck-chair, but before you can reach for it Mihawk's arms slip behind your back and under your bent knees, and a moment later he's crossing the terrace door and then the parlour, you firmly but gently held in his arms.

"Mihawk, put me down! I can walk..."

"You clearly can't." he reasonably points out, a trace of amusement in his voice "And don't worry, you're light."

You don't remember ever being held like this since you were a very young child, and you immediately decide you like it, both because you can feel his heart beating, much faster than normal, against yours, and because the proximity allows you to kiss him, which you avidly do, your arms circling his neck. You feel nothing but desire and joy and relief as you cling to Mihawk, pouring your very soul in each kiss, not stopping even as you push your bedroom's door open to let him carry you inside.

You need him. Because you are hurt and weak and scared and he is the only one you feel able to receive comfort from, but there is more to it; he is part of you, in a way you would be unable to explain but that you cannot ignore. In the solitude of your heart, you know it to be true, and it scares you, but you are not sorry for it.

Mihawk delicately lays you down on your bed, next to the little table cluttered with medicines and bandages, mindful of your broken leg. He takes his plumed hat off, his eyes trained on you as he leaves it on a nearby chair, and then places Yoru against the nearby wall. "I thought I would never see you again." he murmurs; he doesn't elaborate, keeping silent on the thoughts and emotions that belief elicited in him. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to, but that is all right, because you can perceive what he feels and thinks all the same; looking in his eyes is enough. "I... I missed you very much."

He doesn't know how much of a treasure those words are to you; which means, you immediately decide, you'll have to show him.

"And I you."

You quickly untie the knots of your dress, but then you stop, enraptured as you observe Mihawk undressing. He is not exactly putting on a show for you, but judging from the smirk adorning his face, he is more than aware of the effect he has on you. His long coat is the first to go, then his dagger necklace, his boots, his pants and what he wears underneath. Soon he is naked as the day he was born, and he joins you on the bed, slowly advancing like a predator moving towards his next meal. "Are you ready for me, woman?" he whispers, and you smile, confident you can play his game and even beat him at it.

"Maybe you're the one who is not ready for me."

Still, your self-confidence lasts only a few seconds, until you have awkwardly slipped the lower half of your dress from under your ass and taken it off, leaving him free to observe your abused, weakened body. You wait, anxious like a young soldier being inspected by a superior officer, afraid of what you could see in his eyes.

"Don't pity me." you warn him softly as you welcome him in your embrace "I have been lucky."

Mihawk sighs, as if understanding your motives but reticent to accept them; he gently lowers you on the bed, propping himself with his elbow next to your face. "I wish I could make them all pay." he whispers, his free hand gently caressing the bruises, wounds and scars scattered on your skin, the tenderness of his touch enough to bring tears to your eyes. "More than anything else... I wish I was there to help you. To protect you. I know you can take care of yourself..."

"I clearly can't."

"You know what I mean. You saved yourself in the end, did you not? (name), I wish I could make it all go away."

He can't, not really, and you both know it; still, you can smile, as you take his face in your hands, and feel his desire pressed against your tight. "Kiss me." you answer "And hold me tight. That will be enough."

He doesn't answer, but Mihawk has always been the sort of man who lets his action speaks for him, and thank the Gods, actions is exactly what you need now. You sigh, finally relieved, as he kisses you again, your mouths chasing each other as your hands explore the heavy, warm body above yours, your single night together, by now a year ago, enough to make you remember what he liked and what gave him pleasure. Mihawk pants as he feels your fingers caress his smooth chest, lingering for a moment to tease his nipples, and then descend towards the firm roundness of his ass; you grasp at it, greedily kneeding his flesh, and his hips quake. "(name)..." he murmurs, his tone reverent and almost worshipful; you are in awe, moved and grateful you see in his eyes the same emotions that fill your heart "(name), how... how I have missed you..."

"Tell me what you want, Mihawk." you invite him; it is his comfort you crave, the passion and pleasure of your lovemaking to forget at least for a while you will never have a family of your own, but that doesn't mean you don't want him to find joy in it "I want to make you feel good."

Again, he needs no words to express his intentions. He grins before moving to lie on one side next to you, your legs interwined; you are still kissing passionately as his hand moves yours to his hard cock, that you happily caress and tease while Mihawk is greedily sucking on your neck.

"You'll leave a bruise." you laugh; you can't wait to feel him inside you, and at the same time this is enough, the intimacy of feeling him close, not to protect you or to assure you you are still valuable and whole after what was done to you, but simply to know he cares "And everyone will know what I, we, have been up to."

"Good." is Mihawk's curt reply, and a moment later he is nuzzling your cleavage, his tongue lapping at the soft flesh of your breasts. He makes sure you are looking at him before capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and even gently biting until you have to press an hand to your mouth, that a moment later Mihawk decisively takes off. "Don't." he orders.

"But..."

"Don't hold back. Scream if you want. Make the whole fortress hear, let your people know what their pretty lady is doing. Let all the men on this island know they have no chance."

Of all the things you could have imagined, Mihawk being possessive, even jealous, of you, would have been the last of the list. But you like it, you immediately decide, you like it a lot, so much that you lift his gaze towards yours with an hand under his chin, while the other grasps at his cock with enough force to make him quiver, and you see pure, raw pleasure explore in his gaze.

"I don't want other men." you confess; it is way too early in your relationship (assuming that he actually wants one; you know you do, and the disappointment would break your heart) for promises and commitment, but you know you'll never regret uttering those words "I only want you. All of you. Take me, Mihawk; I'm yours, whatever you want you can do it to me."

The sound Mihawk makes after hearing your words is not a moan nor a grunt, rather a growl, and when your eyes meet once more you know that he couldn't stop even if he wanted. He doesn't need to, fortunately, and you smile as you lift your hips, careful not to put your weight on your broken leg, and let him take off your panties. The moment you are finally naked in front of him, ready and so eager, you see him lick his lips as he lifts your good leg to wrap it around his hips. He kisses you once more, intense and devout and hungry, and a moment later you feel him push against you, and your body opens like the petals of a flower to welcome him inside.

The moment you are finally one, so close and intimately linked, the relief filling your body is so intense you could weep for it; you can feel his heart beat against your chest, and it is lovely, it is so amazing, because it beats jointly with yours. Mihawk's forehead rests against yours, his hand still caressing your hair.

He is smiling. "Now you're mine." he whispers, in what is both a claim and a promise; and then he starts moving.

*****

It is a good thing that he arrived in the morning, you reflect as you lazily caress Mihawk's chest, since you are free to enjoy the intimacy and closeness between you until it lasts, without having to waste time sleeping. You are lying on your back, pleasantly surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, and it is as if the world outside your bedroom had disappeared; another gun, that you chose to replace your lost derringer even though it doesn't carry the same personal value, is hidden under your pillow. You seem to remember you had some important task to carry out today, the opening of a new school or a meeting with some council member or other, but you are not sure, and for the first time in your life you don't care.

"Does your mother know about me? About us?" Mihawk asks after a while; he is lying on your right side, so as not to bump into your broken leg, and he has yet to let you go, his strong arms firmly encircling your shoulders and waist. Despite the intensity of his desire, he has been gentle with you, as you needed in your state but more than you wanted him to; still, you feel pleasantly sore, your body tired but content and satisfied as Mihawk's fervor still warms your skin.

A soft laugh escapes your lips. "Why? Would it embarass you?" you ask back after kissing his chest.

"Not at all. She didn't seem upset when she saw me, but perhaps she disapproves her daughter associating with a pirate."

You assure him that fortunately your mother has never demanded to choose who you made friends (or more) with, especially since you have become an adult. "Also, she wouldn't have the right to judge." you add pensively as you slowly turn on one side to return his embrace "Since she also fell in love with a pirate."

That also escapes your lips without you realizing; Mihawk does.

"Your father?"

"Yes. He... well, he was part of Gold Roger's crew. He was the navigator."

Mihawk's raised eyebrows suggest you have done what perhaps no one else in the world has: taken him by surprise - twice. "You are not joking?"

"Of course not. I hadn't been born yet, of course, but from what my mother told me their ship passed by our island during one of their voyages, and the captain decided to stop for a while to rest and restock provisions." you explain; many people would be excited to hear a first-hand account of a meeting with the famed King of the Pirates, but you have always been much more interested in the man who, in true pirate fashion, stole your mother's heart. "She, who at the time was the heir just like me now, was the one who went to welcome them at the harbour; she met my father, and for ten weeks they were inseparable. On the day the crew was meant to depart, she told him she was pregnant; she knew the sea was his home, and that no matter how much they cared for each other, and how amazing a father he would have been, settling down on land with her would have made him miserable. So she let him go, and they started exchanging letters. When I was little, my mother would read his to me to make me fall asleep; I never met him, but I kept his wanted poster framed in my room. Then he returned, suddenly one day."

Mihawk's fingers begin to move along your leg, tantalizing close to your crotch. "Was it after Roger had died?"

"It was. Apparently, Roger left his crew voluntarily, he wasn't captured as the Marines said; he had relinquished command to his first officer, but a few members of the crew decided to leave it. My father was among them. He didn't expect my mother and me to welcome him with open arms after seventeen years spent living as he pleased, he told us, but he had never stopped thinking and caring about us, and hoped we would give him a chance to prove it. My mother, who by then had succeded her father as ruler of the island, let him stay, with my approval, and so we had a chance to finally bond."

You don't tell him of those years. Of how you gradually got used to your father's presence in your life, where until then he had been just a picture on the wall; of how he slowly, patiently built a relationship with you, learning to know your emotions, your thoughts, your dreams and fears, and how equally little by little you came to trust him, to respect and finally to love him. Of all the things you did together, the quiet, pleasant afternoons spent fishing at the docks, your legs dangling next to his and the sun on your backs, his awe and pride as he saw how talented you were with a gun in your hand (your maternal grandfather had been the first to teach you, like his own had done with him) and capable in your recently started activity as a mercenary, and how he liked dancing with you while your mother played the piano. You don't tell him how happy you felt when he and your mother told you they had decided to pursue a relationship once more, and how proud and excited he was when you told him you were expecting.

You don't. You can't, because it hurts so much, still today, enough to feel your heart bleed. What you are able to share, although with a huge effort, is that one day, nine years ago, a merchant ship reached your island, ostensibly to exchange or sell the goods in its hold. The truth was very different.

"The ship's original crew had been massacred by a band of pirates, who had then stolen vessel and cargo to carry out the captain's plan. My father had been sure no one would recognize him from his past as a pirate; after all our island was so tiny and virtually unknown, and Gold Roger had been so famous few had ever paid attention to his men, especially one who had no special abilities and powers like him. He was wrong; one of the island's rare tourists had recognized him from his old bounty poster, and weeks later he mentioned it to his friends in a tavern. The captain of the pirate crew happened to hear."

"Did he know your father?" Mihawk asks, still holding you tight; he seems genuinely interested in your story, which does please you, but part of you regrets even starting it, spoiling the pleasant moment you were living together... and that you don't know how long will last.

"No, he didn't. The captain wasn't interested in my father personally, he just wanted to find one of Roger's men... and force him to reveal the location of the One Piece." you explain "My father told the captain he didn't know; that Roger had hidden his treasure in a place only he knew, and had brought the secret to his grave. The captain didn't listen; by then, his men had surrounded the fortress and announced we would both be killed had my mother, who had by chance been at the other side of the island when our home had been besieged, ordered the guards to force an entry. He told us he would kill both of us if my father didn't him what he wanted to know... and in the end he did. The pirate shot me, but my father attempted to shield me with his body; he took a bullet in the head for me, and he died, and then a few guards who had disobeyed orders broke into the room, and I got hit in the cross-fire. I survived, but I miscarried; and even though I had no idea, because I kept having my period as usual after that, it was then that... something must have broken inside me, preventing me from getting pregnant ever again. That day I thought I had lost almost all of my family, but I had no idea of how right I had been."

Your tale has ended; you spoke for a few minutes at most, but you feel exhausted, even more than after you had escaped from your captivity and dragged yourself back home. As you expected, discussing the loss of your father and your baby, and the fact that you are destined to never be a mother, has been an agony you would not wish on your worst enemy; last night you have cried yourself to sleep, and you thought the overwhelming, excruciating pain you felt was too much for a person to bear, and you would die from it. Now that you're able to rationally reflect on it, you know you're not going to be so fortunate: you're gonna live, potentially for decades to come, and this pain will never leave you completely.

A sigh escapes your lips. "I am sorry; this is not the sort of topic one should discuss when with... someone special." you quietly admit, and Mihawk grunts in disagreement.

"I think you and me are beyond this sort of things." he points out before kissing you once more, and despite everything, despite how dead inside you feel, the sensation of his tongue against yours is enough to make you tremble. "You didn't deserve it, (name)." Mihawk quietly adds; he can't make it all go away, no matter how dearly you both want it, but those few, apparently impersonal words matter more to you than any I am so sorry or display of sympathy "Nobody does, but you least of all."

"I agree."

You enjoy the quiet and intimacy between you for a few more minutes, sharing lazy kisses and touches that you know you have already developed an addiction for, and that you will never stop craving.

But you have to. At least for a while, because the strength you need to go on you have to find it inside you, and you can't do it if you're tempted to hold onto him.

"How long can you stay?" you murmur a moment after your hand has slipped downward to caress Mihawk's cock, tearing a satisfied moan from his mouth.

Mihawk shrugs. "I have -ah...!- no pressing duties to attend to. I can stay as long as I want." he explains; a moment, and then: "As you want."

"Oh, you're leaving me the choice?"

"This is your home, and your island. I don't want to be the sort of guest who overstays his welcome."

"You never could and you know it." you point out, and you shiver, feeling his fingers gently explore the expanse of your chest and belly; then, thinking that even the worst criminals are granted a twenty-four hours reprieve to put their affairs in order before the sentence is carried out, you propose: "What if I asked you to stay until tomorrow at this hour?"

"That would be fine. Why?"

"Because I feel that if you stay longer, I won't be able to let you leave."

Mihawk reflects on your words; he doesn't seem surprised, nor particularly happy, about your proposal. "Then." he begins as he turns to cover your body with his once more; there is sadness in his yellow eyes, but even more, there is trust and warmth, and perhaps even love, even though that could be wishful thinking on your part "I say we relish the time we can spend together while it lasts. What do you say?"

You obviously agree; you take him in your arms and hold him tight, leaving everything else behind - for a little while at least.

This fic is dedicated to @alphaash99 and @skynikan. Thank you for your support, hope you like this!!

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Steven John Ward #Dracule Mihawk #Dracule Mihawk x reader #Mihawk x reader #Bellona's stuff

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